#agentkennedy

Fuck that guy. Leon couldn’t stand him. The way he pawed at you, the way he stared at you like you were something to fucking eat. He swears he could kill the bastard. He gripped the glass in his hand hard, wondering absentmindedly if he might break it but not able to bring himself to care. Why did you have to come to this bar with that guy? Why didn’t you want to go with him?

You’d told him you were going on a date this morning in the break room of the station when the two of you ran into each other in search of coffee. He faltered, almost dropping his coffee cup, but he knew he had no right to say anything. The two of you were best friends and had hooked up a handful of times, but it was never more serious than that, not that Leon didn’t want it to be. He loved you desperately, he had from the very beginning, but how could he tell you that? You were perfect, beautiful in every way and he knew he was lucky to even have this small part of you. There was no way he was messing that up by spilling his guts for you and potentially driving you away, so beyond your close friendship, he kept you at arm’s length.

That’s precisely why you were going on this date. You didn’t like the guy all that much, but you were head over heels for Leon and he certainly didn’t seem to feel the same way, so the other man was a convenient distraction. Every time you tried for some intimacy that wasn’t sexual, Leon would seem to lose interest. He wouldn’t hold you after sex the way that you liked. It’s not that he would skip aftercare altogether; he’d get you cleaned up and situated to the best of his ability, but he’d either leave your apartment right after or wouldn’t touch you.

It’s not that he didn’t want to hold you after sex. God, he’d give anything. But he knew that the second he had you in his arms in any way that was that tender, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut or his heart steady. He wasn’t risking that.

The two of you were at an impasse, and that’s what landed you at this bar at 10 o’clock on a Friday. The guy you were on a date with was okay, what was his name? James? Jake? Whatever. He was impossibly boring and a little gross, so you didn’t feel the need to memorize his name since you didn’t think you’d be seeing him again. He was also wildly drunk and had his arm around you, squeezing you a little tighter than you thought was necessary, but the date seemed to be winding to a close, so you figured you’d have your personal space back shortly. You paid your tab (there was no way you were letting this guy spend any money on you,) and turned to your date to say goodbye.

“Well,” what was his name? Better just skip it. “I had a lot of fun, but I think I’m going to head out. I’ll call you, okay?” You absolutely would not call him. He stood, swaying a bit.

“Come on, little lady,” he leered at you. “Don’t you want to come back to my place?” Fuck no, you didn’t, but you tried to stay polite.

“No thank you, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?” You turned again to leave but he grabbed your arm, pulling you in close to whisper in your ear.

“You really think you get to just leave now?” Your blood ran cold. No fucking way. You tried to wrench your arm away but he held fast. “Don’t fight me on this, kitten, you know you owe me.” He leaned in even closer to flick his tongue against your earlobe, nearly making you gag. Then he was gone. What?

He lay on the ground in front of you now, hands covering a bloody nose someone had delivered him. Who? Your eyes shot up and locked on Leon’s, a soft expression on his face as he looked at you despite his bloodied knuckles. When did he get here? Leon turned away from you to look back down at the man, his expression changing to icy in an instant.

“If you ever touch her again, I swear to God I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he spat. The man scrambled to his feet and darted through the crowd that had started to form, rushing through the front entrance of the bar full tilt. Leon looked back at you. “My car, now,” he snapped, holding his hand out for you but giving you the choice to take it or not. You did.

He helped you into the passenger seat of his Jeep, closing the door behind you before getting in the driver’s seat himself. “I’m taking you to my place,” he told you, leaving little room for argument. You nodded.

The ride back to his apartment was quiet, both of you not saying anything from when you climbed into his car to when you plopped down on a chair in his tiny kitchen. You watched him cross his kitchen to the little sink, wetting a rag to dab at his now scabbed-over knuckles. He winced, and you stood from the kitchen chair to take the rag from him and help him.

He stayed silent and let you wipe away the blood. Two knuckles had split but not badly enough to need stitches, which you told him. He thanked you as you used a paper towel to dry off his hands. You hadn’t looked him in the eyes once during the entire process, and hoped he didn’t notice. He did.

“Why?” He asked you. You knew what he meant, but pretended you didn’t.

“Why what?”

“Why him? Why not me?”

You sighed. He knew damn well why, which you told him. He shot back that he definitely did not. You relented.

“Because,” you mumbled, “I want something that you won’t give me. I figured I wouldn’t find it in him, but I’m not going to get it from you, either.”

He was still confused. What in the world were you talking about? You saw him tilt his head to the side, his brows furrowed. You sighed.

“I love you, Leon, I have for a long time. I know you don’t love me back and I understand that, I’m okay with it, that’s why I’m looking for it elsewhere.”

“What?” He asked, eyes wide. You were frustrated now.

“I love you! I love you, okay?” You threw your hands up, tossing the bloody rag in the sink. “How many different ways do you want me to tell you, Lee? I’m fucking tired of-“

“Oh my God,” he cut you off. You were annoyed before, but now you were pissed.

“‘Oh my God,’ what, Leon? What, are you disgusted or something? Jesus Christ-“

He cut you off again, this time not by speaking over you but by pressing his lips to yours. Huh? He pulled away, your eyes still wide.

“I love you too.”

He loves you too. He loves you too. Holy shit. You grab the sides of his face and pull him in for another kiss, taking him by surprise. He let his hands fall naturally at your waist, trying to seem nonchalant, but he fisted desperately at your shirt and moaned high in his throat when you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. He pulled away, eyes lingering on the string of spit connecting your mouths before he ducked his head to place wet, needy kisses to your throat.

“Please, honey,” he begged between kisses, his hands wandering. “Please let me touch you. Promise I’ll make you feel so good, please.” You pulled him away from you by his hair, and he whined pathetically.

“You want to touch me?” You asked, one eyebrow raised. He nodded. “Get on your knees and beg.”

You expected him to protest, but he didn’t miss a beat. He knelt down in front of you lightning-quick, hands on your thighs and the most desperate look in his eyes you’d ever seen. Perfect.

“Baby, please, I’ll give anything, I’ll do anything, just please let me touch you, let me taste you, I’m desperate, honey,” he pleaded.

“Bedroom,” you ordered, and once again he obeyed. He stood and slung you partway over his shoulder, making you laugh before making the short trip to his bedroom and throwing you down on the bed. He did nothing else, though, seemingly waiting for more instructions. You obliged. “Undress me.”

He nodded once and began to undress you, starting slow but getting sloppier and more desperate as he struggled with the button on your jeans. You took pity on him and undid the button and the zipper, allowing him to pull your jeans and panties off in one motion and throw them to the floor without any further interference. He reached to dip his fingers into your pussy but you grabbed his wrist, making him whine.

“So quiet until now, what happened?” You teased. He whined again.

“Wanna touch you, please,” he begged. You shook your head.

“I’m completely naked and you’re fully dressed. Do you really think that’s fair, Lee?” You questioned. He shook his head. “Undress yourself then.”

He began to take his own clothes off, somehow more desperate that he’d been when he’d undressed you. You managed to stifle a laugh when you heard the tear of fabric, wondering what he’d just put a hole through in his rush. You slid off the bed and stood when he finished, pushing him to lie down instead before climbing on top of him, straddling him just below his cock. He whined, reaching out for you. Part of you wanted to deny him, to punish him for all he’d put you through these past few months, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You relented, allowing him to grab at your waist and lift you up as you used your hand to line his cock up with your entrance before he pushed you back down, sheathing himself completely.

He threw his head back into the pillows beneath him, golden hair strewn everywhere and sticking a bit to his already sweaty forehead. His teeth were gritted, pretty blue eyes pricking with tears as he squeezed them shut, fingers digging into your hips. He cried out in a way that could have been pathetic if you didn’t love it so much.

You gave him a moment to regain his composure as you sat atop him, but the second his heavy panting began to even out, you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, causing him to cry out again.

“Fuck, baby, feels so good,” he moaned, lifting his hips to meet you in the middle of every thrust. As the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, he circled your clit with one thumb, trying desperately to keep up some semblance of a rhythm.

You ground against him with every thrust and were worked up enough physically and emotionally to know you weren’t going to last long.

“Lee, Lee I’m gonna cum,” you panted.

“Oh, honey, please cum on me, I wanna feel you squeeze me, feels so fucking good,” he rambled, his hips stuttering a bit. He was close too.

The circles around your clit became more sloppier and more desperate. Leon was trying like hell to get you to cum before him because he knew he wasn’t going to last.

“Come on, my pretty girl, cum for me, yeah? Please, please cum, I want it so bad, sweet thing,” he whined. A particularly sharp thrust finally sent you over the edge.

The rhythmic clenching of your pussy around him sent him over as well; he soon followed you, spilling into you with a cry. You rode him through both of your orgasms, finally lifting yourself off him when the aftershocks died down. He whined at the overstimulation and the feeling of his own cum dripping out of you onto his stomach. You laid next to him with a huff, your legs exhausted.

For the very first time, Leon pulled you into his arms and squeezed you tightly as you lay beside him, one hand rubbing your back gently. You pressed your forehead to his chest, allowing yourself to enjoy the genuine intimacy he was finally affording you, but the feeling was cut short by another more unpleasant one that made you grimace.

“Lee, I gotta get up. Your cum is oozing out onto the sheets.

“Stay here for just a few more minutes, sweet girl,” he replied sleepily. “I’ll help you change the sheets later.”