#dilf leon

"Mmm, you smell so good.” Before you pulled back slightly resting your chin on his chest to look into his eyes. You studied his face with a theatrically confused look on your face. “Y’know, you look Like... like...Like my husband. Who I love. Did you know I have the hottest husband in the whole world?"

"You might've mentioned it," he said, trying to hide his smile as he kicked the door shut behind you. "About fifteen times on the drive home."

"Only fifteen?" You frowned, genuinely concerned. "That's not enough. You're so—" You poked his chest emphatically with each word. "Fucking. Hot. Leon."

He caught your hand before you could poke him again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's get you some water, Okay?"

But you had other ideas. Your free hand slid down his torso, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "Or... we could skip the water and get wet in other ways."

"Water first," he said firmly ignoring your lewd suggestion, though his eyes had darkened slightly. He guided you toward the kitchen, keeping one arm around you because you kept veering off course and stumbling over nothing. When you rounded the corner and almost knocked your wedding pictures off the wall, he had enough and bent down, scooping you up to throw you over his shoulder, one hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you yelp.

"Leon!" you squealed, but you were grinning and laughing as he carried you toward the kitchen. Your hands immediately mischievously slid down his firm back to grab his ass in return, squeezing a handful shamelessly.

"Mrs. Kennedy," Leon said, his voice strained with barely contained laughter. "Please keep your hands to yourself."

"No," you said simply, squeezing again for emphasis. He shook his head before he reached back behind him to gather both of your wrists to hold them captive, he was still grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. You pouted the whole way there, then immediately perked up when he deposited you onto the counter, standing in-between your legs. "Ooh, I like this." You said wrapping your legs around his waist before he could step away, pulling him close. "No! Stay." you immediately lunged forward, trying to steal a kiss.

"I need to get you water," he said, but he didn't move after that, his hands settling on your thighs.

"Don't care." You cupped his face in both hands, studying him. "Your eyes are so pretty and I love your face." You traced his bottom lip with your thumb. "Everything about you is pretty. How did I get so lucky?"

His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "I'm the lucky one."

"Don't you know the saying that the wife is always right," you insisted, tightening your legs around him. "You're stuck with me now. Forever. You married me. No takebacks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, reaching past you to grab a glass from the cabinet. You took advantage of his proximity to kiss his neck, your hands sliding under his shirt.

Leon caught you by the shoulders, holding you at arm's length. "Water first."

"Kiss first," you counter offered, trying to lean around his hands.

"Water," he repeated not coming down from his initial starting offer, he drove a hard bargain and you couldn't talk him down. You pouted dramatically as he stepped over to the sink, swinging your legs and watching him. Your eyes never left him as he filled the glass, tracking every movement like a cat watching a bird out the window. You made another grab for him wrapping around him like a koala, nipping at his neck as he tried to fill the glass.

"Baby," he said, his voice strained as he filled the glass with water. "You need to drink water."

"I need to drink you," you said, then dissolved into giggles at your own terrible line. "Get it? Because you're a tall glass of—"

"I got it," he said, laughing despite himself. He pressed the glass into your hand. "Drink."

"You're trying to waterboard me," you whined, but you took a sip anyway, never breaking eye contact. The moment you swallowed, you set the glass down and reached for him again. "There. Water. Now kiss."

"More water," he said, fighting back a smile as he pushed the glass back toward you. You took another exaggerated sip, then another, then drained half the glass in one go. "Happy?"

"With you? Always," he said sweetly and you almost melted into a puddle on the counter, he stepped between your legs letting you wrap them around his waist.

You immediately cupped his face, pulling him close. "I love you so much," you breathed, suddenly serious despite the alcohol buzzing through your system. " You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and you're so good to me. Even when I'm being silly."

His expression softened completely, and he leaned his forehead against yours. "You're always a little silly. That's why I love you." he said softly, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"Don't be so sweet to me," you said, your voice wobbling, overwhelmed by the alcohol and emotions. "I'll cry."

"Can't help it," he said, kissing the tip of your nose. You pulled him into a messy and enthusiastic kiss, he could taste the sweetness of the coconut and milk and sour tang of pineapple from the Piña colada’s you'd been drinking. He kissed you back just as thoroughly, one hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip.

When you finally broke apart, both of your chests were heaving, breathing hard. You grinned at him, feeling floaty and warm and so, so in love with the man Infront of you, taking such good care of you even though you were making it your mission to make it as difficult as possible. "Take me to bed?"

"To sleep," he clarified stubbornly, though his voice was a little rough after the kiss.

"Sure," you agreed easily, knowing you'd try to change his mind the second you got there. "Whatever you say, handsome."

He shook his head fondly and scooped you up, carrying you toward the bedroom while you peppered his jaw and neck with kisses, your hands never quite managing to stay to yourself. 

The mattress bounced as you flopped onto it, sprawling out like a starfish before you started making sheet angels in the dark navy bed sheets. Leon stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with an exasperated but completely smitten look, he couldn’t even try and hide it.

"Don't move," he said sternly pointing to you like you were a unruly dog, before heading to the bathroom.

"Can't promise anything," you called after him, already rolling onto your side and nearly tumbling off the bed. You caught yourself at the last second, giggling. Your dress was rucked up and bunched around your waist, your whole ass out as you rolled over and mashed your face directly into his pillow, letting a drawn-out moan at his scent. Breathing in the notes of the honey and vanilla of the new detergent you just bought, mixed with his own woodsy shampoo that was still lingering on the fabric. 

He returned with a makeup wipe, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His hand reached up and gently pulled your dress back into place where it had ridden up, his palm coming to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing along your curves.

"Come on, sit up for me," he said softly, his other hand sliding to your back to help you.

You pushed yourself upright with his help, swaying slightly, and when you saw the makeup wipe in his hand your whole face lit up.

"You remembered!" you said, your words slurring together in your excitement. "You're the best husband ever. I hate waking up with crusty makeup. It's so gross and my face feels all—" You made a disgusted noise, scrunching up your nose.

"I know," Leon said, his expression fond. "That's why I'm doing this."

"You're perfect," you sighed, crawling toward him on your hands and knees, aiming to look seductive and enticing but coming off more like Bambi as you overshoot and bumped into his chest. "Oops." You said laughing as you melted into his chest and he took all of your weight holding you up as he went to clean your face.

"Yeah, oops," he said, his arm coming around your waist to hold you up, while bringing the wipe to your face with the other.

The cool, damp cloth touched your cheek, and you immediately started complaining as he wiped your lips off. "Mmhhhnn!"

"Hold still," Leon said, his voice patient as he cupped the back of your head to keep you in place trying to be even more gentle then before. "You'll thank me in the morning."

"I won't," you insisted, even though you knew he was right, squirming as he wiped away your mascara and eyeshadow. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"Mm-hmm." He tilted your chin up, carefully cleaning around your eyes. "So cruel. Taking care of my drunk wife." You tried to protest again but he was already moving to your other eye, his touch gentle despite your fussing. When he finally pulled the wipe away, now thoroughly covered in foundation and mascara. Once he was done you puckered your lips expectantly, eyes still closed.

When nothing happened, you cracked one eye open to find him watching you with barely suppressed amusement. Then his hands came up to squish your cheeks together, making your lips pucker even more before he leaned in and gave you the tiniest quickest peck, releasing you.

"That's it?" you demanded sadly. "That's all I get?"

"That's all you get until you're in bed," he said, standing and moving to the dresser. He pulled out one of his old t-shirts, your favorite one to sleep in. You made grabby hands at it, but when he tried to help you out of your dress, you went completely limp. "Can't move. Too drunk. Guess I have to sleep like this."

"Nice try." He maneuvered your arms out of the sleeves despite your best efforts to be as unhelpful as possible, flopping around like a fish out of water. When he finally got the dress off and tried to put the shirt on you, you suddenly had the energy to twist away.

"Wait, I changed my mind. I want the blue one."

"This is the blue one."

"The other blue one."

"You're wearing this one," Leon said firmly, catching you around the waist and wrestling the shirt over your head. You emerged from the neck hole with your hair sticking up in every direction, and he smoothed it down with a fond shake of his head.

The second you were dressed; you threw yourself backward onto the mattress, like a Victorian lady with a fainting spell. You flung one arm over your eyes; the back of your other hand pressed to your forehead.

"My husband doesn't love me anymore. He's so mean. He forces me to drink water and wear shirts to bed. And he won't ravish me like I know he wants to."

Leon couldn't help but laugh, if there was one thing his wife was when she was drunk, it was honest.

"Sooo tragic," you continued, your voice dripping with drama. "Death from no Snu-Snu."

You peeked out from under your arm to watch as he pulled his own shirt off to get ready for bed, and the entire act you had put on crumbled instantly. Your eyes went wide, tracking the movement of fabric up his torso, over his shoulders. You attempted a whistle, what came out was more of a pathetic swoosh of air with no substance. You tried again, pursing your lips with intense concentration. This time nothing came out at all, you looked like you were trying to blow out candles on an invisible birthday cake, your cheeks puffing out uselessly.

"Are you done?" Leon asked in amusement as he watched your increasingly desperate attempts. You tried one final time, producing what one might call a raspberry, and that was apparently his limit. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked, rolling you up in it like a burrito before you could even protest. You let out a muffled "Hey!" as he climbed in behind you and pulled you flush against his bare chest, wrapping both of you in the cocoon of blankets.

"Just go to sleep, baby." he murmured against your hair, his arm curled around your waist.

You wanted to say how much you loved him or how the joke was on him because this was exactly where you wanted to be, but the words were stuck in your throat as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. The room was soft and fuzzy around the edges of your vision, and his heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, you were so comfortable, so safe, so...

A soft snore escaped you as you finally closed your eyes, tucked safely in Leon’s arms. Leon pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his own eyes drifting closed, a soft smile still on his lips.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ reader:

He sighs, trying to swallow the groans of pain, and closes the door quietly behind him, though he ends up making more noise than he’d have liked to.

“Fuck me…” he mutters under his breath, annoyed.

Leon removes one of his gloves and then the other, tossing them onto the kitchen table before heading straight to the bathroom without turning on any lights.

He has to clean himself up, take some antiseptics, and go straight to bed to hug you.

The plan sounds simple… until he notices the silhouette on the couch.

You’re curled on your side, and the blanket that was covering you is now half fallen to the floor. One arm is tucked under your head, and the other is resting on what’s probably the pillow from your bedroom.

You shift slightly, a bit uncomfortable, slowly becoming alert of the faint noise you’re hearing.

Leon realizes he woke you too late.

You open your eyes, slowly, squinting when you make out your husband’s figure in the dim light.

“Leon? Is that you?” you ask, confused.

He closes his eyes, runs a hand down his face, and sighs.

Great. Just exactly how he didn’t want things to go.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmurs, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible. Doing his best to sound fine. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sit up quickly on the couch, letting the blanket fall to the floor. You rub your eyes and force yourself to fully wake up.

Leon came back home.

Alive.

The moment you look at him, you understand why he didn’t want to wake you.

Your gaze goes from his jacket, completely torn and stained with dried blood, to the way he’s standing.

He’s barely staying upright, and he has a hand pressing far too hard against his side.

“Leon.”

“It’s not what—”

“You’re bleeding,” you cut him off, standing as you see him make an effort to walk.

“That was a while ago. I’m not bleeding now.”

“You’re limping,” you say, grabbing him and forcing him to sit on the couch.

“I just twisted my ankle.”

You lean toward the small table beside you and switch on the lamp. Then, you gently take Leon by the chin and tilt his face toward the light.

“Listen, seriously—”

“Don’t come with that seriously right now, Leon,” you snap. You begin examining him more carefully, looking for injuries that might not be that obvious. “You’re pale. When was the last time you ate? How much blood have you lost? When did you last—?”

“Yesterday? And… I don’t know. Do you think I’m still bleeding?”

You start to panic, but you try to hide it.

“Stay there. Don’t you dare move.”

“We can wait until tomorrow,” he says, his words faltering slightly. He coughs, and the sound makes you fear the illness eating away at him. That same illness you were immune to. “Our daughter’s asleep, and you must be exhausted from—”

“Stay exactly where you are,” you repeat. “Don’t you fucking dare to move.”

Leon opens his mouth, but then thinks better and decides to not say anything else.

He lets himself sink back into the couch.

He can’t take it anymore. The pain is unbearable.

He groans, louder now, his entire body tensing.

You hear him not sounding so good and quickly drop to your knees in front of him without hesitation. You carefully open his jacket, but the fabric sticks, forcing you to tug harder to remove it.

Leon grits his teeth, letting out a long breath when the fabric finally peels away from his body, revealing blood that still seems to be seeping from his side.

“Leon… you look like shit.”

“You should’ve seen Gideon,” he replies with a weak smile.

You shake your head.

“I swear, if you keep making comments like those while you’re this bad, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Might be worth it. I like when you’re mad and bossy."

“Don’t push your luck.”

You stand up, and he instinctively tries to follow you.

“I’ve already told you, and I’m not repeating myself: stay there, and don’t you dare move,” you snap, much more firmly now. “I mean it, Leon. This could get worse.”

“It’s not like I’m about to start dancing…”

Leon sinks back into the couch, allowing himself to relax a little. He tilts his head back and, despite your shouted reminders from the kitchen not to even think about falling asleep, he closes his eyes.

For the first time since he left for that stupid mission and ironically, now that it’s over, he feels like he might actually die.

He focuses on the sounds: a door opening at the end of the hallway. Then, the closet. He listens to you moving around, opening and closing drawers, probably cutting gauze with scissors, grabbing the first-aid kit you always keep for emergencies which, of course, happen far more often than you ever anticipate.

“Leon, open your eyes. Is it that hard to listen to me? I don’t want you to die, and—”

He obeys, leaving you mid-sentence.

He doesn’t want to argue when all you’re doing is worrying about him. The truth is, he doesn’t even have the energy to answer you. He feels weaker as time goes by, and for the first time since heading out on that reckless mission, he truly feels mortal.

“Take off your t-shirt,” you order.

“My t-shirt?”

“Yes, Leon. Your t-shirt. Now. Unless you’d rather I take it off for you.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad.”

You shoot him another warning look, and he complies.

He removes his t-shirt carefully, slow and controlled to keep the pain from spiking. You see multiple bruises along his side, deep purple and blue, darkening by the minute.

You also see where the blood is coming from: a cut that looks deep at first glance but isn’t quite as bad, though it’s definitely still bleeding despite all the dried blood around it.

You press gently around the area, assessing the damage.

Leon exhales sharply, cursing under his breath.

“Be careful…”

“That’s what I’m trying to, but I need you to don’t move,” you reply, softer now. “The blood’s coming from a cut that’s not as bad as you think,” you explain. “And, from what I can tell… I’d say you have several ribs that aren’t broken, but they’re definitely cracked.”

“I figured, yeah…”

“Didn’t you think about telling me all this earlier?” you ask, somewhat annoyed.

“You asked me if I was bleeding. If you’d asked about my ribs…”

“Leon Scott Kennedy: can you stop your stupid humor at least for a moment?” you snap. “This is serious. God, I swear you’re impossible…”

“And yet, look at you: 20 years and still married to me.”

You’re about to reply again, but it’s pointless.

Instead, you choose to stay silent and clean his wound. You work in complete silence for a while, and Leon seems to respect it. He simply watches you: the way you frown when you’re focused, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear without even realizing it…

Your husband is in pain. He’s dizzy. He feels like, if you keep treating the cut, cleaning the blood, and making sure to protect his side, he might definitely die right there.

But at least he knows he’s now there, with you.

“You scared me.”

That confession catches you both off guard.

You leave the blood-soaked gauze on the small table and straighten up.

Leon swallows nervously.

What is he supposed to say, when you’re absolutely right?

“I swear I did everything I could to not wake you…”

“That’s not what I mean, Leon,” you interrupt.

He shifts on the couch, uncomfortable, unsure whether it’s because of the pain or the conversation he knows you’re about to have.

You say nothing. You’re completely focus in securing a piece of gauze with some hydrogen peroxide and tape over the area that was bleeding, then offering him a glass of water and way too many painkillers.

Luckily, Leon takes them without protest.

“The thing is…” you stand up. You don’t know how to keep talking because you don’t want to worry him more, especially not in his condition, but… You’re trembling. “One of these days you’re going to come home and I won’t be able to help you. Yes, you know that when the government took us after what happened in Raccoon City they gave me medical training, but I’m a journalist, Leon. A journalist doesn’t know how to save lives, love.”

Leon reaches out with his left hand and takes yours.

You notice it doesn’t look as bad as it did before, but… a bit better.

Much better, actually.

You decide not to ask him for now.

“I came home,” he tells you calmly. “You know I always come home.”

You look at him. Really look at him, and all the reproaches you had in mind disappear. Instead, all you feel is pity for him.

You see Leon tired, vulnerable. 

Worried.

“The DSO doesn’t pay you extra for coming home alive, love…” you say, stroking his hand with your thumb, trying to soothe him.

Leon smiles faintly.

“Well. At least I try. Maybe Sherry will convince them after what we’ve achieved—”

“Mom? Dad?”

You both freeze.

“Fuck…” you whisper, closing your eyes.

Your daughter appears in the living room. Her hair is completely messy, and she’s wrapped in a blanket. She’s not wearing her glasses, and you know she probably can’t see much.

“Dad? Are you finally back?”

Leon straightens up a little, forcing a smile.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says tenderly, as if your daughter weren’t already 20 years old. “Go back to bed.”

She squints to see better.

You recognize the panic on her face when she realizes how bad Leon looks.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” both your daughter and you say at the same time.

Hope and you look at each other and can’t help but laugh at how in sync you are. 

Leon, however, just sighs, though he laughs a little, too.

You point toward the hallway at your daughter.

“Bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Did the mission go well? The one about that girl, Grace?” Hope asks, worried and insistent. “I talked last night with aunt Claire and with Sherry, and they told me that—”

“Hope Kennedy: we’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

This time it’s Leon who insists and, despite hesitating for a few moments, your daughter finally nods.

“Okay, fine. Good night.” She turns to leave and then turns back to look at you. “You better not die today, old man.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Leon replies just as sarcastically.

“Dad.”

“I’m kidding,” he quickly adds. “Good night. We love you.”

You say nothing else until you hear her bedroom door upstairs close.

You let out a sigh and return to what you were doing: trying to make Leon as comfortable as possible. Now, kneeling in front of him again, you focus on wrapping a bandage so the taped gauze won’t come loose. You also apply some ointment to the areas that look a bit darker, and that you know hurt more than he wants to admit.

“You’re sleeping alone tonight. I’ll help you go upstairs now.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, confused.

“Because I’m hurt?”

“Yes, Leon, because you’re hurt,” you confirm. “Besides, you snore a lot when you’re on painkillers,” you joke. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and the smile he gives you suggests he finds that funny. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I think I can manage sleeping on the couch for a few nights. We’ve slept in worse places.”

“Love…”

You stand up and begin gathering all the supplies you used, putting them back into the first-aid kit as neatly as you can, even though your hands are trembling too much.

You’re nervous.

He could have died.

You try to push that thought out of your head.

You sit down on the couch, facing him. You tuck your legs beneath you and try to relax now that Leon seems much more comfortable and, above all, no longer on the verge of passing out. 

Even so, you stay alert.

“So…” you begin, not quite sure how to bring it up.

“So… what?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to guess again?”

“It was a complete disaster, love… I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” he admits.

Leon sighs and then looks down the hallway.

“Leon…”

You take him by the chin and make him look at you.

“That’s not the answer I want. I think you already know that.”

“It was all supposed to be easy, you know, like we talked about: stop Gideon, rescue Ashcroft… and that’s it,” he recounts. Nothing you didn’t already know. After all, you and Sherry were the ones investigating everything Grace and Guideon related. “But things went wrong.”

“Yes, that’s what usually happens,” you mutter.

“And Grace…” Leon continues. “Fuck, she was scared as fuck. She’s just a kid, love…”

A knot forms in your throat.

You know why he’s saying that. And that’s exactly the same reason it makes you nervous.

“But she defended herself, you know? I figured she was smart, you know… with all this FBI stuff… But she really did everything too well to obviously have never been in a situation like that before in her life,” Leon explains. “I guess that’s why she was still alive when I got there.”

You don’t answer because you know he wants to keep talking, even if he hesitates.

“She reminded me of Hope,” he admits quietly. “Especially with how stubborn she is. I don’t even want to imagine what’s going to be with both of us when she’s a few years older…”

“God help us,” you laugh softly.

“She wouldn’t stop asking questions. Especially…” Leon continues. “She mostly asked me about Raccoon City when we were there. About what really happened.”

You tense up, uncomfortable.

“And you didn’t answer her, obviously.”

“I told her enough,” he says. “She was seeing it all for herself… but I couldn’t hide certain things from her. You know what I mean.”

Oh, you definitely do.

You know he doesn’t want to talk about it when he closes his eyes and says nothing for several minutes that, without you realizing, turns into almost an hour.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but you realize you have when you see your phone says 4:13 a.m.

And if you remember correctly, Leon got home around 1:38 a.m.

Leon.

You see he’s still beside you, his head resting against the back of the couch and his hands on his bare stomach. You shift slightly to touch his forehead to check his temperature. Thankfully, he’s not as warm as before and, judging by the steady rise and fall of his chest, he seems much calmer now the medication seems to be working.

“I’m awake, love,” he tells you softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, his voice hoarse. “I was the one who didn’t want to wake you.”

“But—”

“I told you before: you seemed exhausted. You needed to rest more than I did…”

“Come here.”

He interrupts you, extending his arms so you can lie against him. You do, doing your best to not hurt him more than necessary.

Unconsciously, you slide your hand gently over his collarbone.

His breathing shifts slightly, and you notice immediately.

You pull away from him at once.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he replies.

His voice is much deeper now.

28 years knowing each other, 22 years dating, and 20 years of marriage are more than enough for you to know what’s going through your husband’s mind right now.

You arch an eyebrow, scolding him.

“Leon…”

“I missed you,” is all he says. 

You know he means it, but still…

“You were only gone three days,” you reply. “And just now I was asleep, here, with you, on the same couch.”

“Please, love: I miss you when I go training, and that’s three hours a day. How am I not going to miss you after being gone for three fucking days?” he insists.

“Leon…”

Your husband shakes his head and, to your surprise, carefully shifts on the couch and turns toward you to lean in and kiss you on the lips.

“You know… that didn’t hurt. You patched me up well, Doctor Kennedy.”

“You’re impossible, honestly…”

You don’t give him time to say anything else.

Instead, you’re the one who leans in to kiss him.

Leon’s hand instinctively slides up to your waist, his fingers gripping the fabric of your pajamas out of pure muscle memory.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, only pulling apart to catch your breath before kissing again.

You notice how hard Leon’s getting. He lets out a groan that’s far too loud, unable to stop himself.

“Leon, be quiet…” you pull away from him just enough to kiss him again.

“What? Love, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now…”

You force yourself to pull away even though all you want is his lips on your neck, just like he was about to do.

“Hope,” you say as quickly as possible. You didn’t want to, but… you need him. Now. “She might hear us…”

“Right… Sorry, but I need my wife…”

God, he was definitely impossible.

Impossible, and crazy in love with you.

“Are you telling me you have cracked ribs, you almost bled out, I’d swear you had a fever not long ago, and you still want to have sex with me?” you ask, laughing under your breath as your hands move over his chest. “Not to mention Hope could catch us…”

“If we’re quiet, I guarantee she won’t notice. It’s not the first time we’ve done this,” he replies, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing it. You moan. “I think you can control yourself at least a little, right, love? Could you do that for me?” 

“Seriously, Leon…”

“Fuck, love, you have no idea how much I love you…” he runs a hand over your waist again. “I love you. God, I love you so fucking much…”

You take his face in your hands, caressing his cheeks.

You notice his neck is completely healed, and you’re not quite sure why.

Leon realizes what you’re doing, so he grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap, not caring how much you scold him about the damage he could cause himself.

He swears he’s perfectly fine, but you know he’s not.

You just know he needs you as much as you need him.

“Do you really want to…?” you ask softly, still running your hands over his chest and arms.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I want to do this… just like when we were young. Nothing has changed, except…”

“Everything has changed.”

“Not that I regret it, though,” he smiles, tilting his head as he begins to massage your tits over your pajama shirt.

“I don’t think your ribs would agree with us having sex tonight…”

“Fuck my ribs. I want to fuck my wife and make her feel good.”

“Leon, you’re hurt and exhausted. I don’t think—”

“Come on, love: like when we were young, alright?”

“You’re not making this easy…” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know. Sorry.”

His fingers start lightly playing with the fabric of your pants, not pulling, as if testing his next move.

“Leon… Control yourself,” you tell him, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I’m trying, but fuck… You’re not making it an easy job for me…”

That’s when you decide to get off his lap and, instead, kneel in front of him.

You look at him steadily as you place one hand on his knee and bring the other to the button of his pants, undoing it with as little clumsiness as possible.

“You don’t have to do this…” Leon tells you.

“I know, but I want to,” you reply calmly. “Just like when we were young, remember?”

Leon lifts himself slightly to make it easier for you to remove his pants and boxers.

His cock, fully erect, is left exposed.

You take it in your hands, determined, and begin to stroke it, earning several moans from him, all of them whispering your name.

You give his length a long, slow lick, never taking your eyes off him.

“God, love…” he says much louder than he should.

“Leon…”

You hollow your cheeks and take his cock into your mouth. You trace his veins with your tongue, increasing the speed while using your hands to stroke what doesn’t fit, also moving to his testicles to give him as much pleasure as possible.

Leon throws his head back, placing his hands in your hair as he slowly guides your movements until the pleasure he’s feeling, what you’re making him feel, makes him give in and surrender completely to you.

You see one of his hands gripping one of the cushions tightly. That motivates you to go even faster, licking the tip of his cock when you feel the pre-cum leaking.

He’s close. You can tell by the way his breathing becomes erratic. How his words shift from quiet moans to a stream of praises about how good you’re making him feel, how much he loves you and, above all, when he tells you to pull away because he’s about to come.

You don’t, of course, because you know he loves coming in your mouth.

And, of course, today is your husband’s day.

You take his cum eagerly as the orgasm completely overtakes him.

“Fuck, love, I’d forgotten this was so…” he says, adjusting himself while, carefully, you climb back onto his lap after removing your pants and underwear. Leon looks you up and down and bites his lip. “Fuck, love…”

“We had sex four days ago, Leon,” you reply, leaning down to kiss him on the lips as you begin to seek friction against his still-erect cock.

You can’t hold back any longer.

You take Leon’s cock in your hand and, after aligning it with your entrance, begin to rock your hips.

You focus on going as slow as you can, trying to keep a steady rhythm. Leon simply smiles, noticing your intention, massaging your tits and kissing you to quiet your moans, which are growing louder.

Leon moves his hands to your hips to help guide the pace as it gradually increases. You feel the pleasure building inside you, so you bury your face in your husband’s neck, taking the chance to leave bites, kisses, and small marks that will likely darken over the next few hours.

“I love you so much, Leon…” you try to say, consumed by moans and pleasure. “You have no idea how much I love you…”

You feel your pussy begin to tighten around his cock. Leon, though exhausted and barely able to handle his own body, does his best to reach your clit, starting to rub it and push you toward release.

“Keep going, love, don’t stop…” he encourages you, even though you’re already trembling on top of him, clinging to his neck to keep from falling, completely focused on Leon. “God, I love you so much…”

You hold back your orgasm so that you and Leon can come at the same time, but it only takes a few more thrusts, much deeper and more deliberate, for you both to finish together.

You collapse on top of him. Leon kisses your forehead, then your cheek, still stroking your waist.

“God… You’re incredible,” he whispers softly, unable to stop looking at you.

“You must be half drugged from the medication,” you joke. “How do you feel?”

“Right now?” he takes the hand resting on his cheek and kisses the back of it. “Much better. I’m safe, at home, with my wife and my daughter. Not to mention the sex session we just had…”

“Leon,” you take his cheeks in your hands and force him to look at you. “I’m serious. Don’t make those kinds of comments when I’m actually asking how you are! Do I have to remind you that you almost didn’t make it home alive?”

“Good thing I have a doctor…” You glare at him, and he corrects himself. “Pseudo-doctor, journalist, whatever you want to call it… but a super sexy one, always ready to help me out with everything.”

“Until I don’t know what to do,” you reply.

“Then you’ll be my super sexy chauffeur and drive me to the hospital.”

“You’re hopeless, Leon Kennedy…”

“At this point in our marriage, you should know me,” he shoots back. “We’ve known each other for almost 30 years, in case you forgot.”

“That’s why I haven’t yet asked why it seems you’ve stopped being infected with—”

You force yourself to stop before finishing the sentence.

Leon’s expression hardens.

He looks away from you again.

You know he’s hiding something.

“Leon…” you insist, even though you know it’s useless.

He takes you by your waist and gently lays you down on the couch, positioning himself carefully over you.

“Leon, you shouldn’t move like that. You’re going to hurt yourself and—”

“I promise.”

You stare at him, confused.

“What? Leon, whatever’s going through your head, you’d better—”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow what happened. Everything. I promise you.”

He points to his neck.

Then, he raises his hands to you.

You know what he means with that.

“I just want to be here with you, calm, doing nothing and… just enjoying ourselves,” he says. “I don’t want to think about anything else, love. Please… I don’t want to think anymore tonight about the times I’ve almost lost you. Let us be just like when we were young.”

Leon worked in his home office, which was cluttered with papers and office supplies, and the only decoration on his desk was his laptop. The clicking of keys filled the room as he worked on his report. Leon frowned slightly in concentration, completely focused on the task at hand, and occasionally adjusted his glasses when he felt them slipping down his nose.

But under the table, he could hear his cock in your mouth, the wet slurping sounds of your eager sucking filling the room, an obscene contrast to the mundane sounds of the printer and the muffled hum of the laptop. He seemed almost oblivious to it, his fingers never stopping their relentless typing, as if his cock wasn't currently deep in your throat.

How could he act like it didn't bother him?

Leon could feel your throat pleasantly tighten as you tried to take him deep. His pale blue eyes scanned his own words and corrected a few grammatical errors, holding the pen between his trembling fingers.

His other hand was in your hair as he gently massaged your head, and your nails dug into his thighs, covered in sweatpants, while his cock rested perfectly on your tongue. Warming him with your mouth, you wanted to show your husband how much you wanted to distract him from work.

After all, he works so much that he forgets to rest, having already drunk several cups of coffee... five or maybe six... he lost count because he had to rethink the mission for the report in his head, even though he wanted to forget it once and for all in his life.

You gently ran your tongue over every bump, vein, and protrusion, making soft smacking sounds so as not to drool everywhere. But, to be honest, you're still making a mess on the floor; your saliva and his pre-ejaculate are dripping from your chin. And all this is because he was heavy for your tongue, but that weight brought you a feeling of comfort, and you happily closed your eyes.

When you felt someone gently pull your hair, your eyes flew open before you saw Leon looking down at you through his eyelashes, “you really want to distract me, huh?”, he quietly praises you as his hand slides from your hair to your face, his rough hands gently caressing the delicate skin of your slightly flushed cheek.

Instead of answering, you took it deeper into your mouth, which triggered your gag reflex, but you ignored it when you heard Leon's deep moan. That sound alone was enough to make your thighs clench.

And so as not to lose control completely, Leon began to furiously scratch at the report with his pen, making notes and corrections and squeezing it so hard that it was surprising he hadn't broken it yet. His mind was no longer as focused, but he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He was like a machine, a well-oiled mechanism, and nothing could distract him from his goal. That is, until you walked in with a loud complaint that he had been sitting there all day without a break.

With his free hand, he gathered your hair into an improvised ponytail so it wouldn't fall on your face and used your hair as leverage. The dull, aching pain in your jaw was distracting, but you pushed the thought aside and tilted your head back slightly to give yourself some room to swallow the precum that was already in your mouth.

You gently sucked the tip of his cock, making his lips moan softly before you began to move your head at a steady pace, sucking in your cheeks. At first, you didn't even notice him rocking his hips in time with the movement of your head as you tried to take him deeper, but it caused you to choke slightly, and you felt his thumb gently caress your cheek, wiping a tear from your cheek, “don't overdo it, sweetheart.”

You looked up and saw lust in his eyes, but also affection; the desire to please him came sharply, just as he had done for you countless times. You used your hands to get what you wanted before you felt him twitch on your tongue, knowing he was close to the end. Hearing his moans, taking a deep breath through your nose, you decided to push Leon's cock deep into your throat until your nose touched his pubic bone and the head of his cock touched the back of your throat.

“Princess... oh, fuck...” he clenched his teeth, feeling that he was about to cum in your mouth. His mind was too foggy to think, and thanks to you, he completely forgot about his work right now. Leon's breathing became more and more ragged, his chest heaved heavily with each breath, and he tried with all his might to concentrate. He felt his heart pounding wildly, unable to comprehend that he was so close. You heard Leon curse loudly and felt his body tense, then a thick stream of semen filled your tongue and throat.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried your best to swallow as much as you could, but with a soft pop, you covered your mouth with your hand because there was very little semen left in it, and swallowed the rest before coughing slightly.

The hair he was holding fell as he leaned back in his chair and tried to catch his breath, just like you are now, pressing your forehead against your knee and closing your eyes, “Are you okay, princess?” he asked you anxiously, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He was as disheveled as you were: a drop of sweat ran down his temple, and goosebumps ran across his body after his recent orgasm. His strong arms wrapped around your body as you barely stood on your feet, keeping you from falling. Although you collapsed on top of him, facing him, it made him laugh, but he understood that you were tired too, “yeah, I'm fine... just give me a couple of seconds,” you ask him in a voice muffled by his skin.

“That’s funny,” he replied. “Because that’s exactly what partners usually do.” The tension settled in the room almost instantly—two people already deciding they weren’t going to like working together.

Leon dropped into the chair across from you, the metal legs scraping softly against the floor. He flipped open the folder in front of him, scanning the pages with quick, practiced movements. For a moment the room was quiet except for the rustle of paper. Then he glanced up again, blue eyes sharp.

“So what’s your deal?” he asked. “They don’t usually stick agents on my assignments unless something’s already gone sideways.”

His tone wasn’t exactly hostile—but it wasn’t friendly either. It was the kind of guarded curiosity that came from someone who had learned the hard way not to trust a situation, or the people in it.

You tilted your head slightly, unimpressed by the interrogation. 

“Intel division,” you said, tapping the edge of the file in front of him. 

“Bioweapons trafficking investigation. Which means I’ve been tracking this operation for months.” 

Leon leaned back in his chair, crossing one arm over the other as he studied you like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “Right,” he said slowly. 

“And now they want the guy who kicks down doors and the person who actually knows what’s going on in the same room.” 

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

Leon closed the folder with a quiet snap and pushed it back across the table. For a moment he just watched you, like he was measuring something—skill, patience, maybe whether you’d break under pressure. 

Finally he leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

“Look,” he said, voice lower now, more serious than before.

“When this goes bad—and it will—people hesitate. Partners hesitate. That’s when things fall apart.” His gaze didn’t waver. “So if you’re expecting someone to cover you every second, you should probably ask for a different assignment.”

You held his stare without blinking. “Funny,” you replied evenly. “I was about to say the same thing.” 

Leon’s brow twitched slightly at that, the smallest flicker of surprise crossing his face before it disappeared again. You tapped the folder lightly. “I’ve been following this network for months. Supply routes, contacts, funding. If you charge in without thinking, you’ll blow the whole operation.” 

You leaned forward a little, voice calm but firm. “So if you’re planning to play the lone hero, you should probably get used to the idea that someone’s going to tell you no.”

For a second the room went completely quiet. Then Leon huffed out a short laugh under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Great,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing the folder again. “A partner who argues.” 

But when he looked back at you, there was something different in his expression now—less dismissal, more interest. Like maybe you weren’t exactly what he expected. He gestured toward the door with the folder.

“Come on,” he said. “If we’re going to prove the suits wrong, we might as well start now.”

You pushed your chair back and stood, grabbing your jacket from the backrest. Leon was already halfway to the door, moving with that easy confidence of someone used to being in control of a situation. You followed him into the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. He slowed just enough for you to walk beside him, glancing sideways for a second. 

“So,” he said casually, like the argument in the briefing room hadn’t just happened, “intel division, huh? That means you’re the one who’s been buried in reports while I’ve been chasing ghosts.”

“Someone has to figure out where the ghosts are coming from,” you replied. 

Leon let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as the two of you reached the elevator. When the doors slid open, he stepped inside and leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting to the glowing floor numbers as they started descending. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then he glanced over again, studying you with that same careful look from earlier.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, voice quieter now, “I don’t do babysitting.”

The elevator slowed with a soft jolt at the ground floor. The doors slid open, revealing the dim parking garage beyond. You stepped out first, turning slightly to face him as he followed. 

“Good,” you said simply. “Because I don’t need one.”

Leon paused for a second, then gave a small, almost reluctant smirk. It vanished just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual guarded expression. 

“We’ll see about that,” he said, heading toward the row of government vehicles. Even so, something about the way he glanced back at you suggested he wasn’t quite as convinced anymore that this partnership was going to be a mistake.

Several hours later, the quiet hum of the engine filled the space between you as the government sedan cut through a long stretch of empty highway. Night had settled in fully, the road ahead lit only by the sweep of the headlights and the occasional flicker of distant street lamps. Beside you in the driver’s seat, Leon had one hand loosely on the steering wheel, the other resting near the gearshift. He’d barely spoken for most of the drive, his attention fixed on the road while the file from the briefing sat folded in the centre console.

The town you were heading toward barely existed on most maps—a quiet rural place that had recently started showing up in reports connected to suspicious shipments and missing persons… per usual you thought to yourself. According to the intel you’d gathered, something was moving through the area that shouldn’t have been there. Bioweapons, most likely. Leon had read through your notes earlier, silent the entire time, his expression growing more serious with every page. Now, as the highway sign for the town flickered past in the darkness, he finally broke the silence.

“So this is the place,” he said, voice calm but edged with focus. He slowed the car slightly as the road narrowed, trees closing in on either side like dark walls. Leon glanced toward you for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

“Your intel says shipments started coming through about three weeks ago.” His grip on the wheel tightened just a little. “Tell me something,” he added quietly. “Does any of it remind you of the cases that end with everyone in town turning into something they shouldn’t?”

You glanced out the window at the dark tree line rushing past, the faint glow of the dashboard lighting the inside of the car. “Not exactly,” you said after a moment. 

“Those cases usually leave a mess behind—hospital reports, unexplained deaths, something that raises alarms.” You tapped the edge of the file in the console. 

“This one’s quiet. Too quiet. People disappear, shipments move through the area, and nobody local reports anything.” 

Your eyes shifted back to Leon. “Which usually means someone is making sure they don’t.”

Leon nodded slightly, like that answer confirmed something he was already thinking. The car slowed as the first scattered buildings of the town came into view—dark storefronts, a single gas station still lit under buzzing fluorescent lights, and a long empty street stretching ahead. He pulled the car to the side of the road just before the main intersection and cut the engine. The sudden silence felt heavier than the drive had been. Leon rested his forearms on the steering wheel, staring out through the windshield for a second.

“Place looks dead,” he muttered. Then he glanced toward you again, that focused, calculating look back in his eyes. “First rule in situations like this..?” he said, reaching into the back seat for a small tactical bag. 

“Assume it isn’t.” 

He unzipped it and pulled out a handgun, checking the magazine with practiced ease before sliding it into a holster under his jacket.

He shut the car door quietly when you both stepped out, the cool night air settling around the empty street. Leon scanned the area automatically, eyes moving across rooftops, alleyways, shadows—every possible place someone could be watching. After a second he looked back at you. 

“You said the shipments were coming through an old warehouse near the rail line, right?” he asked. Then he gave a small nod toward the darker part of town. “Guess we’re about to find out if your intel’s as good as you say it is.”

You fell into step beside him as the two of you moved down the quiet street, boots echoing faintly against the pavement. The town felt wrong in a way that was hard to explain—too still, too silent. Even small places usually had something: a television glowing in a window, a dog barking somewhere in the distance, the low rumble of a passing truck. Here there was nothing. Just the wind brushing through the trees and the creak of an old sign swinging outside a closed diner. You noticed Leon noticing it too; his gaze swept across every doorway and alley like he expected something to jump out of them.

“Rail line should be about half a mile that way,” you said quietly, pointing toward the darker edge of town where the streetlights thinned out. Leon nodded once in acknowledgment, though his pace slowed slightly. He tilted his head just a little, listening. For a second you thought you imagined it too—but then you heard it. A faint metallic clatter somewhere in the distance, like something heavy being dragged across concrete.

Leon’s hand moved instinctively to the grip of his handgun under his jacket. He didn’t draw it yet, but his posture shifted immediately, shoulders tightening as he scanned the darkness ahead. 

“Please tell me that’s normal small-town activity,” he muttered under his breath. His eyes flicked briefly toward you, the hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth despite the tension. 

“Because if it’s not, your ‘quiet investigation’ just got a lot less quiet.”

The sound came again—louder this time. From somewhere past the next block, near where the faint outline of an old warehouse roof could be seen above the trees. Leon stopped walking, listening carefully, then exhaled slowly through his nose. 

“Yeah,” he said, finally pulling the handgun free and checking the street one more time. “Something tells me we’re not the only ones working tonight.” 

He glanced toward you, giving a small nod toward the direction of the noise. “Stay close.”

You didn’t move closer like he suggested. Instead, you stepped ahead of him slightly, already pulling your own handgun from the holster at your side. The motion was smooth and confident, like you’d done it a thousand times before. 

“Relax,” you said quietly, checking the magazine before sliding it back in with a sharp click. 

“I didn’t come all the way out here to hide behind you.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leon pause for half a second, clearly not expecting you to take the lead.

Leon watched as you moved toward the corner of the next building, your steps careful but quick. The faint smirk he’d been wearing earlier returned, though this time it carried a hint of something closer to respect. 

“Didn’t say you had to,” he muttered, falling into step beside you again. His eyes flicked briefly toward the gun in your hand before returning to the dark street ahead. 

“Just making sure you’re still alive when this mission’s over.”

You reached the edge of the block first, pressing your shoulder lightly against the brick wall before peeking around the corner. The source of the noise was clearer now—a wide, rusted warehouse sitting near the rail line exactly where the intel had said it would be. One of the large side doors was partially open, dim light spilling out onto the cracked pavement outside. And just inside, silhouettes were moving. Not many. Maybe three or four.

You leaned back from the corner and looked at Leon. “Looks like a delivery,” you said quietly. 

“Crates, truck parked out back, a couple guys inside.” Your voice stayed calm and controlled, like you were giving a routine report rather than standing a block away from a potential bioweapons exchange. 

“So either we sit here and watch them move the product… or we stop it before it leaves.”

Leon studied you for a moment, clearly weighing the situation. Normally he’d be the one making the call. But the fact that you’d already scoped the building and counted the people inside without hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. He exhaled slowly, glancing back toward the warehouse again. 

“You always this eager to start trouble?” he asked under his breath.

You gave a small shrug, already stepping away from the wall and checking the safety on your weapon. 

“Only when it’s deserved.” Then you looked back at him, a sharp, confident expression settling on your face. 

“You coming, Kennedy? Or are you planning to stand out here all night while the evidence drives away?”

Leon let out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly as he followed after you. 

“You know,” said Leon under his breath, “most people wait for a plan before walking straight into trouble.” 

But he still moved with you, stepping lightly across the cracked pavement toward the warehouse. His eyes scanned the area automatically, covering angles you hadn’t looked at yet, the two of you falling into a rhythm without needing to say it out loud.

You slowed near the side of the building, crouching beside a stack of rusted barrels just outside the open door. From here you could see more clearly inside: wooden crates stacked against the far wall, a truck backed halfway into the loading bay, and three men arguing quietly over something near the cargo. You tilted your head slightly, studying the markings stamped on the side of one crate. 

“Biotech company label,” you whispered. “Front corporation. Definitely illegal.”

Leon leaned down beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours for half a second. He followed your gaze toward the crates, his expression tightening slightly. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the kind of logo that usually shows up right before something starts trying to eat people.” His voice was calm, but there was a sharp focus in it now—the same focus that had carried him through worse situations than this.

For a moment the two of you stayed there in the shadows, watching the men move the crates toward the truck. Then Leon glanced sideways at you. 

“Alright, intel,” he said quietly. “Your call. You spotted it first.” The words were casual, but the meaning behind them was clear—he was trusting your read on the situation.

You didn’t hesitate. “We stop the shipment,” you said simply. Then you pointed toward the back corner of the warehouse. 

“You take the two near the truck. I’ll handle the one by the crates.” Your eyes flicked toward him briefly. “Unless you think you can’t keep up.”

Leon’s mouth twitched at that, a small amused smile appearing despite the tension. He adjusted his grip on his handgun and gave a slight nod. “Careful,” he replied quietly. 

“You keep talking like that and I might start thinking you actually like working with me.” Then he glanced back toward the warehouse entrance. 

“Lets go.”

The warehouse was quiet now, the last of the men unconscious on the floor, crates overturned, and the truck left in ruin. Outside, the first light of dawn was beginning to streak across the sky, pale and gray over the small town. You sat against the curb, breathing slowly, letting the tension drain from your muscles. Leon came up beside you, wiping a thin layer of sweat and dust from his forehead. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, just listening to the faint hum of early morning life returning to the streets.

He sank down beside you with a soft thud, close enough that your knees nearly touched. 

“Not bad,” Leon said quietly, glancing at you with that mix of respect and his usual guarded expression. “You handled yourself… better than I expected.” You gave a small shrug, trying to hide the warmth in your chest at the compliment. 

“It’s just a job,” you said, though the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be the hero.”

Leon let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well… heroes don’t usually argue with their partners while crouched behind barrels in a warehouse.” He leaned back, one arm propped on his knee, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’ve got to admit,” he continued after a beat, softer this time, “I’m glad you were there. Didn’t think I’d say that by the end of tonight.”

You turned slightly to meet his gaze, the faint light catching the edge of his sharp features. 

“I think we make a decent team,” you said, voice calm but firm. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.” Leon’s lips twitched at the corner again, this time a little more obvious. 

“Decent,” he echoed, eyes flicking toward the horizon. Then, after a pause, he added quietly, almost to himself, “I could get used to this… working with you.”

The silence stretched comfortably between the two of you, the quiet aftermath of the mission settling around you like a soft blanket. Leon leaned back a little more, letting out a slow exhale, and for the first time that night, you saw him relax. Just a little. Enough that it wasn’t only the adrenaline keeping him on edge. You could feel it too—a subtle shift, the sense that maybe this partnership wasn’t just about survival or completing a mission.

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, teasing, “You know, Kennedy, if you keep staring off like that, people might start thinking you actually enjoy my company.”

He gave a low chuckle, eyes finally meeting yours fully. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, but there was something in the way he said it, a softness under the warning that made you think he already was.

A month later, the two of you were back in a safe house after another mission, crates cleared, files sorted, and the hum of the air conditioning filling the silence. Leon leaned against the edge of the table, cleaning his gun with methodical precision, but there was something different in the way he glanced at you now. Small things had changed over the past weeks—how he’d make an almost imperceptible comment when you handled a tricky situation flawlessly, or how his smirk lingered a little longer when you disagreed with him. The tension that had defined your first meeting had softened into something sharper, teasing, almost playful.

“You know,” he started, glancing up from the handgun in his hands, “I think the intel division might owe me a favor for putting up with your… creative problem-solving today.” His tone was light, but the way his eyes flicked toward yours carried a spark that hadn’t been there before. 

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall and folding your arms. “Creative problem-solving, huh?” you said, smirking. 

“You mean the part where I saved your ass while you were staring at the wrong crate?”

Leon’s smirk widened just slightly. “I might’ve been distracted,” he said smoothly, eyes never leaving yours. “But I didn’t mind being saved… not entirely.” The pause after the words was deliberate, charged in a way that made your stomach tighten just a little.

You shook your head, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips. 

“Careful, Kennedy,” you teased. “You’re starting to sound like you enjoy my company again.”

He gave a short laugh, leaning just a little closer across the table. 

“Maybe I do,” he said quietly, voice low, almost casual, but his gaze lingered. “Maybe it’s growing on me—working with someone who can keep up.”

You caught the subtle tilt of his head, the way his eyes traced your movements with more attention than necessary. It was slow, quiet flirting—never outright, always just enough to make you aware that the man who’d once rolled his eyes at being partnered with you now wanted to be near you, and for the first time, it wasn’t just about survival or missions.

The next mission came a few days later, a surveillance job in another quiet town that looked just as ordinary as the last one—until you knew what to look for. Night had settled over the street as you and Leon sat inside a parked car across from a small warehouse, the engine off and the windows cracked just enough to let in the cool air. The place you were watching had been quiet for hours, which meant there was nothing to do except wait.

Leon sat back in the driver’s seat, one arm resting casually on the steering wheel while the other drummed lightly against the door. 

“You know,” he said after a while, glancing sideways at you, “most partners would’ve fallen asleep by now.” His voice carried that familiar dry tone, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

You didn’t look away from the binoculars you were using to watch the building. “Most partners probably wouldn’t trust you not to miss something,” you replied calmly.

Leon huffed a quiet laugh at that, shifting a little in his seat. “Wow,” he muttered. “You wound me.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before he looked back toward the warehouse.

“Though I guess I should be used to it by now.”

You lowered the binoculars and glanced at him. “Used to what?”

He met your eyes, that small smirk returning. “You giving me a hard time.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you in the dim light of the dashboard. “It’s kind of becoming your thing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you keep coming back for more.”

Leon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in the seat again, eyes drifting toward the windshield like he was thinking something over. Then he looked back at you, the smirk softening into something quieter. 

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “I guess I do.”

The next morning at the agency building was already busy when you stepped into the operations floor, reports being passed between desks and the low hum of conversations filling the room. You had barely set your file down when a familiar voice spoke from behind you.

“Careful,” Leon said casually, leaning one shoulder against the edge of your desk. “If you keep showing up early like this, people are going to start thinking you actually like the job.”

You glanced up to see him holding two coffees. One of them slid across the desk toward you before you could even ask. You raised an eyebrow. 

“You bribing me now?”

Leon shrugged lightly, taking a sip from his own cup. “Not bribing,” he said. “Just making sure my partner stays functional.” His blue eyes flicked down briefly to the report you’d been reading before returning to your face. 

“Would be a shame if the best agent on my missions collapsed from caffeine withdrawal.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “The best agent?” you repeated. “Pretty bold statement coming from the guy who walked into the wrong room during the last raid.”

Leon smirked immediately. “Yeah, well,” he said, leaning a little closer over your desk, lowering his voice just enough that the surrounding agents couldn’t hear, “if I didn’t do that, you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to dramatically save the day.” 

His eyes lingered on yours for a second longer than necessary. “And I know how much you like showing off.”

You scoffed softly, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Leon replied easily. Then he straightened up, pushing himself off the desk. As he walked past you toward the briefing room, he paused just long enough to add over his shoulder, “But you keep agreeing to be my partner, so I must be doing something right.”

About an hour later the office had quieted a little, the earlier rush fading into the usual rhythm of typing keyboards and low conversations. Papers were spread across your desk as you worked through another report, highlighter tapping lightly against the page while you reread a line of intel. You didn’t notice someone approaching until a shadow fell across the desk.

“Still working on that?” Leon asked, his voice amused.

You didn’t look up immediately. “Some of us actually read the reports before missions,” you replied calmly.

Leon pulled out the chair next to your desk and sat down sideways in it, one arm resting across the back like he planned to stay a while. 

“Hey, I read them,” he said. 

“Eventually.”

You finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “Eventually.”

He grinned at that, clearly entertained. “What can I say? I prefer the fieldwork part.” His eyes flicked down to the notes in front of you, then back up again. “Besides… I’ve got you for the detailed stuff.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms. “So that’s the plan? Let me do all the work?”

Leon tilted his head, studying you for a second like he was considering his answer. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on your desk. 

“Not all the work,” he said, voice lower now. “Just the parts you’re better at.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “And what parts would those be?”

His smirk returned instantly. “Outsmarting people,” he said. Then, after a small pause, his gaze softened just a little. “Keeping me alive.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment longer than expected. You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to appear. 

“Your survival rate was pretty good before I showed up, Kennedy.”

Leon shrugged lightly. “Sure.” His eyes stayed on yours, relaxed but focused. “But it got better.”

He leaned back in the chair again, stretching his arms over his head briefly before standing. As he started to walk away, he paused and glanced back at you.

“Don’t work too hard,” he added casually. “I’d hate for my favourite partner to burn out.” And then he kept walking.

A little later, the office had thinned out even more. A few agents were still at their desks, but most had moved to meetings or headed out for lunch. You were still working through a stack of intel when someone leaned against the edge of your desk again—familiar enough now that you didn’t even look up right away.

“Starting to think you live here,” Leon said casually.

You sighed, finally glancing up from the papers. “Starting to think you don’t have anything better to do than hover around my desk.”

Leon placed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Wow. After I brought you coffee this morning?” he said. “That’s cold.”

“You brought yourself coffee,” you corrected.

He laughed softly at that, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. Instead of leaving like he usually did, he slid into the chair next to your desk again, spinning it slightly so he faced you. “So what are we looking at now?” he asked, nodding toward the files.

You tapped one page with your pen. “Shipments of an item of some sort.. someone’s moving something through three different ports.”

Leon leaned closer to look at the map you’d drawn across the paper, his shoulder brushing yours again. This time neither of you moved away. He studied the page for a moment before pointing lazily at one of the locations. “That one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And your evidence is…?”

He shrugged. “Gut feeling.”

You stared at him for a second. “Your investigative method is incredible.”

“Thank you,” he said immediately.

You shook your head, turning the paper back toward yourself. “You’re impossible.”

Leon rested his elbow on your desk, watching you work instead of leaving. After a moment he said, quieter now, “You know… you say that a lot.”

“That you’re impossible?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved slightly. “But you never actually sound annoyed.”

You paused, pen hovering over the page.

When you looked up again, he was already watching you—relaxed, amused, and just a little too aware of the way the conversation had shifted.

“You flirting with me at work now, Kennedy?” you asked.

Leon didn’t even hesitate.

“Maybe,” he said lightly.

Then his eyes flicked down to the report again, tapping the paper where you’d marked the port.

“But if it helps,” he added, smirk returning, “my gut still says that one.”

The afternoon dragged on, the office quieter now except for the steady tapping of keyboards and the occasional shuffle of papers. You were halfway through organising the shipment reports when someone set another coffee down beside your elbow.

You didn’t even have to look up this time. “Kennedy,” you said flatly.

“I’m impressed,” he said sounding amused as he leaned one hip against your desk. 

“Didn’t even turn around and you already knew it was me.”

You finally looked up at him, eyeing the coffee. “You keep bringing me these like you’re trying to bribe me into liking you.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Trying?” he said, feigning surprise. “I thought that part was already going pretty well.”

You stared at him for a second. “Your confidence is concerning.”

“Confidence?” he repeated, crossing his arms casually. “No, that’s observation.” His gaze dropped briefly to the report you were holding before returning to your face. “You don’t roll your eyes nearly as much when I’m around anymore.”

“That’s because I’ve accepted you’re not going away.”

Leon grinned at that. “Exactly.”

You took a sip of your water just to hide the small smile threatening to show, but he clearly caught it anyway. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice just a bit.

“You know,” he said, “most partners I’ve had try to avoid me once the mission’s over.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe they had better instincts.”

“Or,” Leon replied smoothly, “maybe they just weren’t as interesting to work with.”

The words hung there for a second.

You set the coffee down slowly. “You calling me interesting now?”

Leon didn’t look away. If anything, he leaned a little closer across the desk.

“I’ve been calling you interesting for weeks,” he said. “You’re just finally noticing.”

You blinked once, clearly not expecting him to be that direct.

He straightened again like he hadn’t just said something bold in the middle of the office, but the smirk on his face gave him away.

“Don’t worry,” he added casually. “I’m pacing myself.”

Your eyebrow lifted. “Pacing yourself for what?”

Leon pushed himself off the desk, starting to walk backward toward the hallway.

“For the day you finally admit you like working with me.”

And then he flashed that annoying, confident grin, before he begun to walk off. 

You called out “You know I don’t even like coffee??” 

Over the next few weeks the routine at the office barely changed—missions, reports, late nights under harsh fluorescent lights. The only thing that slowly shifted was the dynamic between you and Leon S. Kennedy. The flirting never really stopped; if anything, it became easier. More natural. At some point it wasn’t just teasing in passing anymore—he’d stop by your desk just to talk, lean against the doorframe during briefings, find excuses to work through reports with you instead of alone.

The one thing that did stay consistent was the shitty office coffee.

Leon kept bringing it to your desk every morning like clockwork, setting it down with that same smug little smirk like he was doing you a favour. And every morning you pushed it back toward him.

“Still don’t like coffee,” you said one day as he started walking away.

Leon paused mid-step.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “I’ve told you that, like, five times now.”

He turned around slowly, looking at the cup like it had personally betrayed him. Then he glanced back at you, squinting slightly. “You’re serious.”

“I hate it.”

There was a short pause.

“Well,” Leon muttered, grabbing the cup back off your desk, “that explains a lot.”

After that the coffee stopped showing up. A few days later he started dropping other things on your desk instead—water bottles, iced tea, sometimes a random snack from the vending machine. He never made a big deal about it, but you noticed.

A few hours later, Leon dropped by your desk… again.

“Your still here?” he asked.

“Your still here,” you replied.

Leon shrugged lightly, glancing around the mostly empty office. “Yeah, well… someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right.”

He shifted his weight slightly, which immediately caught your attention. Leon didn’t usually look unsure about anything.

He rubbed the back of his neck briefly before speaking again. “So… there’s a diner a couple blocks from here that’s still open.”

You waited.

“And before you say anything,” he added quickly, pointing a finger at you, “they don’t serve coffee. Or at least you don’t have to order it.”

That earned the smallest smile from you.

Leon noticed it immediately.

He exhaled slowly, like he’d just committed to something. “What I’m saying is… maybe you could come with me.” His eyes met yours, a little more serious now. 

“Not for a mission. Just… dinner.”

The office was quiet around you.

Leon gave a small shrug, trying to play it casual even though the tension was obvious.

“So,” he said, “what do you think?”

You studied him for a second, leaning back slightly in your chair. Leon was trying very hard to look casual—hands still in his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed—but you could tell he was waiting for your answer a little more carefully than he wanted to admit.

“You’re asking me out,” you said plainly.

Across the desk, Leon exhaled through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Wow,” he muttered. “You make it sound way more intimidating when you say it like that.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

Leon shifted his weight, but he didn’t backtrack. If anything, he looked more certain now. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I’m asking you out.” Then he added, a little more lightly, “Figured I’d try doing it the normal way for once.”

You tapped your pen lightly against the desk, pretending to think it over longer than you needed to.

Leon caught that immediately. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You know, most people don’t make a guy wait this long after he works up the nerve to ask.”

Your lips curved slightly. “Kennedy, you’ve been flirting with me in this office for two months.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding once. “And look where that got me.” His eyes flicked toward the hallway. “Standing here awkwardly waiting for an answer.”

The small smile on your face finally widened just a little. “Alright,” you said, pushing your chair back and standing up.

Leon blinked once, clearly not expecting you to stand up immediately.

“You coming,” you added, grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair, “or were you planning to keep hovering around my desk all night?”For a second he just watched you, then that familiar confident grin slowly spread across his face.

“See,” he said, falling into step beside you as you walked toward the elevator, “I knew you liked working with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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