#day6

Outside, the storm raged on, rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling window of your bedroom. Yet it couldn’t drown out the soft, content sound that rumbled from Leon’s throat as you pressed yourself closer to him. One leg draped over his body, skin meeting skin beneath the soft blanket, warm and unhurried. He shifted, snaking one arm beneath you, pulling you even closer, as if that were somehow still possible. His silent way of telling you he didn’t want even an inch of distance between you.

Your fingers traced lazily across his firm chest, surprised still by the softness of his skin, fingertips soon replaced by your open palm. You wanted to feel more of him, as much of him as your touch could reach. Your hand glided upward, over his collarbone, along his neck, brushing against the pleasant roughness of his stubble. A gentle tilt toward you, and his jaw was against your lips, inviting you to explore. Your kisses trailed along his jawline, his throat, and as you shifted slightly higher, his cheek.

A low chuckle escaped Leon’s lips, deep and easy, while he let you pepper him with affection, though not without returning the favor. One hand drew soft, tickling circles on your arm, the other resting steady and reassuring on your thigh.

It was a blessing that the two of you found each other so irresistible, so intoxicating. You’d closed your eyes for a few quiet minutes, but sleep didn’t stand a chance against the pull to stay awake together, wrapped up in one another – your bedroom a place without time or space. Just the two of you, the rain, and the glittering city lights spilling through the windows of your fifteenth-floor apartment. What time was it? How long had it been since you’d fallen into bed together? It didn’t matter. There was still so much to learn about Leon S. Kennedy, the man you’d recently started dating.

“Leon?” you asked softly, your lips pausing in their ministrations against his skin.

He hummed in response, feigning reluctance. “Don’t stop.” His head turned further toward you, his lips brushing your forehead in quiet invitation. “This feels like my own personal spa night.”

“What?” you laughed softly. Your body, tired from hours of passion and the late hour (you didn’t even dare check your phone), moved slowly, but you managed to shift your weight, pushing yourself up and onto him.

A satisfied vibration hummed through his chest, his hands immediately finding your hips, anchoring there as they felt your silky curves. It took effort for him not to just blurt out how completely, stupidly in love he was with you – the sight of you on top of him, face bathed in the soft glow of city lights, almost too much to contain himself. Maybe it was too soon to say it out loud. Then again – maybe he was too old to keep playing it cool.

“Have you ever actually been to a spa?” you asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“No,” he was quick to admit. “But I can’t imagine it being any better than this.”

You giggled, shifting your weight again as your fingers slid into his soft, dark-blond hair. His eyes fluttered closed, a small, contented smile tugging at his lips while you massaged his scalp. Another low sound of pleasure escaped him. His fingers roamed along your sides, and you shivered, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch.

“Told you, my personal spa night,” Leon murmured, his eyes – blue like the calmest sea in a tropical paradise – finding yours again, the city lights softly reflecting in them. A gentle press of his hands against your back urged you down to him, and his lips captured yours – tender, reverent. The kiss made your head spin, your heart tightening at the sheer affection behind it. You didn’t know what to do with all that emotion except lean into it, savoring your almost instinctive, practiced kisses, as if you’d been doing this for years, every single day.

“With a happy ending,” he added against your lips, grinning.

“Leon!” you exclaimed, pretending to be scandalized but unable to stop laughing. He laughed too, even louder when you gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “That’s not the kind of spa I meant,” you teased, grinning down at him.

“You sure?” he asked, his hands on a playful exploration tour. 

You bit your lip, torn between the persuasive warmth of his touch and the question you’d actually meant to ask.

Your decision was made for you when Leon, suppressing a yawn, looked up at you with tired but devoted eyes. “What was it you wanted to ask me, Baby?”

The word still felt strange to your ears, but it sounded completely natural on his tongue. The way he said it flustered you, and the soft, bashful smile you couldn’t quite hide every time he called you that only confirmed for him that it was the perfect nickname.

“Oh, right,” you said, doing your best to sound casual, though your heart gave a little jump. Leon noticed, of course. He took your hand in his, keeping eye contact, a cheerful glimmer in his gaze as he pressed a long kiss to your palm, breathing in the faint, floral scent of your perfume that still lingered on your wrist.

You watched, fascinated, until his lips left your skin, the warmth of the kiss lingering for a moment longer. Determined not to let yourself get distracted again by those blue eyes, those inviting lips, or your name on his tongue, you placed a finger on his mouth to get his attention. He obeyed, though not without smiling against your finger, lips pursing just enough to press a fleeting kiss to your fingertip.

“I was actually going to ask if you have a guilty pleasure,” you said. “But I guess now I already know. Spas with happy endings.”

Leon’s eyes widened for a split second before a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Only when you’re the masseuse.” He did think about your question, though. Did he have a guilty pleasure? There had never been much time in his life for hobbies. Maybe it was about time he found one. Maybe he’d just make you his hobby.

“It’s Dad jokes, isn’t it?” you blurted out the thought that had been bouncing around your head ever since the night you met Leon in that little bar.

You’d been standing at the counter, drink in hand, while your friends waited at your table, when Leon’s friend Chris had suddenly parked him next to you, said “Hi gorgeous, that’s Leon,” and promptly disappeared. Perplexed, you’d stared after him, until your gaze found the man beside you. Those ocean-blue eyes, your glass still in your hand.

Leon had looked nervous, almost panicked, glancing vaguely in your direction. Then his eyes had landed on your drink. You still remembered it vividly – how he’d obviously found his own joke at least somewhat funny when he said, “Sorry, I hope your mood hasn’t turned sour now.”

You’d blinked, confused, brows furrowing. It had taken your brain a second, before your eyes followed his to your glass.

“Oh,” you’d said, lifting your whiskey sour. “What the fuck?” A laugh had escaped you.

To this day, you weren’t sure if it was out of pity or genuine amusement. But Leon had kept throwing out one-liners since then. And more often than not, you found yourself genuinely laughing. You even caught yourself now and then anticipating one of his corny jokes, ready to let out an exaggerated groan just to make him grin that wide, bright grin of his. Whether he was happy to tease you or simply glad to make you laugh – either way, you adored it.

“Dad jokes?” Leon repeated in mock offense. “Young lady, my jokes are far too sophisticated to simply be called Dad jokes.”

You giggled, your fingers once again playing with a strand of hair while he brushed yours back, wanting to see your smile unobstructed.

“Might call them Leon jokes, then,” you said with a soft smile, glowing at the happiness written across his face. “But seriously, you’ve got a line for every situation. I admire that. But!” You straightened up a little, creating just a touch of painful distance between you. Luckily, your hips stayed connected, and the warmth under the shared blanket didn’t fade.

Leon’s eyes followed the smooth movement of your body, a quiet sound of approval escaping him as he caught another glimpse of your curves. His hands rested on your thighs, distracted by the subtle motion of your hips against him. His mind could still appreciate the view, though the rest of him might need some proper sleep before he could keep up again.

“I’ve actually got some good ones of my own now,” you continued.

Leon raised an amused brow, his hands still tracing lazy paths along your skin.

“Did your homework, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, thrilled to finally show off the worst jokes the internet had to offer. Leaning forward carefully, not to put too much weight on him, you braced your hands on his shoulders. He looked up at you, clearly intrigued and more than ready to be entertained.

“Okay, let’s see –” you mused for a moment, deciding which one to start with. “Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Leon chuckled as soon as you began. You didn’t even get to the punchline before he replied, “Because he was outstanding in his field.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, grinning so brightly that Leon thought you might just be the most beautiful thing in the world. Another blessing that you shared the same weird sense of humor. Maybe Dad jokes would end up being your guilty pleasure in this relationship. “You’re good. I’ll have to raise the stakes.”

Again, you thought for a moment. “A guy walks into a bar...and he was disqualified from the limbo contest.”

Leon laughed, a little louder this time but still rumbling rather low in his chest. “Poor guy, should’ve read the sign at the door.” His teasing smile encouraged you, and you jumped right to the next one, warming up and getting downright excited to keep going.

“A man walks into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder. The bartender asks, ‘Does the animal talk?’ And the parrot goes, ‘I don’t know.’”

A groan and a playful snicker later, you didn’t even give Leon time to recover before continuing: “A skeleton walks into a bar and says, ‘Hey, bartender. I’ll have one beer and a mop.’”

Leon rewarded you with a deep, genuine laugh. Sure, the jokes helped, but mostly it was you. The way you delivered them, so animated and happy, completely losing yourself in the moment. Each punchline made you giggle harder, until you were an almost breathless, radiant mess on top of him – and he found you absolutely adorable.

“What do you call a priest that becomes a lawyer?”

“I don’t know,” he played along, “what do you call a priest that becomes a lawyer?”

“A father-in-law.”

For the first time in who-knew-how-long, Leon’s hands left your skin, just to cover his face in a gesture of disbelief and amusement, letting out a long, dramatic groan. You laughed on top of him, your whole body shaking with melodic joy.

“What did the ocean say to the beach?”

“Oh my god, she’s unstoppable,” Leon commented, grabbing you and rolling you off him. You were both laughing together now, though you still hadn’t finished your new joke. Before you could, he interrupted again, gently tucking your hair out of your face. His hand lingered against your cheek, his grin softening, blue eyes sinking into yours with reverence. Then his lips found yours, silencing your laughter, replacing it with a quieter, content sound.

With your faces close together, Leon didn't miss the way your grin bloomed all over again. He chuckled under his breath.

“Okay, what did the ocean say to the beach?”

“Nothing,” you replied sweetly, “it just waved.” 

Leon rolled his eyes, but his grin told you everything you needed to know. “Jesus, Babe.”

“Aw, come on. You know you love it,” you teased.

“I know I love you–oh, shit.”

The words slipped out before he even realized they were forming, escaping somewhere between laughter and exhaustion. Silence fell instantly. Leon’s eyes went wide with shock, staring at you as if trying to rewind time. You looked right back, your grin fading into something quieter, more serious.

“Leon…” you began, unable to stand the silence.

“Sorry,” he cut in quickly, “that just…slipped out.”

Even embarrassed, he didn’t look away. Maybe, though, this was as good a moment as any. Him, lying there with his girl, laughing in bed. Maybe his stupid brain had simply forced him to say it because this, right here, felt like the happiest moment of his life.

“I do, though…love you,” he added softly. His fingertips brushed against your cheek, waiting nervously for your reaction. “Sorry if it’s too soon.”

You blinked, your brain finally catching up. “It’s not,” you said, and a tender smile spread over your lips – one that Leon instantly mirrored. “I love you too.”

He exhaled a deep, relieved breath before his mouth found yours again. His hand slid up your back, pressing you close, his soft lips and warm, broad body wrapping you in a feeling that was both intoxicating and deeply comforting. His hair tickled your face as you melted into him – he was temptation, yes, but also safety. The coziest place you could ever imagine. You could stay like this with him forever, just as he could with you – no thoughts except the ones for each other, no time but now, no world but the one made of your bodies intertwined.

“Sooo,” Leon finally said, drawing the word out as you both slowly came up for air, “, now that this is out of the way… what’s your guilty pleasure?”

You blinked back from the haze of his affection, a little dazed, before managing a smile. You did it again, pressing your finger to his lips, watching as he kissed the tip of it.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that,” you murmured with a playful giggle.

“Hit me with your best shot,” he said, grinning.

What time was it anyway?

Didn’t matter.