miau

Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.

He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.

He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).

The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.

You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.

You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.

Hook, line, sinker.

Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.

Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.

What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.

Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.

Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.

Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.

Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.

He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.

This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.

There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.

You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."

The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”

So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.

“You okay?”

You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”

He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.

"Are you ever going to?"

His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."

“I’m having a great time.”

“Then what’s with the rush?”

“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”

He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”

“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”

“I actually am,” he argues.

“What—”

“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”

You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.

“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”

He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”

“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”

He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”

Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.

Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.

And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.

But is he always this attentive? This generous?

Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?

You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.

If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?

“You really think I’m about to squirt?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”

He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”

Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.

“Then make me squirt, Leon.”

He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.

Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.

“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."

“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.

“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”

Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.

“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ngh—h—”

“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”

The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”

He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.

“Don't fight it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”

“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”

Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”

“Good. Then let it happen.”

Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.

“Breathe through your nose.”

He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”

“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”

You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.

It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.

Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.

You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.

Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.

He pushes his palm against your clit.

“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”

A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.

“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.

Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.

“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”

He withdraws his hips with a smug grin.

“I would,” thrust, “very much,” thrust, “like that.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.

To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.

You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.

Your fingers found themselves under the hem of his shirt that was suffocating his large arms, and you hooked his shirt over his head, his back leaning upwards to help you take it off. His toned muscles were glimmering softly under the moonlight that slipped through his curtains; hair trailing down from underneath his navel, disappearing beneath his jeans. He did the same for you too, leaving you in your lacy bra, his eyes tracing over your curves.

He felt you shifting yourself over his crotch, small, delicate whimpers falling from your lips that were open, pressed against his. He felt himself begin to melt, heat crawling up his neck. Letting out a small groan, his hands held you firmer against him, matching your rhythm, pulling you back and forth. Your voice was syrupy, giggling quietly as you started to place kisses along his neck, inhaling his cologne. His rough, prickly stubble dragged along his jaw, peppered in greys and you planted more kisses against it, his neck and face littered in your lipstick. Even his lips, slightly open and letting out the cutest moans, were faintly touched by it.

You pulled away, your lips plump and coated in the mixture of yours and his saliva, smiling at him. Both of you gazed at each other through drooped eyelids, connected by the string of spit bridging from your lips to his.

You weren’t used to this, this swirling feeling in your stomach. It wasn’t the feeling of horniness or drunkeness, this was something else. Like it was fluttering.

This was softer, warmer—dangerous.

Your smile faltered, ever so subtly, and for a second, you just looked at him.

His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands. There was a faint flush creeping up his neck, disappearing under that stupidly pretty jawline you’d just been kissing. He was completely dazed in the moment with you. Your chest twisted and his hand came up slowly, just brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Despite the small, tiny show of affection, it sent something clear and clean through you, cutting you from whatever haze you were in.

You froze, not enough for him to pull away but enough for him to notice. His hand stilled, as if he was checking, assessing whether you would pull back or not. Carefully, his fingers rested against your cheek instead, thumb grazing your skin gently. You don’t pull back, but everything in your body was screaming at you.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

This part—the quiet, the looking, the softness—this is where things start to shift into something else. Something that lingers. Something that sticks.

How could someone, unknown to you less than twenty four hours ago, be so patient?

Your grip on him tightened slightly, like you’re grounding yourself, and you leaned back in before the moment could stretch any further—before you can think too hard about it.

Your lips found his again, more insistent this time.

“Come on, sweetheart, take ‘em off,” you whispered, softly patting his head, ignoring your urge to run away.

His already-pink ears turned red, his cheeks dusted in the same color, and he just gazed at you—like his brain was malfunctioning. You ran your thumb along his lips and then he nodded obediently. His fingers fumbled around his belt, hands becoming clammier by the second.

He felt like his twenty-year-old self all over again, shy and inexperienced, unsure how to touch a woman. Your stare just did that to him, the way you spoke, just the smouldering energy that danced throughout your flesh. For the small time he known you, he wasn’t thinking ahead, his mind wasn’t anywhere else apart from here. His focus was solely on you. All his burdens, grief and trauma had vanished; it didn’t loop back into his thoughts. He was here, enjoying himself, with you.

You sat up, allowing him to pull his jeans down, revealing his underwear straining against his erection.

“Wanna take mine off?” You tilted your head, biting your lip mid-smirk.

“I want you to keep the skirt on,” he said, his hand squeezing your ass, giving you a playful look that made him look youthful.

You let out a small laugh. “Alright, pretty boy,” you mumbled as you began to run your fingers along his hardened cock, shielded by the thin fabric of his underwear.

Your eyes flickered up to his face to observe his reaction, but he was already looking at you. His cheeks were coated in pink, and he was staring at you as if you hung the stars. It was a rare look to get from a man of his age, worn down by the exhaustion of life. It made you blush a little yourself. You didn’t usually go for men his age, or men at all, but his boyish laughter and corny jokes compelled you even more.

A smirk tugged on your lips as you leant down to his ear, his hands quickly sliding around your back to keep you secure on top of him. So good.

“I want to suck your dick. Can I?” you asked him bluntly, his cock throbbing and twitching underneath you. Your sudden explicitness to your words have him malfunctioning again.

“Please,” he gasped, his head titling back further, his dick so hard he thought he was going to explode from just looking at you. His jaw tightened as he prayed that he wouldn’t cum immediately like some idiotic virgin.

You slowly pulled down his underwear, his flushed tip showing first, and then the rest of his length, surrounded around by his dark hairs.

“Pretty cock, hun,” you smiled.

He swore your eyes were sparkling as your pink tongue glided over his leaking tip.

“D-don’t—“ he groaned, completely flustered, his hand gently sliding through your hair.

“Don’t what?” you questioned before you slid your mouth down his cock, louder moans erupting from him before he could answer, his hips stuttering forward. His hand tightened around your hair as you bobbed your head up and down, a sharp inhale sucked in through his teeth.

“Oh—fuck, you feel so good,” he choked out.

You pulled yourself up, pushing his thigh upwards to get a better view of his dick. Giving him another smile, you gently massaged his balls, placing your lips back onto his glistening tip.

The dirtiest moan flew from his mouth, completely guttural and raw. You kissed downwards on his dick, kissing his balls and sloppily licking them up. You licked your thumb and pressed it against his asshole, and his moans turn into desperate whimpers. This only encouraged your thumb to trace slow circles around and around his ass. Cementing his overstimulation by having your warm tongue on his balls, making him think that he was seeing stars. His dick began to twitch, and your other hand grabbed it, slowly bringing it up and down.

“Gonna—fucking cum, holy shit—”

You latched your mouth onto his tip, watching his eyes rolling back, his warm ropes of fluid spilling into your mouth as his body jerked forward. Whimpers and small exhales come from his defeated mouth with his cheeks flushed and eyelashes fluttering from the overstimulation.

Climbing on top of his body, your hands either side of his head, you swallowed a little of his fluid.

“Felt good?” you asked, eyes darting all over his face, slightly hidden by his chestnut hair.

“Yeah. Where’d you learn to do that, huh?” he smirked, recovering from his orgasm, his hands slithering around your thighs again. He was totally entranced by you, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin.

“Dunno. I usually only fuck women,” you shrugged innocently.

“Wha—“

You cut him off with kiss, letting him taste his own remnants.

“Taste good?” you teased, flashing him a toothy grin.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, he was too old for this, “C’mon. Can’t let you be doing all the work. I wanna see what you’ve been hiding under that cute skirt of yours.”

His fingers traced along the hem of your skirt.

“Show me what that pretty face can do then.”

Picking you up with ease, he placed a few kisses on your cheek before placing you on the couch with your ass up in the air. Firmly, his hand pressed your face down into the pillows before hovering above your ass, taking in the beautiful sight that was laid out in front of him.

He flicked the skirt over your back and his fingers hooked around your panties which were soaked, sealed to your soaked pussy, showing the shape of your folds, and slowly pulled them down.

“Seriously got this wet from sucking my dick?” he teased, his pointer finger dragging up your folds, making your leg twitch with anticipation. “Cute.”

His fingers continued to drag around and around your folds, making soft lewd squelches mingle with your sweet moans. Then leaning in behind you, he spread your ass, receiving a squeal from you as the cold air hit. Your sweet aroma was so intoxicating, he could just feel his cock hardening all over again—you were going to be the death of him.

Your fingers curled further into the pillows as his warm tongue began to lick a stripe upwards, feeling his nose prod at your entrance. Moans slipped out of your mouth like honey, the feeling so heavenly you couldn’t help but have your eyes roll backwards.

“Leon—don’t stop! Doin’ so good, baby!” you cried out, muffled by the pillows your face was buried in.

You wiggled your hips to bury him even further, and his hands firmly dug into your skin, holding you close to his face as his tongue glided along your folds, dripping in his spit and your slick. Waves of pleasure kept running over your body, and they soon began to surge as Leon’s thumb found your swollen bud. As you squirmed, chasing your high, Leon replaced his thumb with his tongue, sliding his digits with ease, past your entrance. Your walls instantly clenched around his fingers, soaking them.

The overwhelming thought of slipping from your control, to be this vulnerable in front of him. You had never let anyone make you come from their work alone and the way you hardly noticed you were even letting Leon touch you this way scared you. Your sudden silence and slipping presence from the room made him stop, unsure whether to ask you if you were okay. He slipped his fingers out and squeezed your thigh, hoping touch alone will bring you back to the room.

“Leon?” you called out, turning around to lay on your back. Tears from the overstimulation clung to your lashes, a slight glistening drool on your chin.

“Yes?” he said, raising a brow playfully.

“Sit. So I can ride you.” you ordered, pointing him back to the couch.

Something in him eased.

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled, sitting back, his palms open, ready to embrace you. A smile is stretched on his face, painted by your fluids.

You placed your knees either side of him, hovering above his dick.

“Wanna put it in for me?”

“Course I do,” he complied, pressing a kiss against your neck before holding his dick and sliding past your entrance, inside of you. Both of you let out groans and exhales, your arms folding around his neck, resting your face in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

“Dicks so big, feels amazing, hun,” you mumbled, adjusting to his length before you rose up and down.

His head tilted backwards, unable to hold back the noises as your tight pussy encompassed his dick, wet and warm. Hands supporting you around your ass, he guided you into a rhythm. Your head lay on his collarbone, and you look up at him, his face contorted into utter pleasured dismay, jaw slack, eyes fluttering upwards and red flushed ears. The moonlight traced an outline around his face, his Adam’s apple more prominent than before.

“Yeah, keep whinin’ for me,” you mused, admiring the gorgeous man.

He groaned in response, holding you up and beginning to rock himself into you; eliciting a scream from your mouth. Your fingers dug deeper into his shoulders, clinging onto him as he slammed into you from underneath. A knot began to build in the pit of your stomach, every pleasurable slam adding to the pressure.

“You’re so pretty right now,” he said breathily, gently brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I know,” you grinned, holding back a laugh.

He huffed at your confidence, grabbing your chin and squeezing it as he forced you to look at him as you took his hard thrusts. A growing smirk stretched on his face as he watched the way your lips pouted and your eyes rolled back. Fuck, you were so gorgeous.

“Oh—! Leon! Fuck—you feel amazing, oh keep going, keep goin’!” you slurred, hands sliding down your stomach to your clit, reaching your own climax. His hand reached for your clit, but you quickly snatched his hand and put his index and middle fingers in your mouth instead. The overwhelming pleasure of him filling you, then losing him, and quickly being filled up by him all over again accelerated the build of pleasure until you couldn't take it anymore.

A cry flew from your lips as the knot snapped, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

Your body jerked uncontrollably, legs shaking and your back arching; you collapsed on top of him. His arms were wrapped around you, still holding your face to look at him, watching you unravel on his cock. How he managed to pull the most attractive woman in the bar was beyond him, and seeing you fall apart on top of him was just a miracle to the many nights he spent touch-starved.

“Yeah—fuck I’m gonna cum,” he whined, pulling out of you. You instantly grabbed his dick and jerked it towards him lazily, his pearly thick ropes landing on his stomach, chest and a speck landed on his cheek.

Watching his chest rise and fall, his entire neck and face a deep shade of red, you wiped the cum off his face and licked it off your finger.

“Oh, god you’re going to kill me,” he let out a sigh, petting your head. You wanted to smile at him, in fact, you almost did. But this is when lines were crossed.

“I should probably go," you said coldly, already scanning the room for your clothes.

His dazed state quickly vanished, his head shaking slightly, almost in disbelief.

“Huh—? You don’t have to rush. I don’t bite,” he said and then cheekily added:  “Unless you want me to.”

For a second, his stupid joke made you stop, your lips twitching as if you might smile. But it doesn’t stick. You couldn't let it. The walls you had built around yourself had been held up for too long to be knocked down by some silly joke.

You reached for your clothes, sliding them back on. “Yeah—I just,” your voice comes out thinner, “I don’t want to worry my brother. Probably pacing back and forth right now.”

You imagined Chris pacing back and forth and shouting at you for worrying him. And then you would tease him about him caring too much and he would mutter something grumpily under his breath.

“…Right.”

Leon stood up, hooking his underwear over his feet and pulling them back up, but his eyes never left you.

“Hey…” he murmured shyly, like hadnt just had his face buried in your pussy,  “Can I get your number?”

You bit back your tongue before saying something stupid like ‘I’m not good at keeping in touch.’. His natural puppy-eyes made it worse.

“Uh—yeah. Sure,” you pulled out your phone, and he reached over to his on the table.

And for some stupid impulsive reason, you made up a fake number. It just fell off your tongue, and you couldn't take it back. He gave you his, and you put it into your notes app. Just in case you told yourself. Just in case.

“Nice. Get back safe, y/n," he smiled at you, satisfied with himself, unknowingly believing in your lie.

You gave him a small nod and a smile and left the door.

Little did you know, you would be leaving that door many more times in the future.

author's note: so this is a snippet from my new series, lmk what you guys think! it's kind of just a prototype thing as i figure out their dynamic. i want this next series to be really planned out as salt & pepper was loosely planned, but i didnt expect the amount of attention it got so... my next series will contain similar yearning, slow-burn themes too!

"what's got you all introspective?" hunnigan had asked you in the break room.

you looked at her with a "huh?" expression, stirring your mug of coffee.

she poured herself a cup as well, grabbing a sugar packet, "i know you put so much sugar in your coffee it hardly constitutes as a drink anymore, but i didn't know you took it with salt."

you took a deep breath before you looked down at your mug. you tried to not externally scream at yourself.

great. had someone switched the jars again?

you glanced around.

nope. you had just ruined your own drink with no one to blame.

before you had the chance to respond, or even open your mouth completely, a voice echoed behind hunnigan.

"you take it with what?"

now, the words "take it" coming from your alleged boss, the man people considered authoritative to you, should have been very casual. normal even. but your hands stuttered at the phrase.

"come on, you can take it."

the words rung in your head. circled once. twice. maybe even thrice. your ears couldn't decide whether to perk or prickle, so they did both.

those were a distant yet familiar string of words. a fleeting memory.

your brain worked at twice the speed trying to curse leon. "nope. fuck that. fuck him. fuck my memory. fuck my life. fuck this job. fuck him." yet, it worked at half the speed trying to actually respond to his question.

"y/n?"

the same name you'd heard fall from his lips time and time again suddenly felt different. that was crazy right? it was just your name. your first name. everyone called you that. but him saying it now? after all that happened? felt like a different story.

or maybe you were crazy. that was definitely up there as an option.

you bit the inside of your cheek, turning to face him, the mug forgotten for a beat.

but of course, it was only momentarily forgotten. as what you deemed an act of revenge, it tipped over the counter and fell in what seemed like slow motion towards the ground.

and just for dramatics, as one final performance, it shattered completely as it hit the ground. if only it could have gone in silence.

you stared at the mug on the ground. your mug. your favorite work mug–maybe favorite mug in general. the one you had spent weeks plotting to find. the one you thrifted, washed, and immediately filled with a purple smoothie.

"well..." you had found yourself saying bitterly. "the coffee was ruined either way."

hunnigan raised her brows at you, "so you had to destroy the whole mug?"

you didn't move your trained eyes from the floor, now examining your tights that definitely needed a wash.

great! and they were expensive. whimsy came with a price.

DSO 0–1 EMOTIONAL TURMOIL.

it would be a lie to say that was the only time something like that occurred. every time leon opened his mouth, he managed to unlock more about that night. it was a living nightmare.

not only because of the obvious, but because of leon as well. he was so indifferent it made you question your own sanity and the existence of tuesdays as a whole. though, ironically, the same man who had you second guessing the validity of everything was also the one affirming it.

verbally, he remained mostly unchanged. professionally, he kept his composure. physically? he was definitely doing things he hadn't before. touching places he hadn't prior to that eventful bleeding wednesday. most of it was smaller, things that didn't mean much with others, but everything with leon. some of it wasn't.

it was frustrating all around, yet fascinating. you weren't a big fan of the game–of the dancing around the obvious conversation that needed to happen, the feigned ignorance. but hell, you were definitely into the player.

you tried to go back to usual routine. office business and the both of you telling each other jokes that don't land because neither of you have any sense of time or place. small conversations in the break room and longer ones over comms.

you tried to accept the fact it would probably be one of those things you never discussed because of leon's approach to it. it definitely lingered in your mind anyways.

how could it not? the way it went down was way too intimate to be a casual whoopsie. a meaningless hookup.

you decided to use a spider in your office as an opportunity to ask him. sure, nearly a whole week had passed but this was something that would haunt you forever if you didn't at least try to talk about it.

you let him squash the insect first, just because he found it more time efficient than trapping and carrying it out.

then you let him take a sip of the matcha you had sitting, arms behind your back while you watched. he took a big gulp, made a face, and placed it down. he always did that–wasted your matcha. he'd try it one day, hate it, and still try it the next time you brought one around.

you told him his taste buds wouldn't change overnight, yet you never stopped him when he would taste-test it nonetheless.

"soo," you started, leaning back against your desk.

leon turned to face you, grimacing a bit still as if a bad taste was lingering, "so?"

you stared. you'd begun the conversation, but where did you take it from there? "hey leon, just wondering if blowing my back out last tuesday was casual"?

or "just wondering if you think about what happened every time you look in the mirror or is that just a me thing"? perhaps a "i know you've been wearing those high-collared shirts you hate because of what happened. do you regret it"?

"do you like tuesdays?" you blurted out.

"could be worse, could be a monday."

now, you knew the question itself was a stupid fucking one. but leon wasn't dense. though, apparently, he was begging to differ.

"you know what i mean."

"i do."

you stared at him. he stared at you. neither of you said more, neither of you said less.

a beat of silence passed. then another. "do you need anything else?"

"no."

"then i need to get back to work." he paused on his way out. "sorry that your drink is awful. i can get you a new one during my break."

you stared at the door, blinking furiously as if that could make anything make sense. he'd blown you off, left before you had the chance to reply, and insulted your drink on his way out.

and offered to get you a new one. well, fuck that. he could keep his big money and gentlemanly acts of service to himself.

your mind mentally checked off another tally. leon's avoidant tendencies strike again.

jealousy could be very ugly, you had no argument against that.

but it could also be very hot. and on mr. leon scott kennedy? it was sexy as hell.

you watched his jaw visibly clench and unclench across the bar. even from a distance, the air was thick with the tension he had refused to acknowledge.

what a beautiful scene. you were definitely relishing in it.

relishing in his hand tightly wound around a glass of whiskey, lips drawn in a thin line. in watching him tiptoe the edge of losing it then attempting to gain some semblance of control over his very obvious emotions.

you waited. continued to dance with the man who hadn't even bothered to introduce himself.

leon did not involve himself. so now he knew how to reel his emotions safely?

you grimaced as he moved across the bar, not to you, but to the door. you were never going to progress at this pace.

"sorry," you excused yourself after too many slobbered kisses to your shoulder. you ignored the protest, eyes trained on the door as you pushed outside.

leon was stood outside, phone in one hand, flask of something in the other.

what a loser, who brings their own flask to the bar?

"you're hot when you’re jealous." you cringed as the words left your mouth, but you didn't retract them.

"i'm not."

"keep telling yourself that." you let out a drunk hum.

that familiar line, the one filled with responsibilities and rules and boundaries between boss and subordinate, the one the two of you had always tiptoed, was blurring again. and right now? you felt more like you were challenging it.

you reached out to tug the flask from his hand. he let you. you took a small swig. his eyes definitely were not fixed on the slope of your throat.

"what? are you getting deja vu?"

"y/n."

his tone should have been a warning, but hearing your name roll off his lips so smoothly? something about that was more inviting than threatening.

you reached out, your fingers whispering against his arm. you admired the way it flexed beneath your touch.

"stop that."

you feigned the same denseness he had, trailing your fingers higher, "stop what?"

"being unprofessional." he pulled his arm back.

you scoffed, holding back an eyeroll. "oh because last week was so professional." you could have sworn his ears had tinged a light shade of pink.

"no, but that's the problem! it was a mistake. there are rules–"

you spaced out half of the monologue he began. you zoned in on the first part. a mistake. the words felt like a slap to the face. a sobering blow.

you cut in, “so you regret it?"

your question had already been answered. honestly, it had been from the moment he refused to acknowledge it. hope, delusion–call it whatever, had kept you from believing it.

leon's eyes bore into your own for a moment. he nodded. you couldn't tell if he had hesitated. "i regret it being you."

that definitely hurt more than a yes or no.

you tried to reason he was drunk but then again, when wasn't he?

besides, drunk words are sober thoughts.

"yeah, me too." you spat back.

you knew you didn't mean it. the words sounded insincere to your own ears as well. but in that moment, you just wanted him to feel half the sting you had.

"i mean it." you took his bitter words as a challenge.

"i mean it too."

you had both flung words back and forth until you hardly recognized either of your voices; from cheap insults about clothes to his drinking problems. you called his flask pathetic, he called the words ironic when you dyed your hair at every inconvenience.

you may have thrown the fact he wasn't complaining when he was tugging it back in his face. just maybe. no proof you did say all of that.

it wasn't an unusual sight; two people arguing in front of a bar was nothing new to anyone. but maybe they were just too drunk to question it. like you had been, that night and this one.

leon would have never made a spectacle of your worst moments, of your fights, on a good day, you knew that. but it was far from one.

had it been even a normal day, you two wouldn't be viciously at the other's throat. he wouldn't have left mid fight when the taxi he called for twenty minutes prior finally arrived.

you got the last word in before he told you he was over it. maybe that meant he got the final word? you didn't care at that point.

you marched over to the bar door, with the intent of finding anyone from your group today, telling them you were going home, and leaving.

however, that someone found you first in the form of a tall, horizontally stretched brunette.

“le–on,” you try again between thrusts, watching an intense gaze flicker towards your eyes with fluster. leon doesn’t have it in him to speak; all of the words he wants to say would be the wrong ones. instead, he pulls your head in by the neck, dropping a messy kiss on your lips. his hips ease into yours slower, the smack of your flesh making him grunt through his kiss as he twitches inside of you. 

the air around him is encapsulating, wrapping him in heat. it sends electricity down his spine to see your body reaching on for air through his hand, watching your shut eyes shift under their lids. your breath isn’t completely taken, but restricted enough to be shallow. he notices the way tears brim your waterline, causing him to lick your bottom lip before trapping your kiss once more between his teeth. “come on, i’ve got ya,” he growls against your cheek, breathing in like you’re his lifesource. “you look at me and only me, got it? eyes on me." his demand comes after pulling away from your face, vision training yours. 

“‘s so big, daddy.” your eyes grow wide in focus, though they try to close from the stimulation.

leon’s body nearly does a hard reset, hips stuttering as he releases an exhale filled with shake. “what did you say?” he actually has the audacity to shift his posture, straightening his back as if that would help him hear you correctly. 

“you’re so big,” you try again, too lost in your own pleasure to realize that he’s talking about the new nickname. no one had ever referred to him as ‘daddy’ in all twenty seven years of his life, feeling the shiver run over the front of his body, stinging at his toes. 

as if to grab intel from you using intimidation, his face grows closer to yours, gripping your neck tighter. “you know damn well what i’m talking about,” the tip of his nose brushes against yours, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. the hand that kept your thigh back guided your leg to rest over his shoulder, sweeping his free hand to your face. it grips your lax jaw before he has a change of heart, lightly tapping your cheek with the tips of his fingers as if to slap you. “say it again.”

a rush runs through his body watching you gasp, quickly biting your lip. “fill me up, daddy.”

another ‘slap’, “again.”

“please daddy.”

“fuck,” leon lowers his head, feeling his orgasm attempt to be pulled from him. he can feel how tight you are, begging for him to send you over the edge right along with him, and he doesn’t hesitate. “that’s a good girl. my fuckin’ girl.” 

a nod suffices while leon rips one last kiss from you before his face hides in your bosom, hand leaving your face for his thumb to fiddle with the throbbing bud between your thighs. if he was going to fill you up, he’s gonna have to make sure his girl is getting her fix.

your hands fall from his neck only to cling to the wrist holding your neck against the seat. your hips wiggle under the touch of his thumb, cunt devouring him. and as you reach your breaking point, your whole body throbs as leon’s hips stutter, soon climax ripping from him in the back of his blacked out 2003 bmw. he shudders inside of you, jumping, filling your womb with hot ropes of white. his face begs for refuge, brows knit and jaw quivering as groans leave his mauve toned lips. his thumb loses its original rhythm, slowing down before he feels your hands in his hair. 

heavy hands fall to your waist, anchoring himself. you watch his chest rise and fall, an unreadable look littered all over his face until he speaks. “you wanna cum?” he asks you bluntly, eyes shifting between yours. of course you do; you’re not spread out on his seats for nothing. so as you nod once more, he understands, but it’s not enough. 

again, his fingertips slap the flesh of your cheek, his bottom lip hostage between his teeth before he speaks, “talk to me like a big girl.” 

“yes.” 

leon takes this moment to stare at you, smile wavering on the edge of something truly deviant. “mm mm,” he denies, kissing your forehead. “get dressed. when we get home, you're mine.” 

though now you’re soft as dough. too tired to function and too turned on to wait any longer. shaking your head, leon nods, his forehead glued to yours. 

“no,” you whine.

“yes,” he mocks you. “when we make it home, we can go all night if ya want, i promise. i just— shit,” he releases his final tired breath, “really missed you.” you’re just so pretty to him at this moment he couldn’t fathom seeing you in any other way. he watches the sheen on your skin glisten under the natural light pouring into the car, watching your clothed chest rise and fall. 

“that is so selfish,” you hiss, pouting, hands running over his hips. “i want you now.” your body lies limp on the backseat, hearing him chuckle shamelessly, zipping up his jeans. 

“my girl, my rules. you’re gonna pull that skirt down and wait till we make it home, beautiful.” 

“...fine.”

math is horrible. you’ve never been bright in math, plus it isn’t fun. it’s only fun when you understand what you’re doing. especially statistics, which is a whole other level for math. there are symbols, very important definitions and strategies, formulas and techniques, very precise calculations and data.

you never understood what the teacher was writing up on the board when you’d step into lecture. he moved fast and spoke even faster, you’re hands would cramp trying to keep up with him and you’re notes were a jumbled mess.

even if you tried so hard, you just couldn’t understand. your mind was constantly running, like a hamster on a wheel though it was nonstop. it was the same schedule pretty much every day. you wake up, rush out of your dorm, race to class, get to class huffing and puffing, and you do this three more times for your other classes.

then after a long day of learning, you’re off to work at the cafe down the street. it’s a very famous cafe, especially with it being so close to campus. convenient for students who needed work and wanted a nice coffee.

after work, you’d go back to your dorm on the brink of passing out, but of course, you had to study.

it was a constant look, a constant cycle that seemingly never broke until summer break. your days were starting to blend together and you were slowly driving yourself insane. at one point, you put stats at the back of your mind since you were so focused on an essay for your english class.

little did you know that you’d pay for that in the future. you missed one class, one lecture - and it seemed like you missed a whole semester.

you went to class the next day, after turning in that very important essay, and you were completely lost. you tried talking to your classmate about what the professor was talking about but she was just as lost as you.

if you thought stats was hard before, it’s even harder now. you looked over your notes from before, trying to correlate those to the ones now. though, nothing made sense.

that led you to where you are now. a week later, still very much lost, and you’re grade dropping with every single assignment.

you toyed with the drawstring of your sweats, blinking your dry eyes and nibbling at the dry skin of your lip. you were trying so hard to stay awake as your professor scrolled through your grades. his eyes were squinted and his knuckles pressed to his lips.

he had a pensive look on his face, looking from your scores and back to you.

you could practically read his mind. it was embarrassing and shameful. he took off his glasses with a sigh and turned his chair to face you.

“you were doing really good in the beginning but after chapter three i mean,” he paused gesturing his head over to the computer where the D’s and F’s lined up like a pattern.

“what happened? chapter three was so long ago why didn’t you reach out?”

you never understood why some professors didn’t take students' lives into consideration. some professors think that students have no life while others are very considerate. this professor wasn’t one of those professors.

he didn’t understand why his students couldn’t understand his material or why people asked stupid questions. even though, at the beginning of the semester he mentioned:

‘even stupid questions are good questions’

then when that stupid question is asked. he sits there with a disappointed look on his face and quite literally embarrasses that student in front of everyone. which is why, you don’t ask questions at all. you don’t want to be embarrassed, especially not in front of 30 other people.

“i’m sorry, my life has just been really hectic lately and-“ you rambled, running your hands over your face with a heavy sigh. until, of course, you were interrupted.

“no worries, i understand but,” he paused again, judging you with his eyes and completely ignoring the fact that you were on the brink of a mental breakdown. “you gotta reach out for help if you need it.”

even if you tried, it probably wouldn’t help. his teaching methods are like tough love. harsh but it’s supposed to teach you a lesson. spoiler alert, it never does.

he reached over for a pen and a sticky note and you watched him scribble down a few numbers and a name.

“i can’t really help you since my life is also hectic,”

alright, asshole. you’re the fucking professor you should be helping me. you said to yourself, never in your life did you want to slap someone so bad,

“but i can refer you to one of my top students.” he pushed the sticky note toward you. you picked it up and read the name at the top, his dorm number, and his phone number.

great, just what you needed a tutor.

you weren’t sure how exactly this ’top student’ was passing this class with flying colors and it was to the point your professor was impressed. which he never is and never was.

either this top student is sucking your professor's dick behind the scenes or is actually insane.

you read the name at the top as your professor began to speak.

“his name is Leon, he’s gotten perfect scores on every quiz and test, very smart and a decent kid,”

yup, Leon is definitely sucking this man's dick.

Leon’s contact info and his dorm room were written underneath his name. it was odd that he didn’t tutor in the library like the rest of the tutors did. though, given the fact he’d rather tutor in his dorm, he probably isn’t a tutor at all.

“i contacted him before our meeting today, he’s expecting you.

“oh, okay.” you nodded slowly, pocketing the small slip of paper. you weren’t so sure if you were comfortable being alone in a random dorm with some guy you’ve never met, but for the sake of your grade you were willing to do so.

you finalized your meeting with your professor and left his office even more unsatisfied than when you came. you were hoping he’d give you a run down on what you missed but instead, he completely dismissed you to his top student.

you left the building phone and slip of paper in hand, you weren’t sure if you should text him or not. ultimately, you decided it could wait. you were exhausted and maybe a small nap would be helpful rather than going to this guy's dorm where you probably wouldn’t learn jack shit.

—

Leon waited for you. he was told to expect you around the afternoon, so he canceled his plans with his friends, he went home to his dorm, tidied up, and put on a more suitable outfit. he never wanted to be a tutor it was tiring trying to teach someone something over and over again.

plus, he had doubt in his skills as well. he would be to blame if someone were to get a bad score or if they failed their exam.

but when his stats professor made a deal with Leon, he decided to take it. if he were to tutor you and possibly future students, he’d put in a good word with any police academy he wanted to join.

Leon wasn’t so sure how his professor would get that to happen but it was better than nothing at all.

so he waited, half an hour went by and then an hour and another. at this point, he was tired both physically and mentally. he sat leaned onto his desk with an elbow, tapping his pen against his notebook. it didn’t take long for him to catch the hint that you weren’t coming.

and just as he was about to strip his clothes to take a nap, there was a knock at his dorm door. his hands dropped at his sides and a sigh left his mouth, though he tried to maintain a calm act even though he was close to bursting into flames.

he was irritated, you were two hours late, he was already drained from a long day of sprinting around campus for his classes and he just got dumped not too long ago. he does not have time to be in a good mood.

albeit, he still opened the door with a smile.

“hi, you must be-“

“yes, i’m so so sorry! i know i was supposed to be here hours ago,”

Leon let out a small laugh, mumbling under his breath, “yeah, you were…”

unfortunately, you heard that part, and your heart dropped. at first glance, this guy looks like a sweetheart. he had a nice face, his cheeks a little round but his jaw very defined and sharp. his eyebrows were relaxed and a thick brown, and his dirty blonde hair was split down the side and a little long — the ends just touching the height of his cheekbones.

his lips were plump and a nice pink, glasses were perched up on his head and you guessed he was probably wearing them earlier.

his chin had a small indent, a little butt chin almost. he had two beauty marks on his throat, right on his adams apple, and a few small ones on his face.

he wore a basic dark blue sweater, even with the baggy fabric you could still tell his shoulders were nice and broad and he paired his sweater with basic grey sweats.

he was very attractive, tall, and muscular but that baby face was throwing you off. it wasn’t a bad thing, rather it was intriguing. how are you supposed to focus when there’s a very attractive man tutoring you? maybe your professor is secretly setting you up.

“oh god, i’m so sorry. i probably should’ve gotten your number from our professor,”

“uh no worries, just come in.” he said in a hurry, opening the door further for you. you nodded to him a thank you and stepped inside.

his dorm smelt of fresh mint and lemon, there was a hint of spice in the air as well. it was pretty warm, which made you guess the heater was on.

he shut the door behind you, walking past you as you stayed in the doorway to slip off your shoes. you took around the room for a second. his bed was up against the left side of the room, away from the sight of the door. dark midnight blue sheet, with a matching duvet and pillowcases.

underneath his bed were a bunch of bins, probably clothes and extra storage. against the back wall was his desk, piles of papers and different books were all stacked neatly at the side. the large window above the desk allowed a natural hue of light to cast down into the room, giving the room a pale yellow glow.

against the other wall was a dresser and closet. his room was very generic, with some posters and photos taped to the walls and a whiteboard with messy scribbles depicting his schedule for the week.

“so uh, how much did the professor tell you?” he asked, sitting at his desk chair and swerving around towards you and he lowered his glasses down to his eyes. you took a few steps further into his dorm, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

“um he just said to meet you here and that you could help,”

“well no shit,” he scoffed, catching you off guard and sending a tense feeling through your muscles. “did he say what you needed help with? which chapter? which concept?” he asked and each time you shook your head like a dumbass.

“i’ve kind of been struggling the whole semester i just-“

“why didn’t you get help earlier?” Leon asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. unlike your professor, who seemed actually concerned this time. but that concern was probably for himself instead of you.

“i was embarrassed, i guess,” you shrugged.

he sighed, dropping his head and nodding his it up an down.

“okay well, uh please sit anywhere really uhh,” he got up from his desk chair and walked over towards the other corner of his dorm. there was another small chair in the corner, albeit a bit old, and he brought it over to his desk.

“sorry, i’m not used to visitors.”

“no worries,”

you sat down on his old chair and placed your tote bag into your lap as he opened up his computer. you watched as he brought his glasses up in front of his eyes and opened up the course page. “so uh, what did you need help with?”

his tone was harsh, almost like your professors. you felt intimidated by him, he was smart and quite rude.

“um well, everything?” your answer sounded more like a question, causing him to raise an eyebrow up at you.

“i’m sorry, i can’t help you with everything,” he spat, turning his shoulders towards you with one elbow on his desk. “give me specifics, like which chapter?”

“every chapter, it just isn’t making sense to me and i-“

a sigh left his lips and his shoulders slumped, you could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. “alright well, i can help you with the first chapter,” he said with a shrug.

you nodded along, reaching into your bag for your notes.

“the first chapter is pretty basic. basic terminology and techniques we use throughout the class, ‘kay?” he began, speaking with his hands as he went. you nodded at him, placing your notebook at the edge of his desk and writing down what he just said.

anything counts, anything you could get would help. you needed to get a good grade in this class, if you had to retake it for the credit it would be a disaster.

“it’s mostly the types of data, the collections of data, the types of sampling — and those are the basics.” his eyes flickered from his computer down towards your hunched figure. you were writing down every single word he spoke. you’d repeat his words to yourself in silent whispers.

then, as you finished writing, you looked up at him and waited for him to continue but he was left speechless. you really were desperate.

“tell me, do you know any of the terminology in chapter 1?” he asked, turning his full figure towards you. doing so, his knees were now touching yours. he didn’t miss the way you scooched back further in your chair to avoid his touch. cute.

“uh,” you hummed to yourself as you flicked through your notes and back to chapter one.

“no, no,” he stopped you, placing his hand over yours and bringing it back down into your lap. “tell me from memory, not from your notes.”

he watched you blink at him as if you were processing his words slowly, “uh yeah, i can do that.” you leaned away from his desk and your notes and faced him, your knees touching his again.

“i know sample versus population,”

“give me an example of both.” he cut you off again, leaning back into his chair and adjusting his hips.

“um, a population will be all the college students of our university but a sample would be just the engineer students,”

“good, at least you know that.”

you gave him a nervous laugh, a little more proud than you should be but his praise made you feel … good.

he continued to make you list what you know, making sure you knew every term by giving him real-life scenarios and every time you got it correct it was like a golden sticker was placed on your forehead. you were beginning to understand and, as ridiculous as it sounds, you were starting to have fun.

relating the different terms to real-life situations made it easy on you, rather than the unrealistic scenarios your professor gave you.

he let out a loud yawn and you caught a whiff of his minty breath, he’d been chewing on mint gum for the past hour now. throwing an old one away and popping in a new stick. you could tell he was getting tired, he was less responsive and blinking slowly.

“i think you should get some rest,” you told him. he looked over at you with a small ‘hm?’ before shaking his head, blonde hair sweeping over the bone of his brow and lips curling down into a frown.

“i’m fine,” he practically shouted out after another yawn, “let’s just finish it, ‘kay?”

“no, Leon, it’s okay we can continue another time.”

he stayed silent, his lips pursed as he looked down at your notes. gradually, his head began to bob up and down into a nod and another yawn left his mouth. this time, he stretched back, letting his sweater glide up slightly to reveal a sharp v-line and brown happy trail.

you quickly looked away and began to pack up your things, shoving your notebook and pencil case into your bag — not even bothering to shut or zip anything up.

“man, look at the time,” he said, lifting up his sleeve to reveal a black watch. “next time be on time, that way we have more time.” he smiled at you as you stood up.

you weren’t sure whether to take that as a friendly reminder or a warning but either way you nodded.

you made your way towards the door, slipping on your shoes and looking back at him to say goodbye. you expected him to still be seated at his desk or even going to lay on his bed. though, to your surprise, he was standing directly behind you.

hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweater.

“jesus!,” you jumped, “sorry, you surprised me.”

“uh, who else do you expect to lock the door behind you?”

you blinked up at him, again caught off guard. he was a little bipolar with his attitude, one minute he’s proud of you for getting something the next he’s making fun of you with his eyes.

“well, goodnight,” you said to him as you stepped out the door, he didn’t say anything else. he kicked the door closed and locked it the moment you stepped out.

you could feel your eye twitch, only if you could march back in there and beat the blue out of his eyes but he was just a tutor. just a few weeks of this and then you’ll never have to speak to him again.

-

“are you serious? we just went over this,”

“i’m sorry i blanked out,”

“no, you didn’t i was watching you giggle on the phone with that little boyfriend of yours,”

“first of all, why are you watching me? and second of all, i wasn’t on the phone with any boyfriend.”

he sighed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “i wasn’t stalking you, dumbass. your bright ass screen caught my attention and when i looked over voila it’s you.”

he leaned forward, pointing a finger at your face and squinting his eyes behind his glasses, “and who else would have you giggling like that in the middle of a lesson huh?”

to be honest, he didn’t like that you weren’t paying attention, it was more work on him because you always came crying to him about not understanding a topic. he didn’t necessarily hate tutoring you. sure, you guys had some fun times but it was beginning to become a part of his everyday life.

canceling plans on his friends, not going to the gym, and missing out on his personal time. his goal was to teach you and go over a chapter every week, it was working … slowly but surely.

“i saw a funny video, ‘kay?”

“wow, so you’re just sitting in class watching silly videos. no wonder why your brain is rotten.”

“hey, asshole, the professor wasn’t even talking about anything important. it was more about his dumbass grandkids,” you rebutted, grumbling your words toward the end of your sentence.

“if it wasn’t anything important, how come you don’t know what he just fucking talked about?” he said with a scoff.

you groaned and began to pack your things, you probably should’ve done this a long time ago. sure, Leon helps, but he belittles you in every way and it’s beginning to actually hurt. his rude comments and attitude.

he was like a hawk or a vulture, hovering over you every second of the day and then picking at you when you were alone. slowly tearing at your skin and ripping off flesh until he got to bone. he was always watching you.

you couldn’t go on your phone in class to check a text or even walk out early because he will know and will say something about it later. maybe it was time for another tutor.

“whatever, Leon. you’re not helping anymore.” you scoffed his way as you stuffed your computer into your bag.

“that’s where your wrong, your grades have been getting better, haven’t they?”

“what are you? my dad? you’re checking my grades now?”

only if he wasn’t so stupidly handsome, you would probably smack him across the face or maybe choke him out. there was something about Leon that you liked, unfortunately. he was intriguing, he knew so much about you but you didn’t know anything about him.

he wasn’t in the frat, thank god. he was smart and had a large group of friends. you always caught them hanging out in the private study rooms in the library, the ones they always made sure to book. they all would stay there and hang out like obnoxious fools.

it was rare to see Leon smile and laugh, he looked like a completely different person. his eyes gleamed differently and he had a specific glow around him. maybe the reason you saw him so much in public or outside of his dorm was because you looked for him.

you looked for him and that glow.

“i’m not, the professor told me.” he watched as you continued to pack, were you really leaving? was he too harsh? sometimes he was only ‘mean’ to you to elicit a reaction from you. it was cute to watch your jaw drop and your fingers twitch as if you wanted to hit him.

sometimes, you played along, insulting him back. it was amusing to watch your spark glow into a flame. he hated tutoring but he didn’t hate you.

“of course, you practically suck that man's dick during office hours,” you said to yourself but loud enough to let him hear.

“that’s hilarious,” he said, rubbing at his nose bridge where his glasses sat.

“you didn’t deny it.” you huffed turning to leave until you were, very abruptly, yanked back. his hand had wrapped around your wrist, holding you back from leaving.

you turned back to him, his head was tilted to the side and he silently motioned with his eyes towards your seat.

“sit, we’re not done.”

his tone sent chills up your spine but you still refused, only if he didn’t look so damn good.

“yes, we are.”

you yanked your wrist away from him but much to your prevail, that only prompted him to stand up, grab you by your hips, and push your right back down into your seat.

“no. we are not.”

you sat still, bag in your lap, eyes wide and lips shut. did he just…man handle you back into your seat?

he sat back down in his seat after you, rolling his jaw with a sniff. “where were we?”

you remained silent and still, you knew if you got back up to leave he’d only pull you back down into your seat. though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. the minute his large hands fell onto your hips there was a burn that ran through you, and it wasn’t rage.

“what is variance?” he asked turning towards you.

“standard deviation squared,” you replied, very straight and mellow-toned.

a smile grew onto his lips, the blues of his eyes gleaming and his pearly white teeth slowly revealing from underneath his pink plump lips. “good, you’re getting the hang of it.”

ever since then, Leon was very comfortable with touching you and kind of controlling you. tugging you by your wrists, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back, touching your legs, or shoving you to get your attention.

you were slowly losing it. you couldn’t even think straight, he was such a distraction. his voice, his hands, his scent, everything. the way he dressed was always so casual but he always looked so good, basic sweats with graphic tees or a sweater.

glasses, hair sometimes a little messy. you noticed when he was very focused his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth, it was cute, to say the least. he’d scrunch his nose to keep his glasses up on his eyes, he rolled his ankle instead of bouncing his leg, and when he laughed.

it was boisterous and full of light. you never thought that you could make him laugh, even if he wasn’t laughing with you rather he was laughing at you.

-

“are you serious? it’s like you don’t retain anything at all, how did you even get accepted?”

that one kind of hurt but you were too focused on the brightness in his cheeks and his perfectly straight teeth.

“well the acceptance rate is pretty high so…” you shrugged turning back towards your notebook.

you kept on denying the fact that you very much had a crush. is it wrong to find someone attractive? no, not at all. it’s a regular thing to find people attractive, doesn’t mean you have a crush on them. but this … is different.

a month and a half in you were beginning to realize you very much had a crush on Leon. you were beginning to get used to him and he was getting used to you.

you looked forward to tutor sessions now, practically dropping everything to go and see him. you began putting on extra perfume and wearing your hair down rather than keeping it up.

you kept your attire casual, you didn’t want him to think that you were dolling yourself up for him. so pajama pants or sweats were your usual go-to.

little did you know, Leon noticed everything. he was keen to snuff people out. he could smell you from a mile away, that heavy fragrance of yours was slowly seeping into his clothes and his brain. even after months, everything you touched was beginning to smell like you.

he noticed how your makeup slowly became heavier and your hair was all nicely done for him.

to be frank, he was flattered. he hoped you were getting all dolled up for him and not the guy who constantly blew up your phone. who is he? is he a boyfriend? a relative? a crush? a friend? who is he?

Leon wants to know, who do you see throughout the day? who are your friends? what do you like? do you like him? do you hate him? every time he sees your face he just wants to know, who are you?

Leon sat at his desk, waiting for you. his hands were folded up to his mouth and his leg was bouncing anxiously. you’ve never been late, well except for that first day but other than that you were always on time. always.

the pillow you occasionally sat in your lap during these sessions was now in his lap. it smelt just like you. at first, he wanted to snatch it away from you the moment you put the pillow into your lap, hugging it against you and spreading your germs onto it.

but then, it was nice. it was your signature pillow, you looked for it every time you came over and placed it directly in your lap. now, he finds himself carrying it around or having it next to him while he sleeps. is that weird?

well, it was his pillow in the first place. what’s so wrong about having it in his bed? it’s comforting.

his eyes quickly flicked over when his phone screen lit up, he looked over at it quickly reading the notification. you texted him.

was something wrong? are you sick? do you no longer need tutoring?

he quickly unlocked his phone and read the message, the pillow now bunched up underneath his nose as he slowly inhaled and exhaled your heavy scent.

‘hey, might be running a little late today :/. there’s a lot of traffic.’

traffic? where are you coming from?

‘k.’

he kept his reply short and nonchalant even though his curiosity was close to killing him. he knew the semester was close to ending, meaning he wasn’t going to see you afterward. it’s a big campus, so many buildings and so many students. he rarely sees you.

though, he catches a glimpse of you in the library, walking and talking with your friends. in the lunch hall, always getting the same drink from the vending machines and leaving in a hurry as you typed away at your phone.

you told him you had no boyfriend, but maybe you were lying to him. maybe it’s because he wasn’t a close friend of yours. that’s right, he’s just a tutor — not a friend or a love interest in your eyes.

he sat there longer than he anticipated, he didn’t realize how long he had been sitting until there was a knock on the door. he stood up, tossing the pillow in his lap aside onto his bed and rushing to the door. almost tripping over the clothes and mess that sat on his floor.

shit, he forgot to clean. he kicked the mess aside as he made his way to the door. kicking it under his bed mostly. he almost tripped on one of his shoes, letting out a small cuss before stumbling more towards the door.

the chaos behind the door caused you to furrow your brows.

“Leon? you good?”

“yeah! hold on!” he shouted out. you nodded slowly, itching at your ankle with the tip of your shoe.

Leon looked down at his attire, week-old sweats and a white sweatshirt with oil stains on it.

he turned away from the door quickly and silently ran back into his room, he needed clean clothes and he hadn’t done laundry all week. he didn’t have time, all because he was too busy thinking about you.

he quickly threw his sweatshirt off, taking the glasses off his head in the same swift movement. now he was just a mess, feeling around his bed for his glasses like Velma from Scooby Doo. all while his sweats were halfway on his legs.

“shit, shit,” he muttered to himself and he almost sighed with relief as he finally found his glasses and a clean, well decently clean, sweatshirt.

he rushed over to the door, sweat sticking to his hairline and very much out of breath. when he swung it open he was met by you looking down at your phone, texting someone once again. you looked up at him with a smile.

“what were you doing in there, huh? hiding a girl from me?” you taunted with a smile. he took notice of your outfit once you stuffed your phone away, a small wine-red top paired with some baggy jeans. you had a nice pendant necklace on, hanging right between the swell of your breasts, and cute little bracelets all up your wrists.

your makeup was done nicely, same with your hair. you were very very pretty today. you always were. but who did you look pretty for today?

“don’t be an idiot,” he scoffed, stepping sideways and letting you inside. you chuckled to yourself, finishing up your text to your friend before your phone was miraculously snatched from you.

“no phones tonight.” he snapped at you, taking a sneaky peek at your text convo. it wasn't a guy, it was a friend who was a girl. you two were speaking about a house party and tutoring. he lifted an eyebrow and looked down at you, he was completely ignoring your small grumbles of complaints.

“you were at a house party before this?”

“nosy much!” you snapped as he shut your phone off and stuffed it away into his pocket.

“answer the question,” he sighed like a disappointed parent.

“yes, i was and i ditched it to be here. with you.” you finalized.

he wasn’t gonna lie, the last part of your sentence sends electricity through his veins. you ditched fun to be here. not for tutoring. not for your grade. but to be here with him. he had no words, he was just frozen in place not sure of what to say or do.

“um, no phones today no distractions. midterm is coming up and i don’t want you to fail,” he said, clearing his throat. he shut the door softly and locked it. he turned to face you, taking off your shoes with a pout.

“aw, you care about my score?”

he rolled his eyes, shoving past you with another scoff. “yeah because your score reflects my tutoring.”

"and here i thought you hated tutoring,"

"i do, hurry up and get inside."

you smiled up at him, walking further into his room and instantly looking for your pillow. it wasn’t in its usual spot but you found it on top of his bed. his very tall bed. you jumped up, half of your body on the bed and your legs dangling off the floor.

you outstretched your arm for your his pillow. it was just at your fingertips but still out of reach. why did his bed have to be so big?

Leon watched you struggle for a bit, amused at how hard you were working just for a pillow. he also took this chance to admire how good you looked, almost perfect. bent over the edge of his bed, shirt riding up to reveal more of your back.

he couldn’t help but imagine you in this position but in different circumstances. his hands on your waist, bodies sticky and sweaty, hips rocking against one another.

he was quickly shaken out of his trance when you hit him in the face with the pillow.

“let’s get this over with, my friends are expecting me back in two hours.”

he cleared his throat and nodded with a small, “yeah.” his voice cracking in between.

it was hard to focus, he couldn’t stop looking your way. he couldn’t dismiss the burn that flew through him every time your knees touched his. he couldn’t form a sentence when your eyes would lock with his as you patiently waited for him to teach you something else.

almost like a dog waiting for a fucking treat.

the mascara on your lashes made your lashes pop more, shiny gloss on your lips, and the blush on your cheeks was nice and bright — but not too obnoxious. what was obnoxious though was your top, so dangerously low and that pendant hitting the fat of your breasts with every movement.

you were speaking to him but his eyes were focused on your pendant necklace. you took notice of it, stopping midsentence and looking down towards your necklace that he was so focused on.

“who’s the one distracted now?” you chuckled, taking out the pendant from your shirt and showing it to him.

“where’d you get it from? a boyfriend?” he asked out of nowhere. even his own words caught him off guard. he didn’t mean to ask that last part but it has been on his mind forever.

“Leon, how many times do i have to tell you?” you sighed out, leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. “i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“then who is currently blowing up your phone?” he asked, motioning down to your phone constantly buzzing in his pocket.

“my friends,” you said with a shrug.

“i don’t believe it.”

“well, you should.”

“what could they possibly want to talk about?”

“you,” you said, looking from your phone lighting up in his pocket then back up at him.

you watched his eyebrow raise in confusion and he tilted his head to the side once again in disbelief. but you nodded slowly leaning towards him.

“they think you’re hot,”

“oh really?”

“yes, really.”

he scooted closer to you, both of his meaty thighs now trapping yours. his pupils dilated as he looked into your own. instantly, your palms began to sweat. you crossed your arms over your chest, subconsciously trying to shoo away the goosebumps rising onto your skin.

“what do you think then?” he asked, his voice low and his eyes flickering down to your lips and staring there.

“of?” you answered with another question.

“you think i’m hot?” he was inching closer closer, surely this was another way to tease and taunt you. even so, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were shrinking away from him.

“mmm not really, you’re kinda ugly.” you lied. that was the biggest lie you’ve ever said out loud. you haven’t even admitted your little crush to your friends. you were denying it to your core but right now with him so close like this, his breath fanning against yours and his hands placed on either side of your chair — you were ready to give up.

“liar.”

“not a li-“

before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. soft plump and warm. wet from the amount of times he’s licked over them with a hint of mint from his gum. you kissed him back, leaning forward to press your lips against his even more.

your entire body lit up, you could feel your knees grow weak and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like a wildfire. with every smack of your lips, there was another spark and more of that fire spread.

his hands found your waist, tugging you up off your chair and towards him. you accepted his instruction quickly and obediently. he pulled you into his lap, hands moving from your waist and towards your hips.

his thumbs rubbed at your skin, calloused fingertips colliding with your soft skin. hot and gentle. you moaned onto his lips, tilting your head to the side and bringing your hands from his shoulders and towards the nape of his neck.

shivers ran through him at your touch, the cold sweat on your fingertips and your manicured nails scratching at his scalp.

he ran his hot tongue along your bottom lip and you welcomed him. tongues finding each other in a heated and passionate battle. you moaned at the minty taste on his tongue practically melting into him.

his hands found the small of your back, pressing you closer to him until you could practically feel his heart beating against yours.

he reached down into his pocket, bothered by your buzzing phone. he threw it to the side and onto his desk, he couldn't care less where it landed, he was more focused on you. your gloss stuck to his lips, it tasted fruity like cherries and he could taste the smallest twinge of rum on your tongue.

he pulled away, one hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you in your place, “drinking and driving, huh?”

you rolled your eyes, rolling your hips down into his, “it was just one shot.”

you kissed him again, feverishly. you were hungry and desperate, you never wanted someone so bad. even if he made you feel like shit, pretty privilege at its finest. you didn’t care if he tugged and shoved you around like a damn rag doll, it was hot.

you didn’t care if he insulted you, part of you really fucking liked it.

he kept his lips on yours as he let his hand run down underneath the curve of your ass and the other guided your thigh around his waist. he stood up taking you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his neck.

you held him close, both of you kissing at a slow and deep pace. in all truth, you didn’t think Leon was interested in you in the slightest but judging from the way his hands traveled all over your body you were very very wrong.

his hands reached up beneath your top, feeling for your bra clasp but he was surprised to find none. you smirked against his lips.

“no bra, fuck that’s hot.” he sighed against your lips, copying your smirk.

he threw you down against his bed, watching your hair splay out around your head like a halo. your lip gloss was ruined, smeared all over your mouth and your lips were now plump and glossy with his spit.

you looked up at him, the fire behind your eyes and adrenaline running through every vein in your body. you propped yourself up onto your elbows, slowly scooching away from him as he crawled towards you.

his hands on either side of your frame, icy blue eyes staring right into yours. his lips were now swollen and pink, some of your lipgloss smeared all over his mouth.

“where you going?” he taunted, a certain tone in his voice. his hands reached for the hem of his sweatshirt, quickly pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side along with the rest of his clothes. you scanned your eyes up and down his built figure, who knew he was so muscular.

underneath all those sweatshirts and loose tees was a greek god. chiseled muscle and wide shoulders, his arms were thick and looked as if they could kill. no wonder he could throw you around like you weighed nothing. he was built like a fucking tank.

your eyes trailed down to the happy trail, you witnessed now and then. sharp v-line, light brown hair with a single vein running down.

his hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you down the bed until his face hovered over yours. “my eyes are here,” he told you before placing his lips on yours. your hands ran up his arms and up to his shoulders, you sunk your nails into his skin creating little pink crescents.

one of his hands kept him up while the other worked with the button of his jeans. the minute he got the metal button off, he was tugging them down your thighs and you helped by lifting your hips for him.

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then your jaw. his kisses were wet and slow, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe. your body shook with excitement every time he touched you, your body immediately responding to any of his calls. you were under his control and his command.

“i need you,” you whispered to him.

“shh shh, how about this?" he shushed, removing his glasses and then throwing them onto his desk.

he smirked at his own idea, loving the sound of what plan just popped up into his head.

" if you get these answers correct you’ll get what you want, ‘kay?”

you threw your head back against his pillow, whining his name. he swatted your ass as a warning as he traveled down your neck with opened-mouthed kisses, “i’ll stop.”

“no! okay, okay.” you exclaimed. he smiled against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into your skin as his hand traveled up the sheets to play with the hem of your top.

“give me five different ways to collect data,” his hand traveled underneath your shirt, his thumb finding your perky nipple and swiping over the bud slowly. you shivered at his warm touch, your brain melting and your mouth opening into a silent moaning.

“answer me, baby.”

“um surveys, experiments,” you began, trying to focus on his question rather than his touch. he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his knee slotted between your legs and pressed against the gusset of your soaked panties.

he applied just the right amount of pressure and friction to your clothed cunt, earning him a small moan.

“an observational study,”

“good good,” he praised, lifting up your top and bunching it above your breasts. he watched them spill out and bounce, “so pretty, baby. give me two more.” he placed a soft kiss over your hard nipple and watched your body squirm for him.

“focus groups and- fuck and sampling,” you whined, arching your back towards him.

he grinned down at you, one hand cupping your left tit while the other stroked your cheek. “good job.”

he placed another hot kiss over your nipple, dragging his teeth ever so slowly over your hot skin.

this was killing him more than it was killing you. but he just loved teasing you, the excitement in your body, the hunger in your eyes, and the desperation in your voice. he loved having control over you.

“what’s the formula for a z-score?”

“Leon!”

he swatted your thigh as a warning, “say it.”

you pursed your lip, watching him place small kisses around your areola, purposefully avoiding your sensitive nipples.

“x minus x bar-“

“do it correctly,”

“sample size minus the mean, divided by the standard deviation!” you whined out.

he rewarded you by taking your nipple into his mouth, harshly sucking and dragging a long whine out of you.

you’ve never been so sensitive before but he was bringing everything out of you. your hips began to grind down against his knee, the smallest amount of pressure against your clit was all you needed. you were aching for him, clenching around absolutely nothing and dripping into the gusset of your panties.

his hand was splayed over your stomach, his thumb playing with the hem of your lace panties. his lips left your nipple with a pop and he looked up at you whilst biting down on his bottom lip.

“if the mean is more than the median,” he began kissing down the valley of your breasts. “how does the graph skew?”

you couldn’t focus, your brain was mush and you were very lightheaded. you couldn’t breathe and you were aching for him worse and worse every coming second. you tried to go over his question but every kiss he placed on your skin was a distraction.

“come on, baby you got it.” he said, now completely in between your legs. his hands were running up and down your thighs, keeping them at either side of his head. he placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking and then dragging his teeth over the small hickey.

your hips bucked up and your legs began to shake, “Leon, i don’t know.”

“i know you do, baby. come on,” he hummed against the skin of your thigh. the smell of your pussy was making him dizzy, it was right in front of him and god he needed it so bad. he could see how wet you were, just for him.

he wanted to rip these pretty lacy panties right off of you and devour your pussy whole, but he wanted to wait. he wanted to wait until you were at your limit, he wanted to watch your eyes roll back when you finally got what you both wanted.

“um, it skews right!”

he smiled against your inner thigh, placing a kiss on your abdomen and then moving your panties to the side. his cock jumped at the sight of your cunt right in front of his eyes, dripping wet and quivering just for him.

“answer this next question right and i’ll let you cum, ‘kay?” he said placing a kiss over your swollen clit.

“fuck!” you moaned out, hands reaching for his blonde strands.

“what is the empirical rule? and what does every single one of them mean?” he asked, prodding his tongue at your hole. his breath was hot against your clit, your whole body was shaking to the point you couldn’t take it.

“Leon, i-“ you stammered out with a tear running down your temple and into your hair.

“come on, we just went over this yesterday.”

“i can’t,”

he gathered a glob of spit onto his tongue before spatting it against your pussy, watching it drip from the hood of your clit and over your fluttering hole. “yes, you can.” he egged on.

“it’s mmm,” you pursed your lips and squinted your eyes close, you just needed to think and avert your attention away from him. “68% falls um one standard deviation of the mean,” your statement was more like a question.

he confirmed your answer by flattening his tongue over your slit and languidly licking upwards. he moaned at your taste, practically drunk on your pussy already. he shut his lids and let his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“95% is two and 99.7% is three!” your voice raised a few octaves as the languid strokes of his tongue became faster.

he was done testing you, for now. right now, he’s focused on making you cum all over his face. his arms wrapped around each of your thighs, holding you close to his mouth as he got to work. his thumb went to find your clit, rubbing small slow circles around your swollen nub.

“oh god,” you sighed out. his tongue prodded at your dripping cunt, messily lapping up at your juices mixed with his saliva. you arched your back, your fingers digging into his scalp both pushing him away and pulling him closer.

he applied more pressure to your clit, his tongue plunging in and out of your hole shamelessly. wet and sloppy sounds filled the room along with the sound of your messy moans and chants of his name.

“fuck, so good.” he moaned to himself, completely focused on your pleasure even if his hips were grinding into his sheets. he could cum just like this, to the sounds of your moans and the taste of your cunt.

he couldn’t wait to fuck you, to feel the warmth of your walls suck him in, and the sound of your moans directly in his ear. but he needed to be patient, he needed to reward you for doing so good in class.

he picked up his pace, taking turns fucking his tongue into you feverishly and sucking on your clit. your legs shook around him, thighs clamping around him and keeping him locked in place.

“yes, Leon! i’m close,” you moaned out, drool gathering at the corner of your lips and more tears spilling from your eyes. he kept his pace, not moving faster or slower but he just applied the smallest pressure against your clit that sent you over the edge.

you cried out, arching your back and curling his sheets into your fist. with your release, stars danced behind your vision and every muscle in your body contracted and then relaxed. he eased you down from your high, sucking at your clit lightly and drawing circles over the bone of your hip.

he looked up at you, lips swollen and slick with your release. he placed a kiss on your abdomen with a grin plastered across his cheeks.

his blonde hair stuck to his forehead sweaty and hair disheveled all because of you.

“you did so good,”

your whole body was worn out, your eyes shut ready to pass out but he wasn’t done. he tugged your panties down your legs, keeping them scrunched in his fist.

“i’m not done testing you baby,” he said placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Leon, please,”

he ignored your pleading working himself out of his sweats. you caught a peep of a dark grey splotch in his sweats, either from when he had his knee placed against your heat or his dripping tip.

“get this question right and i’ll fuck you, got it?”

you nodded excitedly, biting down on your bottom lip. you watched his cock spring out and god was he pretty. tip swollen and red, veins running up his girth, thick and long. god, of course, he was big.

“words, baby. i need words.”

“yes, yes, okay!” you snapped at him, very obviously sexually frustrated. he didn’t like your tone so he slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, sending a shock wave through you.

“watch your tone, i don’t have to fuck you, i don’t have to give you a second orgasm,” he grabbed your chin harshly and tugged your head up to face him, “understand?”

“yes,” you croaked out.

he placed a kiss on your lips, letting you get a taste of your juices still on his tongue.

he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, his shoulders tensing up and his hand twisting in his own sheets. it was taking everything in him to be patient.

“how do you find the three quartiles?” he asked, pressing his tip against your fluttering cunt. you opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out but a weak moan. he watched you closely, not breaking any eye contact.

his pupils were blown out, only leaving a halo of his blue irises.

“please,” you croaked out.

“come on baby, you got this.”

you gulped down a lump, getting rid of the dryness in your throat. “the first quartile is the 25th percentile,” you answered weakly.

he pressed his tip into your dripping cunt, hissing at how your pussy was practically ready to suck him in. your breath hitched at the stretch and a tear ran down your temple, he kissed it away, leaning his forehead against yours.

“keep going baby, you got this.”

“the second is the- the median. 50th percentile, the third quartile minus the first,” you rambled, looking up into his eyes as he nodded his head.

“good, good,” he moaned out, giving you just a few more inches of his cock.

“the third one is 75th percentile,”

with your final and last answer, he thrust his cock all the way in, until his tip was kissing your cervix. you sucked in a shaky breath, your thighs shaking as you adjusted to his size. he kept his tip pressed against your cervix, stroking your thigh with his large hand.

“s- so big, fuck,” you whined out, walls fluttering around his girth.

“shh shh, take it. take it.” he whispered close to your lips.

“lower fence versus upper fence, quickly.” he was struggling to stay still, he was torturing both you and himself. you choked back a sob. you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you and god you couldn’t even think.

“lo- lower fence is the first quartile, mmm,” you moaned out.

“come on,”

“first quartile minus one point five times the IQR,”

he sighed out against his lips, grinding his hips into yours earning him a whiny moan from your quivering lips. “one more baby,”

“upper fence is, shit, it’s the third quartile plus one point five times the IQR.”

he was done.

he pulled out and then thrusted straight back in, your whole body convulsed. every tense muscle in your body relaxing the moment he thrusted his cock back into you. he cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. he kissed you hungrily, invading your mouth with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.

his hips continued to snap into yours, bullying his cock into you with no remorse. each thrust of his cock stroked at your g-spot and your body would jolt from the force.

“been waiting to do this forever,” he spoke into your mouth. “fuck, you’re so beautiful,”

you moaned out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. his hands reached back towards your top, tugging it over his head and throwing it off the side.

he was quick to cup your breast, slotting your nipple between your two fingers and then slamming his lips against yours. you scratched down his back helplessly, the fresh polish on your nails chipping and blood seeping through the cuts you were giving him.

you couldn’t focus on anything else but him, not only did you really like him but he was also fucking you so good. his pace was perfect, his touch was intoxicating and his lips were hot.

there was a ring of white forming around the base of his cock, lewd noises spilled from both of your lips as you both found yourselves inching closer and closer to your highs.

your kiss grew sloppy and his pace quickened, “this pussy ’s so good, fuck,” he groaned out, moving the hand from your breast towards your clit.

your whole body shook once his two fingers began to draw figure eights around your clit. the slow pace of his fingers contrasting with the fast pace of his thrusts.

“god, look at you,” he breathed out, “all fucked out on your tutor's cock, huh?”

you couldn’t reply, only croaking out a moan of his name.

“fucking whore, came here for math help now look at you,”

his words only added to the tension in your abdomen, the burn in your stomach getting hotter and hotter.

“i’m gonna cum,”

“go ‘head baby, cum all over my cock,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips.

you whined out, chasing his lips for another kiss but he denied you with a shake of his head.

“i wanna hear you,”

you looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of yourself in his glossy eyes. mascara smudges, lipgloss gone, hair a mess. all because of him.

“fuck!” you moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your head back. he was quick to guide your head to face him, he kept his eyes locked on yours watching your pupils dilate as you came undone.

your walls fluttered around his cock, clenching down as your orgasm hit you like a heavy wave. he pulled out quickly, finishing himself off with heavy and breathy moans.

you watched as he came. thick, white ropes of cum decorating your stomach and abdomen. his abs tensed up with each spurt of cum and his hips still bucked up.

he let out a final breath into the crook of your neck. both of your bodies shook against each other, hot, sticky with sweat and cum.

he leaned up out of the crook of your neck looking into your eyes and you watched as they gleamed, such a rare light in his eyes but you were glad you were able to see it.

he pressed his lips to yours, this time it was slow and deep. there wasn’t any hunger or lust, just pure passion.

“i’m sure you won’t fail that test,”

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest & photo of leon from @/laughingwallaby on twitter)

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me hehe! or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

“this what you wanted? hm?” he snaps, pressing his body down on yours so his cock hits deeper inside you. he bottoms out with every thrust, dragging his cock out halfway and shoving back in, feeling your pussy flutter around him as it struggles to accommodate his thickness and length. “you wanted some cock that bad that you had to rile me up like this?”

there, now you remember. how you’d been hanging off carlos and flirting with him the entirety of the mission in front of leon’s face to get a rise out of him. leon had been spending far too much time alone from you recently, always busy on solo tasks or getting work done or, your least favourite, up to highly confidential tasks with ada where they’d be alone together and he’d come home late at night without an explanation.

“ ‘s cause you don’t even pay attention to me anymore,” you say between gasped moans and whimpers when he hits too deep inside you, his tip pressing down on one of your softest parts. your head drops to the side of your pillow as you try to avoid eye contact and, but leon grabs you by the throat and turns your head back to him, forcing you to look into his eyes as his cock stills inside you.

“what’d you just say?”

you squirm from the pressure on your throat and his cock pressing into you from where it’s buried entirely in your warm hole. “s-said…” you pant, legs quivering on him. “you don’t pay me attention anymore.”

he runs his tongue over the inside of his cheek, wondering where you came up with that. he drags his cock out of you with only the tip left inside, causing you to squirm again for the opposite reason than a moment ago, where you’d felt too full. now you feel too empty, and that buzzy feeling that usually encapsulates your body when you’re close to cumming fades a little.

“i pay loads of attention to you. quit - fuck - lying to my face and tell me why you’re actually being bad.”

you try to drop your leg back around his waist and push his hips forward so his cock can fill you up again, but he knows immediately what you’re trying to do and puts your leg right where it belongs.

“cause of ada!” you blurt, voice petulant as he watches you. when the truth comes out, he blinks at you and frowns. “you spend time with ada and go out on your solo missions and then you come mngh home and you just have to work more… you don’t spend time with me anymore!”

leon stares down at your pouty face and the tears that start to pool in your waterline, and he coos as recognition immediately clouds his features. he slowly sinks inside you again, adopting a much more gentle, romantic pace. his hands come up to cradle your face instead of restraining you. “oh baby i’m sorry…”

he slows his thrusts into deep, slow ones that allow you to feel every inch of him filling you and stretching out your walls with each thrust. pressing his forehead against yours, he moans softly, watching your face contort with pleasure each time he bottoms out. “why didn’t you just tell me? would’ve dropped everything to make sure my baby feels loved.”

"cause 's embarassing." your words come out in between gasps and pants, meanwhile slowly, that buzz resurfaces. he feels you tighten around him, pussy squeezing around his cock as it plunges slowly in and out of your soaked hole. leon guides your arms around his neck and places a kiss to your mouth. "don't be embarrassed." he reassures you, lips moving against yours as he speaks. "always let me know so i can be sure i'm taking care of you proper. okay?"

"k-kay..." you pant, eyes rolling back when his cock rolls up inside you because of the way leon thrusts inside you, his tip poking your sweet spot just long and firm enough for the coil in your stomach to snap, and without warning, you feel yourself cumming around his cock. your arms tighten around him and you gasp his name, moving your hips downward to meet his thrusts as he chases his own orgasm while wrapping his body around you and kissing you deeply.

your body goes limp from under him, walls squeezing tightly around him as you cum around his cock. leon moans your name against your lips, tongue slipping inside your mouth and sending one last thrust inside you before he spills into you, warm load filling you up and flooding around his cock, which is still inside you.

leon stays still for a moment after, breathing heavily as he tries to catch himself. he doesn't quite want to move yet because he's still got so much on his mind. "hey." he murmurs at you, trying to coax you out of post-sex fuzziness. with his forehead still pressed to yours, he stares into your shiny eyes, thumb wiping up the tears that'd fallen down your face earler. "don't do that again, okay? keep stuff from me."

though you're still catching your breath, you do your best to respond. "i just didn't wanna seem needy." you murmur. he shakes his head and makes a gruff noise of disagreement. "you are needy, hon. i like it that way. having my girl rely on me."

your lips press together and your hands slide up into his hair to play with the blond strands as he continues. "i've been gone too much." he amits, his thumb still moving absentmindedly against your cheek. "didn't think about that'd feel like for you. and that's on me."

"leon-"

"hold on," he cuts in softly, shaking his head and brushing his nose against yours lightly. "let me say it." his gaze softens a little, his cock still inside you and making you feel all the more warm and satiated. it's just so intimate, how he's reassuring you while holding you like this, with every part of you connected and pressed into him. "i don't like you feeling like you gotta compete for my attention." he says quietly.

you melt into him a little more, your legs loosely hooked around him now without any tension behind it, just wanting to stay close.

"and i'll fix that." he whispers, pecking your plush lips. "starting with not disappearing on you every other day. and maybe taking you with me when i can."

your eyes light up just a little at that, even through the lingering sleepiness. "yeah?"

"yeah." he nods, laying on top of you without crushing you with his weight too much, half on, half off. he hums at the little soft back scratches you give him at the same time.

after a moment, he speaks again. "...were you really flirting with carlos, though?"

"dunno, maybe."

he huffs at that and tightens his grip around you enough to make a statement. "don't do that again either."

see more in my misc masterlist

It hadn’t always been like this between you. In fact, you had harboured unspoken and almost certainly unrequited feelings for Leon for some time before things seemed to blow up in your face. It was the last time you had voluntarily spent time with Leon, a couple of years ago. You were at Claire’s house and had gone inside to get more drinks. You took a while, first trying to locate the bottle opener, then juggling four beers.

By the time you neared the back door, you caught mention of your name. You stopped, out of curiosity, edging forward slightly to hear better. You’re still not sure who mentioned your name, and sometimes you wonder if you made it up. But Leon was the one to speak next. 

‘It’s frustrating. It pisses me off. She pisses me off. Shit. Can I be pissed off at her for that?’

You didn’t hear anything else after that.

If it’s possible to shut off your ears, that’s what you did. You came out of the house and handed out the beers, avoiding Leon’s stare. You’ve been avoiding his eyes ever since.

Over the past two years, you had both pulled away to the point of becoming borderline enemies. Not hostile enough for separation within the group but cold enough to require a third person around at all times. Lucky for you, Chris and Claire often came as a package deal and had no shortage of friends to invite along to bowling night. 

When you make it to the bowling alley parking lot, you bustle out of the car and make a beeline for the entrance. You feel uncharacteristically cold for the time of year. A sensation only enhanced by the ice cold stare of Leon Kennedy, sitting in the prebooked alley. Reserved for the Redfield’s every Friday night.

“I’m surprised you remember the way here, man!” Chris chuckles on approach, slapping his hand on Leon’s shoulder. 

“Let’s hope you remember how to have fun.” You chime in. The normal order of sly remarks commences.

“Ouch.” He raises his right hand to lay over his heart, if he had one, fingers splayed wide over the expanse of his chest. “That hurts.” You roll your eyes in Claire’s direction, a necessary tactic to avert your gaze from his oversized hands covering so much of his muscle. 

When Sarah and Katie arrive soon after, the game begins. In more ways than one.

You gravitate to the ball you choose most often, a medium dark blue ball with a shimmery sheen to it. It’s a firm favourite of yours for nights like this. Leon catches your eye and signals for you to go first. “Wow, your gentlemanly behaviour knows no bounds.” He remains silent and simply smiles.

Muscle memory takes over as you approach the lane, ball close to your chest, before you bring your arm backwards, walk forward a few more steps and push the ball forwards across the shining wooden aisle. You watch as it turns on its axis, speeding down the lane. You throw with a bit of a curve so know yourself well enough to compensate in the initial line up. The ball hits the pocket between the first and second row and you turn to face your friends (and Leon) as the pins fall to the ground.

Chris and Claire clap as you bow. Sarah hollers and Katie goes in for a high five. 

“Strike.” Leon appraises with a deadly smirk and a hint of surprise.

“Nothing lost on you, eh Kennedy?” You know you have a tendency to be short with him now, as if being aware you piss him off makes you want to do it more, but this remark is different. You smile. You're not sure if you mean to, but you do. “It’s a tough act to follow.” Says Leon, throwing you a look. If you two hadn't been borderline at each other's throats for some time, you would have believed that was flirtatious.

Chris, Katie and Sarah follow on from Claire, with their own varying degrees of success. But you’re not paying them much attention. Leon’s choosing of his own bowling ball is nothing short of a performance, though you’re not sure who for. He seems to give his choice a great deal of thought as he picks up each of the bowling balls with ease, even lightly throwing them up into the air. 

The most distinctive and distracting part of his show, however, is the oddly intimate stroke of his hand over the veneer followed by the slow sliding of his fingers into the holes of the bowling ball. Instead of telling him to hurry up and get a grip however, you find yourself staring just a little too long. So long in fact that by the time you look back up at Leon’s face, he is staring right back at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.” With an absence of anything witty to say, Leon knows it's not nothing.

“Seems like there's an art to this. I just want to get it right.”

“You keep drafting those excuses for when you lose, Kennedy.”

“Bowlings a tough game, not to mention it seems to be a hidden talent for you.”

“If you spent more time with your friends, it wouldn't be so hidden.” You turn to Chris. “I'm getting a drink. Want a soda or anything?” 

“Sure, surprise me.” Before you walk away, you look back over your shoulder. “Leon?” The question is quiet but a sure act of defiance against what had become the status quo. If he was going to play the game, so would you.

“I'll have whatever he's having, thanks.” 

Handing him his drink takes you both back to that day but this time, you don’t avoid his stare. You look at him head on. “You missed my throw.” He says. “It wasn’t as good as yours but, I could still be in the running.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You smile, taking a sip of your drink.

Your next throw is as good as your first, which you are quietly confident about. Or not-so-quietly, as Leon can see it written all over your face. 

When it’s Leon’s turn to throw however, so begins your undoing. 

He rolls his shoulders back, drawing your attention to his well maintained and defined muscles, before flexing his fingers before positioning his hands on the ball and taking his shot. It was hypnotising for a fleeting moment, but the effect was sustained.

Almost every ball you threw after watching him bowl went into the gutter. If it didn’t go in the gutter, it skimmed the edge of the outlying pins and caused a horrendous split. 

“It happens.” Leon shrugs.

“Especially when you’re busy ogling your sworn enemy.” Claire speaks loud enough only for you to hear. Your elbow meets her middle soon after.

As a result of your new kryptonite, Katie won instead. A well deserved and celebrated win, but not the outcome you had expected, to rub your talent in Leon Kennedy’s face. 

With the end of the night drawing in, you file out the door towards your respective cars. Katie and Sarah head off first, waving out their windows. But when Chris tries to start the car, he’s about as successful as you were at bowling over Leon Kennedy.

“Fuck.”

Chris is relieved to see that Leon is still in the lot and flags him down, but there’s no hope for fixing the car tonight. Leon volunteers to get everyone home tonight and says he’ll come back tomorrow and see if he can help get it going again.

“Cheers man.”

“No worries, get in.”

Due to an unfortunate susceptibility to travel sickness, you have to take the seat upfront next to Leon. He says nothing, of course, but you see the way Claire and Chris look at one another. 

Leon’s music begins to play through the speakers as he buckles up and drives off towards Chris’ house. You had left your car there but since you’d had a drink, you decided you would just take Leon up on his offer of a lift all the way home. What was the harm?

Surface level conversation is had between the three of them about the next time you plan to hang out. As per usual, Leon isn’t sure if he’ll be there, but says he will do his best. You struggle to retain focus on the conversation as you keep your eyes on the way Leon drives.

His hands are relaxed on the wheel but poised perfectly for every manoeuvre he makes, every gear change, every corner and each stop light. The red glow of the stop light on his hands is particularly thought provoking, especially the way he drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Uh Leon.” Claire’s concerned intonation draws you from the prison of your unchecked thoughts. “This is the way to my house.” Claire doesn’t do subtle very well. You turn around to see that Chris has already been dropped off. Ah.

“Yeah?” 

“I live the other way.” You say, trying to help Leon understand. But he does. He just doesn’t care.

“I am aware.” Whilst you and Leon had exchanged a record number of words today, you weren’t sure how you felt about breaking the three people at all times rule. “I also live the other way. It makes more sense to drop you off first Claire than to run the car back and forth unnecessarily, no?” The silence confirms everyone is now thinking about the party-of-three rule.

“It’s fine, I’ll resist the urge to kill him.”

Pulling up to Claire’s, the goodbye feels a lot more charged. There’s no real danger, everyone knows that, but with a rule they’ve stuck to for so long, it feels weird that tonight, of all nights, it’s being broken.

You let her know that you’ll likely see her tomorrow when you go back to Chris for your car and she waves you off. 

“Quick question.” Leon says after a few minutes, the two words are heavily charged, like he’s been waiting two years to ask you, not just tonight. “D'you think I'm blind?” A strange icebreaker given the circumstances.

“Well, considering your aim today-”

“Cut the shit. You and I both know there is nothing wrong with my aim. Just ask me and I'll demonstrate any way you want.” You huff a laugh. “What now?”

“God, you're cocky.”

“So were you tonight, until your special skill failed you.”

“Charming.”

“Rich coming from you.” He sneers. You had gotten so close to pushing past whatever it was that separated you and now, you're bickering again.

“Do you ever communicate properly?!”

“Jeez, you're beginning to piss me off.”

“Beginning?!” You laugh loudly, cruelly.

“What?” 

“The way I heard it, I piss you off just by existing.” 

“I repeat, what?”

“I overheard you telling our friends that I piss you off.”

“When?”

“Like two years a-”

“You have got to be kidding me.” His hand wipes down across his face.

Neither of you say anything else until he pulls up at your house. 

“Can I come in and explain?”

“Why can't you explain here?” You fold your arms.

“So I can look you in your damn face when I tell you rather than sit adjacent to you like a wooden fucking puppet with no feelings?”

You sigh and mumble a signal for him to follow, opening the car door. 

“I'm getting into my comfy clothes before we get into whatever this crap is.”

“Be my guest.” He snaps as you unlock the door. You don't bother to hold the door open for him and make your way upstairs to get changed. He loiters in the living room for your return.

You come down the stairs in sleep shorts and an old shirt. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but you are a little self conscious as you enter the room and fling yourself down on the couch.

“Lay it on me then.” 

“You first. Why the fuck didn't you say anything?” His voice is strong, but not loud.

“What was I going to say? Hey, I heard on the grape vine that I piss you off, what's up with that?”

“Yes? You've never cared that much what someone might think about you.” 

“Maybe I do.”

“We were supposed to be friends.”

“Cry me a river.” 

“You've been cold as ice for years.” You move to interrupt but he won't let you. “Then tonight? What was with the looks? The spectacular throws and then the gutterballs? God damn it I meant what I asked earlier, you think I'm blind? You would not stop staring at me.” He sits down beside you. “My hands.” He says. “Seemed to be of particular interest.” You know your shame is showing now. “I'd wager your ball wasn't the only thing in the gutter tonight.”

“Le-” 

“Indulge me.” He pleads. “If you will. Feel free to tell me to fuck off.” 

“Fine.” It crosses your mind to tell him to fuck off but you are interested to see where this goes.

“Open your legs.”

“What the-?” You speak, but you're not sure how. You wonder if you’re dreaming or if this is some elaborate prank. 

“You heard me.” You feel your heartbeat descend as you spread your legs. Unsure why you are doing it, but you want to. “There we go.” There's a light taunt to his words but they only contribute positively to your worked up state. “Lean yourself back a bit for me.” You comply.

His palm rests on the leg closest to him, warmth radiating from his skin onto yours. He slides his hand backwards and forwards from your knee to your inner thigh. “This what you wanted?” He asks as his thumb makes contact with you through your shorts before retreating back towards your knee. Your hips wriggle, subconsciously pushing your core forward. “I think that's a yes. What if I were to…” He drags his palms back and slips his fingers past the material of your shorts and underwear, pushing them to the side. “What if I were to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Please do.” Your plea prompts him to sink two fingers into your pussy. His ring and middle finger no less, before he slips his thumb under the fabric too, pressing it to the top of your clit. You groan as he begins a slow rhythm. You try to breathe through the waves of pleasure. 

“Jealous of a bowling ball, you're ridiculous.” He chuckles to himself, moving his thumb easily on your arousal, catching the most sensitive part of you, earning a closed mouth moan. “Jesus Christ." His voice rumbles. “Might cum just from hearing that.” You laugh. You used to wonder if he would ever say more than a few sentences, now you wonder if he'll ever shut up. Though you're not sure if you want him to. He speeds up but his pressure remains perfect. He's kissing your neck now. Humming in satisfaction at the way your mouth hangs open as if to speak but you can't. “Want me to make you cum like this? Right here?” His whispering makes you lightheaded.

“Oh please, Leon here-” He alters the pressure in response to your soft words.

“I don't think you've been this polite towards me in years. Should have done this sooner. Look at you being so well behaved for me.”

The absence of feeling in your legs is worrying only for a moment before you cum. The noise you make is louder than you'd expected, but cut short with a kiss, causing you to melt into the sofa. He laughs into your mouth as he wrangles his hand free. You deepen the kiss, hands holding either side of his head. He's sure he's going to fall apart completely when you break away too soon. But his disappointment is quickly remedied with your focus on the button on his jeans. “Shit.” He hisses as you move to sit on his lap.

You drag his zip down slowly, teasing yourself as much as him. The plain navy boxers are no surprise to you with his signature style of simplicity and quiet luxury. You can't say you're surprised at his size either but his bulge is impressive.

“You gonna fuck me here?”

“Wherever you want it.” 

You almost growl as you lean in to smother him with another kiss, tongues breaking apart only briefly for you to mumble an order to take you upstairs. And take you upstairs he does, as he supports your weight, stands up from the sofa and carries you up to the bedroom. 

“Show off.” You say under your breath before nipping his bottom lip. 

He sits you on your bed and pulls off your top before laying you back to undress the rest of you properly. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that he tries to cover up but it’s no use, you heard. “What are you waiting for?” You ask. He crawls over your body to kiss you. He takes his time with your mouth before bringing the kiss down your neck. He finally drags his jeans and boxers off himself and throws them behind him.

He’s large, and painfully hard. He also looks as though he’s shaved recently and the idea that he looks after his appearance this thoroughly is an additional turn on to say the least. You reach out to touch him but his hand wraps around your wrist before you can.

“If it’s all the same to you, I need to be inside you, like yesterday.” His face is branded with arousal that seems to mirror your own.

“Please.” 

Leon’s touch is tender when he parts your thighs and lifts up your legs, watching as he slides himself all the way inside of you with a satisfied moan. 

“Oh-h-h- boy.” Leon swallows and screws up his features. He takes a moment before he starts fucking into you slowly. “Tell me if I-”

“Touch me, please just fucking touch me.” Leon’s large hands cover your body quickly. He had no problem fulfilling such a simple request, especially one that gets you this worked up. 

“Your skin is so soft.” He purrs into your ear, his hand coming up around your neck.

“Oh fuck, Leon.” You didn’t know how much you wanted his hand around your throat until it was there as he was fucking into you. A light squeeze coaxes an unholy noise from you, that he wants to commit to memory.

“Yeah, you like my hand around your throat, huh? Squeezing it the way you squeeze my cock with your perfect- o-h–h-h fuck.”

You're gasping for air, unable to catch your breath with every pound of his cock into you, not only due to his hand at your throat, but the impossible force he’s driving into you.

Leon, on the other hand, seems largely unaffected, his pace is composed and controlled as he snaps into you at the hips with such precision it feels like you've been here before. 

“Yeah?” He boasts his question in response to your latest whine. “Is that good for you, pretty girl?” His right hand smoothes down from your neck, along your side and over your belly. 

You don't have any time at all to feel self conscious as he presses his hand down, igniting a new sensation in an already dizzying mix. “Fuck-” His breath catches. “You feel that?” You nod, pathetically, transfixed at the sight of his hand on you, claiming you, securing you. “Getting a good look at my hands again too, hey?” He's so sure of himself. You nod again. He leans forward on his left arm, slowing down his thrusts intentionally, agonisingly, moving his right hand up to your face. You pout, much to his satisfaction. “Open your mouth.” His eyes are darker than you remember, gaze moving between your lips and your eyes. You drop your mouth open for him, maintaining eye contact. “Say ahhh.” There's that cocksure smile as he places two fingers on your tongue. You waste no time using your tongue to suck them further into your mouth. 

“Look at you.” His voice wavers, increasing his speed suddenly. “So. Fucking. Hot.” He makes a noise that gives him away. He’s close and so are you.

“Leon, I think I’m gonna cum again.” You whine.

“Me too baby.” His voice is gravelly, and low, music to your ears as his composure slips away entirely and his thrusts are as shaky as his breaths.

Without a single smart comment, you drag his lips to yours and your moans intermingle as you cum and he follows not far behind.

You stay close like this until your breathing settles down and your pulses return to normal. 

“Here, hang on.” He pulls out of you slowly and carefully before he gets off the bed and leaves the room. He comes back with the necessary supplies to clean you both up, wiping you down. The sensation of his hands on your body again has you twitching with anticipation.

“Leon.” You whisper. 

“Yeah?”

“You might just set me off all over again if you do that.” You giggle, and he can’t help but laugh too. “Let me.” You sit up and smile lazily. 

His features are softer now. Whether it’s the light or the absence of tension, you like this look on him. You take your own hands and lay them on his chest. “God, you’re handsome.” He blushes. Leon Kennedy actually blushes. It seems impossible after the way he just spoke to you.

“That reminds me.” He picks up one of your hands and kisses your palm. “You pissing me off.”

“Nooo.” You groan and throw yourself back on the bed. “Don’t ruin it, I don’t want to know.” You put your fingers in your ears and hum. 

You can’t hear what he says but his expression is earnest enough for you to consider hearing him out. You take your fingers out of your ears as he lies down next to you and wraps you up in his arms.

“I said you pissed me off…because you were so gorgeous.” His words are spoken into the crown of your head as he caresses up and down the length of your back. 

“As if, Kennedy. You already got in my pants, no need to lie.”

“That's exactly why I'm telling you now.” His stern and logical voice makes a return. “So you know it wasn't some manipulation tactic.” You may not have shared many sincere words in the past two years but you know that’s what this is. “Claire has always known how I feel about you. She asked me what I was looking at just to get a reaction out of me and she got it. I told her I couldn’t stand how gorgeous you were. It pissed me off because it wasn't fair that I couldn't-”

“You couldn't?”

“I couldn't tell you.” He smoothes your hair back from your face. 

“What? Why?” He stares longingly into your eyes, as if weighing something up in his mind. 

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you but just, not now, is that okay? There have been enough truths for one day.” 

“You’re right, I think we learned a little too much about me today.” Leon laughs at your admission. 

“I get it, we can all get a little carried away with our thoughts.”

“You weren't staring at my hands like a creep the way I was staring at yours.”

“No.” He captures you in a brief forceful kiss that halts your breath for a moment. “But there wasn't a part of you I wasn't looking at.”

Again I drafted this like three times so my checking may not be on point, I am scared I have blanked out a whole sub plot in there but here it is for @tothelions most especially!!

his whole body is trembling beneath your hand, which drags itself up and down his dick at an unbelievably sluggish pace. he’s muttering strings of incomprehensible swears: a little breathless, chest heaving with every rough breath.

and the teary eyes on top of all that—jesus christ. you could get off just by listening to his cries.

“i thought you said this was a piece of cake, leon?” your eyes search for his, looking past the sweaty blonde strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

he lets out an unconvincing scoff. “fh-fuck you,” he gasps, a sorry excuse for a smirk curling his lips. “‘s already humiliating enough…”

you tut. “if you keep talking like that, you won’t ever be able to come on my watch.”

when he doesn’t answer, you rub your thumb a little firmer against his tip—there’s pre all over your hand, and he’s so sensitive now, he nearly jumps.

“hah- sorry, fuck, i’m sorry,” he says, while neediness bleeds from him—it’s cute, really. the fact that he’s still trying to keep a smidge of his decency, even as teardrops pool in his eyes and his thighs tremble like he’s just had 10 consecutive leg days. actually, you don’t think even that could make him this big of a mess—only you.

you give a chuckle—cruel, at least to leon’s ears—and pump his cock faster by a hairsbreadth. “i could do this all day, you know. the question is whether you’d be able to handle it.”

he turns his head to the side, buried in the inside of his elbow, giving a whimper that sounds vaguely like a no.

“you can’t do it? you can’t even try for me?”

his breath quivers with each exhale. “wanna cum, please…“

it’s almost pitiful.

“you think you’ve tried hard enough?” oh, but teasing him is just too fun, especially when he squirms and you know that nobody else has seen him like this before.

“god, i— i’ve been so good,” he sobs, “pleasepleaseplease let me—“

you feel as if you’re in seventh heaven.

he’s begging, pleading without you even ordering him to. he’s offering himself up to you, throughly responsive—pathetically so. you can’t help but give him a little reward.

“oh-“ his jaw drops open a margin, as you pick up the pace. “more, please, shit—!”

his fists ball up tighter when you lean down, breath teasing at his tip. “just like that, use your words, baby.”

it’s the drag of your wet tongue on the slit that makes him stutter over your name; hips jolting despite himself. a fat tear rolls down his face, and then another, and another—

his voice is shaking in the most tempting way when he warns you: “gonna cum, f-fuck..”

you know the constellation of his moles on the skin of his thighs from memory, and the way they twitch with aching need is something you’ll work to remember too.

you take your mouth off of his dick, stroking him with full intent. “come for me, leon.”

he throws his head back, cuffed hands grabbing at the headboard—and you notice, he’s mouthing something. it’s barely a whisper.

“th-thank you, thank you—“

oh.

“thank you, fuck—“

oh.

he finishes with something between a groan and a sob, loud as much as obscene—spilling all over your fingers and his abs. the tears continue to fall, and his nose is slightly runny. an absolute mess—but the way he worshipped you under his breath was heavenly.

in the aftermath, he’s completely still long enough to worry you.

“leon? you there?” you ask, even as you want to bring your messy fingers to your mouth and lick them clean.

he takes a slow breath in, voice rough: “yeah.”

“was that fine?”

“fine?” it made him lose consciousness for a second, he was sure. but…

“it was great,” is what comes out.

────✴︎─

you kiss the blonde man, tender. “i’ll ask you again, are you sure about this?”

he smiles against your lips. “yeah. piece of cake.”

how the hell you ended up getting him on the bed with his wrists cuffed together to the headboard, you wouldn’t know.

a light mention of your nasty curiosity during a conversation was all it took, and then leon was interrupting you mid-sentence, asking questions, dropping hints for you to elaborate. and here he was now, boxers helplessly lowered to his ankles.

“alright. if you need me to stop, you know the word.”

“mhm.”

when you begin to slowly run your hand up and down his cock, he doesn’t sweat it.

the first time, he’s panting quietly, and the only warning you get from him is a word muttered under his breath; “close.”

your touch turns fluttery—light in a matter of seconds after his confirmation. not enough at all. he bites his lip, silent still.

it went on like that for a few more times. you had to admit, he was going strong.

the fourth time and beyond—that’s when you start to tease him a little more. running your free hand over his abs, or rubbing at his tip and smearing the precum there.

now, you can visibly see when he’s going to finish.

his hips will chase your fist almost imperceptibly but not quite. he’ll throw his head back with a low groan, and purse his lips together to muffle himself.

although, the part where he gives up on trying to stay quiet is by far your favorite.

it’s been about an hour—and possibly a half? leon can’t tell—and you still keep him on his toes, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“damn it,” he huffs after the seventh time, sweat running down his brow.

you wish he could’ve felt the exhilaration you get from watching him squirm. your gut twists every time he nearly whines or moans or lets out an equally humiliating sound before he manages to catch himself—it’s bliss. you don’t know why it feels so good to see his thighs twitch with need.

“you’re doing so well, baby,” you croon.

it’s so unlike him, and maybe that’s what’s so deliciously enticing—the stoic, badass facade broken down into a mess. it sounds impossible, but you’re hopelessly in love with the idea.

the idea that is becoming reality now, right in front of you.

as you praise him, your hand speeds up and pumps his cock with fervent enthusiasm. he lets out an audible breath, then—

“hnn, fuck, m’bout to cum…”

his voice cracks; rises into an almost-whimper. god, it’s like he’s teasing you back, isn’t it?

“don’t be shy, let me hear you.” faster. harder. a squeeze on the upwards stroke that makes precum leak out every time.

“shit—! shitshitshit, please, god, so close—“

he downright sobs when you stop abruptly, hand stationary on the base of his dick. “that’s what i like to hear,” you say sweetly, and right before he can adjust, you start to pump his dick again—picking up at the speed where you left off.

“please,” he squeaks, a pathetic sound, somewhere from the back of his throat.

you see him—feel him—on the verge of release. he’s one breeze away from falling off the goddamn cliff with how close he is to the edge. “hold it.”

“can’t,” he sputters. his hands jerk against the restraints and yank and yank and yank—

“if you break those handcuffs, i swear to god, leon…” the quick rhythm of stimulation you were giving him breaks as you stroke him slower;

and then he lets out a hiccup.

“shit— sorry, fuck, keep going—“

“babe, are you crying?”

he sniffs. “i’m fine.”

you look closer at his face, and yeah, the inner corners of his eyes are shiny and wet (just like the head of his dick, you can’t help but compare).

you try to bite back a smile but to no avail. to be frank, you’re so aroused at the moment you feel woozy. “i can go on, yeah?”

“don’t look so happy that i cried,” he scoffs, playful if you ignore how hard he’s panting. “you’re too into this.”

“i can’t help it. you look incredibly hot.”

“so now you’ve finally noticed. what, are your eyes closed every oth-… ohhh, fuck—“

you start stroking him once more—just to hear him break mid-sentence, if you’re being honest—and push on his stomach with your free hand.