#leeeon

A jolt of nervousness runs up your spine, and you gently grab his hair, tugging a bit upwards. He looks up at you, his mouth inches from your now-exposed folds.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is deep, gravelly, sick with want. You don’t really know how to respond, feeling self-conscious about feeling self-conscious in the first place.

“Uh, I…” You swallow. “You can just use your hands…”

It takes a second for Leon to understand what you’re saying. His head still hasn’t moved from where it’s hovering. “You really don’t want me to eat you out, do you?” It’s not accusatory. “Did I do something?”

“N-no, it’s just that…” I’m worried I smell bad was the rest of the sentence, but it dies in your mouth.

“Is it because you’re nervous, or something else?” It’s almost frustrating how kind he’s being about this - it would be easier if he just shrugged and got himself off like everyone else did. But Leon has never been like everyone else. You haven’t even known him for that long but you can tell he’s kind, attentive, and wants to make you feel good. The thought even makes you bold enough to answer truthfully.

“Nervous.” Your voice is small. You’ve never been this vulnerable before, and it makes more words come out without thinking. “It’s fine, you really don’t have to-”

Leon’s eyes finally leave yours and look back down. He gently runs the tips of two fingers up your wetness and circles around your core slowly, making you moan and arch involuntary. “I really, really want to.” He circles a bit faster. “Only if you’re hesitating just because you’re nervous,” he amends. Always so aware of your needs - it’s why you keep coming back to Leon.

You hesitate, but against your better judgement say okay before you change your mind. The way there’s a bit of a growl in his voice drives you wild, and you suddenly find yourself curious of what he’s capable of. The moment you affirm him he sighs with need, and then his tongue is inside of you. You gasp at the feeling of him tasting you with greedy, languid strokes, all the while still working your clit with growing speed. His free hand is gripping your thigh, digging into it with just enough force to make you moan.

Leon lifts his head for a moment, his pupils blown, eyes sparkling. His gorgeous pink pout is gleaming with your slick. “How are you doing, love?” His fingers finally move from where they’d been to dip inside of you, mingling in the spit and wetness dripping onto the sheets.

“G-good,” you gasp as he does something with his fingers that makes your toes curl. “Are you doing okay?” You were doing great, incredible even - the absence of Leon’s mouth leaves you aching for it to return. But that small, anxious part of you still makes you pry, wondering if he’s just doing this because he’s nice, because he feels like he owes you something after all the head you’ve given him.

The question seems to darken Leon’s expression; he swiftly withdraws his fingers, seemingly understanding the unspoken questions you’re really asking him. He descends on you again, this time a little more roughly, licking up and down your folds before shoving his tongue deep, deep inside of you. You hear him swallow everything he’s got in his mouth, and he moans a little bit as he does.

“You taste so fucking good for me, baby,” he groans, then plunges three fingers in to you while he works your clit with his tongue. You spasm around him. “You feel so goddamn perfect,” he slurs while his mouth is still around you. It jolts something in your stomach - you feel yourself building up to an orgasm, and the very thought of climaxing into his mouth makes you get even closer.

“You’re doing so well,” he croons, using the tip of his tongue to glide over all your sensitive areas. For a moment he looks up, his face practically feral and glistening with your juices. “I’m having the time of my life, baby.” His words make you spasm again, and his eyelids flutter. In a second he’s back on you - he knows your body well enough at this point that he can tell you’re close.

You can’t help yourself: the orgasm is so, so close that it makes you fist a hand in his hair as you arch upwards into him, begging Leon not to stop. He moans, his grip on your body tightening to the point you know you’ll bruise. “That’s right, I want to taste you. I know you can cum for me.” Leon’s gruff whine, in tandem with his fingers and that tongue, send you over the edge.

A tremendous throbbing wracks your body, concentrated where Leon’s tongue is still sliding inside of you in rhythm with your spasms. You feel him drinking everything, his lips closing around your hole so that nothing escapes. Finally your movements cease, and he slowly moves his head away, looking up at what an absolute wreck you are.

“Sounds like you had a good time,” he smiles. A drop of you runs down his chin.

“Can I help, babe?” The shift in his tone goes straight through you. The soft cotton of your top starts to feel restricting and you nod. Leon moves close to you, the both of you on your sides facing one another. He raises his hands to his mouth, warming the fingers with his breath before gently cupping a breast in each hand. Though the immediate sensation makes you hiss with discomfort, the way he holds them lessens the strain of their weight. It feels nice, calm, secure.

Leon lets loose a shaky exhale, his voice tight. “Fuck.” He swallows. “They’re all swollen. It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?” Leon’s large hands gently press the pads of their fingers in small motions, sending little jolts of pleasure-pain through your body. “This helpful?” He’s got a little smirk on his face when you give a small mhm in answer - he loves making you undone.

A thumb ghosts over one of your nipples. You shudder involuntarily and let out the smallest of sighs. Leon’s jaw tenses at the sound.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” he begins, now occasionally caressing just the tip of each nipple while he keeps massaging. “The least I can do is distract you a little bit, baby.” His hands leave you for a moment while he sits up, legs folded underneath him such that his knees are facing you. When his large hands return, you groan at the feeling, moving your chest forward into his touch.

“You want more?” He presses on you to move you onto your back, and his hands lift up the hem of your shirt. You gladly oblige, lifting your back and arms to assist, and after quickly warming up his hands again and straddling you, Leon grips your breasts with more fervor. His strong fingers squeeze and loosen in tandem with one another. Each of your sighs and moans make him a bit more undone. He briefly raises his thumbs to his mouth, making them slick, and lowers them to make fast circles around your nipples. You pant out his name, arching your chest upwards.

Leon’s rutting into you now just a little bit, probably completely involuntarily, but each movement presses the tip of his rock-hard length into your lower stomach. You can’t help but jut upwards in time with him, your underwear already dripping wet.

“F-fuck, babe,” Leon groans when your head arches back into the pillow. He lowers his head down towards your chest, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin right next to your right nipple. His other hand keeps working your aching tit: gripping and squeezing in time with his thrusts, his thumb making up-and-down, then left-and-right pattens across your nipple with its tip, circling it with the pad.

Leon gently sucks the skin around your nipple in a circle. “I love these so much,” he murmurs, the vibration driving you wild. His free hand lightly caresses back and forth underneath your swollen flesh, the nails just barely scraping the skin there. You whine, desperate to feel his mouth on your nipple.

“What’s that? You want something?” You can feel his smile blooming on your flesh.

“L-leon,” you stammer in frustration, moving your chest to guide your nipple into his mouth. His lips greedily circle it, sucking the tight nipple like he did the skin next to it; it drives you nearly insane.

“Oh, this is what you wanted,” he teases. The tip of his tongue flicks against your nipple in time with his thumb. The multitude of sensations overwhelms you: his tongue, his hand, the way he’s still moving his dick against you, although he’s shifting downwards now so that it’s teasingly pressed against the soaked fabric of your underwear.

“Fuck me, p-p-please,” you beg him, desperately grinding down onto the tented fabric of his sweats. Leon groans, the sound turning into a small whimper in the back of his throat as he feels the contact again and again. He finally moves his mouth away from your nipple, replacing it with his hand, and presses a gentle kiss to your wide-open mouth.

“We’ll get there, babe.” He kisses you again, still massaging your breasts. “But I’m going to make you come for me first, okay?” The low growl of his voice, of the way his words nearly make you come on the spot, makes you whimper.

“I want you feeling good when I bury myself inside of you,” he continues, pressing kisses against your exposed throat. “Don’t want you aching unless it’s from my cock.” Leon groans into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

His hands go faster, grabbing your tits so hard you cry out in pleasure. The way he massages you gets deep into the tissue, pressing against every spot that hurt earlier. It feels so good, the best kind of hurt, that you quickly feel your crest approaching.

A heat coils in your lower stomach. “You can come for me, baby,” Leon croons, his tongue now circling around your other nipple - he almost certainly won’t last long once he’s inside of you from the way his voice hitches. “Wanna hear you come in your underwear. I’ll clean you up, don’t worry.”

“I’m-I’m-,” you whimper, and just as Leon hears this he grazes his teeth against one nipple while lightly pinching the other. The pleasure-pain sends you over and your orgasm tears through you. Your walls spasm again and again in time with Leon’s fingers around your breasts. You moan incoherently, only stopping when Leon’s lips come into contact with yours. His hands guide you through the rest of your orgasm, becoming more gentle as each second passes.

Leon’s hand brushes away the wild hair that’s settled over your forehead. You’re aching, but only for the sensation of your boyfriend buried deep inside of you. Staring into your eyes, Leon smiles, his blue eyes half-glazed with desire.

“That’s good,” he rasps, one hand traveling down his stomach to palm at his now-aching bulge.

you’re eighteen, and starting the second semester of your first year of college. things have been going really well! you feel like you’ve got a good handle on your life at school. at least, until you’re waiting outside to go into class and hear someone say your name incredulously. it takes you a minute to recognize him now that he’s so much older, but it’s unmistakably leon. you sit next to each other in class, decide to get lunch and catch up.

you’re nineteen, and it’s the summer before junior year. you and leon both stayed on campus for summer research programs, now back into the easy rhythm of friendship you once had. it’s a bit different now, though, since you’re still getting used to his mannerisms as an adult. you drink together at parties and run away from campus police when they show up - leon has helped you escape through dorm windows more times than you can count, lifting you with ease now that he’s filled out a bit. your friends tease you, asking if you two went off to get some alone time, but you brush them off a little too quickly. he’s just my friend, you say with a frustrating blush on your cheeks.

you’re twenty, finishing up junior year, and you and leon have been dating for eight months. it happened rather unceremoniously - you were both seated in his room, on his bed doing homework together with near-empty plastic cups of alcohol on the bedside table. he’d moved dangerously close to you to get a better look at what you’d written, and when you looked up at him he kissed you. dating leon was easy, comfortable, especially now that you didn’t have to keep denying what you’d been feeling for so long. you think you love him, and dream about life with leon after graduation.

you’re twenty-one and just walked the stage to accept your college diploma, smiling in your parents’ arms. you really did love leon, but as he’d gotten a bit older, become more aware of just how wanted he was, he’d changed for the worse. you finally called it quits last fall - leon had chased after you, storming out of a party where you’d watched him disappear into the bathroom with someone. come on, babe, he’d said, it was just one kiss. it didn’t mean anything, I swear…

you’re thirty, and driving home from work after a particularly stressful day. it’s pouring rain outside, and you blink the exhaustion from your eyes. you never even see the car coming - they were drunk, ran a red light, and completely wrecked your car. when you come to you’re being wheeled into an ambulance. a paramedic is gently wiping the blood from your face and sticking needles into you, telling you that you’re going to be alright. you think you must be hallucinating because he looks and sounds exactly like leon, but a bit older than you remember. he notices you staring a little too hard before his eyes grow wide in recognition: oh my god, he says in shock. the other paramedic asks him what’s wrong, but you already feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. all you hear is his panicked voice say, that’s my best friend.

you think you’re thirty, at least that’s what you answer when a doctor shines a light into your eyes after you wake up in a hospital bed. he tells you that you’ve been in a coma for a week, and that you very nearly could have died. before he leaves he makes a comment about your boyfriend, or something - wait, did you somehow forget that you had a boyfriend? you see the doctor speak with someone outside, and leon comes rushing in, his eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. he stops beside your bed looking quite hesitant, and you don’t really know why but you give him a weak smile and wave, the best you can really muster right now.

“you’re not… my boyfriend, are you?” it sounds so stupid as it comes out of your mouth, but you have to be sure after what the doctor said. leon’s brow furrows a bit. “haven’t been that for a while. are you sure everything’s alright up there?” his voice is much deeper now - it’s got the gruffness of a grown man, but still soft enough to make you feel warm inside. you can’t help but blush. “the doctor said you were, sorry.” you’ve got quite the sheepish grin. not exactly the best way to get reacquainted with your ex. although, that’s not really what leon is - he still feels like your old friend. leon hesitates. “I… I really thought you were going to die that night. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been coming every day to check on you. just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” you talk for as long as your hoarse voice lets you, and even then you strain against it just so you can keep going. at some point leon gets solemn, now seated in a pulled-up chair next to your bed. ”I’m so sorry for how things ended between us. I was a real asshole. you don’t deserve that.” his eyes feel like they’re staring straight into your soul, and you feel that he means it. there’s no sense of expectation from the admission. it sounds like it’s something he’s been meaning to get off of his chest for a long while. eventually you fall asleep, feeling content knowing someone else is there to watch over you.

you’ve just turned thirty-one, and you open your door to find leon holding balloons and your favorite cake. it’s been a few months since you got out of the hospital and leon’s been there helping every step of the way. neither of you is really sure what exactly you two are, but that’s okay. you’re not in a rush, and it’s almost endearing getting to know him all over again. he holds your hand while you sit and watch tv together. it’s nice. it feels like home.

you’re thirty-five, and leon’s kneeling in front of you, ring in hand. you’re my best friend. you always have been, he says with tears glistening in his eyes, blond hair cascading around his face. please do me the honor of spending the rest of my life with you. tears of your own cloud your vision and you haul him up, smiling through your sobs of yes, yes, of course. I love you so much, leon. he beams and slides the ring on your finger with shaky hands. you get married soon after.

you’re forty, and life is never perfect. you and leon disagree on stupid, small things but always come together in the end with apologies and hungry kisses. every night leon tells you just how lucky he is to call you his. you savor the sound of it in your ears, full of warmth and affection.

it doesn’t matter how old you are. the spark has never left; it simply changes as time goes on. leon has kept you safe ever since he saved you that night long ago - he even promised so in his wedding vows to you. he never stops loving you, dedicating himself to you just as you do to him. one special night, after lovingly taking you to bed, he divulges something to you: when he was twelve, he swore he’d come find you just like you asked. in college, he thought that he’d ruined his chance.

what I realized when I saw you in that ambulance, he whispers to you in the dark, was that no matter what happens, in this life or the next-