banannie

The monster’s clutching you too tight, you're gasping for air. Your dominant arm is free, grenade in hand, even if your other arm is squashed in against your side. The fucker’s whipping you around like a litigiously unregulated county fair ride; black edges your vision and your head pounds horribly. You manage to arm the grenade with your teeth and grip it, breathless, waiting.

You need the hydra to screech again. You need the great stinking mouth open, throwing saliva and mucus past rows of needle teeth, the perfect basket in which to throw your one and only egg.

Leon’s already caught on.

A single splattering gunshot splits the air and the monster jerks, limbs flying skyward as it screams in fury; you’re helplessly along for the ride, heaved almost directly above it – and here’s your window.

You drop the grenade. It goes right down the gullet.

The explosion ruptures the monster’s body cavity in a great geyser of green and black gore. Its limbs thrash and flail, whipping high, slamming into the ground. You brace as the arm gripping you speeds for the ground, but then it swings you around and back up, your stomach lurching violently, and –

It throws you.

Your heart and lungs hitch, suspended; time runs slow as you arc high, tumbling, too high, way too high – and start falling. You see where you’re going to land and curl yourself into a ball, protecting your head and neck.

Your body blows a hole right through the lake ice, plunging into the freezing water below.

Leon’s already running.

The hydra is nothing but a tangled, limp, caved-in pile of slop, disregarded the second Leon saw you go airborne. He’s running, stripping off his jacket, ripping open the buckles on his chest rig, tearing off his tac belt, leaving a trail of weapons and ammunition and nylon webbing strewn in his wake. He reaches the bank in his street clothes, shoes skidding to a stop just before the water, breath loud in his ears and visible in the air.

The jagged crater you left in the ice is still sloshing dark, slushy water.

You haven’t come up for air.

“Fuck.”

He looks down at the scuffed grey ice pack, gauges the distance to you, and sprints.

The ice groans and cracks under his feet; he keeps moving. He closes the gap, every pounding footfall turbulence that fractures the lake ice in great echoing snaps, the whole thick sheet weakened by the violence of your intrusion. Finally, with a leap that calves the ice beneath him, Leon dives into the freezing water after you.

The shock of the cold pulls on Leon’s lungs, he has to fight against the primal instinct to gasp. His limbs are immediately leaden, but he doesn't stop moving. The flat grey daylight barely filters through the murky ice above and the water is dark with disturbed silt. He kicks towards the lakebed in search of you, his pounding heartbeat a timer counting down.

Something that looks like a branch solidifies into your arm, limp hand floating in a slack reach skyward. Leon grabs your wrist, hauling your dead weight towards himself, hooking his arms underneath your shoulders and swimming up for the gap in the ice.

He heaves in air when your heads breach the surface.

You do not.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls through gritted teeth, and manages to slide you up onto the ice pack, pushing you clear as he kicks his legs up behind himself and drags flat onto the ice beside you. He moves you onto a thick, uncracked stretch of ice and pushes you onto your back, plugging your nose and forcing air into your mouth.

You choke, spurting dirty lake water, rolling onto your side and spitting up more, coughing and heaving. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow, your throat raw and tight, nose stinging and burning. Your eyes are blurry when you open them, your ears are waterlogged. You squeeze your eyes shut and blink them clear enough to see what keeps pulling at you.

It’s Leon, wet and pale, saying something to you, his eyes intense. You squint at his mouth, trying to read his lips because your ears might as well have been left underwater for all the good they’re doing you.

Get up

We need to move

Can you “hear me? We have to go, now!”

As if to punctuate his statement, the ice below you jerks, a crack scything underneath your body like a bolt of lightning. You recoil onto your hip and Leon pulls at your arm, pulls you up, the ice creaking and popping under your shoes.

“Run!”

It’s a bit much to ask.

You do your best, stumbling after Leon, short on breath and coughing. You’d impacted the ice with your left shoulder, the force ramming your curled arm into your ribs, hard. That side is tight and painful, and you know you’re too frozen to feel the full extent of it yet. It’s really not gonna be pretty.

Your foot catches on a rising gap in the ice and trips you; you slide and weakly scramble back to your feet. Ahead of you, Leon’s almost to the shore.

You’re almost there.

You hit the bank on your hands and knees, gasping. Your fingers, clawing into the crumbling dirt, are pale, the nail beds blue. You can barely feel the dry grit of the cold earth under your hands.

Leon grabs the collar of your jacket and yanks you to standing.

“Keep moving. Keep moving, come on.” He grabs your hand, already running, pulling you after him.

You half-register the scattered bullet clips, weaponry, and leather jacket on the bank as you run in Leon’s wake. You pass the fuckass hydra; it’s nothing but a gelatinous stinking puddle that you quickly leave behind.

The thin, brittle air razors through your lungs, freezing and metallic. The bitter wind axes at you. You can’t feel your extremities; you keep stumbling and it’s slowing you down. Leon looks back just in time to watch you actually fall, tripping in a rut, knees slamming into the ground. He runs back to you and helps you up. You’re both breathing shallow, wracked with tremors, teeth chattering and skin close to blue.

“Almost there. Come on.”

Leon’s car is half-hidden behind a broken fence and an overgrown shrub, parked haphazard on the dry, patchy grass. He hits the driver’s side door with more momentum than he meant to, pressing his thumb to the door handle; it unlocks and he yanks it open. You hear the whole car unlock, the lights flashing, and he slaps the driver’s door shut in favor of the backseat.

“Get in. Get in!”

You slip in the back passenger’s door just as he slides in on the other side, the both of you slamming the doors on the freezing wind. Leon immediately grabs the hem of his soaked shirt, peeling it over his head and dumping it over the headrests into the trunk. It lands with a wet plap.

“Wet stuff in the back,” he says, twisting over the seats to grab something out of the trunk. It’s a duffel; he grunts in frustration when his numb fingers fail at first to catch the handle but then he drags it into the backseat while you’re struggling out of your soaked jacket and shoving it over the backrests. It lands with an even wetter plorp.

You’re still wearing your chest rig; your numb, stiff fingers can’t get the fucking plastic buckles to open.

“Fuck!”

There’s a sharp snk noise; Leon shoves your hands clear and slips a folding knife under the nylon webbing of your rig. The straps pull taut and dig into your injured side, but then he’s cut clean through the belts and he’s helping untangle it from your arms. The buckles clatter against the back windshield as you throw it in the trunk. Leon uses the knife to make quick work of his shoelaces, kicking his soaked and muddy shoes into the footwell, then he leans across and holds your ankles steady, cutting your bootlaces while you peel your shirt up over your head. Your side screams at the stretch and you rasp out a cry of pain.

Your left side is already violently bruised, livid and dark against the pale blanch of your goosepimpled skin. You’re caught for a moment by the horrible picture it makes, trying to remember to breathe.

“Jesus,” Leon says in agreement. In your periphery, he’s struggling with his waterlogged skinny jeans and there’s suddenly a lot more skin above the line of his waistband; the denim sucked his boxer briefs halfway down his hips before he managed to shove the jeans to his knees and off. He throws the jeans in the back, pulls the waistband of his underwear up, and again he’s in your space undoing your useless fucking tac belt that your frozen fingers can’t open. His hands are just as cold and numb as your own, why the fuck do they work better than yours?

Wind gusts against the outside of the car, scratching the scraggly branches of the nearby shrub against the doors. You feel a draft even through the sealed door. Your teeth are clacking uncontrollably.

“Can we get the fucking heat running?” You shove your pants and boots into the trunk, smearing mud on the leather seat. Leon’s rooting through the duffel again.

“No.”

“No?”

“The keys are in my coat.”

“The fuck kind of agent are you? Hotwire the car.”

“Smart, when I can’t feel my hands,” he says, and shoves the duffel into the footwell, tearing open a passport-sized plastic package with his teeth and turning towards you on the seat. “Come here.”

He shakes out the mylar safety blanket and you realize exactly what’s going to have to happen, here. It’s a thought you’ve had triaged as a last-resort solution while stripping semi-nude in the backseat of his car; now it turns out it’s your only solution. He’s scooting to lay down across the backseat and you’re going to have to get on top of him. He’s scooting to lay down across the backseat in nothing but wet cotton boxer briefs and you’re going to have to get on top of him in nothing but a wet bra and panties, and then he’s going to close you both in under the mylar blanket to trap heat like you’re a fucking turkey in a roasting pan.

Fuck.

You clench your jaw against your chattering teeth and don’t let yourself hesitate. There’s no can or can’t here – you’re both freezing, this is life or death. So you climb up over him in the limited space available, helping to pull the mylar blanket around you and tuck it in under your shins, under his head and shoulders, sealing you together into a lumpy, creased foil bubble.

It’s not pitch black like you'd hoped. The mylar filters the grey daylight into a dim, intimate dusk. You can still see Leon’s face clearly, on your hands and knees above him; you could count his eyelashes if you could bear to look him in the eyes. You keep your head down and focus on the uncontrollable chatter of your teeth, the way your whole body is shivering unpleasantly, and not the way his knees are framing your hips. He’s too tall for the backseat.

Your disloyal stomach flutters when you feel his hand brush your darkened side.

“How are your ribs?” He presses his thumb carefully against the darkest patch, low on your ribcage, where your elbow impacted. You hiss and jerk away.

“Tenderized, Leon. Ow."

“How bad?”

“I don’t… think anything’s broken.”

“Deep breath in.”

You oblige, slow and careful, your ribs expanding over your lungs. It stings horribly, your skin feels too tight, but nothing stabs you. His hand rides the motion of your ribs, feeling for telltale hitches or jerks. It’s nothing but clinical.

“Alright,” he says, quiet. He eases his touch but doesn’t drop it away. You’re staring at your hand in the crumpled landscape of the mylar blanket over Leon’s shoulder, because everything else is his naked skin.

His hand moves from your side to your arm, fingers close to the bend in your elbow like he means to fold it.

“You gotta get down on me."

You want to laugh but your side only lets you make a pained huff through your chattering teeth.

"Nice one, icebrain. Lemme loop HR in real quick."

“The air pocket only works if one of us is warm,” he says, steamrolling the comment. And he’s right.

Fuck.

"I don't know where you think my knees are going."

You have to play some strange and painful backseat Twister, the foil blanket complicating shit by clinging to your damp skin and hair, but then you’ve puzzled yourselves together so you can drop onto him with a put-upon huff.

He hisses and pushes you back up by the shoulders.

“Fuck, how much water is in that thing?”

You both look down at your high-impact bra. Squeezed between the two of you, it's now weeping drops of frigid water down your stomach. It's also left an imprint across Leon's chest, wet enough to bead up and roll towards his armpits.

“You can’t be wearing that.”

“Leon–“

"No, this isn't an argument. That's over your heart."

Yes, but. It's also over your breasts. Preventing them from being all over Leon. All over Leon's naked skin.

"Do you trust me?"

You don't even hesitate, because that's the easy question.

"Yes."

It's a zip-front bra. His fingers touch the zipper.

"Okay?" His gaze is holding yours, strong, a promise to keep his eyes up.

It’s taking all your energy to appear calm and unaffected right now.

“Yeah. Fine."

It’s a relief, actually, the compression easing as he pulls the zipper down, releasing entirely when the sides come apart. It’s easier to breathe. He pushes the straps from your shoulders, brushes them down your arms until you can drop the soaked bra into the footwell, tucking the foil blanket back in place. His chest, still cold, feels warm against your freezing breasts.

He rubs the damp, freezing skin of your back, paying special attention to the deep impressions left by the bra seams like he can smooth them out, putty under his fingers.

“Do you know you're doing that.”

He stops. You shift, shoulderblades rolling under his hands.

“I didn't tell you to stop,” you say.

“Yes ma'am.”

Your head is turned away from his, because otherwise your nose would be right against his cheek. You have to maintain at least one boundary in the smoking ruin of all the others. He keeps stroking your back; the gentle flats of his palms, the firm pads of his fingers. You’re starting to feel like putty.

Your eyelids are heavy.

“Is it bad to fall asleep?”

He pinches you hard and you jolt away from it, knocking against the seatback. Your injured side flares with pain.

“Fuck! You ass,” you gasp, poking him hard between the ribs. He jerks under you, cursing, and you brace for retaliation, but he’s gone still.

And you register why.

His face is right under yours, noses almost touching. You’re sharing breath.

And something else is different.

“…Where are your hands?”

You know where they are. He moves them from your hips up to your back again.

“Good boy.”

You don’t know what fucking possessed you. It sounded like a joke in your head, but released into the narrow space between your faces it’s far more charged than that, because of course it is. You’re hearing it now, where it’s too late to take it back. You still have a brain like a frozen chicken cutlet, fucking cold and smooth, he has to understand–

He’s breathing out hot against your mouth, pushing his hands down to the small of your back, pressing your body tighter against his, and it ignites something sharp and fervid in your belly.

“Shit,” you whisper, and kiss him.

He meets it. He kisses you back like he’s just been waiting, gathering the damp hair at your nape with one hand, blunt nails scraping the skin of your neck. His other hand goes lower, the heel of his palm digging in, fingers gripping your ass. You gasp and roll your hips, body lighting up.

“Fuck,” he says into your mouth. “Careful with your side.”

“You be careful with my side.”

“Damn.”

“Shut up.” You fist his hair and pull his head back, kissing the taut line of his neck under his ear, scraping your teeth against the skin. He’s got both hands on your ass now, sliding his fingers under the sides of your panties to gather the fabric into a thong, palming the cool skin of your bared cheeks. You hum, rolling your hips again.

“You’ve got a fixation.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, unashamed. He smooths his hands down your thighs where they’re framing his sides, his fingertips digging in. You’re sitting on his pelvis, grinding on nothing but the flat of his low abdomen, his thighs closed behind your ass, his knees pressed to the car door. You kiss his mouth, open and loose, and speak against it.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you that cold?”

“Don’t be rude.”

You stop moving, pushing up to stare down at him. “Are you serious?”

“No.” He opens his legs, shifting his hips, and you gasp when you feel him against your ass. You shift back, rubbing yourself against the hardening length of his dick, the lake-wet fabric of your underwear dragging together, no longer cold and clammy where you’re touching. His breath tumbles hot from his open mouth, hips rolling to meet you.

“Fuck, Leon.” If this is him with shrinkage, how the hell has he been packing all that into skinny jeans all these years?

He’s watching you, his eyes half-lidded, hands on your naked waist. You sit up more, tipping your head back, running your hands along his forearms as you drag your wet pussy along the firm heat of his cock.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he tells you, molten. You groan, arching.

“Jesus. Keep talking like that.”

“Yeah?” He tugs you by the arms to bring you lower, kissing your neck with an open mouth, his scruff lightly scratching your skin and making you shiver. His hands find your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, and your breath hitches. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to touch you like this.”

You laugh, just a teasing exhale against his lips. “What, cold and injured?”

He’s pulling the fabric of your panties to one side, holding it there, out of the way. You moan when he rubs his fingers through your drenched folds, slow.

“Naked and wet,” he growls, teeth grazing your shoulder. You whimper and thread your fingers into his hair, gripping, gasping when he circles your clit. Your hips jerk erratically; he’s mouthing kisses up the side of your neck, nipping lightly, then speaking against your skin, his voice subterranean.

“What do you want?”

Holy shit. You don’t remember what it feels like to be cold, anymore. Your body’s on fire. You’ve maybe never been this turned on in your life, and all this after a fucking ice bath.

“Take yourself out," you tell him. "I wanna feel you.”

The first drag of your wet cunt along the satin heat of his naked cock has him groaning, his hips rocking helplessly. You glide on him like that, wetting his dick, feeling it jump and throb between your pussy lips. You prop yourself up on his shoulders, pressing him down into the seat, grinding your clit firm against the head of his cock with little gyrations of your hips. He’s gripping your waist, mouth open, just watching you.

“I’ve never seen you so speechless,” you tell him.

“I’ve – shit – never seen you riding me.”

“Mm. Lucky day.”

“I know.”

“Any last words?”

“What?”

You cant your hips back, reaching down to guide the glistening head of Leon’s cock to your entrance. His fingers tighten on your sides, breathing in sharp.

“Be careful,” he says.

“You’re sweet,” you tell him, bearing down with little adjustments, caging his dick in place with your fingers. The tip of him presses into your tight wet heat and Leon gasps, head thumping back against the seat. You stare at the display of his body below you; the taut stretch of his neck, the flush of his chest, the tight muscles of his stomach as he works to keep his hips still, letting you control this. You take him into you in increments, the burning stretch of him blurring into white-hot pleasure, the length of him making your thighs shake before you’re finally fully seated, the throbbing heat of him bottomed out inside of you, filling you deep. You drop forward, hands on his shoulders, panting.

“Are you okay?”

You manage a nod. “God, Leon.”

He moves his hips, just a small adjustment, experimental. You gasp, lifting to half-mast him, sliding back down. He’s so thick.

Your thighs are shaking too much and you don’t exactly have the room to adjust. You lean down, desperate.

“Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. He grips your ass, pushing you down into every thrust of his hips, long and slow at first so you can feel every inch, grinding tight against you when he bottoms out. He uses your breath by his ear as a barometer, picking up the pace, the wet glide turning into a wet slap, and turns his head to catch your moans in his mouth.

“Think you can come like this?”

“Limited menu of options, garçon,” you pant. There’s no fucking space back here.

“Tip your hips down,” he says.

You do; he slams in deep, grinding, putting delicious pressure on your clit. You cry out.

“Fuck, like that Leon!”

He pulls your earlobe into his mouth, sucking lightly, resuming the faster slap of his hips.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, filthy, and jesus christ, he is going to get an orgasm out of you. Almost just did.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Are you close?”

“Do you want me to be?”

You clench around him and he groans, hips stuttering.

“Fuck. I am if you do that,” he gasps. You do it again and he buries deep to grind on you, like he’s warring you, fighting to set you off first.

“Fuck, I’m close, I’m close,” you whimper, bouncing on him, stalling for time. He’s got you right on the edge and you don’t wanna go over yet. “With me. Come with me.”

He curses, fucking into you hard and fast, thrusts starting to go erratic. You keep a litany of babble going in his ear, obscene, feeling him catching up, drawing tight; and then he’s bottoming out hard against you, groaning brokenly as he pulses deep inside of you, your walls convulsing as the final slap of his hips sends you tumbling over the edge with him.

When you come back down to earth, the foil blanket is askew, his leg sticking out in the passenger’s side footwell, your forearm dangling in the driver’s side footwell. You’re lying bonelessly on top of Leon, riding the heaving of his chest as you both catch your breath. He pulls the mylar down to the middle of your back and the cold air raises new goosebumps on your flushed skin.

"I think that did the trick,” he says.

You hum, your eyes closed, face pressed to the side of Leon’s neck. He runs his thumb lightly along the dewy column of your spine.

“How’s your side?”

“Stings.”

He’s still inside you, starting to slip free as he softens. He gently pulls out and your forehead creases, a grumpy noise escaping you.

“Hey,” he says, soft. You don’t lift your head, it feels like too much effort. He shifts under you and you grumble your displeasure, but he’s just resettling you so you’re not leaning your bruised side so heavily against the seatback. He cards his fingers through your hair, pulling it back from your sweaty temple.

“I’m going to sleep,” you murmur. “Try to pinch me again and see what happens.”

He laughs, just a short rumble low in his chest.

“Worked out fine the first time.”

You smile, eyes closed, and tuck your arm in under his body.

“Beginner’s luck.”

There’s a lot of shit to do. There’s kit to grab from the beach, samples to take from the hydra, clothes to dry, reports to fill out, bruises to heal, complex developments to talk through with your partner.

But right now, there’s just Leon’s heartbeat and steady breathing beneath you, his fingers combing lazily through your hair, and you’re pretty sure it’s all gonna work out okay.

On AO3

Guys quick tip don’t take survival advice from a gratuitous x reader they probably died lmao

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He never pushed. Never prodded for details. He simply accepted your preferences and took your word. Unbeknownst to him, it was getting hard to keep that up. Everytime you'd suck him off, or sit in his lap and let him grind at your clothed pussy til he came, it became harder not to ask for him to return the favor. Why didn't you?

Leon was clueless about why you never let him return the favor, but in recent weeks, he noticed something. He took note of everything. When you initiated something, you were more hesitant to deny his offer near the end. You were more insistent about him touching you—groping and kneading anywhere he could reach. But you still swore up and down that you didn't need it.

He wasn't having it now.

He had you in his lap, hands palming at your butt, keeping your hips in motion against his clothed length. He kissed gently along your neck, one hand creeping down to find the space between your thighs. Before he could touch you through your shorts, you shifted away, panting slightly as you looked at him, slightly dazed from the dry humping and heated kisses.

"What?" He mumbled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just... relax. Let me d—"

"Let me do the work," he mocked faintly, face drooping slightly at the repetition of what you told him everytime he tried to reciprocate pleasure.

"Okay, that's.. a little mean." You laughed it off. "What's your deal?"

"You want it. You've been hesitant to let go lately. You've been more persistent about me touching you right." He said simply, gently lifting you off of his lap so neither of you could ignore the conversation with advances.

"What are you talking about?" You huffed quietly.

"You never let me see you or touch you in the same way you do to me."

"Because I don't need it." You tried to laugh it off again, scooting in closer. He stopped you.

"No. I want honesty. Why won't you let me return the favor and give you what you want?" He asked firmly, hands placed harshly on your thighs to keep you from moving.

"Leon, can we not do this? You know I like to give more than take." You looked away, shifting your body so you could close your legs and tuck them under your weight.

"Why?" He asked again.

You moved to get up, fully prepared to just go and finish yourself off in the shower and just ignore him, but he stopped you, hand over your wrist.

"How long have we been together?"

You blinked at him. "Two years?"

"Two years in two weeks. How long have we been getting intimate?"

"Uh.. a year?"

"And I've still never seen you naked."

"So?" You scoffed. "It's a preference, Leon."

"No, it's something else. You get scared when I ask you if you want me to help you out. If it's something trauma related, I want to know so I'm not accidently triggering something for you. If it's insecurity related, I need to know so that I can get that stupid shit out of your head. You have nothing to be insecure or afraid of." He spoke firmly, taking your hands into his as he shifted so you'd look at him.

"It's not.. it's not trauma. It just... looks weird, okay?" You finally spat out, brows furrowing.

"What does?"

"Everything. My body. My.." you exhaled heavily, frowning slightly as you looked down. "It's not appealing, Lee. It looks different than what I'm sure you've seen from other women."

"So?" He scoffed. "Babe," he lifted a hand to your cheek, letting you lean into the touch as he lifted your head. "I've seen a lot. I've only been with a few girls, and I've seen enough to know I don't give a damn."

"That doesn't—you don't understand. Most girls have an innie."

"A what now?" He blinked.

"Innie. You know, like belly buttons? They either protrude or are tucked away."

"Yes? What's that gotta do—oh. Oh."

"Yeah. Same thing happens with women's labia. It either stays nice and tucked away, or it poked out and looks weird. Even weirder if you've got a damn bush. Men don't like either, but the combination is even worse."

"I've seen that. Why's it matter? So long as I'm not opening myself up to an STD or a pussy with teeth inside, I don't see why the look of it matters." He looked genuinely dumbfounded. Not because he didn't understand the differences in women's bodies, but because he didn't understand the pressure you felt from yours looking different.

"It's not visually arousing!" You argued. "Guys in the past have made it clear that it's not very nice to look at. Even when I shaved—which I fucking hate doing."

"Listen to me." He cupped your face with both hands, leaning in for a quick kiss. "You are my girlfriend, and the woman I hope to call my wife someday, and if I'm lucky and I don't die before 35, I'd love to have some kids with you."

His words made your heart jolt, eyes widening slightly.

"All that said, I need you to understand that my love for you is bigger than what you look like." He leaned in to press your forehead to his. "If you truly don't want me to see you right now, then I won't push, but I need you to understand that you're the most beautiful woman I could have ever imagined I'd have the luck to be loved by."

"You swear on my life, your life, and our relationship that even if you don't like it, you wouldn't change your mind about me as a person?" You whispered quietly, lower lip quivering slightly from anxiety.

"I swear on everything. My life. Your life. Our relationship. My job. Our—"

You cut him off with a giggle, kissing him softly as you fell forward to hug him. "Okay, okay, no more swearing." You murmured, head falling to nuzzle into the side of his neck.

"Are you willing to let me see you tonight?" He asked softly, gently brushing your hair back and holding you tenderly as he scooted you back into his lap.

"Just... be warned." You pulled back, that shy look returning. "I haven't shaved. Or trimmed. In a while." Your voice returned to a quiet whisper.

Leon chuckled, lips curling into a mischievous grin. "A man fears no bush." He leaned in for another kiss, deeper this time. It took a minute of coaxing, but once your body gave in, you let him turn around and lay you down, his lips glued to yours the entire way down.

"You," you muttered, his lips interrupting you. "are so cheesy." You finished, making him laugh quietly.

"Be glad I didn't make a jungle joke. Or a Jumanji reference."

"Don't make me change my mind." You deadpanned.

"Alright, alright, no more jokes. Just focusing on my pretty lady." He dipped his head down and kissed his way down your body, stopping once he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you one more time, waiting for you to nod before he gently tugged the fabric down, your panties coming down with the shorts.

You closed your eyes, tight as you subconsciously held your breath. You expected a noise. A face. Anything to express dislike. But all that came was a shuddery breath and a soft kiss to your inner thigh. He sucked a light bruise into your thigh, moving onto the other one, repeating the process until he felt satisfied. Your head lifted and your eyes opened to look at him, finding him already looking up at you as his lips worked their way back up your thighs, stopping merely an inch from where you needed him most.

"Whoever convinced you that this was unattractive must have not liked pussy." He said bluntly, and before you could even laugh or tell him he was a doofus, his tongue was licking a long, flat stripe between your folds, making you gasp and quiver at the sensation.

"Leon," you breathed, head falling back against the pillow.

"Shh, 's okay," he uttered, tongue finding your clit with ease before he took the tiny nub between his lips and suckled gently. You squeaked, hips jolting. "Fuck," he cursed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "She's fuckin' sopping, baby." He pulled back just far enough to take a better look, two fingers coming to gently spread your folds so he could see the wetness that had accumulated from simply dry humping and some nasty kisses.

"Lee," you whined. "Don't do that." You tried to reach down to hide yourself, pouting in embarrassment.

"No, no, not a chance." He grabbed your hand and held it down, shaking his head. "I've waited this long, I'm not letting you hide from me. Not when she's waiting so patiently for me. Don't you wanna give your pretty pussy what she's been fucking aching for?"

His words made your body shake slightly, pussy clenching around nothing. He could feel it, his lips curling upward with satisfaction. "Just.. don't stare like that. Please?"

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it." He promised, leaning back in to let his tongue circle your hole, only to delve in and get a proper, pure taste of you. His eyes rolled back, a low groan leaving him as he listened to you try to stifle your pitchy sounds. His tongue retracted and licked smoothly up to your clit and focused there. He repeated that pattern for a while until he felt you were ready for a little more. With his mouth still torturing your clit, he inserted two fingers, cautious but confident.

"O-oh, Leon," you gasped softy, back arching eagerly into his touch. He pumped two fingers back and forth ever so gently, slow in his need to build up and prepare you. His mouth pulled from your clit with a lewd slurp, only for him to lean in with soft, sweet kitten licks, making you twitch and grind up against his ministrations.

"She's so good already—so perfect," he purred, kissing his way up your body and finding your lips as he slowly increased the pace and curled his fingers, eliciting a gasp and a pitchy, drawn out moan from you. "You're so beautiful." He breathed, leaning in for a deeper kiss to get you distracted and eased so you weren't concerned about his opinions.

Leon worked you all the way to the edge, getting you to melt into his arms and accept the pleasure without worry, and just as you dug your nails into his arms, he eased to a stop, fingers retracting gently. You blinked up at him, panting quietly.

"Why did you—"

"That was just the appetizer." He purred, settling comfortably between your legs as he kissed your jawline. "Now I've gotta give you the real deal. Is that okay with you?" He asked softly, his clean hand gently soothing up and down your hip.

"Yeah, yeah, that's.. that's okay." You breathed, swallowing harshly as you watched him lean over to the nightstand to retrieve a condom. You opened your mouth to ask when he bought those, but you halted as he undid his pants and pushed them down. He opened the condom and rolled the pre-lubed material down his length, giving himself a couple of strokes before he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" He asked, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. You gave a slight nod, gaze downward to watch as he slowly pushed inward, a slow moan drawing out from his throat. You hissed, but urged him to continue as you eased yourself to relax around his girth. He brought a hand down to gently massage your clit, his other hand pushing your shirt upward to grope and knead your breast, pinching gently at your nipple.

You mewled softly as he bottomed out, his cock filling you perfectly. Your thighs trembled, body aching beneath him. Not painfully, but rather with desire. You'd used toys before, obviously, given you'd been satisfying yourself for so long, but nothing compared to being in his hold, his hands all over you, and his cock filling you up like he was meant to.

"You okay?" He asked softly, thumb expertly circling your clit and allowing you to twitch and relax around him as you adjusted to his girth.

"Yeah," you breathed, eyelids falling shut with a blissful sigh leaving your lips. "You can move if you want. I don't need that long to adjust." You mumbled.

"Well, thanks to society, I know nothing about my girlfriend's body or her limits, so it'll take a while for me not to treat you like a porcelain doll." He mumbled, leaning to for a slow, easy kiss as his cock dragged backward halfway, then eased back in. He took his hand off your breast and reached to take your hand in his, holding it with the utmost care as he worked his hips back and forth slowly. It wasn't loud, wasn't rough, wasn't fast. It wasn't like any of the videos or standards you'd grown to think it'd be like.

He was slow, cautious yet confident, caring with every move, attentive to every little noise and movement of your body. His attentiveness almost made your heart squeeze whenever he'd stop entirely if you gave a sound that seemed pained rather than pleased. He was prepared to stop for any reason whatsoever.

"Don't let anyone ever tell you you're undesirable." He whispered softly, his hand leaving your clit so he could gently hold your face and let you lean into the touch. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'm a goddamn fool for you." He lifted your chin for another kiss, a little faster this time.

You moaned softly, back arching. Your free hand came to rest at the back of Leon's neck, fingers carding softly through the bottom of his hair as his hips remained slow and steady. "You can go faster. Please, go faster, Lee." You begged softly, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him closer.

"Whatever you want, baby." He did as told, hips gradually speeding up to a maintained pace. Each thrust inward, his tip grazed that spongy spot inside of you, pushing squeaks and gasps and moans from your throat as your body began to bounce with the new speed.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, back arching as your head fell back, nails digging into his hand and the nape of his neck. "Lee!" You squealed, thighs quivering. "'M sss—so close," your words were drawn out with pitchy moans. Leon's hand left your cheek and came down to fondle with your breast again, switching between the two mounds as he watched them bounce and jolt with each pump of his cock.

"Go on, baby. Take it. Fuck—she's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight." He hissed, brows furrowing slightly as he fought to maintain his pace and rhythm to keep you on the incline to pleasure. Instead of letting him explore your body with his free hand, you reached eagerly to grab it, searching for every bit of reassurance that he truly was here, genuinely enjoying himself, and it wasn't just another dream.

"Lee—Leon!" You choked.

"Cum for me. Please. Cum on my cock. Let me feel your pretty pussy fuckin' milk me." He begged, leaning in for a sloppy kiss as you finally let loose, body twitching and locking up momentarily before it eased into a limp mess. You heaved, barely mustering the focus and energy to return his hungry kiss as he fucked you through your orgasm, meeting his own moments later. With a deep grunt, he filled the condom, lips falling open in a breathy, choked, drawn out whiney moan as he let your cunt convulse and encourage every last bit of his cum to spill into the condom.

He slowly eased out of you, trying not to collapse on top of you as he rushed to discard the condom in the bedside trashcan—it was almost full, so he'd get rid of it later. Once discarded, he let himself fall into you, engulfing you in his embrace from above. His arms went around your waist, pulling you into him as he snuggled his face into the side of your neck, letting you catch your breath as he mouthed softly at the flesh he could reach. His hands soothed gently along your back, tickling your sides with his feathery touch.

Once your breathing evened out, Leon slipped and laid on your side, pulling you onto your side and into him. "You still there, baby?" He asked softly, brushing your hair away from your face to find you looking up at him.

"Yeah. 'Course I am." You whispered, watching him chuckle softly.

"There's my girl. You feel okay?" He mused quietly, fingertips gently carding through your hair and massaging your scalp.

"Feel good." You exhaled, head falling forward against his chest.

"Hey," he tilted your head back, making you look back up at him. "Don't do that again."

"What?" You frowned, sleep lacing your features.

"Hide from me. Never again. Promise me, baby." He paused, eyes softening as they looked into yours. "Promise me that whatever you're afraid of, whatever comes between you and your comfort or your happiness, you won't hide from me again." His hand came to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

"I didn't.. I didn't know it would be such a big deal for you. I'm sorry." You leaned in and hid in his chest, feeling him exhale.

"I'm not mad." He laughed a little. "I just need you to know you're safe here. No judgment, no secrets, no need to be afraid. Ever." He curled around you, letting you stay in your comfortable hiding spot.

"I promise. I'll do better about it." You nodded, pressing a small kiss to his chest, right where you could hear and feel his heartbeat.

"I love you. More than anything imaginable."

"I love you, too, Lee."

"You wanna sleep now?"

"Mmh, I have to pee first." You groaned, uncomfortable and groggy.

"Go on, then. I'll swap the sheets and get you some water." He slowly pulled away, helping you out of the bed and parting after a sweet kiss so you could go about your business while he fixed up the messy sheets.

Upon wiping yourself up, now washing your hands, you groaned quietly. "Leeee?" You called, emerging from the bathroom and peeking into the bedroom.

He walked back into the bedroom with two bottles of water and a makeshift snack plate with crackers, fruit, and some chocolate. "Yeah?" He bumped the door shut, a piece of candy already in his mouth, making his cheek puff out slightly. Likely one of those old person candies he liked—butterscotch or the hard strawberry candies.

"Oh, I'm so in love with you." You grinned, meeting him halfway and eagerly kissing him. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to make some food but you read my mind."

"Sex makes me hungry." He shrugged, but smiled at your affection as he led you back to the clean bed.

"Well, normally you aren't doing the work." You giggled.

"Yeah, but now I am, and I'm really hungry." He crawled into the bed and pulled you in to follow, plate held off to the side as he tugged you into his lap.

"Love you." He purred, hugging you tight with his free arm.

"Love you, Lee."

Leon’s tired eyes look down at the teething baby who finds comfort in chewing on his tiny hand. The man bought an absurd amount of toy to help the baby’s sore gums, yet one of the little gremlins found them and is holding it for ramson. Oh, Leon wants a girl so bad but he’s completely finished. Leon’s bouncing him, trying to get the baby to go down for his nap, but it’s to no avail. 

“For how long are you going to stay this adorable, James?” Leon asks as if the baby could answer. Leon knows it’s only a matter of time before James joins them. He’ll be completely overpowered by his three boys in no time. Oh Leon already feels that headache incoming– Worst part is that he still loves the little shits, even with all the chaos they cause.

“Hey! Stop that you two!” Leon hears the yelling, a subtle smile coming to Leon’s lips when he hears the noise from the boys stop. At least they fear you, that’s better than nothing. He can only picture you dragging them by their ears and scolding them. It’s the only way the boys listen nowadays.

“You better behave, James, or else your mommy will drag you by your ear too.” Leon hopes that instilling some fear in the baby will make sure that he’s a little less rowdy than his brothers, but he doubts it’ll work in his favor. The baby barely sleeps, Leon knows he’s in for a wild ride with this one too.

“He’s still not asleep?” You startle the man when you enter the living room. The baby’s eyes are wide open, and you’d laugh. If this wasn’t your third baby, you’d laugh. You sigh. “Make him a bottle.”

“Why don’t you just pull out a tit?” he asks as he hands you the baby. You glare at him, and he chuckles as he raises his hands defensively. He stands up to do what you’ve asked of him. 

“I’ve pumped enough, he can take a bottle,” you answer before cooing at your baby. He’s drooling, making a mess all over his clothes. Poor little thing is probably so uncomfortable, lately he’s been so fussy. 

“How do you get those two under control so fast?” your husband asks as he begins preparing his son’s bottle. 

“A magician never reveals their secret,” you say with a half-smile. Before Leon can jokingly protest, your baby lets out a shrill cry. You pout, bouncing him before asking, “Are you hungry, my love? Daddy is making your bottle.”

“Mom, Matt took my game!” your eldest, Leo, yells from his room. You roll your eyes, knowing that you’ll have to mediate the situation between them yet again. As if a crying baby wasn’t enough.

“Matt, give Leo his game back! Don’t make me go up there!” you shout back as you rock James back and forth, hoping to soothe the cries even though there’s only one way to calm him down. “Leon, hurry up!”

“Doing the best I can, sweetheart,” he answers, rushing to prepare the perfect bottle. The thing with James is that if the bottle isn’t damn near perfect, he won’t even attempt to drink it. Either he drinks straight from the source or the bottle is just right. “Scratch him, maybe he’s itchy.”

“That’s not and I’m itchy cry, but I’ll try,” you say, trying to scratch the wailing baby. “Didn’t work! Hurry!”

“Mommmmm! Leo is trying to steal my games!” 

“Wait a minute your brother is crying!” you yell back before shushing the baby. “I know love, daddy is almost done.”

“Here.” Leon hands you the bottle, and you immediately put it in the baby’s mouth. The crying subsides, replaced by yelling from the boys.

“Leon, go.” You motion with your head, and he sighs.

“Do I have to?” he asks, and when you glare at him, he turns around to do just what you expect him to do. “Boys! Stop it before mommy gets mad!”

“If I walk by and you two are awake, you’ll be in so much trouble,” Leon threatens as he tucks in his boys. Back in their toddlerhood days, they’d at least be tired at this hour– That doesn’t happen anymore. The boys’ eyes are wide open as they stare at their father. They share a mischievous look, and Leon catches it before they can even begin to plot. “Don’t even think about it.”

“We weren’t going to do anything,” Leo claims, and Leon pinches the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t make it any more obvious either. 

“Keep it that way, or else mom is going to get really mad.” The threat always works, and Leon is not going to change that system. Leon kisses the top of their heads before walking out of the room. 

Leon walks back to the bedroom, eyes landing on you as you put the baby in his bassinet. He smirks as he watches you. He sneakily walks up to you before hugging you from behind, and placing a kiss on your temple. 

“Leon.” You put your hand over your heart as your husband surprises you. He lets out a low laugh at your reaction. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“How about we send James back to his nursery?” he suggests, whispering to not poke the sleeping bear that’s in the room. 

“I don’t know how you still have the energy for sex,” you chuckle before carefully scooping up the baby and handing him to your husband. He walks as carefully as possible to not ruin his chances tonight. The man nearly tiptoes out of the room and to the nursery, watching his every step to not upset the ticking time bomb. 

“We’ll come get you later,” Leon whispers when he finally puts the baby down in his crib. He exits the room as carefully as he entered. 

Leon enters the room, immediately taking off his shirt as you sit on your side of the bed. He makes sure to lock the door, ensuring there are no interruptions tonight. You chuckle watching your husband rush to your side, making sure to seize the moment before someone gets the idea to ruin it.

Leon gets on top of you, lips engulfing yours in a hungry kiss. Your hands waste no time in roaming his body, feeling every inch of him as if you haven’t gotten that opportunity before. His tongue enters your mouth, pressing against your own while your hands get riskier.

His hands go under your shirt, burning up your body with every touch. Leon pulls away, lips kissing your neck while his hands go to your breasts. He squeezes your tits, and you let out a subtle moan before telling him, “Fuck, be careful. I might leak.”

He doesn’t stop playing with your tits, instead his head goes under your shirt, mouth wrapping around your nipple and sucking. You’re caught off-guard by his actions but you let him be as he sucks on your tits. 

“Are you actually drinking–” you ask before a whimper leaves your lips. He hums against your nipple before he unlatches. You lift up the oversized shirt to watch as your husband kisses your tits. 

This isn’t your typical foreplay, but for some reason you’re extremely turned on. Leon's lips wrap around your puffy nipple again. You softly moan his name, shutting your eyes as he greedily sucks on your tits. 

“You’re so sweet,” he mutters when he unlatches. His hand goes between your legs, rubbing on your clothed cunt to incite some sort of reaction in you which he quickly gets. He begins to take off your pants, a task that he seems to struggle with as he grows desperate. “Fuck, help me, baby.”

You finally take off your pants, and he wastes no time in pushing your panties to the side. Two fingers run through your folded, gathering your slick before they focus on playing with your clit. Leon wastes no time in occupying his mouth, latching around the nipple that he hasn’t paid much attention to. 

“Fuck, do you like it or what?” you ask as he drinks your milk. He hums against your nipple again while he slips one finger into your pussy. 

He fills you with pleasure, building up your climax. He slips another finger in, curving them so they brush against your sweet spot. His mouth detaches for a second, kissing your breasts before indulging again. He won’t stop until he’s satiated.

You hold your breath as the feeling becomes too much. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh for support. Your back arches, pleasure becoming overpowering and completely washing over you as you reach your climax. 

He continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, finally taking them out when he finally unlatches. He looks up at you with dark eyes, completely filled with lust. He brings up the fingers that were just inside of you and puts them in his mouth, licking them clean. 

“God, you taste so perfect,” he says as he pulls down his pants, revealing his hard cock. He spits on his hand, quickly stroking his cock before running the tip through your folds. He makes eye contact with you, teasing your entrance but not slipping it in.

“Put it in, Leon, I need you,” you tell him when he takes his sweet time to give you what you need. 

“I need to knock you up, baby.” Leon slips inside of you, not giving you a second to protest before a moan escapes your lips. He gives you a second to adjust before giving slow gentle thrusts. “Fuck, I need to knock up your tight little pussy again.”

“Leon,” you moan, back arching as he hits the right spot. You shut your eyes, nearly seeing white at just how good he makes you feel. His words go ignored by your ears even though you can very clearly comprehend what he asks of you. Right now you’re too lost in the moment to care.

“Will you give me my baby girl, my love? Please,” he whispers into your ears, nibbling on your earlobe as his thrusts become harder. Your hand goes down to play with your oversensitive clit, heightening your pleasure.

You’re making a mess all over him, one that he’s more than happy to clean up. You’re chanting his name, trying to be as quiet as you can to not wake anyone up– The task feels nearly impossible but you persevere. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come–” you moan. You’re squeezing around his cock, ready to milk him for all he’s got. “Fuck, Leon.”

“God, you’re so perfect for me, baby. I need to knock you up again.” His words go unheard by your fucked out brain, reaching your climax for the second time. “Please let me knock you up, baby, I need my baby girl.”

“Fuck a baby into me, Leon.” You give in just for the moment as his thrusts slowly get sloppy. He’s slowly losing control of himself as he approaches his release. 

“That’s it, baby. This is it. This is our girl.” Leon bites down on your shoulder, suppressing any sound he makes as his cock twitches inside of you and fills you up with his seed. He gives a couple more gentle thrusts before leaving his softening cock buried inside of you. He’ll make sure not a single drop of his precious seed goes to waste– Not this time. This time he’s getting his girl. 

He engulfs you in another kiss, this time more loving and soft compared to earlier. He pulls away, kissing the tip of your nose and telling you, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You peck his lips. He finally pulls out, laying down on his side of the bed as you get up to clean up.

“What are you going to do? Get into that weird position you get–”

“Leon, if I end up with another boy I will literally cut your balls off,” you cut him off and he chuckles. He can’t argue with it. You both love your sons more than anything, but you’ll lose your mind if you add another one into the mix.

He can’t say he isn’t a bit disappointed but he nods in response. “You’re right. You win.”