Where’s Eveyone Going? Bingo?

it isn't some special occasion.

he simply wants to make love to every part of you, your soul. the sacred devotion this early in the morning genuinely rewires your brain.

he's got you wrapped around his finger, and you equally as much. you're both absolutely smitten with each other. but that's right where you want to be. wrapped up in the mess of your limbs, breaths intermingling as your hips lazily rut into one another.

his length prods through the thin fabric of his boxers, catching your clit just right through the flimsy lace of your panties. your hands are firm on his arms, flexing at the feeling of your nails gently sinking into his skin. both of your eyes remain hooded, a particular roll of his hips eliciting a wrecked moan from you.

"jay," his name falls from your lips like a sinful prayer.

it only eggs him on. it makes him want to pursue your pleasure even further, to pull the breathiest of moans from your plush lips, to have you melt into complete putty and quiver beneath him.

so he does just that.

"just relax, honey," he rolls you flat onto your stomach, already pressing hot kisses to the curve of your neck, down your shoulder. "i got you. let me make you feel good, mama."

the graze of his fingers along your backside has your hips recklessly pushing back into him, eager for more. he moves even slower, dragging your panties down your legs at a pace that indicates no urgency.

his breath catches when a string of your arousal follows the crotch of your panties, your folds glistening before his eyes. already so wet, completely prepared to take all of him.

his fingers are heavy between your legs, parting your lips to spread your slick before sinking home. there's no gradual stretch ― just two fingers prying you open like they belong there.

"mm, fuck, baby."

your words are muffled by the fluff of your pillow, hips moving in tandem with each push of his fingers. your thighs briefly squeeze around his wrist, slightly halting his ministrations.

"gotta open up for me, sweet girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss right beneath your ear. "gonna let me make you feel good, right, sweetheart?"

he lives for this shit. absolutely fiends for the way your walls drip for him, the way they try to swallow up everything that he gives you. you try to nod, hips still wriggling for him to stop talking and just give you more.

he simply laughs at your weak attempt, firmly pressing one hand to the small of your back.

"patience, mama," he hums, fingers slowly starting to massage your gummy walls again. "patience."

quiet whimpers and low whines rip from your throat with each push of his hand. then his digits curl beautifully against that spot that drives you mad.

"oh, fuck― jay," you gasp, one hand reaching back to tug at his wrist.

he tuts, hissing when your nails press dull crescents into his flesh. he doesn't stop his movements.

"damn, ma," a dark chuckle vibrates through his chest. "that good?"

you can hear the smirk in his voice. if this man wasn't so hot, built to perfection, you'd be pissed. instead, it goes straight to your core, walls clenching around his two thick fingers.

drool pools beneath your pouted lips, coating them in that glossy sheen that makes jason's brain short circuit.

"want more, jay," you attempt to catch his eyes through your hooded ones, moaning softly. "please gimme more."

a grumble resounds from deep within. the sight of you so worked up does nothing to quell the ache in his boxers.

he doesn't even pretend to consider it, pulling his fingers out of you with an earnest "sorry, baby."

his boxers are flung across the room in seconds. his cock rests heavy in his palm, head red and leaking. a few quick pumps are all that he can spare before he's pressing himself to your heat, sloppily running his tip through your folds.

the sounds that leave both of your mouths are lewd. you're sure that you're dripping all over the sheets, but you can't bring yourself to care at all. he continues like that for a bit, whimpering when he barely nudges at your entrance.

you prop yourself onto your elbows, head falling between your shoulders as his hips finally push forward. cacophonic moans spill from your mouth, already coming undone. his free hand finds your hip, deliberately feeding every girthy inch to your greedy cunt.

he shushes you, pressing his lips to the flexed muscles of your back and shoulders.

"'m right here, baby," he stills for a moment before filling you to the hilt, ripping the breathiest moan from your chest. "right fuckin' here, mama."

he sets a harrowing pace ― one that makes you feel every inch and every vein, yet has you damn near bawling out for more.

your fingers clutch a pillow against your chest, the fluff collecting your pathetic moans and stray tears. your thighs are quivering already, fighting the urge to just push back and use him however you please.

"so fuckin' big," you weep when his hips smack the plush of your ass.

his hands abandon your hips, slipping his forearms under your frame instead. he's impossibly deep. you swear you can feel him in your lungs at this point.

another desperate cry urges his hips to move faster, eager for more of those pretty sounds to ring in his ear.

"this pussy was made for me," he muses. "you were fuckin' made for me, sweetheart."

your thighs press closer together, heightening the sensation of his cock nestled deep between your walls.

"baby, fuck, i c― i can't take it," you mewl, fingers curling deeper into the fluff beneath your chest.

his hips pick up their pace, slapping your ass with obscene whack, whack, whacks.

"hell, you can't," he spits, chest shoving down on your back. "you were made for this shit, baby, c'mon. take it."

he bites on your shoulder with enough pressure to get you out of your head. a surprised yelp strings into a moan when his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles to the sensitive nub.

"c'mon, honey," he pushes. "let go. come for me. make a mess all over me."

he kisses the blunt bite mark forming on your pretty skin.

"lemme see how good daddy makes you feel."

and that does it.

with one high-pitched gasp, you're falling apart, legs violently trembling as his hips continue to snap forward, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm. your arms give out and the side of your face lands on the pillow as though it'll save you.

"gonna let me fill you up like a good girl, right, baby?"

he has the audacity to whimper as if he's the one being fucked to oblivion. nonetheless, you're nodding wildly.

"fill me up, jay," you blubber with closed eyes. "wan' you to come in me."

he grunts at the feeling of your walls pulsing around him, driving him over the edge shortly afterwards. warm spurts of white paint your insides, shamelessly claiming you as his and his only.

he settles against the warmth of your back, your breaths evening out.

"good fuckin' morning," he croons.

he doesn't pull out, just stays sheathed comfortably. you stir softly when his lips flutter across your back again.

"so," his voice comes out completely wrecked. "me calling myself daddy does it for you, huh?"

you half-heartedly swat a hand at him.

"shut up."

he nips at your shoulder playfully, right where he'd bitten you earlier, and a quiet whimper echoes from the plush of your lips.

"yeah, that's what i thought," he grins to himself, entirely too smug.

gotta give the guy some credit.

it isn't some special occasion.

he simply wants to make love to every part of you, your soul. the sacred devotion this early in the morning genuinely rewires your brain.

he's got you wrapped around his finger, and you equally as much. you're both absolutely smitten with each other. but that's right where you want to be. wrapped up in the mess of your limbs, breaths intermingling as your hips lazily rut into one another.

his length prods through the thin fabric of his boxers, catching your clit just right through the flimsy lace of your panties. your hands are firm on his arms, flexing at the feeling of your nails gently sinking into his skin. both of your eyes remain hooded, a particular roll of his hips eliciting a wrecked moan from you.

"jay," his name falls from your lips like a sinful prayer.

it only eggs him on. it makes him want to pursue your pleasure even further, to pull the breathiest of moans from your plush lips, to have you melt into complete putty and quiver beneath him.

so he does just that.

"just relax, honey," he rolls you flat onto your stomach, already pressing hot kisses to the curve of your neck, down your shoulder. "i got you. let me make you feel good, mama."

the graze of his fingers along your backside has your hips recklessly pushing back into him, eager for more. he moves even slower, dragging your panties down your legs at a pace that indicates no urgency.

his breath catches when a string of your arousal follows the crotch of your panties, your folds glistening before his eyes. already so wet, completely prepared to take all of him.

his fingers are heavy between your legs, parting your lips to spread your slick before sinking home. there's no gradual stretch ― just two fingers prying you open like they belong there.

"mm, fuck, baby."

your words are muffled by the fluff of your pillow, hips moving in tandem with each push of his fingers. your thighs briefly squeeze around his wrist, slightly halting his ministrations.

"gotta open up for me, sweet girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss right beneath your ear. "gonna let me make you feel good, right, sweetheart?"

he lives for this shit. absolutely fiends for the way your walls drip for him, the way they try to swallow up everything that he gives you. you try to nod, hips still wriggling for him to stop talking and just give you more.

he simply laughs at your weak attempt, firmly pressing one hand to the small of your back.

"patience, mama," he hums, fingers slowly starting to massage your gummy walls again. "patience."

quiet whimpers and low whines rip from your throat with each push of his hand. then his digits curl beautifully against that spot that drives you mad.

"oh, fuck― jay," you gasp, one hand reaching back to tug at his wrist.

he tuts, hissing when your nails press dull crescents into his flesh. he doesn't stop his movements.

"damn, ma," a dark chuckle vibrates through his chest. "that good?"

you can hear the smirk in his voice. if this man wasn't so hot, built to perfection, you'd be pissed. instead, it goes straight to your core, walls clenching around his two thick fingers.

drool pools beneath your pouted lips, coating them in that glossy sheen that makes jason's brain short circuit.

"want more, jay," you attempt to catch his eyes through your hooded ones, moaning softly. "please gimme more."

a grumble resounds from deep within. the sight of you so worked up does nothing to quell the ache in his boxers.

he doesn't even pretend to consider it, pulling his fingers out of you with an earnest "sorry, baby."

his boxers are flung across the room in seconds. his cock rests heavy in his palm, head red and leaking. a few quick pumps are all that he can spare before he's pressing himself to your heat, sloppily running his tip through your folds.

the sounds that leave both of your mouths are lewd. you're sure that you're dripping all over the sheets, but you can't bring yourself to care at all. he continues like that for a bit, whimpering when he barely nudges at your entrance.

you prop yourself onto your elbows, head falling between your shoulders as his hips finally push forward. cacophonic moans spill from your mouth, already coming undone. his free hand finds your hip, deliberately feeding every girthy inch to your greedy cunt.

he shushes you, pressing his lips to the flexed muscles of your back and shoulders.

"'m right here, baby," he stills for a moment before filling you to the hilt, ripping the breathiest moan from your chest. "right fuckin' here, mama."

he sets a harrowing pace ― one that makes you feel every inch and every vein, yet has you damn near bawling out for more.

your fingers clutch a pillow against your chest, the fluff collecting your pathetic moans and stray tears. your thighs are quivering already, fighting the urge to just push back and use him however you please.

"so fuckin' big," you weep when his hips smack the plush of your ass.

his hands abandon your hips, slipping his forearms under your frame instead. he's impossibly deep. you swear you can feel him in your lungs at this point.

another desperate cry urges his hips to move faster, eager for more of those pretty sounds to ring in his ear.

"this pussy was made for me," he muses. "you were fuckin' made for me, sweetheart."

your thighs press closer together, heightening the sensation of his cock nestled deep between your walls.

"baby, fuck, i c― i can't take it," you mewl, fingers curling deeper into the fluff beneath your chest.

his hips pick up their pace, slapping your ass with obscene whack, whack, whacks.

"hell, you can't," he spits, chest shoving down on your back. "you were made for this shit, baby, c'mon. take it."

he bites on your shoulder with enough pressure to get you out of your head. a surprised yelp strings into a moan when his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles to the sensitive nub.

"c'mon, honey," he pushes. "let go. come for me. make a mess all over me."

he kisses the blunt bite mark forming on your pretty skin.

"lemme see how good daddy makes you feel."

and that does it.

with one high-pitched gasp, you're falling apart, legs violently trembling as his hips continue to snap forward, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm. your arms give out and the side of your face lands on the pillow as though it'll save you.

"gonna let me fill you up like a good girl, right, baby?"

he has the audacity to whimper as if he's the one being fucked to oblivion. nonetheless, you're nodding wildly.

"fill me up, jay," you blubber with closed eyes. "wan' you to come in me."

he grunts at the feeling of your walls pulsing around him, driving him over the edge shortly afterwards. warm spurts of white paint your insides, shamelessly claiming you as his and his only.

he settles against the warmth of your back, your breaths evening out.

"good fuckin' morning," he croons.

he doesn't pull out, just stays sheathed comfortably. you stir softly when his lips flutter across your back again.

"so," his voice comes out completely wrecked. "me calling myself daddy does it for you, huh?"

you half-heartedly swat a hand at him.

"shut up."

he nips at your shoulder playfully, right where he'd bitten you earlier, and a quiet whimper echoes from the plush of your lips.

"yeah, that's what i thought," he grins to himself, entirely too smug.

gotta give the guy some credit.

“We fucking hated each other, didn’t we?” Your voice chimes in beside him, your own hand joining his. The wedding ring on your finger catches his eye, and he smiles when he sees it. It’s still the best damn decision he’s ever made. 

He flips the page. “We did, yeah.”

Another photo. This one, he’s in the DSO office, typing up a report. You’re behind him, about to smack his arm for some kind of prank he had played on you. Sherry had been the one to take that photo. He had been 37 at the time, he thinks. Funnily enough, you and him had gone out on a date only a week after.

“You were kind of a jerk, I hope you know.” Your finger gestures to the image on the bottom left corner. You were in a hospital after a mission, your arm getting bandaged up after a bad scuffle. Leon is beside you, sneaking a swig of his flask.

“I was an alcoholic, not a jerk. Big difference.”

You shrug. “Two things can be true, you know.” Your finger taps the flash in the image, “And how the hell did you even get that into a hospital?”

He crosses over his heart dramatically. “I’ll never tell.”

The page gets turned again. This time, it's one of his favorite photos. The wedding day. You’re in a stunning dress, him in a tux that he was only a little reluctant to wear. There’s a tiny bit of your lipstick on his collar, which he had only realized was there after the day was over and the pictures were taken. At the time, he had been embarrassed. Now, it makes him smile.

“You looked so beautiful.” He whispers, and your hand lightly smacks his arm.

You roll your eyes. “That dress was so tight, I couldn’t breathe properly.”

“And you looked beautiful, even if you couldn’t breathe.”

In a flash, your lips go to his cheek, and it leaves him reeling. “How did I ever convince you to date me?”

A giggle. It’s so light and happy that he feels a little dizzy. “You offered me a nice dinner, and promised to stop stealing my lunch from the office fridge. That was a good enough deal for me.”

“In my defence,” He laughs, “Your lunches tasted better than mine.”

“Because your lunches were nothing, Leon.” 

His hands raise above his head, eyes rolling. “They weren’t nothing!”

“A can of diet coke and a protein bar aren’t lunch. It’s a depression meal.”

His body leans closer to yours. You’re warm against him, smelling like your sweet perfume. It swirls around his head, relaxing his soul. “Mm. And now, I have your lunches forever.”

That’s how you ended up here—naked on the bed, thighs spread over Price’s lap while Gaz knelt between your legs like he’d been invited to dinner.

Price’s big hands were firm on your waist, keeping you pinned back against his chest. “She’s sensitive.” he muttered, almost clinical, but you could feel how hard he was against your lower back. “On with it, sergeant.”

Gaz’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and hungry. “You ready for this, love?”

You nodded, already wet and aching just from the sheer thrill of the situation.

Gaz didn’t waste time. Two thick fingers slid through your folds, spreading you open. “First thing—don’t rush. Get her nice and wet.” He rubbed slow circles over your clit until your hips jerked, then pushed two fingers inside, curling just right.

Price watched every movement like it was a briefing.

“There’s a spongy spot here…” Gaz pressed upward deliberately causing your whole body to jolt. “Right there. That’s your target.”

He started pumping—steady, focused strokes that dragged over that spot again and again while his thumb kept pressure on your clit.

Price’s voice was rough in your ear. “Breathe, sweetheart. Let him work.”

Your orgasm built fast—embarrassingly so.

“That’s it..” Gaz praised, voice low. “She’s swelling up. See how she’s pulsing?” He added a third finger and the pressure inside became unbearable. “When she starts trying to close her legs, don’t let her. Keep going.”

Price’s hands moved to your thighs, holding them open. You came with a broken cry, but Gaz didn’t stop. He kept fingering you through it, rough and relentless, and suddenly everything felt tighter, hotter, like something was about to—

“There..” Gaz growled. “Let it go, lovely...”

With a whine, a gush of wetness flooded out around his fingers, soaking the sheets and his wrist. Price made a low, filthy sound behind you as he watched you squirt for the first time in your life.

Gaz eased his fingers out slowly, letting you ride the aftershocks, then lifted his soaked hand to show Price. “That’s the spot. Consistent pressure, curved fingers, and you don’t stop when she comes.. you keep going until she gives it to you.”

Price’s breathing was ragged. His cock was nearly throbbing against your back.

Gaz wiped his fingers on your inner thigh, then met Price’s eyes. “Your turn, Captain.”

Price shifted you forward, laying you down properly. He kissed the inside of your knee, voice low with promise.

“Watch close, Sergeant. I’m a fast learner.”

and despite your best efforts, a single tear slipped free, tracing silently down your temple before soaking into the pillow beneath you like rain disappearing into the ocean.

Fuck. Why couldn't you stop?

you hated this. hated how every breath scraped painfully through your lungs, how your chest felt too tight to breathe properly, as though grief itself had wrapped its hands around your ribs, smothering your senses. soon, as you were thinking it all, another tear followed.

Then another.

grief... but of what? It wasn't as though your life was lacking. God, no. You had everything you'd once wished for, perhaps even more than you had ever dared to dream of. So why was there still that hollow ache buried somewhere deep inside your chest?

That quiet, gaping void that seemed to grow a little wider with every passing night. Was it the past? The memories that refused to loosen their grip?

The words you'd swallowed when you should have told them to fuck off, or maybe it were those thoughts that had nestled themselves between your ribs, making a home there as though they belonged? You didn't know anymore. All you knew was that carrying it had become unbearably heavy.

And eventually, the dam you'd spent so long holding together gave way— not with a crack, nor a slow collapse, but all at once. It shattered. and with it... so did your heart.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying with everything you had not to cry. Not now. Not with your boyfriend, Leon, sleeping so peacefully beside you, his steady breaths filling the quiet room.

You didn't want to wake him. You didn't want him to see you like this. More than anything, you didn't want him to be sad. You didn't want him carrying the same weight that had settled so heavily inside your chest, nor did you want him to become someone who blamed himself for a pain that had never been his to bear.

But still here you were, sobbing and silently breaking.

suddenly, the mattress dipped beside you. Christ... you tried to swallow your tears, but the lump in your throat only tightened, making it almost impossible to breathe. You wanted to move, to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, yet your body refused to obey.

then completely unaware and still half-asleep, Leon instinctively reached toward your side of the bed. His arm lazily draped around your waist, pulling you closer out of habit— only for him to freeze when he felt the unmistakable tremble running through your body.

his eyes fluttered open, only to land on your trembling figure, shit, he thought because the sight alone made something inside his chest crack. You were shaking so hard your shoulders quivered with every unsteady breath.

"Love...?" he called softly, panic creeping into his voice.

You hurriedly scrubbed at your tears with the back of your hand, forcing a smile that fell apart almost as soon as it formed, "m' okay," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you, trembling so badly the words barely made it past your lips.

...

This was the first time Leon had ever seen you like this. You had always been the strong one—the one who insisted you were fine even when you clearly weren't, the one who smiled through exhaustion and carried burdens that were never yours to bear.

But now...

The moment his eyes landed on you, something inside him dropped, his heart sank so violently it felt as though it had fallen straight into the pit of his stomach with a sickening, deafening plop.

No, he had felt fear before, he had watched partners die, he had lost people on missions, and he had stared death in the face more times than he cared to remember.

None of it compared to this.

Seeing you lying there, pale against the dark bedroom sheet, looking so heartbreakingly small beneath the room, as if all the weight of the world was on your shoulders.

It crushed something inside him.

It felt as though a wrecking ball had swung straight through his chest, reducing his heart to splinters before he could even take another breath.

His mind refused to give any more instructions to his body, it felt as if paralysis has struck him. Then questions appeared slowly inside his chest.

Why didn't I notice?

How long have you been carrying all of this alone?

Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?

The questions struck one after another, each one more merciless than the last, until they became unbearable.

For one endless second, Leon laid frozen beside you unable to make his body obey him, as you clutched his arms and let out another tearful sob.

...

Then instinct finally won, soon Leon pushed himself up without another word and gently turned your face towards him, "hey, no you are not." His voice was low and impossibly soft. "Look at me." he crooned.

You couldn't, and fresh tears blurred your vision as another sob escaped your lips, your shoulders trembling so violently it became impossible to stop. It was embarrassing. Humiliating, even. But what hurt far more was seeing him like this— his eyes filled with worry, his hands trembling ever so slightly as though he was terrified you might shatter right in front of him. The sight alone made your heart ache. "I'm sorry," you whispered brokenly, your voice wavering between uneven breaths.

"Don't say that, there is nothing to apologize for."

You tried to pull away from him, shifting your weight uneasily, unable to meet his eyes. Your gaze fell somewhere between the sheets and the space beside him as you swallowed hard. "...I don't know what's wrong with me," you whispered.

"there is nothing wrong with you", he breathed his voice dropping an octave, and you realized his voice carried the same pain as yours, and before you could retreat any further into yourself, Leon wrapped both arms around you and carefully pulled you against his chest. "I am not letting you go, you hear me?"

You could not form a reply instead you melted into him almost instantly, your tears soaked through his T-shirt as your fingers clutched weakly at the fabric, as though letting go would send you drifting somewhere neither of you could reach, and he simply held you, one hand rubbed slow, soothing circles across your back while the other rested gently against your hair. "Shh, my love, I am here", then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, "I've got you."

"I can't stop..." you whispered brokenly as another tear fell down, and you let out a low guttural sound of your own heart breaking: while the lump lodged that sat inside your throat only swelled further, growing heavier with every shaky breath until it felt as though it would split you apart from the inside out, because everything you'd spent so long burying— every hurt, every fear, every unspoken word pressed relentlessly against your chest, threatening to burst free all at once.

"Let it all out, i will be here holding you through everything."

God... you were so grateful.

Grateful that he was yours.

Grateful that you were allowed to hold him through every broken piece of himself, just as he held yours. Grateful that, out of everyone in the world, he was Leon— your Leon, and you never realized how desperately you'd needed this, or so much of your life, love had been tangled with hurt. home had never truly felt like home, and you had endured more toxicity than tenderness, teaching yourself to survive instead of simply exist.

and yet... now finally, you were curled safely against his chest, crying until your heart had nothing left to give, and somehow feeling more peaceful than you ever had before. It was as though every ache you'd carried for years had finally found somewhere safe to rest, and a shaky laugh escaped you through your tears. "I... I don't even know why I'm crying."

Leon only held you a little tighter, his hands slowly tracing your spine, while grounding every emotion in you, "You don't have to know, its okay, my love" he didnt give you a chance to speak, instead he spoke first, and his voice never wavered as he sighed shakily. "You don't have to explain it to me, unless you want to."

Then his voice softened even further, barely above a whisper. "Remember..." He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "It's okay to feel whatever you're feeling. You're not too much. You never were." His thumb traced slow circles over your hand, that rested on his chest, "You don't have to bottle everything up anymore. You don't have to carry every burden alone, or convince yourself that no one will stay." His gaze never left, from your frame, as he cradled you against his chest, and it was unwavering and full of quiet certainty. "you have me. until the day I die." He swallowed thickly before continuing, his voice trembling with raw honesty, and he never knew that it was possible not until you, "And I'm not going anywhere, even if you tried to push me away..." A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. "...I'd sooner bury my own soul than ever let you face this world alone again."

it took a moment for your heart to truly process what he'd said. The tears gradually eased, no longer falling in desperate waves, and the violent pounding in your chest slowly softened until your heartbeat found its way back to a steadier rhythm.

"I will always be here." he quietly reassured you.

"and as long as you are here I will be okay." You replied, shakily.

he doesnt say anything, just hums something incoherent while, his heartbeat remained steady beneath your cheek, grounding you each time, and for a long while, neither of you spoke, and Leon? he didnt tell you to calm down, he just simply stayed quietly beneath you, exactly where he was, letting you fall apart in the safest place you knew, and eventually, your breathing as well... began to slow.

finally, your grip on his t-shirt loosened, and even then, he didn't let go. If anything, his arms tightened around you as he gently pulled you higher until you were lying against him, your body resting atop his.

A small, exhausted sound escaped your lips, but you made no effort to move away. Instead, you simply stayed there, holding him just as tightly as he held you. Your chest rested against his, and in the quiet that followed, you could feel it—the steady drumming of his heart beneath your cheek, matching the frantic rhythm of your own, beating together in the stillness.

"Promise me, something?" he murmured, brushing another kiss into your hair, his words vibrated against your body, making you shudder just slightly.

"Wh...what?"

"That whatever, happens, you will tell me, you won't think you are alone."

You let out a small, shaky, "Yes," before leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss against his chest, right over the cotton of his T-shirt, leon's breath caught for the briefest moment. His hand slid gently into your hair as he runs his fingers through them, "There's my sweet girl." you sighed in bliss.

and for the first time that night.. the weight on your chest loosened, though it didn't disappear entirely, but it no longer felt like you were carrying it alone.

also a part of you knew you never had to explain another thing, because Leon understood you, just as you understood him.

It had always been that way.

It always would be, forever— until death did you part, and perhaps... even then, the two of you would crawl through hell itself for one more chance to find your way back to each other.

"forty three next month."

"leon that is not old—"

"tired," he said again with a finality. he turns a page.

you stared at him. "you're seriously choosing a book over me."

"it's a good book."

"i hate you," you said pleasantly, and went to the bedroom.

the toy had been a recent purchase. you'd mentioned it to him once, held it up, and he'd looked at it and then at you and said "hm" in a tone that gave you absolutely nothing to work with. you took it out now with the energy of someone trying to make a point. you tried to not be petty, to be mature.. quiet and  dignified.

you managed to… for about four minutes.

it felt good and you were frustrated and four days was a long time and the sounds started soft and then got considerably less so, and somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware of this and didn't particularly care anymore.

leon read the same sentence five times.

he put the book down. picked it up. put it down again.

sat there listening to the sounds coming through the wall with an expression doing several things at once.

then he got up, walked to the bedroom, and leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed.

you looked up at him flushed and breathing hard and had the audacity to look unbothered. "can i help you?"

"just checking on you," he said.

"i'm fine."

"clearly." his eyes moved to the toy and back to your face. "don't let me interrupt."

you stared at him. "seriously?"

"go on." he nodded at the toy. a slight curve at the corner of his mouth. "you started without me. finish."

"leon—"

"make yourself cum," he said simply. "go on. since you clearly don't need me."

your face went hot. which was annoying because you were already most of the way there and he'd just made it significantly worse, standing there in the doorway looking completely unbothered while you were falling apart. you tried to look indifferent about it. you failed. and when you came it was with your eyes on him and a broken sound you couldn't quite swallow and his expression shifted into something that made your stomach drop.

"there it is," he said quietly. and finally came into the room.

he took the toy from your hand before you'd even finished catching your breath.

"hey—" you started.

"you'll get it back," he said. and settled between your thighs and pressed it to your clit and turned it on and you immediately tried to close your legs and he held them open with one hand, patiently. "you wanted this so bad," he said. "so have it."

"i already—"

"again," he said. "come one more time. prove to me this is enough. that you don’t need me." his voice is gruff.

you tried very hard not to make noise for him. you really did. you bit your lip and gripped the sheets and stared at the ceiling and lasted approximately thirty seconds before a sound slipped out that you could not in any way defend, your hips rolling up toward the toy despite everything your brain was trying to tell them.

leon made a soft sound like a proud mocking tut. "there she is."

"i hate you," you breathed.

"mhm." he kept the toy exactly where it was and watched you with dark eyes as you tried and failed to stay quiet, and when you finally came apart the second time it was humiliatingly loud and he watched every second of it.

he let you come down for exactly long enough to mock you about it.

"aw," he said. tilting his head slightly. "are you all done now?"

"don't," you said.

"all worn out?"

"leon i swear to god—"

"tired?" he asked innocently . and you grabbed his collar and pulled him down and he laughed against your mouth, low and warm.  

except he doesn't laugh for long.

because the thing about leon is that he'd been holding himself together this entire time. standing in the doorway all composed, sitting between your thighs like he had all the patience in the world, keeping the toy exactly where it was while you came apart twice and made sounds you'd probably be embarrassed about tomorrow. and it had cost him. you could see it now that you were paying attention. his breathing was coming a little short, a little patchy. he shifted his weight, restless, and you looked down and looked back up and raised your eyebrows.

"leon."

"don't," he said.

"you're—"

"i know," he said, clipped.

you almost smiled. "this whole time?"

his breathing was, a little uneven, and when you reached up and curled your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss he made a sound against your mouth that was very close to a whine and very far from the composed man who'd stood in that doorway looking unbothered. his hips shifted forward without permission. his breath kept catching in these short little bursts against your lips, like he'd been clenching his teeth through it for so long that now that you were touching him he couldn't quite get himself under control.

you slid your hand down and wrapped it around him and felt how hard he was, hot and rigid, the veins along his length pulsing under your palm, and he grabbed your wrist. not stopping you. just gripping it, jaw tight, breathing hard through his nose.

"leon," you said again, softer this time.

"yeah," he said. rough. a little wrecked. and then something behind his eyes just gave out entirely. "okay. no. i can't."

and all that patience he'd been so smug about evaporated completely. he reached over and grabbed the pillow and tucked it under your hips and then he pressed forward and the first slide of him into you made you both go still for a second. you were so wet, embarrassingly so, slick and warm and your walls gripping every ridge and vein of him as he pushed in slow, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out and exhaled hard through his nose.

"god," he groaned.

he hooked your leg up over his shoulder and the angle shifted and you felt him impossibly deeper, hitting somewhere that made your eyes flutter, and when he started to move it was not slow or patient and the sounds you both made were the kind that the neighbors would probably complain about tomorrow. his hips drove forward in deep rolling thrusts, every ridge of him dragging against your walls on the pull back, and you reached up and gripped his arm and held on.

"couldn't wait?" you breathed.

"no," he said. simply and without apology. and pressed in deeper.

“gonna fill you up,” he’d said right before, voice wrecked, almost like he wasn’t meaning to say it out loud. “fill this up.” his hand pressing down just slightly, possessive, and you’d clenched around him so hard he’d moaned and his hips had stuttered.

now he looks down at you, panting, and presses a little firmer against your belly. watching your face.

“you feel that?” he says quietly.

“yes,” you breathe.

“yeah?” his thumb moves in a slow circle against your skin, that same unbothered focus he gives everything, except his voice is rough and his chest is still heaving. “you like that. being filled with me.”

it’s not really a question. he can feel the answer in the way you clench around him, still so warm and gripping onto him, and the sound you make is small and helpless.

he stays there for a long moment, hand still pressed to your stomach, neither of you moving. then he exhales slowly and drops his forehead to yours.

he presses his lips to your temple and says nothing for a while.

"not that old," you said eventually.

"no," he agreed. comfortable. satisfied. "not that old."

you felt him smile against your hair.