#leonadareader

The safehouse was supposed to be a temporary stop, four concrete walls and a flickering bulb barely holding out the night and the monsters prowling beyond it. You sat at the edge of the cot, every nerve frayed from the mission, the adrenaline refusing to leave your veins. Leon was pacing the length of the room, jacket unzipped, hair damp with sweat, gun still within arm’s reach, his eyes sharp even though his body screamed exhaustion. And then Ada leaned against the doorway, her silhouette carved in crimson and shadow, that dangerous smile curving her lips like a weapon in itself.

The air snapped taut the moment the three of you were alone together. Heat and friction built not from the threat outside but from the sheer proximity of two people who never did anything halfway.

“You two look ready to combust,” Ada said smoothly, voice low, sultry, calculated. She walked closer, heels clicking like a countdown, and Leon’s jaw clenched as his eyes darted between her and you.

“Not exactly the time, Ada,” he muttered, but his hand flexed restlessly, betraying him.

“Oh, I’d say it’s the perfect time,” she countered, gaze sliding over you like a caress. “Stress relief. Survival instinct. Call it what you want.” Her gloved fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin upward until your breath caught.

Leon groaned, half-exasperated, half-desperate, before finally giving in. His hands found your hips, tugging you up from the cot, pressing your back flush against his chest while Ada leaned in from the front, her lips ghosting yours before sealing the kiss with a bruising hunger.

The chemistry was chaos—Leon’s restraint fraying with every needy sound you made, Ada’s tongue claiming your mouth, her smirk tasting of danger, Leon’s groan vibrating against your ear as his hands roamed lower. You were caught between them, dizzy, every breath stolen, every nerve lit.

“Competition suits you, Kennedy,” Ada teased, pulling back just enough to drag her gloved hand down your body, fingertips teasing at the hem of your shirt.

“Not a competition,” Leon rasped, sliding his hand beneath your waistband, making you gasp. “As long as she’s satisfied, we both win.”

Your moan was the only answer as Ada dropped to her knees, smirk flashing wicked up at you while Leon held you steady against him. Her tongue traced fire over your thigh before finding your center, her skillful mouth drawing cries from you instantly. Leon’s arm wrapped tight around your waist, his lips pressing into your neck, whispering rough promises against your skin as his fingers teased higher, deeper, pushing you closer to unraveling.

Two sets of hands, two mouths, two wills locked in dangerous tandem—all focused on you. Leon’s breath ragged in your ear, Ada’s tongue ruthless between your thighs, your body trembling violently between their opposing hungers. The pressure built too fast, too sharp, until you were breaking apart in their hands, the orgasm tearing a cry from your throat that echoed against the safehouse walls.