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𓈒 𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓈒

A week your husband had been away from home. He was staying somewhere a few hours away while on a mission for work. You missed him, but hadn't texted him a bit because you knew he'd been busy.

Though, on this particular day, you really missed him—missed him in the way that made you crave his body. The body you temporarily didn't have access to.

You squirmed on the bed for a long moment, but it was hard to get comfortable, especially with Leon so heavily on your mind. As a last resort, you decide to text him.

“Hey babe, you free?” You type out the message and send it.

Surprisingly, he responds within a minute.

“Yeah. Just got back to the motel a bit ago.”

You bit your lip. Now, you had it confirmed that he was free. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought hard for a moment; you wanted to send him a nude. Mostly in hopes he'd send one back, which surely he would.

You got up off the bed and rose to your feet.

You stripped off all your clothes.

You held your phone upwards as you began to pose in front of the mirror of your vanity. The mirror was large, and the bulbs that ran up along the sides casted a bright glow that accentuated your body. You rested your hand upon your hip as you then took a few pictures with the back camera.

You scanned over each taken photo to decide on your favorite. Underneath, you added a text: “Miss you.”

You were a tad nervous to send it; after attaching it to the conversation, your finger hovered over the send button for seconds. You swallowed, pushed your finger down on the button, and then tossed your phone down on the bed.

You sat back down a bit fidgety as you waited for a notification.

Minutes passed, but nothing. Curiously, you picked back up your phone, unlocked the screen, and checked. Just a simple “read” underneath your sent attachment.

Then, he reacted. From Leon, your picture had received a “❤️” reaction.

You still waited for the big moment—to see if he was going to send anything back.

And just another minute later, he did. Your phone dinged with a sent attachment from him: a picture of your husband, Leon, standing in front of the bathroom mirror—no clothes. His cock was thick with veins that ran up along it. It was halfway hardened too. Your pulse quickened at the sight, and created a heavier sensation within your groin.

He said: “Miss you too, sweetheart.”

With the picture up on the screen you held in your hand, it made you wish to touch yourself. However, apparently Leon had the same idea.

Just another moment later, he sent you a video. The video was of him jerking himself off; his large hand was wrapped around his dick—stroking it. He softly groaned within the minute-long clip. The camera was still angled towards the bathroom mirror.

That did it. You sat up on the bed and rested your head against the propped up pillows. You held out the phone to where your body was visible and your face was just slightly out of frame. You hit record as your right hand slowly traveled downwards; firstly dragging down your bare chest and then abdomen.

With your phone filming, you began to touch yourself. You were already aroused—it began just from your X-rated thoughts earlier… and then the attachments Leon had sent really done it.

Though unlike Leon, you weren't stopping after a minute. You kept on touching yourself for the camera to see. You did for several minutes with soft moans until you orgasmed on screen.

Your breath became heavy as you came down from the high, and you stopped the recording. Then, you sent it to Leon.

He again reacted the same to the attached video. You waited to see if he'd send something else—biting your lip as the patience was difficult to maintain.

After a few minutes, there was a new notification; an attachment from Leon. You quickly clicked on it and felt a gentle, warm blush arise to your face at what you saw.

What he had sent was another video of him masturbating—a longer video too, and by minutes.

You listened intently when he moaned softly through his gritted teeth, and even noticed whenever his abdominal muscles would flex throughout.

He'd whisper soft things too—praises about you, your body, and specifically the attachments you had sent him.

After a few minutes into the video, he recorded his own orgasm too. Ropes of cum spit out from the tip of his hardened dick. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes clenched shut as it happened. His hips jittered as well. Then, the clip ended.

The entire video flustered you further and made you feel all tingly. Your heart raced as you felt your groin stirring and fluttering once more.

You texted him: “I love you, babe. That was so amazing. You're so handsome.”

He responded: “Thank you, gorgeous. I love you too, and I miss you so much. I can't wait to be home.”

You stared at the conversation open on your phone screen. You really did miss him—and of course couldn't wait for what would go down when he returned home. It wouldn't be for another few days, but with the videos you now had access to, you'd be alright.

He’s working from home today, holed up in the office down the hall, hunched over his desk with new grays coming in at his temples as the day goes on, and the reports pile up against a due date that is far too close on the calendar for comfort. And you’re in the mood to be tedious. Near perfect conditions.

First, it started with bringing him coffee. He was so appreciative, giving you a rub on the back as you bowed down to place the cup and saucer on his desk. A ‘thank you, sweetie’ and a kiss on the cheek. 

Then, you stopped by, not even thirty minutes later to ask if he wanted to go out to dinner tomorrow, and if so, he needed to leave work ten minutes early to beat traffic. Oh, and he’ll have to make a reservation because you’re not very good at all that stuff. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded, assuring that the two of you would have your dinner date on the schedule as soon as he finished work. 

So patient. 

It didn’t take long for you to return once more, wrapping your arms around his neck, pinching his cheeks, playing with his hair, planting an obnoxiously loud trail of kisses from ear to ear. I’m bored, you whined. 

“Why don’t you go shopping, baby? Looks like the perfect day for it.” 

You followed his gaze out the window, where a heavy blanket of steady rain had just broken through the torrential sky. Angry clouds threatened a continual downpour from above, coating the earth in dark, vampiric shadows. 

Guess not.

You padded down the hallway, decidingly not venturing out to the shops today, but still pondering a way you can cure this endless pit of boredom digging itself deeper in your stomach. And the lust between your legs, crying out for attention. 

So, so patient. 

“Lee?” You coo, returning to his office for the ninth time in the past two hours. Leon sighs, shoulders falling an inch against the back of his desk chair. This time, he doesn’t turn around to look at you, he doesn’t respond vocally with a pet name, or so much as an annoyed cut of his eyes. He keeps his gaze affixed to the computer in front of him. “Baby?” You repeat, still lingering against the door frame. 

“What is it?” 

Bingo. 

There’s frustration in his voice, and he no longer deems it necessary to coat it in the sweet, syrupy tone he typically uses with you. You’ve gotten under his skin, and between your incessant picking and prodding, and the pile of unnecessary projects he’s been assigned, his patience is wearing thin. 

“It’s still raining.” 

He needn’t look out the window for confirmation. He can hear the droplets banging against the glass. “Yep.” 

“I would go shopping, like you said, but I just got my hair done and I don’t want to get it ruined.” 

“Shop on your computer.” He knows you’re familiar with the principle. The two of you could be stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere without so much as a single bar of signal, and you’d still find a way to rack up a bill on his card. 

“That’s so boring.” 

If he has to hear a variation of that word one more time, he might just have you do this report for him, and you’d really be bored then. But he keeps his cool, choosing silence over a response that would only prolong this exchange, and perhaps bring out a side of him he never wants gracing this home.

Little does he know. 

You approach, a shitty grin tempting to appear at the corner of your mouth as your hands extend toward his hair, all sand and snow. “Can I play with your hair?” Before you can sink your fingers through the strands, he reaches back to grab your wrist without so much as looking to aim. 

Leon then whips around in his chair, pulling you between his legs. 

“Sweetie,” he says through gritted teeth, speaking with as dulcet of a tone as he can muster. “I’m working.” 

“But I’m bored.” The patch of skin between your eyebrows creases and your face begins to contort as you simultaneously stomp a foot against the hardwood. Leon looks down at the gesture, then slowly glances back up. 

Worn. Thin. 

Without warning, he grabs your shoulders to push you down onto your knees, your flesh immediately conforming to the textured slats beneath them. 

“You’re gonna kneel until I finish this report, do you hear me?” He doesn’t wait for you to nod or squeak in acknowledgement. This isn’t a contract. It’s a command. 

“Leon–”

“And if I hear so much as a peep from you, you’ll be staying like that all night.” 

You seal your lips shut.

He leans down across the arm rest, with a wicked smile at the corner of his mouth, to lightly tap the button of your nose. “Good girl.” 

Leaning back in his desk chair, he stretches his arms high above his head before clasping them behind it, reclining. “If you hadn’t interrupted me every five fucking seconds, this wouldn’t take so long.” Then, he sits up straight once more, hands immediately returning to the keyboard, clacking away like a chicken at feed. “Too late now.”

After fifteen minutes, you start to squirm, knees rolling back and forth against the textured planks. Out of the corner of his eyes, Leon notices you faulting. Your fingers are fidgeting, your seat aching to recline on your heels. 

“Uh-uh,” he taunts with a click of his tongue. “Do I need to tie you up?” 

“No,” you whimper. 

His eyes shoot open. “Or tape your mouth shut?” 

You shake your head, lip beginning to tremble. 

Your knees hurt, obviously, but now your face is starting to feel tight, and your skin dry and itchy. 

It’s five o’clock. Actually, it’s long past five o’clock, and Leon’s been finished with work for the past twenty or so minutes. Instead of the encrypted website he was using to work, he switched to google to search for the best leather cleaner to use on the seats of his car. Then, he clicked back and forth between a few websites for details on plaster work and regrouting. 

“Bathroom renovations, really?”

Without moving a muscle of his face or pivoting his body, Leon’s eyes cut to you, a storm brewing inside them. That’s all? He doesn’t spit out a scolding word, or pull you over his lap to slap a parade of punishing spanks across your ass. He just goes back to his computer, clicking, and moving his cursor across the page at nothing in particular. 

That’s when you make the decision to run, though it’s not much of a decision at all. It’s more of a primal instinct, inherited from ancestors that had to run from actual predators. Perhaps that’s what you’re wanting to turn Leon into. A predator hot on the trail of its prey. 

So you lunge onto your feet, and they quickly carry you out of the office, across the hall, and up the stairs. Your legs feel like jelly, your knees throbbing at the release, though still partly numb. 

Leon just sniffs, slowly rising from his chair, reaching out to turn off his computer until the power flickers and the outage does it for him. It immediately bathes the house in shadows, the darkness only cut by the storm seeping through the windows, sharp shocks of lightning illuminating the halls with bright claps of white.

You hear a rumbling chuckle from downstairs, and it sends a shiver of chills down your spine, between your legs. Navigating through the darkness, you tip-toe down the corridor, round the corner, thinking you’re in the clear until you run straight into a clothed chest, nearly bouncing back against the impact. Yelping out, you ask how he found you so quickly. You had only been running for a minute, and you hadn’t heard any footsteps behind you…any movement at all, really.

Beneath another strike of lightning and the roar of thunder, you see Leon’s face, a smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth. He takes you in his arms, holding you so tight, there’s no chance of wiggling free. As you squirm in his grasp, he dips his head down to whisper in your ear. 

“Do you think I just sit at a desk all day, baby?” His voice is low and gravely, his breath hot against your skin. Something ice-cold is dragged up and down the length of your arm, and its metal catches in the light, a twinkling sound following. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” 

It was a pair of handcuffs. 

Metal and unforgiving. 

Your arms are stretched above your hand, your wrists restrained, the cuffs clicked into place around one of the wooden posts of the headboard. He removed your panties, your satin nightgown, the lace hem tickling your thighs as he slid it down your body. 

You asked for this, you remind yourself when you see Leon walking back toward the bed, a lit candle in his eager hand. Melted wax pools around the live wick, and your muscles tense as it hovers above your abdomen, threatening to spill. A wicked grin grows across Leon’s mouth, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the flame.

He shifts the candle up your body, tilting the lip until hot wax splatters across your decolletage, your breasts. Peaked nipples hardening under the sensation, you cry out, moan echoing against the blackened walls. 

Leon closes his eyes, tossing his neck back, devouring the sound. 

Discarding the still-lit candle on the nightstand, his hands crawl to your breasts, kneading the stiffening wax into your skin, paying extra attention to your nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his fingers. 

He moves his head down between your parted thighs, one hand coming down to pin your waist into the mattress, the other still playing with your tits, shifting between them, making sure to dole out enough love so that neither one feels left out. 

You whimper as the drum of his tongue flattens on your clit, lapping like a kitten on a bowl of milk. He begins with slow, languid strokes, the tip drawing circles at your seam before he plunges the muscle past it, prodding at your walls. 

Back arching off the bed, you tilt your hips down, grinding against his face. He groans into your pussy, the sound reverberating off your arousal, and you mewl beneath the vibration. Then, right as you sense your climax approaching, the coil in your abdomen tightening, your walls clenching, he removes himself. The absence is jarring. 

“Leon?”

“How does it feel?”

Your brows cinch together, your face a painting of betrayal as you struggle to look up and out at him, your movements limited by the cuffs. “What do you–”

“You were interrupting me.” 

His voice has returned to its usual tone, dulcet and soft like a lullaby, yet laced with condescension as he cocks his head like a puppy, mocking your frustration. 

“So now I’m going to do the same to you.” Bowing back down to your pussy, he stops one more time before continuing his taunts. “No more talking, please.” 

He attacks you like this for what feels like an hour, though time is completely lost on you now, unable to turn to the sky outside for direction, the storm making the early evening seem like midnight. 

Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, made worse when you try to quell the tremble by digging your feet into the mattress, and your vision begins to blur at the corners, white spots appearing like granules of static across your lids. 

If the government isn’t using this as a form of torture, they’re severely missing out. 

“Let me finish, please.” 

He doesn't, of course, retreating once more before you can meet your peak, wiping your juices off his mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Leon, please,” you cry, tears sliding down your temples, falling into the swirls of your ears, drying down sticky and stiff. “Come back.” 

You giggle, slithering from his hold on your hand. Not offended, you don’t shy away like you are. Instead, you retain the kind of confidence that leaves you unshakable in the face of his absurdity. 

Silly old man. 

It’s as though you send the message telepathically, the way you smirk down at him before turning on your heel and stepping toward the door. Leon tests the strength of his dress pants beneath his desk as he watches the sway of your hips, the way the muscles in your legs flex as they carry you. So lithe. So graceful. Like a ballerina trapped in a jewelry box. He’d like to immortalize you in resin, dress you in a tutu, and keep you stored away on a shelf to twirl for him anytime he pleased. 

Silly old man, indeed.

Hand on the knob, hair flipped over your shoulder, you pivot just slightly to glance back at him. Such a coquettish minx you are, yet entirely too naive to be either. He has to hide his mouth behind a closed fist, tracing his lower lip with a fingernail, willing himself not to crack, however difficult it is when you look at him like that. Like you respect him. Like he walks on water. Like you’re begging to be proven wrong. 

“If there’s anything else I can do for you, Mr. Kennedy,” you coo sweetly. “You know where to find me.”

Unfortunately, it’s true. When you shut the door behind you, and leave him to his own devices, the voices of the devil and angel on his shoulder which are much louder in the silence of his office, he knows exactly where to go. 

It’s not long before Mr. Kennedy needs something else, beckoning you to his office. He opens the door, slipping his head through the crack, finding you at your desk just a few feet down the hall. He calls your name, waving you over. 

It’s half-past-five, and both of you were still working. He typically reprimands you for staying late, playfully of course, but the sentiment still stands. Tonight is different, however. It’s as though he was relieved to see you still at your desk, the lamp light still on, illuminating the cold patch of hallway you now have all to yourself.

You nod, finishing the work at your computer, hopping to your feet as soon as physically possible so as not to keep him waiting. He works so hard, always arriving early, leaving late. He doesn’t deserve a lazy assistant, not when he’s been nothing but polite and helpful to you as you adjust to the new position. 

“Sir?” You ask as you arrive at the door. He gestures for you to close it behind you. It’s obvious that he’s stressed, half-moons of purple skin beneath his reddened eyes, hair that has been raked through over and over by a restless hand. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, his blazer strewn onto the sofa, not neatly hung on the coat rack, nor folded and placed delicately on the armrest. 

“Yes, come in,” he says, and you obey, venturing further into his office. His voice is hoarse. Perhaps he’s going to ask you to make him tea. “Take a seat. I want to talk to you about something.” 

Your heart drops as your body does, lowering yourself into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. He’s dressed in one of his typical white button-down shirts, pressed and tucked neatly into his slacks, sealed with a leather belt. 

Three months. Three months you’ve been working for the department as Mr. Kennedy’s assistant, and it’s going to end today. In the beat of silence that falls over his office, you rack your brain for any idea as to what you could have gotten wrong. Maybe you forgot to alert him of an important meeting and he missed it. Perhaps you made one too many typos on the mission briefs you’d write up for him. 

Saying a silent prayer, but preparing yourself for the worst, you sit, with your hands in your lap, awaiting your impending termination. 

“I don’t know if I tell you this enough, but you do such great work here.” 

Like a dog at the promise of a treat, your head shoots up and your eyes widen. “Really?” 

He nods, a smile spreading across his face, flashing a set of white teeth. “Really.” You watch intently as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his desk, still covered in a bunch of loose leafs of paper and random sticky notes reminding him of approaching deadlines and assignments. “You’re always so attentive to my needs. It’s kind of impressive, how you seem to read my mind, knowing what I want before I even know it.” 

You giggle, cutting your eyes to the floor beneath the praise. “I don’t think so.” 

He stands up, walking around the corner of his desk to stand in front of where you're sitting, leaning his seat against the ledge. He supports himself on his palms, reclining back at the same time as he shifts his hips forward, settling into the new position. 

He’s so close that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne as it radiates off the patch of skin exposed by his loosened collar. This closeness, his body so near to yours, it conjures a simmering gurgling of anticipation in your gut, a primal instinct left by your ancestors to tell you that danger is near. 

Well, maybe not danger, but something altogether wicked. 

“Hmm,” he hums, nodding, as though truly considering your statement. “You don’t think so.” It’s not a question, he’s simply testing the thought on his tongue. “How about we test out that theory. What am I thinking about now?”

All that confidence you try to muster has swiftly made its exit, slamming the door behind itself, leaving you like a crustacean, naked without its shell to protect its gummy center. 

Your eyes cut past him to see an empty glass, the tiniest drop of amber resting at the bottom, betraying the liquid courage he downed before you walked in, as if you couldn’t smell it on his breath as he spoke. 

Mr. Kennedy isn’t a big drinker, you’ve learned, but he indulges on occasion, digging into a small bottle of whiskey he keeps locked in a drawer behind his desk. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stutter. “That it’s late and you want to go home.” 

He cocks his head to the side. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for, and you know that. 

“That I should win employee of the month because of how good of a job I’m doing?” 

You know good and well the DSO isn’t the kind of organization that has enough spare time to indulge in such corporate fantasies, but you’re buying yourself time, not quite ready to be done with this song and dance.

Mr. Kennedy laughs, tossing his head back, letting the sound loose from his chest. Then, he glances back down at you, leaning forward at the hip, ever so slightly. Not near enough to touch, just near enough to threaten it. “Close, but not quite. Though I do think you deserve a reward.” 

“How about five more vacation days?” You arch a brow, a smug grin on your mouth. “Paid. Or maybe just a trophy.”

That elicits another tittering chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain, but no.” He kicks a foot out to tap yours, nudging it to the side, your knees parting slightly in consequence. The blast of air conditioning billowing from the vent in the wall wafts between your opened legs, tickling the exposed flesh of your thighs. Goosebumps rise on your skin, to which Mr. Kennedy takes notice, licking his bottom lip at the sight. 

“Then what are you thinking, sir?” 

He lets out a puff of air he was harboring in his lungs, closing his eyes as he takes in that sound, caught between both hating it and needing you to say it again. 

Without another second wasted to hesitation, Leon bends down to catch your lips, pulling them into a passionate dance of tongues. If his words, his presence near you, were the igniting sparks, this was a roaring flame. White-hot with blue tips, it burned, leaving singing marks in its wake, marks you’d proudly wear. 

“Sir, I–”

“Leon,” he murmurs, cutting off your speech. And thank goodness for it, because you spoke purely out of ceremony, not even sure what you would have said if he hadn’t interrupted. You surely weren’t about to tell him to stop, to push him away on principle of him being your boss, your superior. He tastes far too good to give up now. Mint and sweet liquor and need. It’s thick on his tongue. 

“What?” You ask, your voice weak and flinty, hardly able to carry out a single word. He asks you almost every day to use his first name, to which you always pleasantly refuse, the back-and-forth becoming a little game between you both. Tonight, however, the name carries more weight than it usually does, sounding almost desperate the way it leaves his throat on a breath.

He retreats, just an inch to “You’re gonna call me ‘Leon’ when you come on my face.” 

You’ve never actually seen Mr. Kennedy–Leon–use the sofa in his office. It sometimes serves as a coat rack, other times as a filing cabinet, scattered with manilla folders and loose pages of paper. But he doesn’t sit on it, at least not that you know of, the upholstered cushions never indented, never a hair out of place.

You definitely haven’t seen him use it like this before. 

He has you sitting with your hips settled–practically dangling–near the edge, your legs parted, skirt pulled up, panties pulled down. His face is buried in your pussy, the evidence of your previous two orgasms painting his chin, knees digging into the carpet beneath him. After your first climax, you were worried about his joints, and you had asked him such. He responded with a click of his tongue and a hand on your lower stomach, keeping you pinned to the sofa. 

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” The vibration tickles your clit as he takes the bud in his mouth, suctioning his lips around it. Your hips jolt upward, and it takes an enormous amount of willpower not to cower beneath the stimulation. His tongue laps at your cunt once more, dragging slow, languid lines up from seam to clit, gathering your wetness on his tongue. “This is much better than a vacation, huh?” 

The spoonful of sickly sweet vanilla ice cream in your mouth practically sizzles against your tongue upon contact. It's disgustingly humid and the heat is sweltering - you're desperate to cool down, and there's no better way of doing that than taking a dip in the ocean. Unfortunately, you and Leon were supposed to have a weekend trip to the West Coast, but that was abruptly canned since his work called him in for an urgent mission, despite Leon already lodging his leave well in advance.

The whole situation vexes you - on one hand, you know you signed up for this when you began dating him; the life of a government agent isn't exactly predictable and work hours aren't always fair. But on the other hand, Leon still deserved to relax and use his leave like any other employee should - so why is this now the third time they've disrespected his leave request? You chew the inside of your cheek absentmindedly, your eyes staying glued to the TV screen as you try to focus your eyes on the scene of Mr Darcy confessing to Elizabeth in the rain, but your irritation was still simmering beneath the surface, despite your mental attempts to slam the lid on it and hope it doesn't overflow.

Your eyes dart to the handle of the front door pressing down while your hands are still under the cold running water of the tap, rinsing your ice cream spoon. Leon's tired figure trudges into the living space, purplish dark circles hanging under his eyes, chapped lips, and a dullness to his skin that isn't usually there. Your heart clenches at the sight of him - it's clear the mission he just went on did an absolute number on him. But it's what made you all the more irritated and upset; he's a human outside of his work, yet he's being treated like he's a power tool getting yanked out of a shed whenever he's needed. The most frustrating part is that it seems as if he just lets them do it as they please too.

"Hey." Leon is the first one to break the silence, his bag still dangling from his arm.

"Hey." You reply, popping the spoon on the drying rack.

"I'm sorry I had to leave suddenly again." Leon purses his lips, walking towards you slowly as if he were approaching a skittish animal.

"It's okay." Your reply is a little too quick, and your gaze is anywhere but his eyes. You're afraid that you'll take one look at him and say something you don't mean out of sheer annoyance for the situation.

Leon drags a hand over his weary face before placing his bag on the floor, leaning it against the kitchen island as he takes a seat at the kitchen stool. "It's not… I'm sorry. I know we had it all planned and I had to cancel everything."

"…Yup, for the third time." You sigh. "Leon, I know work is important, but they have hundreds of other capable agents they could send off. You only lodged leave for four days, with three month's notice too. They really couldn't find anyone else? They really had to cancel your leave two days before you were meant to go?"

"The situation was urgent and there was a limited pool of agents they could deploy for it. The consequences if nobody were there to contain it would have been catastrophic." Leon explains.

"But they could have called other agents. I know global threats don't respect leave requests, but the DSO still has plenty of capable agents that would have held the fort just fine until you got there. How are you meant to go through all these harrowing missions without having proper downtime? You're not a tool they can just pull out at their disposal, you're a human." You cross your arms.

Leon pauses; there's no anger or irritation in his eyes. He simply nods. "It's hard to say no." You can hear the fatigue in his voice, but it only serves as proof that he shouldn't keep saying yes to more work.

"Of course it is. It's the literal United States government asking you to do something. But by never saying no, you're setting a precedent for them to do it again. And besides… I also booked leave on Monday. I don't mind lounging around, but it is a shame I wasted a day of annual leave, especially when I was really looking forward to our trip. It's not fair to me either." You chide him.

"I was looking forward to it too." Leon's sentences remain short; a telltale sign of his exhaustion.

You approach Leon slowly. "I know… I didn't mean to tell you off the moment you walked through the door. I know it was tough on you, but this is the third time it's happened now, and I've been keeping my frustrations bottled up." Kissing his cheek, you give his bicep a short and gentle reassuring squeeze. "I'm gonna wind down for bed. There's some leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry." You notify him, turning to leave. Before you can even begin to take a step, you feel Leon gently grab your hand. You let out a soft "huh?" as Leon hops off the kitchen stool, kneeling down as he wraps his arms around your hips, his face pressed against your torso as he looks up at you.

"L-Leon, you look exhausted. You know if you fall asleep down there I won't be able to lug you up the stairs, right?" You chuckle, your fingers threading through his blonde silky strands. He leans into your touch, staring up at you with soft puppy eyes.

Leon is rarely like this. The only other time he's grovelled like this is when you saw someone from his past try to reach out once more; and while he didn't have her number saved, it wasn't blocked at the time, which really pissed you off. Clearly ditching three planned holidays in a row has made him feel guilty.

"I'm sorry for abandoning the third holiday we've tried to go on. But you're being so patient with me anyway. I'm so sorry." His voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm just feeling frustrated, and it's upsetting to see you burn the candle at both ends. We're good, okay?" You murmur.

Leon shakes his head with a sigh. "It's not fine. I've abandoned our plans in favour of work three times now. I'm sorry… I want to make it up to you. I'll do anything." He looks up at you, his arms tightening around your hips.

"Anything?" You raise a brow.

"Anything." He nods.

"Okay. I want you to get up from the floor, eat the leftovers, take a nice hot shower, and get an early rest." You chuckle, knowing that he was planning on trying to apologise through sex. But as much as you'd like that, all you really want is for him to just get some rest.

"Really? You don't want me to eat y-"

"Nope. Get up from the floor, drama queen."

You're sitting on the bed, legs sprawled on top of the French flax linen sheets with a book in your hand. The amber glow of your bedside table illuminates the words, as you try to wind down and take your mind off things. Despite being peeved about the last minute cancellation of the holiday, your thoughts were mostly fixed on how burnt out Leon has been looking lately.

As you flip the page, you hear the bedroom door open, the smell of aldehydes and sandalwood flooding your nostrils. Your eyes dart to the sight of Leon - he's only wearing a pair of loose grey sweatpants, the water droplets from his damp hair sprinkled onto his muscular chest. He shakes his head twice, like a dog shaking its coat after being drenched in water, and you smile to yourself.

"Hey." He greets you, shuffling into his spot next to you.

"Hey. Feeling better?" You ask him as he settles close to you.

"Yeah. Much better." Leon nods, before clearing this throat. "I also, uh, lodged my leave again and managed to get an even nicer hotel to stay at for next weekend. I know you need to lodge that extra day of leave, so the entire trip is on me. It was my bad for cancelling in the first place. And if they ask me to come in, this time I'm saying no." He adds. You glance over and give him a small smile.

"Good. If you're exhausted then it's pointless throwing yourself in a dangerous situation. You need to take care of yourself." You hum, going back to your book.

"But nobody is taking care of you. That's meant to be my job." You catch a rare pout from Leon, which earns him a giggle from your lips.

"Hey, I'm holding up just fine, even when you have those missions that last for like two weeks." You respond, as Leon repositions himself on the bed between your legs, his calloused palms gently rubbing the side of your thighs.

"That's part of what I meant." He responds, dipping his head down and kissing your inner thigh. You peer at him from your book before setting it down, then lifting your hips up as he drags your shorts and panties off in one go. "Just let me take care of you. Go back to reading your book, baby." Leon whispers, pressing a kiss on your hip before he spreads your legs a little further.

"Missed this view so much." He murmurs in appreciation, before sticking his tongue out to lick a long, flat stripe against your cunt. Your body already begins to twitch at the sensation, your fingertips digging into your book so tightly you're already beginning to make little crescent-shaped divots in the soft cover of your novel. "Missed you so much." Leon adds, the very tip of his tongue flicking at your clit.

"I… Fuck…" You're already losing composure. The words on the page seem to jumble and swirl around as if you're looking into a bowl of alphabet spaghetti.

"You're not gonna turn the page?" Leon asks, his mouth separating from your pussy for a moment as his thumb moves against your pussy in slow but firm strokes, causing you to roll your hips.

"Forgive me, it's a little challenging to read right now." You bite your lip, staring at him. He's staring up at you with a soft gaze and parted lips, glossy with your own pussy juice. Fucking hell, he's so pretty.

"That means I'm doing my job right. Go on baby, get back to your book." Leon responds with a ghost of a grin, before dipping his head back down between your legs, sinking his tongue into your folds. You try your best to focus on the sentence before you.

'But joy soon effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the-' …You can't fucking focus like this. But you pretend you're reading anyway, despite your breaths turning staccato as you feel the repeated flicks of his tongue against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. The crisp sound of a page flipping happens just a little too suddenly, and it's so clear your eyes are anywhere but on the words. Leon knows, but he doesn't say anything. He just looks up at you with an adoring gaze as he hums a low groan of pleasure while he continues to fuck you with his mouth. Just as you attempt to read another sentence - or at least try to, you feel Leon sink his index and middle fingers inside of you slowly, causing you to let out a breathy whine.

"F-fuck, oh my god." You gasp at the sensation of his fingers now slowly pumping in and out of you, watching as his fingers disappear into your folds and pull out, covered in your slick, syrupy pussy juice. You don't even remember what page you're on anymore.

"Atta girl." Leon whispers, kissing your inner thigh as he curls his fingers upwards, hitting that spot that makes your eyelids flutter. His mouth returns to your pussy, continuing to relentlessly lick and suck at your clit, as he keeps an almost mechanically perfect pace and pressure with his fingers hitting that perfect spot, over and over again. Your legs are now shaking, and your book is now teetering on the edge of the bed as your body pulls taut.

"I'm, hah… I'm gonna cum… Fuck…" The flesh of your lower lip is pinned under your teeth as you feel that familiar warmth pool in your stomach, your hips bucking into Leon's face as you grind your sopping wet cunt against his mouth. It earns you a deep, guttural groan of pleasure from Leon, as your body finally lets go, your orgasm completely shattering you as his name loudly falls from your lips.

Leon moves from his elbows to his knees, caging your body with his as he kisses you deeply. You realise that since he walked through the door, the two of you hadn't shared a proper kiss, and it made your heart clench a little. Breaking the kiss momentarily, you look up at him with a soft, doe-eyed gaze, your lips glossy with the mix of his saliva and your arousal. "Hm?" Leon hums; it's a gentle and caring tone with a carnal undercurrent - as if he's asking you what he can do for you next. Your hand finds the back of his neck as you pull him in once more, giving him another kiss. Leon softly moans, his lips parting as your tongues meet. You feel yourself pouring all of your love and tenderness into every stroke of your tongue against his, and he returns with equal fervor.

"Lay down. I don't want you undoing a stitch." You instruct him with a soft chuckle.

"Yes ma'am." Leon gives you a lazy smile as you hitch your leg over his thigh, his cock already hard and weeping with precum. Your hand moves from his lower stomach, tracing over his muscular abdomen as it finally rests at his jaw gently. You study his face for a moment - his eyes are locked onto yours with a soft fondness, and you can't help but smile. "What is it?" Leon asks, tilting his head in question.

"Nothing." You hum, grabbing his cock and sinking down on it slowly. You take him inch by inch, until he bottoms out inside of you. Leon lets out a soft groan of pleasure, your name echoing from his lips as you slowly begin to move your hips. The feeling of him is a toothsome stretch, his cock filling you up as if he was made just for you.

"Oh, fuck… Just like that." Leon huffs out, his calloused hands instinctively reaching for your hips as you begin to ride him a little faster. The sound of your own juices mixing with his makes an obscene wet slap with every downwards jut of your hips. Peering down, you watch as your cunt greedily swallows his cock whole, the lewd visual of your wet folds sinking down on his dick driving you insane. Leon removes one of his hands from his hip to briefly wet the pad of his thumb, before placing it on your clit and making frantic little strokes on it.

"G-gonna cum so fast if you keep doing that." You manage to say through breathy whines.

"Good, because I don't know how much longer I can last when you're riding me like this…" Leon lets out a strained grunt of pleasure as your hips burn with your quickening pace. Your breathing becomes more ragged as the tip of his dick continues to slam into that perfect, sweet spot, while his thumb relentlessly drags over your clit.

"Oh, shit…" A loud moan leaves your mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. That's it baby, ride it out for me." Leon coos in that deep, teasing voice, before a moan leaves his own mouth too. And that's all it took. Between whimpers, his name falls from your lips as you cum, your body shuddering with pleasure. As your walls grip onto Leon's cock tightly, it causes him to spill hot, white ropes of cum inside of your pussy, his hand on your hip gripping just a little tighter. Your hips slowly grind as you ride out your high, your eyelids fluttering in pleasure before you finally pull yourself off of him.

"You distracted me from my book." You pout as you roll over onto your side of the bed.

"Sorry baby, maybe you can read the rest by the beach next weekend?" Leon smiles softly at you, giving you a tender kiss on the forehead.

The sun glows a striking amber against the stripes of pale cornflower blue and magenta twilight as you turn the final page of your book. You hear the faint shuffling of feet in the sand, and you look up to see Leon standing over you with a grin. A part of you wishes you could take a photo of what you're seeing right now - the sea water clings like crystalline droplets onto his skin and damp blonde hair, the vibrant sunset behind him illuminating every peak and valley of his muscles. You watch as he shakes his head and arm twice to rid himself of the water, much like a dog shaking its coat after a bath.

"So, was the book good?" Leon asks, his knees sinking down onto your sailor blue and white terry cloth beach towel as he sprawls himself next to you, one heavy, muscular arm draping over your waist.

"It was, actually. Have you had enough of a swim?" You smile at him.

"Almost. You got dry from sitting out in the sun. You want one last dip before the sun fully sets?" Leon asks.

"Hmm, sure. I should make the most of the ocean." You nod in response. Before you can do anything else other than placing your book to the side, Leon rises from his position and scoops you into his arms, carrying you princess style in one easy, fell swoop. You yelp in surprise, but your yelp quickly turns into a giggle as he kisses the crown of your head as the icy ocean water touches your body.

"Oh my god, it's freezing!" You whine.

"That's because you were out of the water for so long." Leon lets out a small laugh, pulling you into his arms, holding you flush against him as you both watched the sun set below the horizon.

He really does love to take care of you.

- Leon isn’t very big on public displays of affection, although he will hold your hand through a busy crowd, or place his hand on the small of your back if he’s guiding you somewhere.

- That being said… On the occasional subway ride, Leon refuses to let you touch the grimy grab handles. He insists you hold onto his bicep instead. Not like you’d complain.

- When he’s at home with you, Leon is practically your shadow - putting his head on top of your chin or in the crook of your neck while you’re attending to a task, such as a typing away at a report or cooking something. He also pulls you in super close whenever you’re sat on the couch or lying in bed, and he absolutely hates letting go.

- Leon also enjoys physical touch, but from you and only you, since he sees you as a safe space. He especially loves when you rake your fingers through his hair, lightly touching his scalp. It reminds you of a dog leaning in to nuzzle the hand petting it. He’s more touch starved than he lets on.

- Even after a long day at the office or returning from a mission, Leon is the one who will cook you both breakfast the following morning, or he’ll notice that oil leak from your car and fix it for you before you even spot it yourself. Leon would never let you lift a finger, unless you wanted to.

- He always gets a little surge of pride when he’s able to be the hero for you - especially if it involves brute strength, such as opening stubborn jars or moving a piece of heavy furniture. It’s a bit amusing watching him try to play it cool when you thank him for his help.

- Words and grand romantic gestures aren’t Leon’s strongest suit - but he doesn’t go a day without saying “I love you”.

- Leon is not really big on the gift giving and receiving front, but he always gathers information by asking your friends and paying attention to what you’re looking at in the mall so he can get you a nice gift. His preferred gifts from you are handmade, since he’s quite sentimental.

- When things became serious, Leon told you that he trusts you with his card, and you can buy whatever you want with it. For whatever reason, you still kind of hold back on using it… So sometimes Leon will just straight up ask you to visit a luxury store and put his card to use, because he has no clue how else he’s going to spend all that money otherwise.

- Making corny jokes is just a reflex for Leon at this point. If you say something that reminds him of a joke, he will add an awful one-liner after your sentence before you can even stop him. In response, you usually stare at him with a deadpan look, while he’s staring back at you looking pleased with himself.

- Leon is a very clean guy, he sometimes showers twice a day. He has a very strong soapy aldehydic scent, which is softened only by a fraction from his sandalwood aftershave and his natural skin musk. He smells a lot like freshly washed linen.

- Since beginning to work for the DSO, Leon became an extremely organised and tidy person; he’s meticulous in the way he arranges and stores his belongings at home. He doesn’t leave his inbox piled up with over 2,000 notifications. Hell, even his desktop computer is free from clutter, with dedicated files and subfiles with strict categorisation. He’s so organised that you’re usually the one asking him where something is.

- Leon would not give another person the time of day if they’re hitting on him. Since you began dating, Leon ignores any advances from other people to the point where he becomes visibly annoyed if they don’t take a hint the first time. He said it himself - he’s a one-woman type of guy.

- Leon runs hot at night. He also doesn’t have difficulty falling asleep, but he has trouble staying asleep because he often has nightmares. He instinctively reaches for you when he wakes up from a nightmare.

- Speaking of emotions… Leon used to cope with his trauma and emotions with alcohol before he met you. Leon wants to be present whenever he’s with you, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he were drunk in his free time. Being in a relationship with you also gave him the boost of motivation he needed to change his drinking habits, because he wants to be a dependable partner.

- Leon is a very jumpy person. He hates horror movies and jumpscares. Anything with zombies is totally off the table - for very good reason. You’ve developed a habit of announcing when you’re home, and purposely making a bit of noise before approaching him if he can’t see you. You hate seeing him jump out of his skin when he’s caught off guard - it makes your chest clench a little because of the reason behind it.

- Leon is a starer. He’ll often admire your face with a small smile.

- People who work with Leon have noticed that he’s gotten his spark back since he began dating you. Leon was previously known for being a brooding person, who always walked around the office with a furrowed brow. One time, Leon cracked a small smile at someone’s joke in the break room - his colleagues were so used to seeing him frown all the time that the room was momentarily stunned into silence.

- He’s the one who usually drives. Surprisingly, he’s actually a good driver in every day life, even though you’ve heard the vehicle auditors at the DSO chide him over the phone about the amount of vehicles he’s totalled on missions.

- When he doesn’t hear you the first time, he leans close to you and does a little “hm?”- it gets you flustered every time. He knows what he’s doing.

As you step to squeeze past his knees, choosing not to take the longer path around the coffee table in order to make a statement, he mumbles out a string of apologies. 

“Sorry,” he says meekly, shifting his hips back, squeezing his legs shut so you can walk past. 

He’s definitely filled out since he moved in, testing the strength of his dark jeans, the seams of his t-shirts. Maybe it was the way he sounded so sincere, so apologetic, or the way he mopes around like a wounded puppy, but you’re quick to forgive, not wanting to add to the guilt he seems to perpetually wear on his shoulders. 

“It’s alright,” you say, settling down next to him. Your thighs touch his as the two of you figure out a way to make the piece of furniture more comfortable for two occupants. 

He scoots over to the edge, practically hugging the armrest, as you tuck your knees beneath you, the bowl of popcorn forgotten on the coffee table. The television plays some gameshow neither of you are really paying attention to, and you hear a strained sound leave Leon’s lips. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” You ask, already apprised of the answer based on the way he keeps adjusting his body. 

“I’ll be fine,” is all he gives, line of sight still fixed on the television across the room. 

“Can I sit on your lap?”

Perhaps you’re possessed. It’s the only explanation for why you let the idea marinate in your head, let alone twist it into words and let them leave your tongue. 

His head snaps toward you, brown brows furrowed. 

“Um, okay.” 

He moves back to his prior position, with his hips shifted forward on the cushion, his legs wide open, knees a pole apart. 

You leave your own cushion, and make your way to his thighs, straddling his lap. 

His eyes grow wide, and you realize that maybe this exact position wasn’t what he had in mind when you asked, perhaps imagining you in a more ladylike arrangement, with your knees glued together, thrown across him.

“What are you…”

You shrug as a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. “I don’t really know.” 

He just looks so sad, so lonely, so pitiful sitting there on the sofa by himself, always coming home from what you understand to be a very exhausting, very terrifying job, to just sit. He doesn’t have many friends, or any family, to spend time with. No hobbies. No pastimes. 

So something came awash over you, and you acted on the impulse. 

“Is this okay?” You ask, your palms flat on his chest, feeling the bulging muscle beneath the slinky cotton of his t-shirt. 

He gulps, nodding, his eyelids slowly shutting. 

Your hands move down the vast space of his abdomen, only stopping once they meet the starchy denim of his dark jeans. Then, one palm ventures past the waistband, settling over the zipped fly to feel a growing erection beneath it. 

“And this?” 

Another nod, one more decisive than the last. His eyes have opened again, but are now affixed to his thighs, where your own are spread, and the dainty hand you have pressed to his erection. You grind the heel of your palm over it, feeling it grow and jump under the sensation. 

Leon whines, a soft, low sound that makes your stomach hot and suddenly you need more. 

You bow down to nibble at his neck, the skin soft and warm under your lips as they part, tasty as you bite. 

“Shit,” he curses, hands immediately coming to bear down onto your hips, retreating a moment later, hesitating. As if to give permission, you let your full weight onto his erection and grind down just once. His hands quickly return, the movement punctuated by a low whimper. 

“Can I ride you?” 

The heads of his brows tangle and his eyes are wide and glossy. “Fuck yes,” he says, the words leaving his chest on a breath. 

You make quick work of the zipper of his jeans, and he lifts his hips so you can pull them down along with his briefs. Then, you yank off your top and bra, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lounge pants and panties, which cannot be discarded without you standing up for a moment. For each second it takes to stand up and pull the articles down until you’re bare, you miss the feeling of his body beneath yours. Leon took that time to snatch off his own shirt, revealing a well-defined chest and abdomen, one you’re more than eager to explore with the hungry tips of your fingers. 

Straddling him once more, you move your hips back and forth over his hardened cock, letting the length gather the evidence of your arousal until his moans are too pathetic and your heart can’t take teasing him much longer. 

He slides into your pussy effortlessly, his face contorting in instant pleasure, his mouth spitting out a thread of inaudible mumbles. Large, capable hands return to your hips as he guides you back and forth onto him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close enough to plant a kiss on his lips, but you don’t. “So pretty,” you whisper instead. A pink tint rises on his cheeks.

He shakes his head, laughing lightly. “You’re the pretty one. Always have to remind myself not to stare.” His words are punctuated with short breaths, and it makes your walls clench, in turn, eliciting a dark groan from him. His grip tightens around your waist, slender fingers digging into your skin, kneading and massaging the flesh there.

The way he stretches you to your limits has you salivating like a dog, and this time you do kiss him. Your lips meet in a sweet, honeyed union, his tongue pushing past your parted pout to explore the inside of your mouth as though he’s trying to map the new terrain. Hungry and desperate, he keeps you glued to him as one of his palms sneaks up the middle of your back, palm gliding up and down your skin. 

You suck on his lower lip, rolling it in between your teeth. He groans into your mouth, the reverberations of the sound tickling your spit-stained skin. 

“Shit,” he swears, retreating to toss his head back against the sofa, the apple in his neck bobbing up and down as he gulps. Heavy-lidded eyes fall to watch the way you completely swallow the size of him, the rhythmic movement of your hips as you continue to ride. 

Your orgasm builds fiercely, rolling across your body like angry waves crashing at shore, and Leon isn’t far behind, giving you a quick warning before he finishes inside.

“We probably need a new couch,” you say, sighing into the crook of his neck, collapsing onto his chest.

His hands continue their ministrations at your back, palms gliding up and down the length of your spine, caressing with all the sweetness and tenderness in the world.

“Nah, I think this one’s fine.”

by the time you reached his apartment, the excitement of the day settled into something softer, more domestic. his place was dim except for the warm glow of a lamp in the corner.

“I’d say today was a success,” leon sighed, stretching an arm along the back of the couch behind you. “I avoided ruining your birthday.”

“barely,” you giggled.

“oh? barely?”

“you only worried about every little thing all day.”

his cheeks flushed a soft pink. “can you blame me, though?”

you leaned against his shoulder. leon glanced down at you with that shy smile he always wore when he thought you weren’t looking. “thanks for spending today with me.”

“as if there was anywhere else I’d rather be.”

his expression softened as he reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your cheek for a second longer than they needed to.

then, his lips met yours with the same gentle certainty he’d carried through the entire day. it was soft, careful, and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize every second. one kiss became another, each one lingering just a little longer than the last.

but then, leon pulled away. his breath hitched and his palms grew slightly damp when he saw the intense desire reflecting in your eyes. 

“I-I think I’m ready,” he whispered, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks. “I want to do it, I want my first to be with you.”

your eyes widened at his words. your relationship with leon had moved at a much slower, more deliberate pace than your past ones, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“are you sure? we don’t have to do anything if you’re not completely ready,” you said softly, brushing his hair out of his face. “I don’t want you to feel pressured just because it’s my birthday…”

“n-no, I’m sure,” he said firmly, his hand gripping your thigh firmly. “I love you…and I can’t see myself doing this with anyone else.”

your heart melted at his confession. you couldn’t help but kiss him again. “I love you so much,” you murmured against his lips. “and I’m not just saying that because you want to give me your virginity.”

leon chuckled, his hands resting on your hips as you moved to straddle his lap. his breath hitched when your fingers danced beneath his shirt, slowly stripping it from him. “just tell me if I make you uncomfortable, okay? want you to feel good, too,” you said softly.

he nodded quickly, like an eager puppy waiting for a treat. his eyes went wide and followed your every move as you slowly slipped your shirt off as well. 

“woah…” he breathed out.

you couldn’t help but giggle, your hands coming up to cover your chest. “what?”

“you’re gorgeous.”

he practically lunged for you, his lips making contact with your neck. his hands came up to gentle pry your hands away so he could see you properly. you sighed softly, melting into his touch. 

“you’re too sweet,” you whisper, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked love bites into your skin.

leon’s fingers tried to unclasp your bra but failed miserably. he looked up at you with sad, dejected eyes. “I’ve never done this before,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink.

you reached back, easily undoing the hook and tossing it to the side. “I know, baby, I know,” you cooed. your hands reached for his, guiding them to your breasts. his hands were clammy, shaky, but eager nonetheless. you moaned softly as he fondled you gently.

“holy shit,” he whispered, letting out a chuckle. “I’m so hard right now.”

you pressed against the raging boner beneath you, letting him feel your throbbing heat. “yeah?”

leon sucked in a breath, his head tipping back against the couch. he let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan. “baby, please,” he begged.

obliging, your hands reached for his belt. in a flash, his pants were discarded and yours were left somewhere across the room.

“do you wanna use a condom?” you asked, your fingers slowly stroking his length. he was already leaking and throbbing, looking as though he might explode any second. 

“what do you want to do?” he breathed out, his eyelids drooping heavily. “wanna make…ngh~ you feel good…whatever you think is best…”

you cocked a brow, a soft smile touching your lips as you slowly slid him between your folds. “you sure?” you whispered.

leon’s fingers dug into your hips, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your wetness drenching him. “y-yeah, I’m sure, baby.”

he let out a moan the moment you bottomed out. your body collapsed forward over his, completely overwhelmed by the intense sensation of him hitting all your most sensitive spots. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperately trying to stabilize yourself against the rush of pleasure.

suddenly, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as you felt his lips on your nipples. looking down, you saw leon eagerly sucking on them, his features contorted in pure bliss as his tongue lapped over the sensitive peaks. your core clenched tightly around him at the sight, drawing a sharp, breathless wince from deep within his chest.

“baby…’m not gonna last long,” he whimpered, his voice cracking as his eyes grew watery, staring up at you with utter devotion.

“it’s okay, just let it feel good,” you murmured, leaning down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his forehead.

leon whined, a desperate, broken sound as his teeth scraped against your nipple. his hips jutted up beneath you, completely starved for the sensation, greedy for more of the agonizing friction. “I-I can’t-” he stuttered, his entire body suddenly going rigid beneath yours.

his fingers locked onto your waist with a bruising grip as he thrusted up one more time. you could feel the intense, rhythmic pulse of his release slowly filling you up, a deep warmth that overflowed until it was slowly leaking down your thighs. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, chest heaving heavily.

“w-wait, you didn’t…” leon breathed out, his voice incredibly small and raspy. his lower lip gave a tiny, subconscious twitch as he realized he finished without you.

“just breathe, baby. don’t worry about me,” you chuckled softly. you leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of his nose, your fingers smoothing the fringe clinging to his forehead.

leon whined, a sweet, embarrassed sound as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you down flush against his chest.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mumbled against your skin. “I promise. just,...give me a second…”

you couldn't help but smile, combing your fingers through his soft hair as he held you close, content to just melt into his warmth. 

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

After stripping you down to your underwear, Leon gently nudged you onto the bed, and your lips immediately missed the warmth and softness of his own as he stood above you just to sink down onto his knees a moment later to pull down your panties. With his hands on either of your thighs, he drove them apart, and then he took a second to manually adjust your hips on the edge of the mattress, setting you into place for him to begin his ministrations. 

He started with a long lick from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit, the bud pulsing in anticipation. His tongue laid flat against it as he continued to lap like a kitten at a bowl of milk, small, gentle strokes to warm you up. 

Then, when he was satisfied with how wet you had gotten beneath him, how your hips were jolting, your body writhing like a live wire, he began to eat. 

You had never experienced a man who lived up to the name of the act, devouring your pussy like it was his last meal on earth and he had to make every drop count. He did it with such a ferocious hunger, you were certain it was more for his pleasure than your own.

He started by sliding his down your folds, licking the nerves on either side of your clit in between hungry licks at your seam. It made your body jerk, and your abdomen tense. Groaning against your pussy, he stuck the tip of the muscle past your entrance, tonguing your insides as if testing to see how far he could go. The sensation was euphoric, and your climax was nigh and fast-approaching. 

Early into your relationship, you were worried how this would go. With every man before Leon, it would take hours for you to finish, if you did at all. Even by yourself, with your own fingers, or the help of a battery-powered friend, your orgasm was as elusive as a butterfly, always out of arm’s reach. 

Whether Leon was experienced or whether it was written into his biology to know exactly which buttons to press, which spot to lick, you didn’t care. Just as long as he didn’t stop. 

And he didn’t. 

He continued to consume you after your first, second, and third climax, his tongue far from worn, his mouth far from tired. 

“Leon,” you whined, clawing at the sinew of his shoulderblades through the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingers dug into his skin, pulled at his hair; you pleaded for some reprieve, though he didn’t overlook the lack of surety in your voice, and continued to work. The moans that escaped your throat were like the sound of a flare gun at the starting line of a race. 

In turn, the sounds he made against your pussy pushed you over the edge…yet again, until you were screaming out his name, and you felt as though you could either fall through the layers of cotton and fluff in the mattress, or ascend to the heavens to live among the stars behind your eyes.

After the waterworks of your last orgasm, you were probably drowning the man, though you’re certain, by the way he’s been dining on you for the last hour, he wouldn’t mind dying a hero’s between your legs. 

He retreated, an obscene sheen of sweat and arousal painted across his chin and mouth. His chest heaved with each labored breath he sucked in, his shoulders consequently rising and falling. Strands of dark blonde hair were sticking up in all directions, a tousled mess at your own hands. Surely he was done, you thought. That is, until he wiped away the moisture on his face with his forearm and lunged past you onto the mattress, his head propped up by a pillow, hands expectantly grasped on his abdomen. 

“Sit on my face,” he said, with a smile as big as the moon.