#lua's works!

The build up to kissing you is slow, the way he stares at you like there’s nothing left in the world except you and the love he has for you. The way his hands roam oh so slow; starting at your waist and feeling their way up, stopping for maybe just a moment or two too long when they brush past your chest. The way his fingers dance over your collarbone is sure to send shivers down your spine before he amends the jolt by cupping your face in his hands, the heat from his palms almost scalding. He’s always either freezing or burning, never in between. 

All that for him to finally close the distance even slower, taking in the way your breath catches when he’s close enough for your noses to bump. He likes to hesitate just a breath away from you just to hear the exasperated way you huff out that gasp, just to make you sure you want it as badly as he does. Then his lips are on yours. Slow, but ravenous, light and pressing in deeper and deeper by the second. 

When he was younger this would’ve been the point where he’d start biting and licking, trying to invade your senses to make you want and crave him just as much as he did you. But with age came the ability to draw things out, the ability to linger and kiss you slow and deep to feel the way you crumple, even when you’re straddling his lap on top. 

He likes to pull away every now and then to tease you more. To watch the way you slowly lose your mind chasing after his lips. It only adds to the fun when you’re denied so much that you get desperate enough to bite and licking on your own, pressing and begging him to pick up the pace with a series of pathetic whimpers. 

Now there is the reward he was waiting for. 

He’ll only give it to you once you beg, his hands cupping your cheeks sliding to thread into your hair so he can angle your head, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip slow and playful before he takes advantage of the little gasp you let out and slips his tongue to meet yours, licking against your own to goad you into giving more and more to him. 

He hums low and deep when you do, the sound shooting straight down to your core and pulling a heady moan from you as well. He pulls back to suck and nibble on your bottom lip then, his free hand taking its sweet time finding its way under your shirt. His palm slides up your side the same way his tongue slides against your lip, his fingers rubbing over and pinching your nipple just as sharply as his teeth find your lip and clamp. 

The way you whine is everything to him. It kicks his heart up a few beats, makes him more just a bit faster as his hand trails down, rubbing up against your clit through your panties and feeling how damp the fabric is. That makes him groan against your lips, his cock throbbing against his pants with a desperation that surprised even himself. He didn’t think anything could get him that hard at this age. 

In his new found desperation, his lips trail down in a filthy trail from your lips to your neck, his teeth finding the same place his fingers had so delicately traced earlier to bite and nip, his tongue laving over the bruises he left to soothe. 

As patient as he could be about kisses, when it came to anything more, he really couldn’t help himself. Perhaps it was the aching need for intimacy. The need for physical closeness to feel emotional closeness. Whatever it was, it always made him act like a fool. 

His calloused hands working down your panties with as much gentleness as he could muster despite his hurried pace, his fingers poking, prodding, scissoring and curling to stretch you enough to take his cock. It was never enough in the end, though at times like this he couldn’t wait. 

Times like this, he remembers how much of his life had flown by in a blink. He remembers how many times he held himself back for the sake of others and how little he enjoyed life because of it. He remembers how little he cared for everything, and how much he cares for you now, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t a little desperate to show you. 

So he works you down onto his cock despite the rushed prep. He thumbs your cheek and whispers praises to soothe you until he can move. He starts out slow when he does, just to make sure you can really take it. Slow and hard. He works you down onto his cock, and when you can take enough, he thrusts his hips up into yours, making sure you can feel him buried inside you when you come down. 

He likes to watch the way your face screws up when he angles his hips just right, when his hands press you forward into him so he can more firmly grab your ass and spread you out from the back. He likes to watch the way all thought visibly drains from your head when desperation takes over and his hips snap into yours, when he adjusts the way he’s sitting and drills into you like the grip of your pussy put years back on his life and he’s young enough again to fuck you the way you need him to. 

He for sure likes the way you clumsily try to kiss him through all of this, the way you can barely keep yourself from moaning into his mouth as you meet with a clasp of lips and teeth, all messy yet so fucking hot that he can’t bear it. It takes everything in him from blowing his load then and there. You just clench around him so deliciously when you kiss, as if his lips against yours brought you the greatest amount of pleasure in the world. 

He waits until you get there first, working into that gummy spot of yours with scary efficiency and reaching down to thumb your clit so you break apart on his dick and he can follow. It’s only when you’re twitching and whining that he lets himself spill into you, his grip on you strong enough to bruise and his heart beating so fast in his chest that he’s worried he’ll have a heart attack then and there. 

He wouldn’t do that to you. Keeling over and dying after sex that good, he wouldn’t traumatize his girl like that. No, instead he works you and himself down, pulling your body snug against his as his lips find yours again, back to kissing slow to bring the both of you down from so much heat. 

Kisses with Leon after sex feels better than anything else. So grounding, so complete. So much like home. 

Given that, it was no surprise that on your one year anniversary, you shoved a little green box in his hands, smiling wide when he blinked at you. "Open it," was all you said, and so he did. A simple silver chain rested in the box, a gift from you to him. You told him now he can break your heart, even if he’s not young anymore. (Of course this was followed by a warning of being castrated if he actually did break your heart) It warmed his little old heart. You could've given him trash and he still would've swooned, really, but he liked it. 

What he didn’t expect was just how much you liked it, and boy did you like it. 

There was something almost feral about how you got once he put on that chain. It scared him a little… You hung around him more, both literally and figuratively. You were in his personal bubble a lot more than you used to be and that was saying something, your eyes lingering on him a touch longer than they used to. He swore he saw your eyes sparkling once or twice while he had it on. 

He recalls two specific instances that made it obvious you just maaaaybe had a thing for chains. Aside from the fact that you littered his neck with hickies that same night right along where the chain sat…

The first being the one morning he finally decided he needed to shave a little. A certain someone was complaining and crying about beard burn so it was time for a full shave. He had taken the chain off for a while, laid it down on his bedside table to be put back on once he was clean shaven. He thought nothing of it until you came into the bathroom to grab something, full-on stopping and staring at him for a disturbingly long minute. You were more so staring at his neck, actually..

"Where is it?" You asked, to which Leon raised an eyebrow at you in the reflection of the mirror. "Where's what, angel?" He asked back, turning his attention back to himself as he shaved off the last patch of stubble on his jaw.

"Your chain," you specified, stepping closer to Leon and circling him, a furrow between your brows as you inspected his neck a little too closely. "Where is it?" 

He catches you by the cheeks in your flurry, squeezing you playfully before letting you go and bending over to wash away the excess shaving cream on his face. “By the bed,” he answers casually, humming over the sound of the running water. “Didn’t want to get a bunch of hair in it. Why?” You don’t answer, lips quirked into an odd pout while you grabbed what you initially came for. “I like it better when it’s on,” you mumbled as you walked back out, Leon giving you a sort of odd look on the way. 

He didn’t think much of it because right after he was done he put it back on and your peace seemed restored, but he should’ve known. No normal person pouts over a chain being off for no more than 30 minutes, right? He decided to brush it off until the second incident. The one that practically forced the truth down his throat. 

You had come home late after being out with your friends. Leon decided to kick back and relax with a movie on while he waited up for you. You told him you were having a few drinks and he wanted to make sure he was awake to take care of you if needed. Like a good boyfriend should. 

He was all nice and comfy with his arm stretched over the back of the couch when you came in, toeing off your heels and immediately letting down your hair from the cute style you had it in before as you wandered over to where Leon was, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “‘m so sick of going out, I want to stay in for the rest of my life,” you grumbled, resting your head on his shoulder. 

He chucked in response, combing his fingers through your hair to smooth it out a little. “You could never be a homebody, angel. You’d go insane within the first hour.” You frown a little before shutting your eyes, deciding that not responding makes his statement less true than it really was. 

Your lack of a response only makes him laugh more, his hand leaving your hair to instead pinch your cheek. “Not answering because you know I’m right, huh? You’re lucky you’re cute.” You laugh along with him this time, swatting his hand away from your cheek and opening your eyes just to glare at him despite the wide smile on your face. “Or what? What would you do if I wasn’t cute?” 

Leon hums, tilting his head side to side in deep thought. “I don’t know.. Probably kick you out,” he jokes, the smile on his face growing wider when you gasp in mock offense. You playfully swat at his chest as he laughs, laughing with him. “You’d kick me out just because I didn’t answer you? Oh, you’re evil.” You’re still laughing when he pulls you in against his chest, his own laughter rumbling through his chest and into you. “You say that like you have a problem with it, angel.” 

“Whatever,” is your final response as you both settle into comfort, the TV providing good background noise for the peace that fell over the both of you. You both take the time to appreciate everything around you. The coziness of the apartment, the warmth of Leon beside you, the glimmer of the chain around his neck…. 

Leon is jolted from the peace when he feels you, glancing down to catch a glimpse of your finger tracing against the links of the chain around his neck. He can’t help the mildly amused huff that escapes him as he leans his head back against the back of the couch, looking at your face with a single raised eyebrow and a hint of a smile on his lips. “What are you doing, angel?” 

You shrug, giving a noncommittal hum. "I dunno'.." Your eyes jump up to his face and then back down to where your finger was. He would’ve believed in the act of nonchalance if not for the deep inhale you take and the way you chew the inside of your cheek, clearly feeling something. 

The reaction is enough for Leon to reach up, grabbing you by the cheeks and forcing your gaze onto his. “Alright, what is it? You and this damn chain.” He squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, shaking you a little. “You’d think it was your boyfriend and not me with how you act.” 

You manage a little frown on your lips at his squeezing, looking off to the side in a sort of flustered avoidance. “I like it,” you answer a little too simply. You glance back over at Leon when you receive silence at your confession, and the look on his face makes you roll your eyes, your frown a lot more like a cute little pout now. “You look really hot with a chain on, okay? Like ‘I can’t help looking at you, and I feel hot everywhere’ kind of hot. Like ‘Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time’ kind of hot.” 

Despite expecting some form of that answer, Leon was still surprised to hear you tell him how you felt about the chain and more surprised to hear that you liked it that much. “Really?” He asks, the skepticism in his voice making your nose scrunch. “Yes really,” you huff, dropping your hand away from its spot on his neck thinking he was poking fun at you. 

He already knew what was going through your head. You probably thought that he thought you were weird for it, when in reality it was a little bit of an ego boost. 

He clicks his tongue, squeezing your cheeks in a silent demand for your attention again. “Look at me, angel.” When you obey and look his way he gives you a straightfaced look. “It’s cute. You liking this stupid chain that much? That’s real cute, maybe even a little hot. Don’t go thinking you’re weird for something like that.” When you don’t seem to believe his words he sighs, tilting his head.

“Remember that date where we went ice skating and you wore your hair down and those cute heart hoops? I don’t think I’ve ever popped a boner that fast in my life, angel. Seriously.” That manages to pull a smile from you and he smiles back at you, squeezing your cheeks once more before finally letting go of you. “I promise it's mostly normal to like jewelry on someone. Don’t go getting all shy over it.” 

You blow out a little huff of air, your hand returning to its place now that your fears of being shamed for your obsession have been curbed. You purse your lips, rubbing the chain back and forth between your fingers. “I don’t just like jewelry on someone. I like jewelry on you. I wouldn’t be this crazy over just anyone.”

Now that boosts Leon’s ego real bad. His smile grows wider as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss. “You really are too cute.” 

He hums when you lean back in, pressing back forward for a longer and deeper kiss. He can taste something sweet on your tongue though he’s not sure if it's the drinks you had, the lip gloss you had on or just you in general. Probably all three. He didn't care.

It’s not long before his hand snakes back up, threading into your hair to pull you closer to him. He doesn’t seem to be the only who craves less space between you two as he feels you tugging him closer by the cursed chain. That warms his blood in a way he can’t explain, making him groan against your lips as his tongue slips out into the kiss, licking into your mouth with a slow and precise kind of hunger, the kind that makes your stomach twist and your thighs press together to try and relieve the growing ache down there. 

You don’t get much relief when his other hand comes into play, curling under your thigh to pull them apart and pull you over onto his lap. His hand falls from your hair, settling on your other thigh as he tugs you closer, pulling you until you can feel the stiffness of his cock through his sweatpants. 

It seems only natural to grind your hips down into his, giving yourself a preview of what was to come in very little time it seemed. The feeling makes you twitch and tense up, Leon’s hips canting up into the stimulation as he groans into your mouth, finally pulling away so you both don’t suffocate before the real fun can start. 

His hand slithers up under the skirt you chose to wear that night (thank god for easy access) as he pulls back to look at you. The way you lick your kiss-slicked lips and stare back at him with those hazy eyes drives him insane. His free hand lifts to drag down his mouth as his eyes roll back before returning to you, half-lidded and wanting. “Fuck, angel. You’re killing me, looking at me like that.” 

He’s all for showing his appreciation for how good you look too, his hand under your skirt moving until his fingers brush against your panties, rubbing you over your panties once, twice, before his thumb slips beneath the fabric, the tip of his thumb rubbing slow, tight circles around your clit. “All wet like this just from a little kissing? How’d I get a girl like you, hm? How’d I get so lucky?” You answer his words with a delicate moan and a buck of your hips, your back arching from the stimulation to your already throbbing clit. 

“Leon, c’mon..” You whine a little, turned on far too much in too short of a time for him to just tease you the way he was. The pressure wasn’t enough, and god he looked too fucking good. Sitting there, his face all flushed as he struggled to decide whether his hungry gaze should stay on your face or if he should lift up your skirt and watch your pussy drool all over his sweatpants with your need. And to top it all off, when your eyes followed that familiar path down, it found his chain, resting perfect and taunting against his chest. It made you burn from the inside out.

“Relax, angel. I know what you need. You know I’ll give it to you,” Leon murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, not quite doing anything more that would show he’s going to honor his words. Now that won’t do for you. You’ve never been the most patient girl in the world. You let one hand settle on his chest as the other reaches down, tugging his sweatpants down. Despite his urgency to wait, he’s complacent in lifting his hips to aid you, letting you pull until his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly. The sight reignites the need inside you that never died out in the first place. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out, wrapping your hand around him and running your thumb through the precum beading at the tip. It makes him hiss, his thumb stuttering in its motion over your clit, his hand gripping your hip instead. You revel in his reaction, at the way more precum spills for you. That brief second of teasing seemed to be just enough to convince Leon to change his mind about waiting, because he’s pulling you closer instantly with murmured words of ‘c’mon, angel’, pulling your panties to the side as you follow, lifting until you can line yourself up with him. He pulls you into another kiss as you notch his tip against your cunt and sink down, both of you groaning in unison for different reasons. 

For Leon, nothing feels better than sinking into you and he’ll stand by that for the rest of his life. The way your warm walls welcome him in with a tight squeeze feels like home, feels so disastrously good. For you, the way Leon fills you up feels like an invasion, feels too intimate despite the circumstances. It steals your breath, the way his dick fills and presses up against every single crevice and leaves you with nothing but him. You both have to sit with the feeling for a minute, drinking in the feeling like you do every time you have sex. 

You share a kiss, Leon's lips moving languidly against yours as you feel him twitch within you. He breaks away to breathe, panting as he rests his forehead against yours. His hands massage your hips gently and the squeeze you give in response spurs him to shallowly buck his hips into yours, watching intently at the way your jaw drops with a whine that shoves itself between your own panting. A ghost of a smile curves at his lips at the noise, and he does it again, using his grip on your hips to put a little more force behind it. 

He’s quick to pick up a deep rhythm, reveling in the whines and moans you spill for him. “Mmn.. fuck,” you gasp when he angles his hips a little, body going rigid in his arms. You arch as you feel one of his hands slide up your back, the other staying taut at your waist to keep you grounded as he begins to work his hips a little faster, your body bouncing off of his with little hitched whines from your lips as you feel him bullying into you so good. “Le-on-” 

“Mhm, I know, angel, I know. It feels good, huh?” He murmurs, his voice taut from his own pleasure, from the effort he’s using to fuck into that spot that makes you go limp and see stars. You nod a little too fast and a little too much, feeling too good to care that you might look a little like a bobble head. “So good, so fucking good.” Your response has Leon biting his lip, undoubtedly a lot harder and trying to bite down the satisfied grin that wants to spread on his face. He feels smug making his girl feel so good. 

He shifts his grip, his hands settle on your hips, leaning you back so he can see the look of bliss on your face, see the way your eyes cross when he drives his hips up and pulls yours down in unison, see the way your tits bounce from his thrusts when he pulls your shirt up. He’s caught up in it all when he feels your hands, sliding down from his shoulders to paw at his chest, to paw at that damn chain. “S-so.. so fucking pretty-” You gasp, a whine tumbling after it as your stomach coils. 

The glazed look in your eyes as your gaze settles beside your hands makes Leon groan, his grip on your hips stiffening. He can feel the way you tighten around him just looking at it, and if he wasn’t so deep inside you, he’d be jealous over some damn jewelry. “I swear, angel-” he starts with a grunt, his pace stuttering and growing a little sloppy as he grows close. “You better- better look at me and not this damn chain when you come.” 

If it weren’t for the situation, his words would’ve made you laugh, instead it feels like they jab at the coil in your stomach, poking and prodding until it all comes undone, and it comes undone fast. Your body arches in his grip, gaze lifting to his face as heat sears through your body, burning through you in the most dizzying way until your thighs tremble around his waist. “ffuck-” You whine, hand curling around the chain as your eyes lock onto Leon’s, unclear and fucked out.

The heat in you sears straight through you into Leon, the sight and feel of you coming undone making him follow soon after, his grip on you bruisingly hard as his thrusts slow, a groan accompanying the heat that pools into you. His gaze is locked on yours as the tension from both of your bodies melts away, his body slumping back against the couch and yours settling into his arms. 

You both sit there panting for a blissed out few minutes, the long forgotten TV filling the silence with white noise. Leon would’ve sworn you’d fallen asleep if not for you moving, pulling away and leaning back. He quirks an eyebrow as you stare at him, taking a moment to find your voice before speaking. “I think.. I should get you another chain,” you manage to say, a grin spreading on your lips at the way Leon just scoffs and laughs. 

“I’m serious. Maybe even get your ears pierced. Or a lip piercing, or a tongue piercing,” You prattle on, squealing when Leon lifts you, walking off towards your bedroom with you in his arms. “Or a dick piercing-” He guffaws at your words, shaking his head. “Enough!” He laughs, clearly not taking any of what you were saying seriously.

He totally didn’t end up with his ears pierced a month later. 

~~~

Sure, it was a little rough sometimes, it's not easy to have the life sucked out of you (literally) and kneel for prayer right after as if nothing was wrong. You were always found a little too dizzy after private confessions with Father Leon, much to the dismay of your friends that worried for you a little deeply. You always assured them you were fine and safe, Father Leon was simply bestowing his wisdom upon you and taking his rightful reparation in exchange. Besides, the worst that’s come from it is having to wear higher collar dresses and shirts to hide the marks his fangs leave. And you’ve only ever passed out once, it’s not that big of a deal. 

It was never that big of a deal because the rewards of your efforts and bloodshed were great. Fantastic even. You became Leon’s right hand, from lowly devout follower sitting in the pews and raising your hands in reverence to sitting right beside Leon and watching others in the pews. It gave you a rush of power, which you carried with you every time you stepped into Leon’s office and were subsequently stripped of all other power you had.

That was the only way to describe what it was like when he fed. He always tried to be gentle about it, but that only worked so much when he insisted on only feeding from you when he was practically at death’s door. Every now and then, you think he does it for the rush, for the way your blood seems to taste a little sweeter. 

You’re thinking that now as Leon feeds from you, your frame is pushed indelicately over his desk as his hand fists your hair, holding your head at such an angle that your neck is so deliciously bared for him to sink into. The initial stab of his fangs is as jolting as ever, and the rush you feel as he sucks is dizzying. Your head rolls on its own, but Leon just tightens his grip with a sharp grunt, keeping you straight and steady. You feel dizzier than usual and Leon can tell. Skipping breakfast would do that to you. 

“I’m almost done,” he mutters against your neck, eyes rolling at the sweet fluid gracing his tastebuds. Sweetest nectar he’s ever had, and as much as he says he’s almost done, he’s sure to drink a little more than he should be taking from you. He always does, and he always rewards you after. Your reward is what keeps you going until he pulls back with a sharp gasp, lips painted in the sultriest red imaginable as he laps at the lingering blood on your neck, and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to kiss him. To taste yourself on his lips and let his fangs nip your tongue in the process. 

You feel dumb for thinking it, about a man as devout as Father Leon is. You feel even dumber for the way you lean forward, searching for something before you process your actions through your haze and jolt back. He sees it, as much as you wish he hadn’t, and his gaze darkens. He has half a mind to clean you up and remind you of his standing. That he is naught but a devout man of cloth that met an unfortunate fate after a run in with a vampire. Naught but a man trying to live. The other half of his mind, however, is now letting him lean in, still riding the high from tasting you as he seals his lips against yours. He groans, deep and low in his chest as he kisses you and you lick at him, wincing at the metallic taste that greets you yet still seeking the warmth of his mouth. 

He suddenly feels as dizzy as you do, drunk off the heat of your body as his hands wander. It's illogical, letting himself wander this far down the path of sin, but truthfully, what atonement could he ever hope to receive as a vampire? As a monster known to sin? The thought has been lingering on his consciousness for weeks now, whispering in the back of his mind how he should just give into it all, to every mortal and immortal sin. He’s done well to keep the urges at bay, but the taste of you, the rush you give him with how good you taste. He’s practically powerless to fight the way his hands wander up to your chest, palming to hear the way you whimper into his mouth, arching into his hands. 

He’s powerless as his hands find their way beneath your dress, tugging your panties down just enough to let his thumb find your clit, rubbing insistent circles with the calloused pad of the digit to watch the way you writhe against his desk. He’s utterly powerless as he presses two thick fingers against and into your weeping hole, soothing your whines of pain with a sharp bite to your neck, fangs sinking in once more. He sucks deep against you as his fingers pump, his free hand spreading your thighs just a few inches wider, cursing internally at how pliable you are beneath his hands. Perhaps he would never be so tempted if you pushed back a little. If you were leaking all over his fingers right now, he’d be less inclined to crook his fingers until you arch the way he was. He’d be less inclined to bite a little harder just to feel your walls clench around his fingers. 

You were so good to him, so willing to submit to his every will, so willing to walk the path of ruin with him just because he said the lord bids it so. You were every bit the good little  lamb he moulded you to be, every bit the good girl he praises you to be as you seize around his fingers, soaking the wood beneath you and making a mess of your dress in the process. You were too good to him, too compliant as he shoved your dress a few inches higher, dropped to his knees and sealed his lips around your poor clit. He sucked just as he had against your neck, not relenting even as your hands fisted his locks and tugged viciously. You wouldn’t be able to pull him off any time soon no matter how much you pulled, just like when he feeds. 

This was feeding in a different context. He slurps at you so deeply, tongue lapping and lashing and lingering a little too deep for your liking, making you jolt, twist and writhe, crying ‘Father Leon!’ so loud you’re sure anyone left in the church is for sure hearing your corruption. You can’t find it in yourself to feel shame about this, not with how good it feels. You’d even say this was your reward, your retribution for the liters of blood you gave to your lord, Leon Kennedy. 

Yes. Leon was your lord, the man who came to your mind during daily prayers, the man who guided you towards salvation, the man who held your legs apart as his fangs nipped at your clit until you seized and came on his tongue with filthy gushes. He was the lord, and the lord placed a slick kiss to every bite he left on your body as he strained you out with a low murmur. “I’ll feed from you more often now, my child.” And what else could you possibly do aside from obey the will of the lord? 

~~~

You suppose the one thing that struck you as a little too abnormal was how Leon began to act around you after that night. How he seemed to walk on eggshells when anyone was around, but was all sweet when it was just the two of you alone.

Maybe he was acting weird because he felt bad? If that was the case, wouldn't it be more likely that he would act like normal in public and be sweet in private? Or just sweet in general? It was like he was going out of his way to make the public think he didn't like you. That only planted seeds of doubt in your already overthinking mind.

Did he not like you? Did Leon actually resent you much like your mom did? Was he going to leave you just like she did?

The thoughts made you spiral, stress eating away at you and seeping your energy until you felt sick, enough so that you had to cancel an upcoming photoshoot. That didn't help with your mental state in the slightest.

If you weren't modeling, you weren't making it up to your mom, you weren't making your dad proud. Leon would leave you if there was nothing to be proud of. You’re sure he would. You couldn't have that. You wouldn’t have that. If you couldn't make him proud by modeling, you had to make it up to him somehow.

Leon came home later that day after a meeting with a sponsor about your canceled gig, exhausted and aching, and eager to reset with a good night's rest and maybe a beer.. Maybe not given what happened the last time he drank.. 

The last thing he expected was to find you in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed in one of his shirts, seemingly waiting for him. The sight made his jaw clench, a vivid image of your mother in the exact same spot making him stop in his tracks. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" He asked stiffly, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere past your face. Sober Leon had a little more control and a little more common sense than to leer at his little girl. But god, was he tempted. 

“I wanted to make it up to you, having to cancel the shoot earlier today,” You say softly, staring at Leon as you pop open the top button of the shirt suggestively, revealing the dip of your cleavage beneath the fabric. You aren’t shy in the slightest when you fold your hands in your lap, subtly pushing your tits together for Leon’s viewing pleasure. You can’t help the rush of joy you feel when you see his eyes slowly wander down, a thick swallow rolling through his throat. Men can’t resist temptation forever. “I’m sorry. I know scheduling is a nightmare so.. I thought maybe we could.. I don’t know, relax? Watch a movie together and cuddle? Like.. how you and momma used to do..” 

Your words give him pause, guilt shooting through every nerve in his body as if he had been struck by lightning. He vaguely remembers what he had said to you that other night, vaguely remembers bringing up your mother while all loose-lipped from the alcohol. He realizes now that doing so was the reason you were now doing this, dressing up as if you were his girl and not his daughter. He feels as sick as he does aroused. 

“Sweetheart I..” He fumbles with his words, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he tries to process his words. How did he let you down without hurting you? How did he tell you no without giving away how badly his dick was throbbing in his pants? Why was this even a situation he was in to begin with? “You aren’t your momma, baby. You’re my daughter. I can’t.. You gotta’ go get changed, sweetheart. Let’s sit on the couch and watch something, huh?” 

His words make your expression fall. So you were right, he didn’t like you. You feel your heart break, a lump beginning to form in your throat as you think of how to salvage this. Something, anything..

“Why?” You ask, your tone that of a petulant child, of a girl who was trying to seduce her dad and failing. “You kissed me. Why is this any different? Don’t you like me, dad?” Leon cringes, the reminder of your kiss like pouring salt over a wound he was trying real hard to mend. “Of course I like you sweetheart. I love you-” 

“So why don’t you want me?” You asked, bordering on tears. You stood from his bed, hands curled at your sides as your eyes filled with frustrated tears. How could he preach about loving you, even kiss you, and not want you? It didn’t make sense to you. Somewhere along the line, love and want seemed to be the same to you. 

Leon lets out a frustrated sigh, palming his forehead before scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I do want you, sweetheart, and that’s the problem. You’re my daughter. My own flesh and blood. Do you know how wrong it is to want you? How bad it would be if anyone found out? God forbid it ever goes public, your career would be over. I’m not doing that to you.” 

His answer doesn’t seem to satisfy you. Of course it wouldn’t. You only cared about modeling for your mother, to appease a woman who wasn’t even around anymore. You’d say it was for Leon at some point, but.. seeing his bulge strain against his pants, you figured it didn’t matter much to him. You mattered more to him, and you could work with that. 

Modeling wouldn’t and couldn’t bring momma back, but sex could make dad stay. 

“Nobody has to find out if we keep it between us, dad,” You whisper, your watery gaze a little too heartfelt for Leon’s liking. Before he can say another word, your hands lift, working open the buttons of your shirt until it falls off your shoulders and pools at your feet. “Please.. I want you to want me…” 

Leon can’t stop his eyes from wandering now, his eyes drifting down to take in your bare body with rapt attention. The swirl of guilt and nausea he felt before was instantly replaced by lust and desire. It hurt him to admit that he honestly wanted you more than he cared about your career. He couldn’t blame it on alcohol this time either. It was just how he felt. 

You can see his inner turmoil and it’s enough for you. You step forward, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes as you snake your hands up, pressing your chest against his as you lean in and press your lips to his. You feel him tense up against you, but you also feel his hands settle on your hips with an almost bruising grip. You feel him kiss back. You feel him gently biting your bottom lip and soothing the bite with his tongue. You feel him pushing you until the back of your knees hits the edge of his bed and sends you falling down with him following suit. 

He wills himself to pull away, blue eyes tracing your features as if searching from some sign that this wasn’t real. That this was some sick prank you were pulling, and that you were going to sit up and just laugh it off. He was waiting for you to pull away and tell him this isn’t really what you wanted. But the moment never came. Leon didn’t see that flicker of regret or doubt in your eyes. He only saw lust, longing, and it ruined him. It was wrong, all so wrong. But you were offering, you wanted it, and Leon wasn’t as good a man as he believed himself to be. 

He wasn’t going to pull his punches anymore if you wanted this so bad. 

His hands smooth up your sides, eyes trailing the movement as he feels your skin beneath his fingers. “God..” He mumbles, his gaze dark. He lifts his hands up to your tits, rolling his thumb over your stiffened nipples once, twice, before he’s pinching it, his head dipping down. His lips seal around the right one, tongue flattening against its top before flicking. The moans you give him fill his head with that cotton-like feeling that drinking does. So pleasurable, but so fuzzy. He pulls away after what feels like ages of you squirming beneath him from the stimulation, cold air hitting your saliva coated nipple and making you shiver. 

“Your momma used to let me suck on her tits just like this..” He mumbles, his voice tense. He sighs like it takes everything out of him to do so, and maybe it does. He hips his head towards your other breast, letting his hot breath fan against your nipple without doing anything. The way it makes you shift under him makes him groan softly, the sound painful. “God, you’re so much like your momma..” The words are usually a compliment when they come from Leon, but this time around they sound guilty.

Before you can ask about his words, he’s pulling back, adjusting his position until your thighs are draped over his. His hands curl around your hips, pulling you until you’re close enough to feel his stiff cock through his pants. His thumbs rub against you as he grinds himself against you, the gasp that pours out of you making him impossibly harder. 

He leans down, sealing his lips over your own as he slowly ruts his hips against yours. It keeps him from saying something stupid, like how pretty you look beneath him like that. Like how he wants to just say fuck it to all the guilt building in him and give in to the aching want in his gut instead. Or just anything else about your mother.. He thinks it makes it better to not voice it, that it won’t be as real if he doesn't say it. But it is real. He’s already most of the way there. Rocking himself against you, slipping a hand down to undo his belt. He can’t avoid how real it is as much as he’d like to. 

You’re not shy in the slightest about reminding him about how real it is, and about who he has underneath him right now. You’re whimpering against his lips with every rut of his hips against yours, soft little gasps of ‘dad’ spilling from you in a way that just taunts Leon. He licks into your mouth in the hopes that it’ll shut you up, but of course it only makes you mewl more. He has half a mind to gag you, but he could never treat his daughter like that. Not his sweet girl. His sweet girl deserved more than the treatment he would give to a random hook up. 

Leon pulls from your lips with a lewd pop, dipping his mouth against your neck as his hand shifts. He slips his thumb down, ghosting it over your clit and feeling your hips jump from the motion. He licks over your pulse, feeling the way it jumps just like your hips when he rubs his thumb over you again. The sweet moan you give him goes straight to his cock, and he decides he’s tortured himself enough.

He pulls his hand back only to undo his pants the rest of the way, pulling his leaking cock free from its confines. He leans back only so he can watch as he rubs his tip against you slowly. It’s only then that he hesitates, his eyes lifting to your face and lingering there. He knows what he saw before, but he can’t help asking once more. “Are you sure this is what you want, baby? Like 100% sure? We can’t go back from this..” 

Despite him asking, he makes no move to pull away. He isn’t sure he can now. He can feel the way you flutter against him as he nudges his tip against your hole and it takes a scary amount of patience to wait for your answer instead of just pushing in. So much for feeling guilty. 

“Yes,” You whisper after what feels like ages and a half to Leon. “I’m sure dad. I promise.” Leon sighs. He’s sure that he would’ve cringed hearing you call him dad while his dick is pressed against you, if not for the fact that he’s so damn hard. Your agreement is all the encouragement he needs to press his hips forward, sinking into you inch by inch until he’s halfway buried inside you. “It’s so fucking tight..” 

The statement is meant to be a compliment (as much of one as it could be), but feeling you so tight and seeing your expression screwed up as tight it is, a fleeting thought passes his mind. He can’t help but wonder if you’ve had your first time before this… He’d always sheltered you, especially with your modelling career and everything.. Did you ever get to experience normal things? Was he your first? Oh god. 

He tries not to dwell on it for too long, afraid that he might end up sick over it. He instead slows his pace, pushing the last few inches at a snail’s pace until his hips are up flush against yours. He lingers there, his hands caressing your waist to soothe you. “I’ll move when you’re ready..” he mumbles, his eyes locked on your face to watch your reactions. He can’t tell if it's a blessing or a curse to see how you feel. To see the way your eyebrows pinch together from the stretch, to see the way your hands clutch the sheets beside your head in an effort to redirect the pain elsewhere. 

He quickly decides blessing when he sees the moment you settle, the moment your face relaxes with a shuddery breath, the moment he feels your walls pulse and slacken around him. He waits only until he sees you nod a little to move his hips, drawing them back a few inches before nudging forward again, the angle knocking into you deep. He groans, feeling you pulse around him as he repeats the motion a few times over into a rhythm, knocking small moans out of you every single time he pushes back in. 

His hazy eyes watch your face as it screws up again, this time out of pleasure rather than pain. His hands grip your waist tight as he leans forward a little more, just to hear the way your breath gets caught up in your chest when the shift makes his cock bump against that spot inside you, drawing out the prettiest gasp he swears he’s ever heard. It’s sickening how good you look taking him like this, how good you sound, how good you feel around him. It makes him feel so good, and so bad at the same time.

He knows that once this is all over, the overbearing guilt will settle in after, and that he’ll never be able to look at you the same way. The fact makes him speed up his pace. If he’s going to feel guilty no matter what after, might as well make it as good as it can be, right? 

You seem to have no complaints, not with the way you’re moaning his name out like it’s a prayer and clawing at his wrist with a plea for more. It’s all so wrong, but he can’t help himself from leaning forward, burying his face against your neck as his hand catches yours, intertwining your fingers together beside your head as he ruts his hips just a little faster. You think you catch a mumbled apology against your skin, but you’re a little too out of it to really tell, a little too close to the edge to bother with whatever it might have been. 

Leon doesn’t seem keen about repeating it, not keen as he is about fucking into you with a little more force and a lot less rhythm. He focuses his efforts into rubbing his thumb against your clit in sharp circles until you’re tensing up around him instead. Your legs lock up from the stimulation, a drawn out cry of his name spilling from your lips as your hand squeezes his deathly tight. Your orgasm spurs his own, his hips stuttering into your own sloppily with the intent of lasting a little longer before he stills, panting against your neck as he spills against your insides. It’s only then that he realizes he probably should’ve used a condom. Well shit. 

Leon loses the ability to think somewhere after that, too focused on the way you milk him to even bother thinking about anything else. He can worry about that all in the morning, or in 30 minutes when the dread settles in. For now, he peels himself away from you, catching the sight of his cum dribbling out of you as he leaves to get a rag. He feels himself twitch, and bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep from anything more happening. Round two was absolutely not on the schedule. He promises himself just one thing as he cleans you up and tucks you against his chest as you doze off. One promise he isn’t entirely sure he can keep as well as he may try.

This’ll never happen again. 

She loved you, she told you so herself at a very young age, but that would never truly get rid of the fact that you were the one thing that crushed her dreams. You figured as much when one day, she said she loved you and that it wasn't your fault, before walking out the door forever.

You wanted to believe her words, and you did for a while when you were younger. But thinking about it, why would she explicitly say that it wasn't your fault right before leaving? Once you grew older, you came to realize that she probably meant the opposite. It was your fault. You were the reason she never got to chase her dreams, you were the reason she always looked like there was a part of her missing when she stayed home to take care of you, you were the reason she left.

So with your faults, you did right by her. You became a model, vowing to be what she never could because of you. It was the right thing to do. Using the beauty she gave you to make her dreams come true. If she couldn't be a model, this was the next best thing. Maybe.. maybe it would even bring her home one day.

To say Leon was surprised when you suddenly wanted to be a model would be an understatement. For as long as he could remember, you wanted to be a journalist or a scientist, to make a change or whatnot. But a model? He couldn't necessarily say no. If it was really what you wanted, he would support you. Even offered to be your manager. He was the only person left in your life who cared enough to do it.

You did well with him as your manager. Granted, it took a few years to really get up on your feet, but you did eventually. By the ripe age of 22, you had well over a few gigs. You were being sought out by different agencies, one even hinting at a deal with a makeup brand if you said yes. It was all so surreal, and while you couldn't be happier, there was still something missing. It was why, as much as Leon wanted to celebrate the joyous news, you couldn't bring yourself to enjoy it as much as you should. But Leon enjoyed it for you.

He went all out for you, cooking up your favorite foods, renting out your favorite movies, breaking out the expensive liquors. Only the best for his daughter, and for him, who helped you get there. He took that mentality and ran with it, indulging himself in maybe one too many drinks, all in good faith. He deserved to celebrate this as much as you did, right?

By the end of the night he was no less than plastered, an arm slung over your shoulder to hold you close while his other hand kept his mouth steady full with more liquor than he really needed at this point. His words were slurred, carried on alcohol-scented breaths and accompanied by lazy smiles and hazy gazes.

"Cheers, to my sweet girl making her way up in the modeling world!" He rejoiced (for the fourth time that hour), emptying his glass with one hefty and concerning swig and smiling at you wider. He pulled you closer, bumping his head against yours to nuzzle against you as his hold on his glass slipped, sighing blissfully. "'m so proud of you, baby. You make me sooooo proud. My pretty girl. Prettiest model in the world."

He's a little hard to understand, but his sentiments are sweet nonetheless. Nice to know someone is proud of you even if you feel a little hollow. Before you can spiral further down your empty and depressing thoughts about how your mom would’ve congratulated you, you're pulled out of it when Leon presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek, cooing seemingly to himself. 

"So pretty..." He murmurs, rubbing his stubbled cheek against your own, his eyes shut most likely without him even realizing it. "Just like your momma.." The words make you tense a little, expression twitching and frown forming on your lips. It's not like Leon's never said it to you before, but it was a lot more of a rare statement after she had walked out on you both. As if comparing you to her was forbidden, and it should've been.

"God... i miss your momma," he continued, much to your dismay. "Been so alone without her... but I have you now, don't I?" You're not entirely sure how to answer that, or if your answer would change anything anyways. "Sure, dad," you sigh quietly, hoping that'll appease him long enough for the alcohol to do its work and drift him off to sleep. No such luck.

"You'll always be here, won't you baby? My sweet girl will never leave." At this point, his nuzzling is incessant and a little harder, sure to leave you with a decent patch of beard burn. Not really ideal for a model. Before you can complain and mention your photoshoot coming up, he stops, instead turning his head to slot his lips against your.

You don't move for a very long moment, not entirely sure that the moment is real. Maybe it was a dream. No, that would mean you're dreaming about kissing your dad, and you're sure you would never do that. You're also sure that the very pungent and bitter taste of whiskey on your tongue is very real. Too real. Too wrong, right?

You're quick to pull away once you realize what's going on, and Leon practically whines in response, peppering kisses on your cheek instead as he continues to hold you nice and close. Like he needs it, needs you. "You won't leave me like your momma did, will you? No, 'cause you're better. Better than your momma. My good girl." His words are punctuated by him kissing you once more, sloppy and with that same pungent taste, but for some reason, there's something about it that doesn't repulse you as much as it should. You’re sure you should feel sick, but you're stuck more in your own thoughts than on the fact that he's kissing you to feel it. 

A realization hits you because of Leon's slurred words. That empty feeling doesn't quite feel the same, that dreaded part of you that dwelled on your mom's last words to you feels so much lighter. You felt... content. You achieved your mom's dreams, lived up to the expectations you thought she would've probably had for you, and even made your dad happy in the process.

You did right by her. You were a better her, your dad said so himself. One that wouldn't leave her husband and child alone, that wouldn't leave her child with the guilt of being at fault for the life she led. You were just as pretty, and even better than your momma. So when you find yourself kissing Leon back, the only thought in your mind is that you have to act like a better her, even like this.