#mbrickswrites

K was the eleventh letter of the alphabet. You knew because you had been counting down ever since you had started working with the DSO. K like Kennedy. 

“Kennedy, you’re with the junior.” Of course. Every single time you got paired up with fucking Kennedy. 

“The junior has a name,” you murmured, shaking your head, shooting a look at the senior agent.

He looked pissed. Like being teamed up with you was the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. 

You had no idea what you had done to deserve this level of hatred but ever since you had walked through the doors of the DSO, it burned bright like a fire in him, apparently. He couldn’t even stand looking at you most days. Like now, grinding his teeth, avoiding your gaze at all costs. 

You and me both, old man, you thought.

At first you had tried to be friendly with him. He was kind of your superior after all. Not directly, but all junior agents answered to the more experienced ones, especially if they were a founding member. 

But lo and behold it became clear that he thought you were less than capable. At first you thought he was nothing but a misogynistic asshole. But then you realised he wasn’t like that with the other female agents. Only you. It seemed personal. Like he thought specifically you had no idea what you were doing, which pissed you off even more.

It hurt a little, if you were being honest. Leon Kennedy was well regarded by everyone. You wanted him to think highly of you, too. 

And you weren't a rookie by any means. Actually you were the most competent agent in your field, but something about working on a mission with Agent Kennedy made you feel like you didn't even know how to do the basics. Probably because he never let you do anything on your own and was always there to take the load off your shoulders. As if you were a damsel in distress. You hated it. 

It was dangerous as well. You were supposed to cover for him too. But he never let you. You had tried plenty of times. 

The mission at hand was retrieving some biochemically altered plants from an underground Umbrella facility. Ones that were suspected to spread airborne pathogens, infecting whoever was unlucky enough to breathe them in. 

“Let’s go then,” Kennedy growled, pushing out of his chair, already walking off to the armory without so much as looking at you. You involuntarily sank deeper into your seat. Something about Kennedy made you feel smaller than you actually were, younger too, less experienced. Incompetent.

You drew in a determined breath and followed him down the hallway.

This was the mission to change that. You were going to show him how capable you were, once and for all. And finally Leon Kennedy would tell you that you were doing a good job.

After a whole bunch of briefings because of the high risk of contamination on your mission, you and Kennedy were in the field, Sherry Birkin on your earpiece. 

“Sherry, we're in the warehouse.” Kennedy murmured, walking in ahead of you as if you weren’t even there. Why didn‘t he just go on these missions alone? He was so shit with other people, and especially you. 

Your determination to prove yourself to him had disappeared as soon as he had once again, come between you and your first target, eliminating it for you. It was an unarmed janitor. As if he could make it any more clear that he thought you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

Kennedy didn't only walk in ahead of you, no. He held the door open for you as well, as if he suddenly remembered the liability he was constantly dragging around.

“I can open doors myself, you know,” you hissed.

“You’re slow. You need to keep up or you’ll get yourself killed.” 

“If you didn't run ahead like that all the time, I wouldn’t have to.” You asshole, you wanted to add but you remembered he was your superior after all. Not your direct one, but still. 

“Check the boxes,” Sherry said over your earpiece. “I need to know the serial number to find the one we’re looking for.” 

You nodded, grabbing one of them immediately. Too slow, you were going to show him 'too slow'. 

Kennedy did a double take. "Don't touch that." 

“She said check the boxes. Do you need a hearing aid?“ you hissed, getting out your knife and slipping it under the lid. 

“She said she needs the serial number,” he retorted, rushing to your side, his hands closing around yours, halting your movements. You ignored the way your heartbeat kicked up at his touch. Kennedy always made you nervous whenever he was near, that was nothing new. 

“If you had listened during the briefings you would know that they printed false serial numbers on the outside to lead us astray,” you spat, struggling against him.

It was pointless. The man was pure muscle, his grip like a vice. But you tried anyway because you were full of rage. He wouldn’t let you do anything. Not even what you were being paid to do. Not even checking a god damn label.

Because of your little tussle with Kennedy your knife got wedged deeper into the box than you intended.

“Let go,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

“You let go, junior,” Kennedy growled in return. 

“Whatever you do,” Sherry’s voice sounded over your earpiece. “Do not puncture the—” 

Kennedy pushed down on your wrist too hard and you yowled, your hand slipping off the hilt. “You’re breaking my wrist, asshole.” 

Without you to counter his movement, Kennedy pried the lid open in one swift motion, a cloud of greenish yellow pollen erupting from the box, coating his entire face. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“—plastic inside. As far as we know, they’re probably trying to contain some sort of highly infectious microspores.” 

Under all the pollen you still saw a muscle tick in Kennedy’s jaw. He wiped the dust off his face. “I said don‘t touch it.”

"Sorry," you stammered, cheeks hot, realising you had called a senior agent an asshole to his face. You wanted to disappear off the face of the earth. 

Kennedy sneezed. “Sherry, what if we did? And got the plant shit all over our face?” He sneezed again.  

“Wash it off with water immediately and check inside the box for the serial number. I‘ll try and find out what it is,” she replied. “But be careful not to get any more of that stuff on you.” 

Leon sneezed a third time and fumbled for his canteen, unscrewing the top and dousing himself with water. He shook his head like a dog, droplets flying everywhere. 

“I seriously hope for you this isn’t poisonous,” he hissed, taking a sip of water for good measure. 

You held up a hand. “If you had just let me do what I needed to do, you wouldn’t be covered in chemically fucked up plant right now,” you snapped, slipping on a pair of gloves and lifting the front of your compression shirt over your nose and mouth, before approaching the box. You had enough of him babysitting you. This was ridiculous.

“Excuse me, what?” He whipped around. “I’m a senior agent, you should listen to me and not think you know better all the time. Look where that got us both.” 

You carefully lifted the lid, dodging another whiff of pollen escaping, scanning the plastic inside for the serial number. 

He blamed you for this. If you ever had a chance of Kennedy respecting you, there it went. And with his standing in the DSO, you would never be able to get a foot on the ground in the organisation. You’d better update your CV asap. They would absolutely sack you for this.

You closed the lid as soon as you found it, sealing it shut with duct tape to be safe. “Sherry, the serial number is AV-4/B.” You slipped off your gloves and tossed them to the side. 

“Alright,” she said. “Are you both contaminated or just Leon?” 

“Just Agent Kennedy,” you replied. You would also call him Leon like every other person in the DSO but he insisted on keeping you on a last name basis. So you never dared. 

“I’m fine, Sherry,” Kennedy cut in, splashing some more water on his face and rubbing it onto the back of his neck too. You didn’t miss the way he propped himself up against the wall with his hands. “Besides, we have to keep going.” 

“Leon, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sherry said. “We have no idea what this might do to you. It’s too dangerous.” 

Agent Kennedy was breathing heavily and you looked him up and down. He didn’t seem changed, but you agreed with Sherry. You stepped closer to him, feeling his forehead. 

He flinched like the touch pained him. “Don’t touch me.” 

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “Sherry, he’s burning up.” 

“Get him somewhere you’re both safe. I’ll try and figure out what he was infected with.” 

Kennedy shook his head, little droplets still slipping from his hair.

“You heard her,” you said, grabbing his shoulder, but he shrugged you off. 

“I said don’t touch me, junior” he hissed. 

You scanned your surroundings for a safe place where you could hunker down until you got the all-clear from your dispatcher. 

“In here,” you said, opening the door to the nearest shipping container, trying to push Agent Kennedy inside. 

He whimpered at your touch. The invincible agent Kennedy whimpered. This was bad. 

“Oh shit,” you hissed, barring the door from the inside.

“No, no, no,” Leon protested. “Don’t lock yourself in here with me.” 

You huffed. “Shut up, Leon.” Another inappropriate way of speaking to a senior agent, and first name basis as well. But you were done for anyway. “I’m not a damsel in distress, I know what I’m doing.” 

He winced, lowering himself down to sit against the wall. “I never said you didn’t.” 

You whipped around to face him. “You didn’t have to, you’re always on my ass, no matter what I do.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, ridding himself of his weapons and harness, tossing them to the side. “Can you blame me? It's a good ass.” 

You did a double take. Kennedy was seriously unwell. He coughed, clearly trying to cover up what he had just said.

You crouched down beside him and he flinched again. 

“Don’t come so close,” he panted. “I can smell you.” 

“What do you mean, you can smell me? I don’t stink, I showered before we went out on this mission,” you said, offended.

Leon’s brow knitted together in helplessness and he leaned his head against the wall. “I’m serious, back off.”

“No way,” you insisted, fumbling for the canteen on your belt, screwing the top off and offering it to him. 

He eagerly grabbed it, drinking the water inside, some of it spilling down his prominent Adam's apple as he did.

Despite him being old enough to be your father—and an absolute asshole to be around—you couldn’t deny that Leon Kennedy was an exceptionally handsome man. Hot even. 

Right now, literally. He was sweating so much, wet patches had formed all the way down the back of his tactical shirt. 

“Take it off,” you ordered, as you began to unlace his boots. 

He shook his head, lips pressed together, like he was fighting something invisible inside his own body. 

You slipped off both his boots, tossing them to the side, grabbing where his shirt was tucked into his tactical pants. “I said, take it off, Leon. Don’t be so stubborn.” 

He struggled against you, trying to get a hold of your hands, but you managed to pull his shirt out of his pants at least, grazing his crotch when he tried to stop you. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

You had just touched your superior's dick.

Not your direct superior, but that didn’t matter. Because you also hadn’t touched his flaccid dick. No, no. Leon Kennedy was rock hard beneath those tactical pants. 

“I’m sorry,” he whined, squirming, desperately trying to get comfortable. 

You stared at him. “So when you said you could smell me you meant—” 

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, swallowing hard, his throat bobbing. He looked like he was in agony. 

“My vagina,” you concluded. 

Leon bit back a moan and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “It’s the plant,” he whispered. 

“So it’s what? Some kind of super potent viagra?” you said, still tugging at his shirt. 

“Stop, what are you doing?” He tried to push away your hand but as soon as your skin touched his, a groan slipped past his lips and he clasped his hands behind his back. 

“Leon, I know you’re incapable of listening to me in any situation, but this is serious. You’re burning up and I don’t care that you have a boner right now,” you hissed. “You were infected with some kind of chemically altered shit. Take your fucking shirt off.”

He finally caved, letting you slip his shirt over his head. You drew in a sharp breath. Leon Kennedy shirtless was a sight to see. Taut skin stretching over chiselled abs, beefy pectorals, perfect for propping yourself up on while you were riding him. 

You touched your chest, feeling for your heartbeat and breathing. Were you contaminated too? 

Oh. No, you were just horny for a man old enough to be your father. 

Leon’s nose crinkled and he turned his head away from you. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” you asked. 

“Getting wet, I can smell it.” 

You rubbed your forehead. This was going to make for one awkward as hell debrief. “I hope we don’t have to write a report on this,” you murmured and pressed your earpiece, calling for Sherry. No one answered. 

You took out your knife and cut off a piece of your shirt, exposing a sliver of your belly. 

“What are you doing?” Leon rasped. 

“Relax,” you shushed him, folding the fabric carefully and wetting it with water from your canteen. You scooted closer to Leon, dabbing his forehead with your makeshift cloth. His eyes fluttered shut. "I hate to break it to you, but you're in no state right now. You're going to have to let me take over."

“You hate me,” he huffed. 

“You hated me first,” you countered, flipping the cloth over so the new, cool side was pressed against his forehead. 

“I don’t though,” he rasped. “I think you’re one of the best agents we have.” 

You shook your head. “You’re delirious. We’ll talk about that when you’re less animalistic.” 

He chuckled and you joined in. 

A hand shot forward, grabbing your wrist. “Stop that.” 

“What?” 

“Laughing. Smiling, everything.” He writhed, palming his cock with his other hand, desperately trying to get comfortable.

Your breath hitched in your throat. It was the plant, you reminded yourself. This wasn’t really him. 

“Anytime you laugh in a meeting it’s torture for me,” he whispered. 

“Is that why you never talk to me?” you breathed, continuing to dab his forehead, the fact that his hand was still clamped around your wrist not escaping you. 

He gave a shy nod. 

“So when you say you don’t hate me…” you went on. 

“The second you set foot in the DSO headquarters I knew you were going to be my downfall,” he rasped. 

You paused, watching the way he was leaning into your touch involuntarily, like he couldn’t help himself. “Did you request to be partnered up with me? Is that why I’m on missions with you every single time?” 

He nodded again and you leaned closer to him. “I needed to ensure your safety myself. I don’t trust anyone else with it.” 

You bit back another comment about how you didn’t need anyone to take care of you. You had a feeling your capacity of knocking a grown man out cold had nothing to do with his instinct to protect you. 

“Leon, if this is some kind of enhanced viagra, I can help you.” 

He shook his head, his jaw working. “I would never ask that of you.” 

“I’m offering. And in a way this is … necessary,” you whispered. “But if you’d rather do it yourself, I can look the other way and make sure you’re okay while you do it.” 

"Fuck no, that’s way worse," he grunted, a rosy blush creeping up on his cheeks. "I'm not gonna let you watch me jack off."

“Alright, it’s settled then,” you said, hands moving down to the buttons of his tactical pants, undoing them one by one. Your mouth watered with anticipation. 

You would be lying if you said you had never imagined what Leon S. Kennedy looked like naked. Or what he would be like in bed. Matter of fact, the second you had seen him, walking into the DSO on your very first day you thought he was the most attractive man you had ever set eyes on. The fact that he was so much older, making it all the more forbidden and enticing. 

Leon’s hand shot forward again in an attempt to keep your hands from doing what they were doing. “Don’t. This is so unprofessional,” he pleaded and you felt him twitch beneath your palm. He was hanging by a thread. 

You sighed. “Yes, it is. Very much so. But do you not want me to?”

He bit his lower lip and his restraint finally snapped. His hands fell down to his sides and he let himself sink lower against the wall, giving in.

Your hands became shaky when you pushed his pants off his hips. What would this be like at the office? 

Avoiding each other at all costs? Not looking when the other person spoke? So business as usual. 

His cock sprang free and you gasped. It was the most beautiful cock you had ever seen: thick, long and just as veiny as Leon's forearms. 

"Oh fuck," you breathed. How was he the one under the spell of those damn plants when you could feel yourself grow wetter by the second? 

Leon whimpered again, covering his eyes with his arm. Right. Heightened sense of smell. 

You closed your hand around his base, squeezing him. That was already enough to draw a breathy moan out of him. 

The great Leon S. Kennedy. Putty in your hands. 

You gently spread the pre-cum that had gathered on the tip with your thumb, giving him a tentative pump. 

“Oh fuck,” Leon groaned. “I’m so sensitive. It’s not usually like that.” 

A grin tugged at your lips. Was he now? No time like the present to take a little revenge for all those times he had made you feel like a child during your missions. It was too easy. 

You leaned down, gently running your full lips along the underside of his cock, as you slowly pumped him, gripping him tightly. 

His breath hitched and his head shot up, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, brows drawn together. “You don’t have to do that, you can just ah—” 

You shut him up with an open mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock and a hand slipped into your hair. 

“I always exceed expectations, Agent Kennedy,” you whispered, breath fanning over his most sensitive body part. “If you ever let me do what I’m being paid to do on our missions, you would know that already.” 

Leon whimpered and you licked up his entire length in one broad stroke. His hips bucked and the grip on your scalp tightened. 

“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he whined and you chuckled, looking up at him. 

“Oh, I will make it harder,” you promised, closing your lips around his tip, hollowing your cheeks. 

Leon growled, drawing in a sharp breath. 

You hummed in response, swirling your tongue around his tip, continuing to work him with your hand, as you french-kissed his cock. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” Leon breathed, his cock twitching in your mouth. You released him with a lewd popping sound, looking at him with lustful eyes. 

He stared at you, mesmerised, his other hand coming down to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your lower lip, all wet and glistening with your saliva and his pre-cum.

You grinned. “Do you want it sloppy or neat?” 

He chuckled, dipping his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on. “Has anyone ever said neat?” 

You shook your head. “Never happened.” 

Leon grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed you back down on his cock, thrusting his hips up. You eagerly took him deeper into your mouth, saliva running down the sides, gathering at the base of his cock. 

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he groaned, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, but that only meant more saliva to lubricate for a softer glide.

“I’ve been thinking about this in meetings all the fucking time,” he confessed, moaning loudly. “That’s why I couldn’t look at you. Because I kept thinking about what you’d look like choking on my cock.” 

A moan racked through you at his confession, sending vibrations through his entire body, making him draw in a sharp breath. You came back up to catch your breath.

“What else were you thinking about?” you asked, puffy lips spreading your saliva all over his length. “Because when I first saw you, I thought about how I wanted you to bend me over your desk and fuck me.” 

Leon groaned. “Don’t say that. I’m old enough to be your father.” 

You shot him a fiendish grin. “Daddy.” 

You sank down on him again. 

“Holy shit,” Leon panted, squirming underneath you, cock twitching. You swallowed around him, raking your fingernails over his abs. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, his breathing coming ragged, his fingers in your hair tightening, pulling at it ever so slightly. 

Tongue pressed to the underside of his cock, you moved up, sucking him into a vacuum for the grand finale, spit leaking past your lips. 

"Oh fuck, just like that." He gritted his teeth, moments from losing it. "Don't st—"

You pulled your mouth off him.

Leon's eyes flew open and he let out most pathetic sound you had ever heard. His hips bucked, cock thrusting up at—nothing.

You chuckled. "You didn't think I'd let you cum that easily, did you?"

He whimpered, brows knitting together. "What are you doing?"

You shook your head. "This whole time, you make me feel like I'm a good for nothing rookie and now you think I'm just gonna suck you off like nothing happened?"

He swallowed, trying to catch his breath. "This is serious, I could die from this."

A smirk tugged at your lips. This was too good.

You shrugged. "See, if I were in your situation, I would ask nicely."

"Junior..."

You clicked your tongue, scoldingly wagging your finger in front of his face.

He let out a laboured breath, fists clenching at his sides. Oh, he hated this. For a moment, you almost backed down.

But you were going to have to look for a new job anyway, so fuck it.

"Say 'please'," you purred, sticking out your tongue, almost close enough to reach, close enough to run over his length, tracing every vein.

"This is very unprofessional," he whined, eyes never leaving you. "We are supposed to work together to ensure mission success."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Unprofessional? Leon, you have your dick in my face." You licked his tip and he let out another broken moan. He was at the very edge of sanity. "Besides, I feel like it's not me who needs a lesson in cooperating with my assigned mission partner."

He thrust his hips upward again, desperately pushing himself against your face. You leaned back.

"Say it." You leaned in closer, watching his muscles ripple underneath his skin, a sheen glint of sweat coating his entire chest. "Fucking beg for it, Leon."

"Please, okay? Please make me cum, I'm fucking begging you, I can't take this anymore," Leon whined. "Please let me cum in your mouth."

You closed your lips around him, making eye contact as you did. Leon looked like he was about to die. Because of the plant or because of you was hard to tell.

Hollowing your cheeks, you picked up right where you had left off, sucking, licking, lapping up every bit of precum and restraint he had left in him. Every single muscle in his body was taut like a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.

His lips fell open and he let out a strangled moan, cock twitching inside your mouth. Your hand moved down to cup his balls, tight and ready to release all he had into you and you pushed down on his length, swallowing around him.

He cried out, grabbing the back of your head and pushed himself impossibly deeper into your throat, making your eyes water.

"Oh fuck," he panted and you tried to relax your throat, failing, gagging on his cock.

Leon came with a moan loud enough to echo through the entire shipping container and you desperately tried to come back up for air, thick ropes of white coating your tongue, some of it spilling out the corners of your mouth.

This was sloppy as hell. Cum dripped all over his tactical pants and down your chin as you kept sucking him through his orgasm. 

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like that,” Leon breathed, cock twitching, giving you one last bit of cum to lap up. Your eyes fluttered shut at the salty taste. Why did he taste so good? 

Despite the state of you, you licked him clean and pressed a parting kiss to his now softened tip. You sat up, both your breaths coming out ragged. Cum trickled down the collar of your compression shirt and tears were beginning to dry on your cheeks.

Oh, this debrief was going to be hell for everyone involved.

Leon’s chest was heaving, as he came down from his high and—his infection. 

"I don't know what to say," he panted, staring straight ahead.

"Me neither," you replied, shyly backing away, sinking down against the wall next to him, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve. Fuck it. This was a whole mess anyway. And you weren't talking about the shirt.

“I..." Leon started, pausing. "Good job, agent."

You chuckled dryly. What the hell were you thinking? Playing with him like that in a life or death situation? This was bad. What had gotten into you? You could drag your ass straight to HR after this, cum stained shirt and everything.

"I feel like I owe you dinner,” Leon murmured, wrinkling his forehead.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Thanks, but I just ate,” you whispered, mechanically.

You and Kennedy looked at each other from the corner of your eyes, waiting for each other's reaction.

“Agents? Agents are you there?” Sherry’s voice over your earpieces made you both jump. Leon frantically pulled up his pants. “Leon? Are you okay?”

“Sherry,” you rasped. “Please tell me you didn’t hear any of that.”

“Nobody heard a thing,” she replied, voice a little shaky.  

Leon grabbed his earpiece. “What do you mean nobody? Sherry, who else is there?”

a/n: this is holy water

-----

“You’re not fucking him again, are you?” Michelle, your only non-momfriend leaned against the counter. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you retorted, bending down to get a better look at the brownies in the oven. 

Michelle huffed. “I’m only saying … you’re making a lot of excuses for absent father behaviour. The only thing I can think of that could cause that kind of amnesia is dick.”

You motioned for her to step aside as you opened the oven door, took out the tray and placed it on the counter. “When these cool, try them for taste, will you?” 

“Don’t try to change the subject. I’ll gladly remind you of you ugly crying in my apartment when that Ada girl picked up his phone in the middle of the night.”

You sighed. “Michelle, I’m not fucking him again. In fact, I’m not fucking anyone. And especially not at my daughter’s seventh birthday party.” 

She narrowed her eyes on you. “Show me your bra.” 

“What?” 

“If you’re not trying to fuck him, why are you wearing a matching set? I saw your thong when you bent over to take the brownies out.” 

“Michelle,” you squealed and pulled your jeans up by the belt hoops. 

She chuckled. “Only messing with you.” She tentatively dabbed a finger on one of the brownies to check the consistency. “Very suspicious reaction though, I gotta say.” 

You grimaced. You better not tell her you also shaved your entire body last night. Not for Leon obviously. Just in case some attractive dad showed their face or something and you wanted to feel confident. Or who were you kidding? You wanted to feel confident in your own skin in order to deal with the other parents. You hadn’t seen a hot single dad in a long time. And even if you did, they didn’t have any time either. 

Meeting someone and getting laid as a single parent was no easy feat. You simply had no time to date and no interest to open up your life enough to let anyone in properly. Besides Lottie, there was no room for anyone taking up your time. Even for casual sex, you needed to organise a babysitter. Most men just weren’t worth the effort. But you and Michelle both agreed you deserved some fun encounters every once in a while. 

“How many grams did you put in these?” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Michelle inspected the brownies, deadpan. 

“It’s my daughter’s birthday party, I did not bake space brownies.” 

“But wouldn’t it be so funny if you did?” She shot you a grin and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“The kids aren’t even the problem, the other moms however,” you blew out a breath. 

“Here.” Michelle handed you a cup of coffee. “And fuck them, you do everthing for your daughter. You even baked her brownies from scratch because she requested them,” your friend replied, using her hands to fan said brownies as if that would make them cool quicker. 

“Show me one of those suburban bitches who could handle being a single mom, hm?” 

You sighed, tentatively taking a sip of coffee and leaning back against the counter. “I feel like I’m never doing enough, you know?”

She gently touched your shoulder, but her gaze was stern. “Which brings me back to Leon needing to step the fuck up.”

You ran a finger along the rim of the cup. “It’s complicated, you know that.” 

Michelle shook her head in annoyance. “There’s nothing complicated about being a little more involved in the ballet recitals and parent-teacher meetings. You work shifts at the diner and still get it all done.” 

“I take Lottie with me sometimes. It’s not like he can do that,” you said.

Michelle lifted her cup to her full lips. “Please, he’s a cop, not some kind of government special agent working in bioweapons or something.” 

You choked on your coffee, coughing and gasping for air. You had never told Michelle anything. Leon’s job was highly confidential. The fact that she had just casually hit bull’s eye caught you off guard. 

While you were battling asphyxiation, she checked her watch. 

“What time is he showing up anyway?” You avoided her gaze. He was Lottie’s dad. Granted, he hadn’t been an angel and there were a bunch of reasons you two had called it quits, but neither of you had planned to have a baby at twenty-one either.  Just like Leon hadn’t planned on showing up to his first day of work the night after you had told him you were pregnant and the world quite literally ending. Just like you hadn’t planned on the father of your child being force recruited into a top secret government programme right after you had given birth. 

It was all a little much to go through while your frontal lobe wasn’t fully developed yet. And neither of you knew even the first thing about being healthy partners for each other. 

“You’re making excuses for him in your head again, aren’t you?” Michelle’s voice cut through your thoughts like a knife. 

You opened your mouth to retort something but the doorbell rang and you raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s probably him.” 

You glanced outside, hoping to see Leon’s car in your driveway, even just to prove your point. Instead, you saw your daughter’s friend Brinleigh-Mae and her god awful mother. The first guests of the afternoon. “Shit,” you cursed and Michelle craned her neck to see who it was. 

“Where do you keep your whiskey?” she mouthed and pointed her chin at your coffee cup, as she took it out of your hands. “I’ll make us some Irish coffees.”  You shook your head no and walked up to the door, but not missing the casual shrug Michelle did before tiptoeing to one of your cabinets. 

Brinleigh’s mother greeted you with the fakest smile you had ever seen. “Where’s the birthday girl?” 

You smiled back, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “She’s upstairs. You’re a little early,” you said. “Hi Brinleigh.”

The mom pushed her child forward into your house, her floral perfume wafting over you. “We were hoping to finally meet Mr. Kennedy. Lottie has been talking about him non stop the past few days.” 

You pursed your lips, cheeks growing hot. “He’s not here.” You cleared your throat. “Yet.” 

“I am,” you heard Leon’s voice coming from further up the driveway. He had just gotten out of his car, carrying a giant present for Lottie. “Sorry, I’m late. I’m so jetlagged.” The timbre of his voice made your stomach flutter. Fuck. Shit. Fuck, shit, fuck, god, fuck. How sex-starved were you that all of a sudden your ex started to sound delicious again? He looked delicious, too. 

To your horror, he pressed a feather light kiss to your temple and you caught Michelle watching you both through the kitchen window. You squeezed your lips together, hands hanging by your side because if you lifted them and returned his hug, you would come dangerously close to his bicep. 

Michelle held up the coffee cup and a bottle of liquor, nodding. “I got you,” she mouthed and you sent a small express prayer upstairs to live through this kids birthday party unscathed. 

Much to your surprise, you actually made it to the end of the night alive. And much to Michelle’s dismay, Leon did really step up today and took the lead in pretty much everything. He apologised for showing up late and promised you he'd take over from here so you could just sit back and enjoy spending Lottie’s seventh birthday with her. After all the presents had been opened and nearly all of the brownies were gone, Lottie insisted on being carried to bed. Leon would never deny his daughter a single wish and lifted her up in one smooth motion, her hands locked tight around his neck. The sight of it pulled on your heartstrings---and your ovaries.

You frantically searched for Michelle’s eyes, but she just slapped her thighs and murmured, “Well, time for me to go.” 

“Wait,” you reached out an arm toward her like Lottie had reached out for Leon earlier. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Michelle whispered before slipping into her coat and boots. 

“That doesn’t help,” you hissed, but she just shrugged and pulled the door shut behind her. You rubbed your temples and your gaze fell onto the whiskey Michelle had brought out to spice up your coffees. You hadn’t had any, of course. But all the kids were gone now, so you figured why not? You changed into your pyjamas, put your hair up in a messy bun and poured yourself a glass, leaving all the paper plates and food scraps for tomorrow morning. You were absolutely wrecked. Hanging out with a whole bunch of seven year olds running a muck in your house and trying to keep them all alive—no matter how present Leon was in all this—was no joke. 

“She’s out,” Leon murmured, closing the door to the hallway. 

“Fancy a drink?” 

He looked at you, eyes snagging on the way your boy shorts barely contained the curve of your ass. “Sure.” 

You poured him a glass too and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to you. “You did great today.” 

You felt the couch dip beside you. “Don’t lie. I was so late.” He threw back his drink in one go. “I want to do better. I know I haven’t shown up for Lottie as much as I should have. I didn’t even know she’s been having all those ballet recitals.” 

You grimaced, but didn’t say anything. He figured it out himself, good. 

“So you can stop punishing me now.” 

“Punish you?” your brows shot up and your head whipped around to him. 

“You’re wearing the same shirt you broke up with me in. Which is also my shirt. The irony isn’t lost on me.” 

“I—,” you lifted up the hem of your shirt a little, barely exposing a sliver of skin above your belly button. You hadn’t even realised what you were wearing. Or had been wearing to bed almost every night, your favourite pyjama combo. It was his. Oh hell no.

Leon drew in a sharp breath. Was he…? No, surely not. For all you knew he was having a weird on and off again fling with that Ada girl. 

“I can take it off, if it bothers you,” you murmured, taking a sip from your drink. 

“God, no,” Leon cut in, frantically and you looked at him. His eyes flicked to your chest for only a split second, but you saw it clear as day. You rolled your shoulders back a little, lifting up your boobs with the barely detectable movement. 

“Are you—did you—” Leon furrowed his brows, leaning forward, staring shamelessly at your tits. “Did you get your nipples pierced?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh those? Yeah, Michelle’s idea.” 

It was the whiskey for sure. Because nowhere near in your sober mind would you ever do what you were about to do next. You pulled the shirt over your head, exposing your pierced tits to Leon, the waft of cold air making your nipples harden. 

Leon licked his lips. “Interesting.” He peeled his gaze away. “I uh, I should probably leave.” He shifted on the couch. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. Had you actually just shown Leon of all people your pierced nipples when he didn’t even ask? You slung your arms around your chest, waiting for Leon to get up and leg it. 

But he didn’t. His mouth opened and closed like he didn’t know what to say, all while his hands were awkwardly propped up either side of his thighs. Your gaze fell onto the prominent bulge in his pants. Oh. 

You let your arms fall to your sides, casually leaning back on your elbows. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. You didn’t think Michelle meant Leon, but sure who cared about the fine print? Fuck it. In fact, fuck him. You deserved a little bit of fun. Who was taking care of Lottie? Putting food on the table, driving her to ballet twice a week? You deserved a reward. 

When Leon didn’t look, you got up and casually took his glass. “Another one?” 

He lifted his head, coming face to face with your chest. “Or do you want to keep pretending like we’re not both not thinking about screwing each other’s brains out right now? Your choice.” That was all Leon needed. 

His  hands pulled at the back of your thighs and you collapsed into his lap with a yelp. His mouth was on your tits instantly, sucking your nipple and the cold metal between his lips. “Why do they taste like house keys?” 

“Because you’re home, baby,” you whispered and gasped when he trailed kisses up your neck and crashed your lips to his. You couldn’t believe you were kissing Leon like that, all needy and pathetic. Panting and rubbing up against him like a sex-crazed whore. But he was just as bad as you, pressing his rock hard cock into you, the fabric of your boy short barely numbing any sensation. 

“Leon, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, as he grabbed a fistful of your ass and bucked up against you. 

“Tell me no and I’ll stop,” he breathed, but you didn’t tell him to stop. Instead you rubbed your pussy up against the seam of his jeans, desperate for the friction of it. Ever the attentive lover, Leon noticed instantly and slipped one hand between you, groaning when he felt the slick wetness seeping through the fabric of your shorts. 

“We’ll do this just this once,” he whispered, fingers dipping beneath your waistband. “Just for me to apologise and—fuck.” A finger slipped into you to the knuckle like it was nothing. “You’re so wet.” He started curling his finger inside your walls, his thumb gently pressing against your clit. Your back arched, pressing your pierced tits into his face. 

“Lottie,” you hissed. “What if she comes in?” 

Leon groaned into your chest, slipping his hands out between your legs and you squirmed at the loss. He hooked his arms under your legs and lifted you off the couch. Without even looking where he was going, he kept kissing you like his life depended on it, as he carried you to your bedroom. He still knew his way around. Of course. This used to be his house, too. 

He locked the door and you fumbled for his belt, popping open the button on his pants. He set you down and slipped his shirt over his head, revealing the muscled plains of his stomach rippling under smooth skin. You reached out for the scar right under his ribcage and he shivered at the touch. The next kiss was sweeter, softer and he rested his head against yours, as he watched you push his pants over his hips. 

“I missed you,” he breathed, eyes locked to yours. 

“Don’t,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as you pushed his boxers down, too. “Just fuck me, Leon, please.” 

His cock sprang free, the heavy length of it hitting your belly. Leon quite possibly had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. Long and thick, slightly curved at the tip that was already glistening for you. Your mouth watered at the sheer sight of him. You wanted to kiss it, lick it, taste it. Dropping to your knees, you pulled his hips forward, looking up at him as your lips barely ghosted over the tip. 

Leon stared at you, brows drawn together in helpless arousal, full lips parted. “Fuck,” he exhaled shakily and your tongue darted forward, giggling at the moan that elicited from him. He tasted salty and like soft skin that was begging for your touch, stretched over hard flesh. You tentatively licked up the seam on the head of his cock and Leon’s head fell back and his hips pushed forward, desperate for you to take him into your mouth. 

You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Be a good boy for me and stay in place.”

Leon whined and covered his face with his arm. “Lick it, suck it, fucking do something.” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” you scolded him again. “Be nice.”

“Please, suck me off, ah—” he pleaded and you finally licked in one broad stroke over his tip, closed your lips around him and sucked him in, hollowing out your cheeks. His desperate groan went straight between your legs, and you hummed in response, the vibration drawing a whimper from Leon. A hand threaded into your hair, removing the hair tie and gathering it up at the back of your head by himself. You pushed forward, taking him deeper, until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and saliva ran down either side of it. You gagged and came back up for air, a string of spit connecting your lips to your favourite toy. 

Leon cursed and his eyes found yours, realigning his cock with your mouth and pushing in slowly. You sucked at it, gliding up and down his thick length, never breaking eye contact. Leon’s eyes glazed over and his lips twitched, a loud moan falling from his lips as you sank down again, throat bobbing around him. 

“Ah fuck, oh fuck, holy shit,” he whined, pulling you off him by your hair, releasing him with a lewd popping sound. 

He didn’t say a word before he manhandled you onto the bed, pressing his hips flush into yours. 

“Do you have protection?” he breathed heavily, one arm caging you in, the other pinching your pierced nipple. You pressed your eyes shut, at the sensation and at the realisation you had absolutely no condoms in your house whatsoever. You shook your head, squirming underneath him and rubbing your slick folds against his cock.

Leon swallowed, aligning himself with your entrance, circling your clit with his other hand. “It’s fine, I’ll pull out,” he panted. 

It wasn’t fine. That’s how you had ended up with Lottie in the first place. But you were too far gone to be burdened with reason now. 

He pushed in and you whined at the delicious stretch, clawing at his shoulders, leaving little half-moon indents in his smooth skin. 

“Fuck, Leon, you feel so good,” you moaned, as he started moving, pushing in a little deeper at every thrust. “You’re so big.” Your lips fell open in a perfect ‘o’ shape and you closed your legs around his waist. 

“I’m only giving you half, baby,” he chuckled, snapping his hips into yours and pushing in all the way in one punishing stroke. Your eyes fell open and you held onto him for dear life, as he knocked the breath out of your lungs. 

“Can you still handle all of it?” he whispered in your ear, pulling out to the tip. You nodded forehead resting against his shoulder. 

“Yes, Leon, yes.” 

“Say my name like that again,” he ordered, pushing back in and you cried out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

“I love it when you say my name like that.” He drew in a sharp breath, looking between you, at where you were joined, obscene squelching sounds and skin slapping against skin filling the bedroom. 

“Leon,” you moaned and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, squeezing his eyes shut to not spill into you right then and there. Your pussy clenched around him and he pulled out, his breathing ragged. 

You mewled at the loss, but didn’t have time to grieve long, as Leon was moving down your body, throwing your legs over his shoulders and replacing his cock with his mouth, sucking your clit until you cried out, arching off the bed. He lapped up your juices like he was starving for it, starving for you, tongue playing with your clit, sucking it into his mouth, pushing his tongue into your pussy and groaning into you when he felt you ripple. 

You wanted to say real words, you did. You wanted to praise him, tell him how good he was, how close you were to coming all over his pretty face, but all you could do was moan and writhe like the cockdrunk slut you were. 

“Come for me, baby,” Leon groaned, adding two fingers and fucking you with both his hands and his mouth. 

Your moans became high pitched and you shook your head in disbelief at the intensity with which you could feel your orgasm building.  

“Leon, oh my god, oh my god.” You cried out, thighs clamping around Leon’s head, locking him in like a vice. Release crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving nothing and no one in its wake. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck yeah,” Leon moaned, licking you through every wave of your orgasm. You barely had regained your bearings, when Leon flipped you over, gravity making you sink down on his cock. 

“Ride me,” he panted, “fuck yourself on my cock.” 

And you did, taking him deep enough to hit your cervix at every stroke, tits bouncing in rhythm with your movements. 

“I missed you, so fucking much,” you whimpered, reaching down to prop yourself up on Leon’s pecs, bouncing on his cock. 

A smile spread across his lips, quickly wiped out by his entire face contorting in pleasure. You felt him twitch inside of you and you picked up your pace, Leon’s moans urging you on. You loved that he had never been quiet in bed. Leon was very vocal, always had been. You loved that he let you know exactly how good you made him feel, every desperate whimper falling from his lips a praise for how well you were doing. 

Leon propped himself up against the headboard, slinging his arms around you, pulling you closer. “Grab the headboard,” he ordered, the words having a hard time slipping past his lips. He was so close. 

You did as you were told, using the wooden headboard as leverage to fuck him harder, his hips meeting you at every thrust. 

“Oh fuck.” His voice broke and his head fell forward, sucking one of your pierced nipples into his mouth. “Give me one more, baby, please, come with me.” His hand found your clit again, coaxing pathetic little whimpers from you somewhere between overstimulation and pure bliss. Your velvet walls pulsed around him again and your pace faltered, but Leon grabbed a handful of your ass and forced you to keep going. 

You let go of the headboard and grabbed his head, forcing him to look at you. Neither of you said a thing. You could see the climax in each other’s eyes and for a split second the whole world stopped moving. Before your hips snapped back together and tipped you over the edge. Leon desperately pulled you into him, a string of the most obscene moans tearing from his lips. You pulsed around him as he shot his load into you—pulling out be damned—painting your inner walls with his seed like fucking Picasso. 

“Oh god, Leon,” you panted as you came down, still feeling him twitch inside of you. “Oh fuck, ah.” 

You swallowed, mouth dry. Leon leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him, cradling your head to his chest, whole body moving in sync with his heavy breaths. 

“Apology accepted,” you murmured, smacking your lips when you almost caught yourself drooling. 

“What?” 

“You said we’d do this once, for you to apologise. I accept.” 

Leon’s chest vibrated underneath you. “I don’t even—” He stopped himself. “I’m glad.” 

“This was so stupid. I’ll get Plan B in the morning.” You pushed yourself off his chest, gently climbing off him, biting your lip when he slipped out of you and pulled out a glob of cum with him. 

“You think so?” 

“Having unprotected sex with my ex who’s also sleeping with other people? Yeah, kinda.” You shrugged, snuggling into the pillows. 

“I’m not sleeping with other people,” Leon said, laying down beside you. 

You had to tell Michelle about this. Leon was not sleeping with other people. But you kept your cool. “Oh. I just assumed, you know.” 

“Are you sleeping with other people?” The panic he tried to pass off as non-chalance wasn’t lost on you. 

“I mean, we’re both allowed to sleep with other people. We’ve been broken up forever and it’s not like we owe each other anything.” 

Leon rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Right. We’re co-parenting. Well, you’ve been parenting more than I have.” 

“Yeah, but you cooperate well when asked,” you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips, remembering exactly how cooperative he had been only minutes ago. 

“So, this is a one time thing, right?” he whispered.

“I guess … I—”

You had a hard time getting comfortable these days. Even though Leon had gotten you a pregnancy pillow, being at the end of your third trimester was no joke. Backpain, having to get up to pee constantly and general discomfort made it very difficult to sleep through the night. 

You shifted, opening your hips a little more to relieve some of the pelvic pressure that was your constant companion these days as you were getting closer and closer to your due date. The mattress next to you shifted and an arm snaked around your now non-existent waist. 

“You alright?” Leon’s voice was barely above a whisper, nuzzling the back of your neck and pressing a soft kiss to your skin. 

“Yeah, just having a hard time being a beached whale.”

Leon huffed and gently caressed your belly. You felt your daughter kick against your abdominal wall in response to her father’s touch. 

“Don’t say that, you’re a dolphin at most.” 

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help yourself and snorted a laugh. Leon nuzzled your neck again, peppering tired kisses along your jawline. You leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. He shoved another pillow into your back, gently twisting your hips back to lean into it. 

“That better?” 

You let out a content sigh and nodded. “What time is it?” 

Leon leaned over and glanced at the digital alarm clock on the night stand. “Almost four.” 

“Katie’ll be here any minute.” Your oldest daughter had come barging into your room every night in the past few weeks. The closer you got to your due date, the clingier she had become. Not that you blamed her, she probably wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before the new baby was here. It was just … the whale thing. It was even harder if you threw a toddler into the mix who slept spread eagle between you and your husband. 

Leon groaned, hiding his face in the pillow. 

“Before sunrise she’s your daughter,” you reminded him of the agreement you had made, as soon as you had hit the third trimester. Any childcare happening at night was Leon’s job, so you could get a good night’s sleep. 

Like clockwork, the door creaked open, a set of small feet shuffling into the dark bedroom. You pretended not to hear them. 

“Mommy,” your daughter’s voice sounded through the darkness. Leon shifted behind you, shushing her. 

“Mommy’s asleep, baby. Come here.” 

More shuffling. Something was being dragged over the hardwood floor. No doubt Katie’s favourite raccoon plushie—a gift from Chris Redfield for her fourth birthday. 

“There’s zombies in my closet,” Katie whispered. “I’m scared. I want to sleep with Mommy.” 

Leon reached for your daughter. “Mommy needs to rest, Katie. She has your little sister in her belly.” He scooted over, his back hitting your little pillow fort and lifted the duvet. “Come here, you can sleep with me.” 

“Do you have my little brother in your belly?” 

Leon suppressed a laugh. “That’s not how it works, Katie.”

“How does it work?” Katie pressed on. 

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Leon replied, groggily. You knew he was barely even keeping his eyes open. 

Katie seemed convinced, because you felt the mattress dip with the feather weight of your daughter and her settling in next to your husband. “Now, it is very important we sleep in, okay? So the zombies can’t get us. If we don’t get up before six, we’re safe,” Leon whispered, tucking her in.

Katie nodded. “Mommy says we’re always safe, because we have you.” 

You knew Leon was smiling at that. “Mommy’s right, as always.” 

You couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. 

You heard the gentle slap of two tiny hands on stubbled skin, Katie was grabbing Leon’s face to make her point very clear. “Daddy, I think we should sleep till seven,” she whispered conspiratorially. “So the zombies are all gone when we get up.” 

“That’s very smart. So no waking up before seven, or eight even?”

“No waking up before eight,” Katie confirmed and adjusted her position, snuggling up against Leon. 

“Better make it nine, just to be safe,” Leon yawned. 

“Can we make pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?” Katie whispered. 

Leon shushed her gently. “Katie, the zombies.”

“Right,” Katie caught herself, giggling. 

“But we can,” Leon whispered, a little quieter. “I think Mommy would like some, too.”

It was a slow day at the club. Monday evenings always were, the buzz of the weekend already wearing off.

But the customers that did come in during the week were a lot nicer to work with. Regulars mostly, people that meant business. None of those inexperienced misbehaving frat boys and bachelor parties that didn’t know what was what. 

When you saw the guys from the police department come in, you rolled your eyes. Now, privately, you hated cops. But professionally, some of the boys from the RPD were regulars and especially the middle aged ones, who still had manners, tipped very well.

So in that case, police officer was your favourite profession and matter of fact, your dad had been a cop, too. Oh, had he just not so tragically died on the job, bla bla. The best thing about men in uniform was that you could play them like a fiddle. 

There was a new one there with them. A face you hadn’t seen before. Baby face, barely weaned off the tit and old enough to be in kindergarten. Pretty, though. Must be the rookie, you thought. 

“Boys are in a good mood,” Crystal, the bartender said. Nobody here used their real names. That would be insanity. In the club, she was Crystal and you were Lola.

“Time to make a bag,” you said, finished your water with lemon (you were a high performance athlete and hydration was key) and slid off the barstool.

It technically wasn’t your turn, but Helena, the new girl was shit and the boys from the RPD were your clients. 

“Helena,” you crooned. What kind of stripper name was that anyway? Helena. The most beautiful woman of Troy, alright. But nobody came here for a lesson in classics. “Do you mind if I take your turn?” 

Helena looked you up and down, then over your shoulder to see who was at the club at this hour. Don’t pretend like you know how to read the crowd, you thought, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Sure,” she shrugged. “Go ahead.” You smiled. She was so desperate for good connections, still. Poor thing. A hopeless rookie, like the guy from the RPD.

“Thank you, I owe you one,” you replied and winked at her. 

Hips swaying, you slowly prowled up on stage, signaling to the DJ to announce Lola instead of Helena. 

So Lola danced, in her stripper heels, skimpy outfit and god given assets. And the dollar bills kept coming down like it was the rainy season in the tropics. 

The rookie caught your eye, all nervous, no idea what to do with himself—or his hands, looking to the older guys for guidance. You smirked, grabbing the pole and bending down right in front of him, giving your ass a good shake and meeting his gaze from between your own legs. 

His mouth slightly agape, his brows knitted together in helpless enjoyment, as if he didn’t know if he was even allowed to like this or not. You decided to kick it up a notch and ran your hands over the back of your thighs, deepening your forward bend, watching him watch you—entirely mesmerised, eyes glued to your ass. 

You slapped the back of your thighs with a sharp clap and he jerked at the sound. A grin spread over your face, as your eyes caught his again and you rose, your back in a deep arch. 

He returned your smile, all polite and shy and it was so utterly inappropriate for the environment he was in, you wanted to take his face and just squish it. 

Eyes still on him, you took your performance to the ground, crawling toward him, so he could get an even closer look. You rolled over onto your back, arching off the ground, maintaining eye contact. 

On the last beats of your song, you pushed up onto your knees, popping your hip out for him to have easy access to the waistband of your thong. He slipped a twenty dollar bill in, hands shaking. Strong hands, but gentle when they grazed your skin.

You threw your head back and cackled. 

"Jesus, I'm old enough to be your mother," you taunted him, before you gathered up all your dollar bills in one big sweeping motion. It was actually the supreme discipline of being a dancer to still look hot as hell while you collected your tips. 

"No, you're not," he replied and you nearly melted at his adorable voice. 

You leaned in a little closer. "You can call me Mommy regardless."

His throat bobbed. 

“Hey Lola,” one of the cops called out to you. “Don’t give our rookie a hard time, we still need him.” 

“It’s my first day,” said rookie announced cheerfully. 

“Is that so?” You pursed your lips, running a hand over his chest playfully and he nodded eagerly. 

“So why don’t the seasoned officers treat you to a private dance, hm?” You flipped your head over to the older cops. “To celebrate the occasion?” 

The officer that had been talking to you chuckled. “You know what, why the hell not?” 

“Do you want to?” you purred, batting your eyelashes at your prey. His breath hitched but he dipped his head ever so slightly.

The older officer got out his wallet. Your favourite sight to see. “Still a hundred, yeah, Lola?” 

You nodded and blew him a kiss as you took the bill from him, securing it in your stage bag alongside the rookie’s twenty and all of your crumpled up tips.

“It’s your lucky day, rookie. She’s very good.”

“Okay,” the rookie whispered, voice quivering with anticipation. You took his hand and pulled him out of his seat, guiding him toward the rooms for the private dances. 

“Have you ever done this before?” you asked, as you closed the door, the atmosphere a lot more intimate in here. 

"I'm not allowed to touch, right?" He clasped his hands behind his back, all prim and proper. You chuckled and set the timer. 

“Sit, enjoy yourself.” He obliged so quickly, it sent the faintest shiver down your spine. Oh, this was going to be a fun one. 

You started off low and slow. The first few minutes were meant to make their mouth water, have them begging for more. But something told you the rookie was already on his knees. 

So you sank down onto yours in front of him, repeating your manoeuvre from before at the pole, softly slapping your ass this time. 

"Oh my god," he whispered. 

"So, it's your first day, huh?" You moved closer, nestling your ass into his lap, careful to hover slightly so you had freedom of movement in your hips and knees still, the stripper heels helping a lot with that. There was an art to it. And a whole lot of core muscle engagement.

He nodded, a crease appearing between his brows, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, as you rolled your ass against him over and over again. You bit your lip. You didn't want to toy with him. He was what? Twenty-one years old, maybe? But when you saw his cute face, trying to keep it together so badly, you couldn't help yourself. 

You turned around, putting one leg on either side of his hips, fully straddling him. He gasped and you pressed your pelvis into him. He was rock hard in his pants. You hummed in delight and ran your hands along your torso, gyrating your hips over his crotch.

"Oh fuck," he groaned, looking up at the ceiling. You clicked your tongue in a scolding manner, firmly grasping his chin and tilting it back down to look at you. 

"You wouldn't want to waste the dance, would you? I'm trying so hard for you," you purred, tantalisingly moving your hands over your tits suspended in, yet barely covered by your stripper outfit. You loosened the straps in the front, letting them bounce out of their restraints. His eyes glazed over and you pinched your nipples, pushing your tits together right in front of his face.  

The rookie gulped and bit back a moan. "Has anyone cum in their pants in here before?" he pressed. 

You chuckled. "Are you that close already?" 

"I'm not sure, I don't want to be kicked out." 

"If you do, it’ll have to be our little secret," you breathed. He kind of grew on you. He was very sweet. Maybe he deserved a little treat. 

“As will this.” You gently reached behind him, loosening his iron grip and pulling his hands forward. 

“Wha—” he gasped, “But that’s against the rules.” 

“I won’t tell, if you don’t,” you teased, as you guided his hands to rest on your hips and you continued to roll them into him. He drew in a sharp breath, watching you as if he had never seen a woman before. His grip tightened and his fingers pressed into your soft flesh. 

You couldn’t help the breathy moan slipping past your lips. The feeling of him pressing up against your barely clothed pussy was delicious, you weren’t gonna lie. Also, it was a little hard to tell with the thick fabric of his jeans separating you, but you kind of got the impression that the sweet little rookie was not so little at all. 

“Oh my god,” he whined and you felt mischievous. Why not torture him a bit more?

You leaned forward, lips just barely grazing the shell of his ear. “But you know who will be so disappointed if you do cum in your pants? Me. So you can’t do that, okay?”

The rookie nodded desperately, eyes squeezed shut. 

He was so damn cute. You couldn’t help yourself but let your lips glide over the shell of his ear a second time. “Promise.” 

“I promise,” he choked out, breath ragged. 

“Good boy,” you praised, rewarding him with another roll of your hips and he whimpered. 

You took your hands in his, loosened them from your hips and guided them up to your breasts. “Play with them if you want. That’s my treat to congratulate you on your first real job.” 

“Holy fuck,” he groaned and his hands closed around your tits like a vice, squeezing them. “They’re so perfect, you’re so perfect.” He brushed his thumb over your nipple, pinching it softly with his fingers. 

You moaned a little, but it was a purely physical reaction. As were your nipples standing to attention at his touch. You were a professional after all. In all professionality you leaned in closer. Soft, full lips closed around the tip of your breast, sucking your nipple into a hot wet mouth. 

You gasped and pushed him back by his broad shoulders. He looked up at you, cheeks all flushed, lips slightly parted. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “Is that not allowed?” 

You looked into his deep blue puppy eyes. Fuck it. You pushed his face back against your chest and he latched onto your tit, sucking. 

Your head fell back and you moaned, feeling yourself soaking through your work uniform and right onto his jeans. You were going to get in trouble. But meeting his eyes looking up at you in nothing short of devotion, as he moved on to your other tit, you thought maybe this would be fine just this once. You were supposed to enjoy your job after all, right? Not only show up but show real work ethic. 

You reached between you both, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, pushing them down enough to feel his clothed cock through his boxers pressing up against you, begging to be let out of its restraints.

The front of his underwear was damp with precum. You moaned, ending in a chuckle. Inexperienced rookie. You wondered if he was a virgin for a second. But the way he was working your tits suggested otherwise. 

Either that, or he was still being breastfed at twenty-one. But you highly doubted that. He didn’t seem like a creep at all. 

You ground your hips down onto him again and a moan tore from you. He was big. You looked down between you, examining the outline of his thick cock straining his underwear. You wondered if he even knew what to do with that thing. A dick like that would split a girl in half.

A hand slipped between you, tracing the outline of your pussy through your panties and you grabbed him by the neck, pushing him back into the seat. 

“You’re not allowed to touch there, rookie,” you hissed. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, breathing heavily, both hands falling by his sides like he had burned himself. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” 

You continued to dance on him and you felt him throb through his underwear, ready to erupt in thick white ropes of cum at any moment. 

You realised then that the timer had stopped long ago. You probably lost about three other private dances because you couldn’t behave yourself and decided to fool around with the rookie. Shit. He was your first client of the night, you couldn’t have that if you wanted to make it worth your while tonight.

You leaned back, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “That was fun. Come see me again.” 

He whined at the loss of your body on his and stared at you starry eyed, all dishevelled and flustered, as you secured the straps of your stripper top back around your upper body.

When you stood completely, you felt yourself gush into your panties. As if they weren't already absolutely soaked with slick anyway. You sighed.

You couldn’t continue dancing in those. Feeling a little frisky, and a little sorry for the poor boy and like maybe you could make a loyal customer out of him, you pulled them down your legs. Having a regular you really enjoyed spending time with was always nice.

The rookies’ gaze dropped down between your legs. “Oh, fuck me,” he groaned. "You're so pretty."

You scrunched up your wet panties and pushed them into the pocket of his jeans so he could see exactly where they were. “This is for you, because you did so well.” You cupped his cheek, the tiniest bit of stubble scratching your palm.

“What’s your real name?” he scrambled, drunk on your handiwork.

You softly shook your head. “We don't do that here."

You raked your fingernails across his chest. His hard chest and washboard abs. Wow. What were they feeding them at the academy these days?

“What’s your name, baby?” you asked.

“L-Leon,” he stammered.

They transferred you from the delivery room to the maternity ward and the first people you called were Rhonda and Lottie. Both of them were over the moon and ready to come see you. 

“Please bring some food. The hospital isn’t serving lunch for another two hours,” you pleaded and Rhonda chuckled. 

Not only did they bring food, they brought Javi too. And he brought his signature chicken tenders. 

“Javi’s special dip,” he announced, placing the plastic container in front of you. “And I made you a green smoothie. Full of iron, berries and all the good stuff.” 

“You’re the best,” you said and tore into the chicken, not caring how sweaty and gross you were.

Your body really felt like you had run a marathon. You were hungry, thirsty, and sore yes, but you needed to prioritise replenishing your energy resources before the high oxytocin wore off. 

Lottie was balancing on her tiptoes, button nose practically inside the crib, staring at her little brother. “So that’s him?” She didn't sound convinced. 

You chuckled. “Yeah, why? What did you expect?” 

“He’s so little. He looks like a doll,” she said, not tearing her eyes away from him. 

“You were even smaller when you were born,” Rhonda reminded both of you. “She was what, seven pounds?” 

You nodded, chasing your mouthful of chicken with the smoothie. “Just about.” 

“You did really well,” Javi said. “We’re all very proud of you.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, pushing away the sensation of your eyes watering up and any thought of Leon. 

Rhonda watched you intently. There was nothing slipping past her. Four-time mother, one-time grandmother. She knew. 

“Where is Leon?” 

You sniffled, pressing your lips together to hold it in but on your next inhale you crumpled, collapsing like a house of cards. “I don’t know.” 

Rhonda pulled your head against her chest. “He’s not a cop, is he?” 

You shook your head, sobbing into Rhonda’s shirt. 

“Didn’t think as much,” she said, softly patting your head. 

“They don’t know where he is,” you choked. “They lost him.” 

Rhonda softly cradled you against her and you heard Javi distract Lottie with the baby. 

“Do you want me to help you take a shower?“ Rhonda asked and you nodded, trying to calm your breathing. 

Rhonda took your hand and helped you up from the bed. You winced, taking a moment to steady yourself and work through the dizziness.

Taking your first steps was hard, but you managed, ignoring the burning sensation between your legs. You were going to be tender for a while but you crossed your fingers for a speedy healing process. 

You sat on the shower chair while Rhonda let the warm water run over you, washing away all the tears, the exhaustion in your muscles, all the sweat and blood from labour. It was one of the best showers of your life. Especially when Rhonda started gently massaging your scalp while she was washing your hair and you felt like you were being mothered. 

When you felt like a human again, it was Rhonda who helped you out of the shower and handed you a towel. It was Rhonda who crouched down holding open the beautiful net panties with extra padding so you could step into them. It was also her who pulled them up so you didn’t have to bend over. 

When you came back into the room, there were flowers by your bedside and your favourite chocolates. 

"I'm so sorry."

Michelle stood in the middle of the room, hair disheveled like she had been running her fingers through it, awkwardly kneading her hands.  “I was horrible to you.” 

"Yeah, you were," you said. "Once I'm out of here you can explain to me what made you think you can talk to me like that. In front of my daughter, no less."

Michelle grimaced. You opened your arms, too tired for big words. Also because Michelle wasn’t all that high on your priority list right now. You had other things to be worrying about.

She hugged you and you stayed like that for a little while. 

"Congratulations, Mama," she whispered. 

“Thank you.” You smiled at her and she helped you back into bed. 

Just as you had gotten comfortable, Ollie started whining, calling for a second breakfast. 

Rhonda gestured for you to stay where you were and she lifted him out of the crib, softly rocking him with four-time mother expertise. 

“He’s a very pretty baby,” she said, placing him in your arms, your bra already undone, boob snack ready to go. 

“Thank you, I made him.” You smiled, latching him on. “From scratch.” 

Lottie crinkled her nose, climbing into bed beside you. You scooted over and watched her watch you breastfeed Ollie with genuine curiosity. 

“You’re a big sister now.” You nudged her. “How do you feel?” 

She shrugged. “Not that much different. I don’t know him yet. He doesn’t have much of a personality, does he?”

You chuckled. “He does, we just need to give him time to find it.” 

Lottie nodded, stretching out a hand toward him, squealing when he closed his hand around her little finger. 

“He has fingernails and everything,” she exclaimed, looking at you eyes wide. 

You nodded. “Everything. He’s a complete human.” 

Lottie was mesmerised. “I can’t wait for dad to meet him.” 

Silence sank over the room, thick and heavy. You felt sick to your stomach. 

When Ollie was done eating, Rhonda took him from you again. “You should sleep a little,” she said. “Me and Michelle will stay here and take care of nappy changes and whatnot. Javi will take Lottie back to school.” 

Lottie whined. “I don’t want to go back to school, I want to stay with mom.” 

“Your mom needs to rest,” Javi said. “Having a baby is really exhausting. Like what you feel like after ballet. But about ten times worse.” 

“Yes, but I want to stay with Ollie too,” she said. “I can help with everything.” 

Javi took her hand. “You can come back and help after school,” he said. “Come on.” 

Lottie frowned, but she ended up giving in, kissing both you and Ollie goodbye before walking out of the room with Javi. 

Michelle adjusted your pillows. “Sleep. If you need anything, we’ll be right here.” 

Your eyes were already closing, the hormonal high slowly wearing off exposing how tired you really were. 

You didn’t sleep long. Or well for that matter. Tossing and turning still, despite your exhaustion and your body’s desperate need to rest. You were dreaming of all the fucked up things that could have possibly happened to Leon, the last image flashing in your mind being of Lottie and yourself in matching black dresses, getting ready for his funeral. 

You jolted awake. Rhonda was next to you, grabbing your shoulder, rubbing it gently. “Your phone’s ringing,” she murmured and you groaned, grabbing your forehead, trying to find your way back into reality. 

You glanced at the screen. Hunnigan. 

“Hello?” you blurted out, gripping the phone tightly. 

“It’s me.” Leon’s voice nearly made you whimper. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Are you okay?” you asked, still on high alert. 

“Yeah,” his voice was thick and raspy, but he cleared his throat so you wouldn’t hear it, so you wouldn't notice he was lying. You did anyway. “And you? Are you okay?” 

You nodded. “Yeah,” you breathed, chin quivering. “We have a son. He weighs eight pounds. He's a healthy baby and everything's fine.” 

Nothing was fine. Leon wasn't there with you.

“You did so well, baby,” Leon whispered. “I—” he broke off. 

“How fast can you be here?” you asked, forcing a smile, wiping your tears away. 

Silence. “Two weeks.”

Your face fell. “Two weeks?” 

“They infected me with some kind of fucked up thing and there is no way I can bring that anywhere near you, Lottie or the baby.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You wanted to scream and beat whoever was responsible for this black and blue. Keeping Leon from you and Ollie right now was just cruel. 

“I’m sure he’s such a beautiful baby,” he whispered, close to tears.

"He is. He’s adorable," you whispered, sniffling. "I wish you could see him."

Two weeks. Two weeks alone with a newborn and a seven year old. While trying to heal from giving birth.

Rhonda took the phone from your hands. 

“Leon, Rhonda here.” She sounded like she was about to yell at him and you reached for the phone, but she turned away, out of your reach. 

“Listen, we’ll take good care of her. Don’t worry. They’re both in very good hands. We got it all covered until you come back.” 

You sobbed. Rhonda ended the call and hugged you again, stroking your hair. 

“When he missed the birth, I knew. Because there’s no way Leon would miss that for the world,” she whispered. “And don’t worry about the next two weeks, okay? I’ll be there, Javi will be there, Michelle will be there. We’ll all help. In fact, I think Javi is meal prepping for you as we speak.” 

Your breath hitched. “Thank you.” 

“This is your village,” Rhonda whispered. “We’re not leaving you.” 

Javi filled up your entire fridge with nutrient dense, healthy casseroles that you only had to whack into the microwave and they were ready to eat for both you and Lottie in two minutes. When your fridge was full, he filled up nearly the entire freezer too. Breakfast burritos, healthy muffins for snacking while you had a baby attached to your tit—anything you could want to eat, Javi had already made it. 

Michelle drove Lottie to school and ballet, requesting to work from home so she could be flexible and show up for you. 

And Rhonda, sweet sweet Rhonda, was there to help you with everything else. First and foremost, putting cabbage leaves in your bra until you smelled like a salad bar, changing nappies in record time and cleaning your house while you tended to Ollie’s every need. 

Postpartum wasn’t meant to be gone through alone. And even though Leon was still quarantining, you didn’t have to do it all by yourself. 

The only time you were alone was at night. It was also the time the house was quiet enough for you to think about how much you wanted Leon to be here. All you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and watch the time go by until he was. But if you wanted to function properly for your kids, you couldn't give in to that. 

Lottie was sleeping, Ollie too. Too deeply. You had tried to wake him up softly because your boobs felt like god damn boulders strapped to your chest—hard and painful, like they might burst if you did so much as touch them the wrong way. 

But Ollie wasn’t hungry. He was sleepy. 

So you sat down on the couch, strapping your breast pump to your chest, eating chips out of a bag while you watched your milk stream into the cups attached to the pump. 

“Moo,” you huffed, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Leon was supposed to be coming back tomorrow. His quarantine was close to done, and you couldn’t wait to have him here again, touch him, feel him and know he was alright. 

A key turned in the front door and you jumped. It was three o'clock in the morning. Who the hell could want something from you at this time? 

You fumbled for the breast pump, detaching it, spilling nearly an entire cup of milk all over yourself in the process.

"Shit," you cursed, trying to cover up and dabbing at your wet shirt at the same time. 

“Hey.” Leon’s thin voice made your heart both beat faster and cramp up. He sounded defeated. 

“Leon,” you breathed and he crossed the space to you inhumanly fast, wrapping you up in his arms, pressing you to him like he was scared someone would take you from him. 

You pressed your cheek to his head, inhaling his scent. He had made it back to you. You had made it too: Leon was home.

“Are you okay?” you asked, running your hands all over his upper body, looking for any sign of injury.

He shook his head, face buried in your neck, shoulders shaking. 

“My shirt's wet. I’m getting milk all over you,” you whispered, feeling the wetness of your shirt seep through his too. 

He didn’t say anything, he just gripped you tighter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

He shook his head again, remaining silent, hot tears coating the skin of your neck. You threaded your fingers through his soft hair, just holding him against you like that for a while. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he choked out eventually.

You pressed a kiss to his head. “You know, I kept telling Ollie to wait for you but he never listens to me.” 

Leon snorted, the sound morphing into a muffled sob. "Don't joke about this. Not right now. We're never getting that moment back."

He let go of the embrace, covering his eyes with his fingers, taking a shaky breath. "I wanted this to go differently. I was trying to get home before you went into labour."

You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. He looked overspent, dark circles under his eyes, skin pale.  

“Do you want to meet your son?” you asked, offering him a small smile.

Leon nodded and you gently took his hand, guiding him to your bedroom where you were co-sleeping with Ollie. 

Your son was just waking up, tiny fists trying to escape the swaddle he was wrapped up in. You loosened the buttons and picked him up. 

“Hey baby,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek and he yawned. “There is someone who wants to meet you.”

Leon extended his hands, wordlessly and you placed Ollie into his arms. 

“I was worried I had forgotten how to do this,” he whispered, cradling Ollie to his chest, careful to support his head.

“And have you?” You smiled, already knowing the answer. 

He shook his head, staring at his son like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“He’s so beautiful. You made a really cute baby,” he murmured.

“You helped.” 

“You baked the cookies, remember?” he whispered, looking at you. 

Ollie became a little uneasy, wailing softly. Leon gently rocked him. “Hey, baby. I know we’ve only just met, but I’m your dad.” 

Ollie blinked confused. “I get it, it's kind of a lot to take in right now.” Leon chuckled, pressing a kiss to his head.

“He smells so good. Why do they always smell so good?” he said, turning to you. 

You shrugged. “‘Cause he’s ours.” 

Ollie smacked his lips repeatedly.  

“He’s hungry,” Leon whispered and you had already pulled your top down, jumping at the chance, desperate to find some kind of relief. Leon gently placed your son in your arms, propping up the pillows on the bed so you could sit down to nurse.

Leon didn’t leave your side, his head resting on your shoulder. “I’m taking as much paternity leave as I can get. I don’t care who’s dying where, I’m never leaving you again.”

You pressed your forehead to his. 

“I already missed so much. Two weeks with a newborn is huge. Not to mention that you had to do all this by yourself.”

You shook your head. “Everyone in this house is happy you’re back. Lottie will lose her mind tomorrow morning.” 

He chuckled and it was the best sound you had ever heard. 

When Ollie was done, Leon put him back in the crib and moments later you were cuddled up against each other, Leon clinging to you like there was nothing that could take him away from you ever again. Your arms were wrapped around his head and he was pressed to your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It helped with the nightmares, he said.

You agreed. Because it helped with yours too.

You got about two hours of sleep like that before Ollie decided you had enough. 

“Stay, I’ll do it,” Leon murmured, yawning, but already getting out of bed. You sighed, pushing yourself up into a seated position, slipping your top off on one side, ready to have a baby put into your arms. 

A seasoned pro like yourself, Leon got you a glass of water from the kitchen after placing Ollie into your arms, knowing full well how dehydrating breastfeeding was. 

Ollie ate well. Technically, he should have been a happy baby.

He wasn’t.

Leon changed his nappies. Ollie still wasn’t happy, screaming bloody murder. 

You wanted to get up but Leon motioned for you to stay put, pressing a kiss to Ollie’s cheek, rocking him back and forth. “Go back to sleep, let me do this.” 

You knew Leon was exhausted. You also didn’t want to let him go either. But you were so sleep deprived, you fell asleep immediately after Leon left the room with Ollie. 

When you woke up the next time, you patted the bed, looking for Leon, but his side was cold. You shot up. Ollie wasn’t in his crib either. Fear surged through you and you rushed out of the bedroom, feeling for the lightswitch in the hallway. 

In the living room, in the dim leftover light spilling in you found Leon, sleeping on the couch, Ollie sprawled out on his bare chest, softly moving with Leon’s deep breaths. 

You tiptoed to the couch and crouched down, watching them for a while. Ollie looked like he felt completely safe even though he had only met this man a few hours ago. You wondered if he knew who Leon was. If he could feel it maybe.

You pressed a kiss to Leon's cheek and he jolted awake, disoriented.  

“Leon,” you whispered, stabilising Ollie. “You can’t sleep like that with the baby. It’s not safe.” 

“I know that,” Leon breathed, rubbing his face. “I wasn’t sleeping.” 

Ollie opened his eyes at the commotion, getting fussy then closed them again as he was being lulled back to sleep by Leon's heartbeat.

You smiled, gently stroking your boyfriend's cheek. “Did you sleep at all before coming here?” 

He shook his head, leaning into your touch. “Drove straight down. As soon as I got the all clear.” 

Ollie’s arm fell off Leon’s chest and he reached for it, putting it back into place, running a hand over his son’s soft head.

“Leon, what happened? Can you tell me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to know. I‘m dealing with this so you don‘t have to. I want to keep it that way.”

You sighed. That was going to backfire. Way down the line. Nobody could keep all this bottled up forever. But that was a conversation for another day, when you weren't both so sleep deprived and had only just gotten each other back.

“How did you get back to base?” you asked instead.

He reached for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers never leaving your skin as if he was scared you would disappear. “Guess who risked their life to save me from drowning.” 

You looked at him, shaking your head.

“Ada,” he whispered. “I was barely conscious because I had hit my head on something. She kept telling me I had to stay awake because I needed to come back home to you.”

You thought about what Ada had said to you at the diner. That Leon had a place to return to: you. And your children.

"I'm glad she did," you whispered. You didn't want to think about Leon almost drowning. He didn't. That was all that mattered.

“Me too,” he said, grasping your chin and pulling you in for a kiss. “I want to come home to you for the rest of my life.” 

Your breath hitched. 

“I didn't get a chance to look at rings yet since I was quarantined and as it turns out jewellers are hard to come by at this time of night.“

Ollie stirred, hiccupping, getting ready to make a scene. Leon gently moved him up on his chest, tucking his head under his chin, shushing him. Ollie took his dad's advice and his eyes fluttered shut again. 

"I have a baby," Leon whispered. "I don’t know if that counts or if it’s in bad taste, since he’s already yours?" 

You snorted. “Are you proposing to me with our son? Is that what's happening?”

“If you say it like that it sounds bad. I meant it in a very romantic 'we are meant to be' kind of way.” He chuckled. "But yes, marry me."

He whispered the last part, eyes finding yours, anxiously waiting for a response. Because you had turned him down last time.

If you said yes now, this would be your life. Not the times when Leon was home, but the times he wasn't, too. And everything that came with it: the anxiety, the baggage, the nightmares when he returned.

You buried your face in your hands, looking at Leon from in between your fingers.

"Yes," you whispered, lowering your hands. "I want you to come home to me for the rest of your life, too."

Leon captured your lips in another kiss. "I’ll get you a ring, I promise. A really nice one."

You smiled against his lips. "Just make sure you don't ever lose your wedding ring. Like you lose everything else when you're on duty."

He kissed you again, not a trace of humour in what he said next. "Never."

Your fiancé insisted on baby wearing all morning. He also insisted on going all out for breakfast: scrambled eggs, Lottie’s favourite cereal, fresh fruit, whatever he could find. You stopped him from making smoothies, knowing Ollie would scream the whole house down as soon as he heard the blender. 

“Should I go wake her?” Leon asked, gently checking on Ollie suspended in the wrap around his torso, cheek pressed flat against Leon's chest. 

You pursed your lips and shook your head. “I’ll do it.” 

You tiptoed into Lotties room, mischief dancing on your lips. “Lottie,” you crooned, and she stretched under the covers. “I have a surprise for you.” 

She yawned. “Mom, I told you, frozen yogurt was a phase. I'm not into that anymore.” 

You scoffed. “It’s way better than frozen yogurt anyway.” 

She shot up. “You got me a guinea pig,” she said. “Oh my god.” 

You shook your head. “Way better.” 

She narrowed her eyes at you, slowly pulling the covers back, climbing out of bed. “I don’t know if I trust you with surprises, mom. They’re usually really weird. Like Ollie.” 

You shrugged. “Go on into the kitchen and check for yourself.” 

Lottie stared at you for a bit. Then slowly backtracked through the hallway, pushing the door to the kitchen and living room open. 

Leon smiled at her from behind the kitchen counter. "I heard someone got promoted to big sister," he said and Lottie squealed, taking off like a shot, barreling into him. 

THE END

Thank you for all your incredible support! I loved writing domestic Leon like this and had the time of my life reading your comments about this fic. 💗💗💗

I'll be writing an epilogue set a couple years before RE9, so we'll get to revisit (not so) little Lottie and teenage Ollie.

I’d love to hear your theories about where they are 15 years later (I already know of course, but I’m just nosy like that). So please please let me know in the comments!!

Also if you want to know what I write next, I have a permanent tag list. So let me know if you’d like to be added. 💗

____

Muscles were rippling under taut skin, droplets of sweat trickling down, being lapped up by the crevices emerging with every flowing movement. 

How Lottie didn’t get caught up in the athletic and technical demands of ballet and forget about her facial expressions was beyond you. Somehow she managed to make it look easy, relaxing, like she was a fairy dancing in a field of flowers.

Your eldest was like a perfectly trained government agent: highly focused, executing every movement with the utmost skill, using her body as a weapon. Out of all your children, she was the one most like Leon. 

The music stopped and you wiped away the tears that had formed in the corner of your eyes, clapping your hands in applause. 

Lottie, out of breath, let herself sink down from the tips of her pointe shoes and walked up to you. “Thank you, mom.” 

You pulled her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you. I don’t know if I tell you that enough.” 

She chuckled. “You do. All the time.” 

You squeezed her tighter. “Good. Because that’s my job.” 

Lottie shook her head. “You’re so much more than that,” she whispered.  “And you need to let me go, I‘m sweaty as hell.“

'Letting go' had been your trigger word recently. You inhaled Lottie‘s scent. Your little girl. All grown up. If you thought about it for too long, you would burst into tears again like every other night ever since she had signed the contract with the American Contemporary Ballet. 

“I’m just not ready,” you had sobbed into Leon’s chest. “When I look at her, all I see is my baby.” 

Lottie slipped out of your embrace, sinking down into the splits on the floor, stretching out her legs. 

“Mom, can you pass me my bag?” 

You did as requested and she rummaged for a gatorade and a granola bar. She also took out a notebook and a pen, checking the labels on her food and scribbling numbers onto the paper. 

“You know, I would really like it if you stopped doing that,” you said, sitting down beside her. 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m counting calories to make sure I eat enough to maintain my weight, mom. I’m not trying to lose any.” 

You sighed. "Are you sure?"

She looked at you like you had lost your mind, demonstratively stretching her upper body down to cup the soles of her foot.

“I worked really hard for the perfect ratio between weight and muscle so I can throw my leg up as quickly and as elegantly as possible. I’m not giving that up. Especially not with performance season approaching.” 

You grimaced. Lottie was being too hard on herself. Also exactly like Leon. Sometimes when you looked at your daughter, you saw him, twenty-one and determined to be the best cop the world had ever seen. You certainly hoped the American Contemporary Ballet in Los Angeles wasn’t anything like Raccoon City. 

“Are you nervous?” 

She crinkled her nose. “A little. New city and all that. I also hear the ACB runs a tight ship. We’ll see.” 

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back,” you offered, not entirely selflessly maybe.

“Mom, you have to let me go,” Lottie said, smiling at you. “I’m the same age you were when you had me.” 

You blew out a breath. That was insane. To think you were Lottie's age when you had your first baby. You had felt young then, but seeing your daughter at that age made you realise how young you really were. 

“But I did a good job,” you murmured. “I did, right?” 

Lottie smiled. “Yeah, you did. And you still are. Even though Ollie is a handful.” 

“He’s fourteen. Being a teenage boy is hard,” you defended him. 

Lottie scribbled in her notebook. “I know, he’s making it everybody else’s problem too.” 

Back home, Leon was filling up a plastic tub of cold water and dumped a whole bunch of ice cubes in there.

You were fixing yourself a snack, while Lottie was sitting at the kitchen table, patiently waiting for her father to ice her feet. Anytime you told Leon he was spoiling his daughters, he would just shrug it off, smiling. 

“You know, if I didn’t know you have an IUD, I would get really worried right now,” he murmured, pointing his chin at your peanut butter, pickle and bacon sandwich. 

You shot him a dirty look. “Don’t yuck my yum.” You searched the counter top. “Where’s the mayo? Did you get new mayo?” 

“I did get mayo.” He chuckled, carrying the plastic tub over to Lottie. “It’s in the fridge.”

She hissed when her feet hit the ice water. 

“Is that good, or do you need more ice?” Leon asked, looking up at her. 

She shook her head, holding on to his shoulders. “No, that's just the right amount of painful, thank you.” 

You closed the fridge. “Leon, you did not get mayo.” 

He wrinkled his forehead. “I 100% did.” 

“Alright, then why is there no mayo in the fridge?” you asked. 

Lottie faked a gag. “Oh god, please don’t let it be Ollie. I don’t want to know what use a teenage boy could have for mayo.” 

As if on call, your son walked into the kitchen. 

“Ollie, did you take the mayo?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Why would I take the mayo?” he asked, voice breaking. 

“I don’t know, probably for some gross stuff,” Lottie murmured. 

“Lottie,” Leon warned. “Leave your brother alone.” 

“Why am I the gross one? Your messed up feet are just out here in the open,” Ollie exclaimed, voice breaking even harder. "Blisters and everything."

“They’re dancer’s feet,” Lottie shouted. “And they’re more skilled than any part of you ever will be.” 

“Guys,” Leon said, stepping between the two. “It’s Lottie’s last weekend with us before she leaves for California. Can we not do that? Can we remember that we all like each other?” 

“I guess,” Ollie said, brushing his fringe out of his face. “If she stops being such a pain in the ass.” 

You clicked your tongue scoldingly. “Tell your sister you love her. In this house we don’t fight before people leave for a long time.”  

Ollie grumbled, sitting down at the table as well. “Love you, I guess.” 

“Love you too, sometimes,” Lottie replied, accepting an ice pack from Leon to put on her knees.

Your husband sighed, looking at you for advice. You shrugged. Close enough, you guessed. 

“Mom, are you pregnant again?” Ollie asked, looking at your sandwich. 

Leon snorted.

You narrowed your eyes on him. “You know, I feel like you of all people should be really quiet when it comes to pregnancy jokes, Leon.” 

“You were there too, right? At least that’s what I remember,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug from behind and kissing you on the cheek. 

“Ew, this whole family is so gross,” Ollie whined, burying his face in his hands. Lottie kicked him under the table. 

“I’m Oliver and I have the hardest life of all hard lives because my parents love each other,” Lottie said, imitating the timbre of her brother’s voice, it cracking and everything. 

He kicked her back. 

“Stop,” you hissed. “I’m being serious.” 

Your youngest daughter, Alva, the only one of your children you had actually planned for, came walking into the kitchen, mayo jar in hand. 

“Alva, what were you doing with the mayo?” Leon asked over your shoulder. 

Her eyebrows shot up. “Nothing?”

She opened the fridge to put it back, but you snatched it from her grasp unscrewing the top, checking the inside.

“That ‘nothing’ sounds suspicious,” you said, raising an eyebrow at her. 

She gnawed on her lower lip. “It’s the only material that mimics the behaviour of plasma” she whispered. “I was doing research on the Rayleigh-Taylor instability.” 

You blew out a long breath, exchanging a look with Leon. 

“Alva, what did I tell you about nuclear fusion research?” he said, face stern.  

She crinkled her nose, looking an awful lot like her older sister. “I know. But my curiosity is a gift, remember?” 

“All of our children are insane and I blame you,” Leon whispered into your ear, before taking the mayo from your hands.

It was early enough in the morning that nobody in the house was awake yet. Especially not on a Saturday. 

Nobody except you and Leon. But that was calculated. Because after three children, if you wanted to have sex with your husband, there were very limited time slots available to you. 

Saturday morning was by far your favourite one, because what better way to start your weekend than by having your face pressed into the mattress and your ass up, several inches of smoking hot husband pounding into you from behind. 

“Leon,” you moaned. 

“I know, baby,” he whispered, voice breaking into a helpless groan, picking up his pace. 

You heard a crashing sound from downstairs. Followed by a “Mom!” from Ollie. 

Leon brought your hips down, his chest flush against your back. Less skin slapping noises in this position. Being stealthy was a skill you had mastered by child number two. 

“Ignore it,” he whispered, breath fanning the shell of your ear. “They’re old enough.” 

He moaned and kept rutting into you, making you see stars. 

“Oh fuck, Leon,” you whimpered, his hand coming up to clasp yours, both your wedding bands clinking against each other with every one of his thrusts. On your other hand, your engagement ring glinted in the dim light. The diamond on it was so big, you had been worried to wear it out at first. An entire check of hazard pay had been blown on that.

“You feel so good, baby,” Leon breathed, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix and hitting every spot deep inside of you. 

You arched your back, tilting your pelvis so he could fuck you even more deliciously and his pace faltered, breath hitching in his throat. 

“Don’t stop, I’m so close,” you whined, a high pitched moan falling from your lips. Leon shushed you, muffling his own low groan by pressing his face into your neck. 

Your walls fluttered around him, gripping him even tighter and he whimpered, pushing into you harder. You cried out and he pulled a pillow down for you to muffle your sounds in.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grunted and you turned your head to the side, meeting his gaze. 

“Me too, you fuck me so good, I can’t—” the rest of your sentence turned into a loud moan, as you came apart. Leon pushed the pillow into your face, biting down on your neck to keep himself from announcing what you were doing to the entire house. 

A loud, obnoxious knock on the door cut through the thick atmosphere of the room. 

“Mom! Dad!” Lottie yelled. “Get out of bed and take care of the kids you decided to have. Just because I’m your oldest, doesn’t mean I’m a free babysitter.” 

You and Leon were both fighting for your lives, as he spilled into you, twitching and helplessly pushing himself in deeper, as you rippled around him, losing any sense of where you were for a moment. 

Another knock. “I’m being serious, your middle child is a lunatic. Get down to the kitchen.” 

Her steps sounded on the stairs, as she ran down and you plied the pillow from your face. 

“Holy fuck,” you panted. “That was close.” 

Leon let go of your neck, also desperately trying to catch his breath. “No, that was amazing. You’re so hot.” 

You bit your lip. After twenty years of being together, give or take, you expected you both to be less horny for each other. Nobody told you it would only get worse the longer you were married. Raising three children together also only made you fall more in love with Leon every day. It was insane. There was supposed to be a limit somewhere, right? 

“You know, I think with Lottie moving away, we should send the other two somewhere, too. For like a weekend,” Leon said, nose softly brushing yours. "So you and I have some free time."

“To do what?” you asked, biting back a grin. You knew exactly why he wanted the kids out of the house. You just wanted to hear him say it.

“So I can bend you over every surface in this house, Mrs. Kennedy,” he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline. 

You chuckled, shimmying onto your back in his arms so you could face him properly and pulled him into an unrushed kiss. “I love when you call me that,” you whispered. 

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I fucking love you, do you know that?” 

You smiled. “I do.” 

Leon’s hands cupped your breasts, running his thumbs over your pierced nipples. “I also love that you got these redone after Alva. Best decision you ever made.” He drew in a sharp breath and bent down to slip one of your nipples into his mouth.

You whimpered. Your boobs had been really sensitive lately. You were probably getting your period soon.

“Not the best decision I ever made,” you whispered, brushing a strand of blonde-grey hair out of his forehead. 

“Oh yeah?” Leon said, voice muffled by your nipple. “Which one was the best then? Was it me?” 

Another crashing sound from downstairs made you both flinch. 

“I don’t know, maybe I should have reproduced with someone else. Our kids are clearly a danger to the public,” you sighed, waiting for the inevitable high pitched ‘Mom!’ to follow. 

When it did, Leon buried his face in your chest. “I’ll go. You deserve a shower without anyone wanting something from you.” 

“You know, I thought it would get easier once they were all out of elementary school,” you mused, massaging his scalp.  

Leon shook his head, sinking deeper into your body, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. “It really doesn’t.” 

“What's worse? Nightly feedings or teenagers?” you asked and Leon groaned. 

“The terrible twos,” he concluded and pushed himself off of you. 

You smiled knowingly. Deep down, you and Leon had loved every bit of it, temper tantrums, sleep or no sleep, all of it.

You rolled over to your side, shamelessly ogling your husband as he put on pyjama pants and a T-shirt. He had only been getting more attractive with age. His hair beginning to grey really did something to you.

You sighed, softly squeezing your breasts. After breastfeeding three children those were not the same, either. But Leon still couldn't get enough of them.

Anytime they would get tender before your period you wondered how much time you had left. It was funny, really. When you were young you hated getting your period, but now, likely hitting menopause in the next few years, it was almost something to be celebrated.

You bit your lip. “Would you ever do it all again?” 

Leon looked at you, coming up to cup your cheek. "I'd love to but I doubt we have time for round two right now."

You shook your head. "That's not what I meant."

You thought about when all your kids were small: three year old Ollie barely reaching up to the kitchen table, while you were nursing baby Alva. And Lottie, standing on a chair, helping her father flip pancakes for Sunday breakfast. 

"I meant..." You paused. "A baby."

Leon did a double take. "A baby? What do you mean 'a baby'? Another one?"

You shrugged. "Maybe? I don’t know. It’s just … it might be our last chance to have one. If we did want another." 

Leon sighed. “Are you sure this isn’t about Lottie flying the nest?”

You gnawed on your lower lip. You had been really emotional about that lately.

Leon pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "Can you imagine getting up every two hours to take care of a newborn? Because I can't."

“Maybe you're right,” you whispered. "I don't know where this is coming from all of a sudden. I think with Lottie leaving I'm just feeling extra maternal."

"We had a good run." He nudged your nose with his. "And we have three perfect children."

Another scream from the kitchen. Alva this time. Lottie joined in, trying to mediate between her younger siblings.

"I am going to put you both in a headlock. Try me," she threatened.

Leon grimaced. "I take that back."

He let go and rushed downstairs. 

You rolled back onto your back, staring at the ceiling. You really didn’t know where that had come from. Cognitively, you knew having another baby was probably a bad idea. You already had three and except Alva, they were pretty much out of the woods.

With Leon’s job especially, it would be a little unfair to bring another baby into this. You never knew if your domestic bliss would be abruptly cut short. Leon was happy he had been there for most of his kids’ milestones so far, a new baby might not get to enjoy all these things with their father. 

Not to mention that conceiving at forty-two was probably not an easy feat either. What if you settled on it and then it just didn't happen? Or something went wrong during the pregnancy? Leon was right. It was good the way it was.

But emotionally, you kind of wanted to do it all again. Experience it one last time with Leon by your side. 

This was only because your (not so) little girl was moving across the country. To the big city no less. Your worry probably got warped into something new along the way.

You felt a little queasy this morning, too. Maybe you were coming down with something and it all came to a head now.

You took a shower, enjoying the silence while Leon defused the crisis downstairs. You couldn’t have wished for a better husband. Whatever happened, Leon and you had always been one kick-ass team. 

When you walked downstairs your whole family was sitting at the table already, Leon having somehow managed to bring peace into the chaos. Three perfect children. A perfect husband. The smell of coffee and toast in the morning. What more could you want? Your heart was already full. 

If it weren't for that horrible sour smell that hit you as soon you sat down at the table.

“Coffee?” Leon asked and you nodded. A perfect life. 

You took a sip from your cup and grimaced. “Did you not get milk yesterday?”

“I did get milk yesterday,” Leon said. “One grocery run with the mayo.” 

Your forehead wrinkled and you pulled Alva’s half-eaten bowl of cereal out of reach. “Don’t eat that.” You pushed your cup over to Leon. “Smell that. Does that smell funny to you?”

Leon paused mid-chew and held your coffee to his nose, shrugging. He took a sip. “It’s fine, babe. It’s fresh milk.” 

“It’s not, it’s sour,” you insisted and swallowed, drawing in a sharp breath as you felt your mouth salivate.

"Are you okay?" Leon asked and you shook your head, trying to figure out if you were about to throw up or not. Something wasn't right. This wasn't normal.

Leon took another sip from your coffee to make sure it was alright, just to choke on it.

Your hand flew to your mouth and you stared at him, eyes wide when you put two and two together.

“That’s impossible,” Leon rasped, battling asphyxiation. “You have an IUD.” 

“Unless it dislodged,” you whispered. 

Leon shook his head, desperately. “But you would feel that, right? I—I would feel that during sex?” 

Ollie stopped chewing. “That is so gross.” He got up from the table, taking his bowl of cereal with him.

"Ollie, sit back down," Lottie said, pulling on his sleeve, but he yanked his arm away from her.

"I do not want to hear about mom and dad doing it. That's sick," he grumbled.

"What day is it today?" you asked Lottie, calculating.

"Saturday, the 17th," she replied.

Your head whipped around to Leon. "Oh my god."

"No." Leon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Leon, I..." you started.

"Wait, what's happening?" Alva looked between you and Leon, looking for someone to explain this to her.

Lottie burst into laughter.

"Why are you laughing?" Alva asked, annoyed that everybody was ignoring her.

"I think I'm late, hold on." You reached for your phone, checking your calendar. Did you log your last period?

"Ew," Ollie whined, pressing his palms to his ears. "You're over forty, why are you still doing it?"

Did you have your last period? Technically that should have been around the time Lottie had signed her contract with the American Contemporary Ballet. Emotions had been at an all time high, Ollie had been throwing a fit because you were discussing buying your daughter an apartment in LA. He was set on also getting one, even though that was ridiculous and he didn't need his own apartment at fourteen. Sibling rivalry at its best.

On top of that, Alva had been preparing for a science competition at school, turning your entire house into a lab whenever you turned your back to her. It had been absolute chaos.

And most importantly that had been about six weeks ago.

"No, you're not late." Leon rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. "You're just not."

"I am," you concluded, breathlessly. You were more than late. Plus, getting all emotional and teary eyed whenever someone mentioned your oldest leaving? Sore breasts, wanting another baby all of a sudden—the nausea?

"It could be something else, right? Very early menopause maybe?" Leon tried and you knew he was listing off the exact same things in his head.

"Leon, I don't think it is," you whispered.

Lottie had a hard time breathing through her laughing fit. "Three times? Are you guys for real?"

a/n: I just had to. Low-hanging fruit.

____

You and Leon were broke. That was what had gotten you into this whole mess in the first place. Between you, a college drop out turned waitress, and Leon, a wide-eyed police academy recruit, your funds were limited. 

Which was why, after you realised the pill gave you migraines and anxiety from hell, you asked planned parenthood to cover the cost for an IUD. They agreed. And put you on a long-ass waitlist. 

“Fuck.” You sighed in resignation, staring at the two pink lines glaring back at you. 

Not only were you and Leon too broke for this, you were also too young. You had just celebrated his twenty-first birthday last month. How the hell were you going to take care of another human? 

You shook the white plastic strip, as if that would magically shake the second line off it. That motherfucker stayed and you wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear off the face of the earth. 

This was so stupid too. 

What you lacked in funds, Leon and you made up for in pure horniness. If you could stop fucking for five minutes, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess. So when you ran out of condoms, “we shouldn’t” turned into “just the tip”, which turned into “I’ll pull out”. 

It was a calculated risk. You had already gotten your appointment for the IUD insertion, finally having moved up on the waitlist. Nothing would happen in that short amount of time, right? It was fine. 

It would have been fine if ‘once’ hadn’t turned into ‘twice’, and ‘twice’ hadn’t  turned into—you lost count. 

So here you were, white knuckling the sink, eyes squeezed shut, realising that ‘calculated risk’ had turned into ‘baby’. 

A real, complete baby that you were going to grow inside your body, getting stared at because you still looked like an infant yourself. You were also going to push it out of you. Probably getting stared at then too, by medical staff. And Leon. 

When the baby was there, people would stare at you some more, as you pushed the stroller, breastfed in public and had a meltdown because you wouldn’t be able to stop your baby from crying. Ever.

You wouldn’t sleep. Neither would Leon. You two would fall out of love and never speak to each other again. Except about who would get to do Christmas that year. 

You rubbed your eyes. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself a little bit. You tossed the test into the bin, watching the metal lid bite down and swallow it, never to be seen again. 

“So?” Leon asked, watching you come out of the bathroom, fidgeting with the remote control. 

You froze. The timing was terrible too. 

“Negative,” you lied, clearing your throat, sinking down on the couch next to him, shoving your hands under your thighs to hide that they were shaking. 

Leon let out a long breath. “Thank fuck.” 

You nodded, pressing your lips together. “Now you can focus on your first day tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Leon murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad we found out though. When you told me you were late, I couldn’t think straight.” 

“Me neither,” you muttered, gnawing on your lower lip. “I was really scared.” 

Leon leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. You clung to him and let him pull you against his chest, as he sprawled out on the couch. 

“Are you nervous?” you asked, drawing little patterns on his chest. You were about to have a baby with him. Holy shit. 

He grimaced. “Maybe? I don’t know. I haven’t really heard from them since last week.” 

“It’ll be fine,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple. “You graduated as valedictorian. That means you’re the best.” 

Leon looked at you with utter reverence in his eyes. “No, I’m not.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he gently cupped your cheeks and pulled you into an unrushed kiss. 

“My girlfriend is the best,” he whispered against your lips, nudging your nose with his. “And I’m about to leave her for my first real job. I haven’t even left and I already miss you.” 

You chuckled. 

Your pregnant girlfriend, my guy. But you don’t know that yet. Because if you knew, you’d be a nervous wreck and late as hell on your first day. 

“You’re always so dramatic,” you murmured, returning the kiss. “What do you think will happen? You get there and the world has somehow ended and all the police officers have turned into zombies?” 

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Can you be serious for one second of your life?” 

“I was a theatre major,” you said, looking at him deadpan. “I am literally unable to. Unless you want me to act, then I could play someone who is a serious person.” 

Or, you know, somebody who’s not pregnant. 

“No, I like you for you,” he whispered, casually squeezing the soft flesh on your hips. That same flesh that would probably get a lot softer once you were progressing in your pregnancy. 

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. This wasn’t even lying by omission. This was full on lying. About a pretty important thing. 

But you would tell him when he came back next weekend. You just didn’t want to sabotage his start with the RPD. He had been so excited to be assigned with them specifically. You didn’t want to ruin it for him. 

“Maybe my nervousness was more about you being late than about tomorrow,” he mused. “My thoughts were racing all day. I mean, can you imagine having a baby right now?” 

You swallowed, your heart stumbling into a sprint. “Why? What would it be like?” you choked out. 

“An absolute nightmare?” Leon wrinkled his forehead. “We’re way too young, you just dropped out of college, I’m starting my first job. There’s really no worse time to have a baby.” 

You felt sick to your stomach. Because you agreed. “But would you want a baby? With me, I mean?” you whispered, voice shaky. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it like that.” He paused. “It’s just not something I’m considering right now.

You nodded, feeling like your insides had been turned inside out. “But if you had to? Would you be happy it was with me?” You were—obviously—off the pill. Your anxiety technically shouldn’t be spiking like that. 

Leon smiled at you softly. “I mean, you’re not pregnant, right? We don’t have to think about that right now.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed, letting him press a kiss to your forehead, as you stared at the TV screen but not really seeing what was going on.

Leon didn’t want a baby. Of course, why would he? He was twenty-one. Nobody your age seriously wanted a baby. Not that you had heard of anyway. Everybody prayed for the second line not to appear whenever they got into that situation. Funnily enough, the second line never appeared. For anyone. Except you. 

A calculated risk, just like lying about it. 

When Leon found out you had betrayed him like that, he would no doubt call it quits. Here you were, about to nail him down with a pregnancy you had kept from him. Manipulate him into staying with you. Oh, you dug yourself a hole beyond holes. 

“Are you listening to me?” 

“Huh?” You whipped your head around. Leon was staring at you. He knew. He felt it somehow. It was the baby daddy instinct. 

“I said I’ll call you when I get there and that I have an apartment lined up to look at on Tuesday.” 

“Apartment? We have an apartment,” you whispered. 

“Yeah, but we’re going to have to move, right?”

You nodded. Because of the baby. The tiny one-bedroom you were currently living in was barely big enough for you and Leon. There was no way you could have a baby in here. Where would all the stuff go? The crib, the changing table, the stroller? 

How would you even afford those things? You made $2.13 per hour before tips. Leon made more than that. He was now in full-time employment as a police officer on probation. But he would leave you right? After catching you in your lie? You might as well apply for food stamps right now. Single motherhood was inevitable.

“Are you tired?” he asked, puzzled. “You’re not processing anything I’m saying.”

You blinked. “The shift at the diner was crazy.” 

And I’m pregnant. With your baby. That you don’t want. And I think I might be going insane. 

Leon lifted you up and you squealed, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. “Leon!”

“I think it’s time to take my girlfriend to bed, what do you think?” 

“Why do you call me your girlfriend all the time?” you giggled. “There’s nobody here. You can say my name.” 

He looked at you amused. “But that’s your title, right? My girlfriend? Love of my life? My future wife?” 

You covered your face with your hand, sneaking a glance through your fingers, but you were all giddy. “You’re so cheesy.” You stopped yourself, your face sinking. He would reconsider that once he knew about your little secret. The love of his life wouldn’t lie to him like that. 

“You love it though,” he said without missing a beat, carrying you to bed, where this mess had begun in the first place.

Later that night, Leon was nuzzling the back of your neck, arms wrapped around you, one hand casually resting on your lower abdomen. 

You sighed into the embrace, closing your eyes, indulging for a little bit.

If only he knew. 

You would tell him straight when he came home. Maybe he would understand that you hadn’t wanted to tell him right before his first day with the RPD. Maybe, just maybe this would all be fine and you wouldn't end up as an overwhelmed single mom living below the poverty line.

“Are you sure the test was negative?” Leon whispered and your blood ran cold. “You seem…off.” 

“It’s because you’re leaving,” you replied, too quickly, eyes wide open. 

“Mh,” Leon sighed, arms closing around your waist a little tighter. “I’ll be back Friday.” 

“I know,” you whispered. His lips ghosted over your skin and he sank deeper into the pillows, drifting off. 

You couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried. 

Your thoughts were racing and you kept tossing and turning beside your boyfriend. 

What had you done?

Why hadn’t you just used a condom? It really wasn’t that hard. It was pretty easy actually, just not having unprotected sex when you didn’t want to be pregnant. But you did that. And now you were. Pregnant. Preggers. Up the duff. 

About to be a mom. Giving birth. Raising someone. Be responsible for them. What would pregnancy be like? You felt nauseous. Was that morning sickness already? 

Holy shit, the medical bills. What if you got gestational diabetes? That was a thing, right? What if something was wrong with you? 

What if something was wrong with the baby? 

You were in utter panic, your heart was racing so much you thought it might stop out of exhaustion at any moment. 

Oh god, what if you found out you had an underlying heart condition and neither you or your baby would make it? What if you died giving birth and someone dropped the baby off at Leon's doorstep because he had already left you by then? And he only found out then and there that you never told him before his first day with the RPD?

“Leon,” you whispered, having no idea how long you had been imprisoned by your own thoughts. 

Leon was fast asleep, face pressed into the pillows, arms sprawled out up and to the sides. What if your baby slept like that? Wasn’t that dangerous for them? 

But babies needed tummy time, right? Occasionally?

You had absolutely no idea what you were doing. You were utterly unqualified for this new job. 

“Leon,” you hissed, poking him and he stirred, groaning. 

“What?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. 

“Leon, I lied to you,” you whispered, chin quivering. You had to come clean right now. He couldn't find out only when he opened the door and saw the wicker basket sitting there, a newborn baby inside.

He cracked one eye open, lifting his head to glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, the digital numbers on it flashing green in the dark. “It’s three in the morning.” 

You nodded. “I know,” you whined, cuddling up to his side. He instinctively closed his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. 

“Is this the worm thing again?” he murmured, still half asleep. “Yes, I would still love you. Go back to sleep.” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s not the worm thing. It’s way worse.” 

“It’s so bad that it can’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked, a slight chuckle making his chest vibrate. 

“Kinda,” you whimpered, scrambling for words. “Would you still love me if I was pregnant but kept it from you because I didn’t want to sabotage your first day tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I would still love you if you were pregnant,” he murmured, eyes closed again. 

“Because I am. I’m pregnant. The test was positive.” You stilled, anxiously waiting for his response, your blood rushing in your ears.

“You’re pregnant? That’s great,” he slurred, already drifting off again. 

He went rigid, arm flying out to his side, switching on the light on the nightstand. “What?” 

You drew in a shaky breath. 

He glanced at the alarm clock. “It’s fucking three in the morning,” he whined. 

You sat up, looking at him. “I’m pregnant. The test wasn’t negative. I told you it was because I didn’t want to worry you.” 

He blinked. “So you chose the middle of the night to tell me instead?” 

“I panicked,” you mumbled, kneading your hands in your lap. 

Leon stared at you. 

“Say something,” you whined. 

“You’re pregnant?” His gaze dropped to your stomach. “Like for real? With a baby?” 

You nodded. 

He ran a hand over his face. “Oh my god. You’re not kidding.” 

You shook your head. “I wish I was.” 

Leon’s eyes wandered from side to side as he was mulling it over in his head. No doubt already thinking about leaving you for keeping this from him. He buried his face in his hands and blew out a heavy breath. “Oh my god, I’m freaking out.” 

“Me too,” you whispered, on the verge of tears, watching him. 

“I..I don’t– I–” he stammered, voice breaking. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna need to make so much money, I–” 

You shook your head and reached for him but he shrugged your hands off.

You winced at the rejection.

“I mean, are we keeping it?” he asked, turning his head to you, eyes wide with panic. 

You stared back with just as much fear written on your face. “I don’t know. Do you want to keep it?”

“I don’t know. Do you?” He grabbed your hands, covering them with his. “How do you feel about it?” 

“I don’t want to do this without you,” you whispered, your voice breaking into a sob. 

Leon pulled you against his chest, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You held on to his neck, burying your face in his shoulder, hot tears falling from your eyes.

“You won’t,” he said. “I’d still love you if you were a worm, right?” 

“But I’m not a worm, Leon. I’m pregnant,” you whimpered, another sob racking through you.

Leon sighed. “Listen, you lied to me all day about the test being negative and now you tell me in the middle of the night before my first day at my first job. And I still love you.” 

You sobbed harder. “I had a plan. And that’s not a very nice thing to say.” 

“Oh my god,” Leon breathed.

a/n: y'all missed messy reader, right?

-----

The rookie had left his jacket at your place. Like a god damn hooker. 

You huffed, looking at it, lasciviously draped over the backrest of your couch. To come back for of course. What else? 

You picked it up and felt the fabric between your fingers. It was a nice jacket. It actually looked very good on him, the dark blue really brought out his eyes.

You lifted it up to your nose, smelling it. It smelled nice too. Like rookie. Sorry, Leon. 

Leon smelled good, he really did. Like ocean breeze fabric softener and his own skin. You didn’t know which one it was that you liked so much because you really liked the ocean breeze scented fabric softener. You just never used it yourself. 

You buried your face in the jacket, then slipped it over your shoulders and zipped it up. It was comfy too. Too big of course, because the rookie’s—sorry, Leon’s shoulders were a lot broader than yours.

You lifted the front up to your face again, inhaling the scent, then went about your morning, making coffee and feeding the pigs. 

You weren’t going into work today, Tuesdays weren’t good money usually. Mid-week wasn’t for the club anyway. It was for building your guinea pig empire: cutting slates, hammering in nails, building minuscule pubs and churches and painting them with non-toxic paint until they looked like the real thing.

Unless you ran out of material of course, then mid-week was also for runs to the hardware store while Alanis Morissette was blaring from your car radio. 

As soon as you pulled into the parking lot, you ejected the cassette tape and put it in your walkman. 

You actually loved going to the hardware store. Especially while listening to music, wearing tiny sunglasses and being completely lost in your own world as you wandered through the aisles, picking out the best materials for your architectural masterpiece. 

Ooh, this could be messy but

But you don't seem to mind

You bobbed your head to the music, and did a little twirl as you walked up to the shopping carts. The employees already knew who you were: the crazy lady who was trying to build a rodent sanctuary or something (they didn’t fully understand, but you didn’t blame them). 

Because most importantly, they left you alone. You couldn’t stand anyone interfering with you when you were at the hardware store.

You raised a hand in greeting as you pushed through he door with your shopping cart. Dave, the scrawny front clerk gave you a curt nod in return. He was surly, but kind. And a wizard with a bowsaw, too. You had never seen anything like it. 

We'll fast forward to a few years later

And no one knows except the both of us

You wondered if the roo—Leon was any good with a bowsaw. Would he be any help with building your guinea pig empire, or would he slow you down because you had to explain every little thing to him? 

You turned left to where the building materials were and came to a halt in the lumber aisle.

Now, you were looking for pine. But decent pine. None of that cheap stuff. It needed to be durable. 

You turned up the volume on your walkman, looking at a few types of wood, pursing your lips, putting them back. Not really what you needed. 

Would Leon know how to identify good pine? He didn’t look like it. Maybe you just needed to show him. So he could help you with the church project that was coming up.

You bit back a grin. You kind of wanted to see his face when you showed him. He would be overtaken with shock, helplessly trying to gauge if you were serious or not. 

His handsome face. 

The one that looked so good looking up at you from between your legs. 

Ooh, this could be messy and

Ooh, I don't seem to mind

You rubbed your thighs together at the thought. The way his tongue had felt between your legs, his soft lips closing around your clit. You kind of wanted him to do it again. The way he had yanked you toward him was etched into your memory as one of your top ten experiences with someone having their face buried in your vulva. Maybe top five even, if you thought about it. 

You stretched up to pull a sturdy looking slate of pine from the top shelf, balancing on your toes, not quite reaching. 

You also hadn’t forgotten what he was packing. You wondered if maybe—

An arm appeared in your peripheral vision and you jumped, pulling out your earbuds. 

“Sorry,” Brian said, flashing you his best smile. “I called your name but you didn’t react.” 

You blew out a breath, rubbing your chest. “That would be because Lola isn’t my real name, Brian.” 

“Right.” He offered you the slate. “Figured I’d help the damsel in distress.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were neither a damsel, nor in distress. But from what you knew about Brian, that was exactly what he needed to view you as for his fantasy to work. 

You took the wood from him, nodding politely. 

“Nice jacket. Is it new?” he tried to continue the conversation.

You shivered and pulled the jacket back over your shoulder, you hadn’t even noticed it slipping down on one side, and zipped it all the way up to your chin again.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Brand new.” 

He nodded, gaze trailing down your torso. Sleazebag. “A little big for you, don’t you think?” 

You shrugged. “You’re just confused because you’ve never seen me wear this much fabric.” 

He chuckled. “I guess so.” He rubbed his chin. “Listen uh, I’ll see you Friday, yeah?” 

You nodded. “I’ll lose the jacket till then,” you joked. 

“No, keep it on,” he said, shooting you a heated look, as he turned on his heel. “I can imagine it’s mine.” 

You grimaced. Was he always like that? You swear that was a recent thing. You would have never taken him on as a regular if he had been like that from the start. You wondered if you could somehow pass him on to Helena too. Maybe swap him back for the rookie. 

No. You stopped yourself. There was no way you could dance on Leon at the club again. Not after he had dined at the kitty cat café. 

Like that.

He was one messy eater, you had to say. 

You lifted the front of your jacket to your nose again, inhaling the scent of him. The jacket you meant. The fabric softener. God, you loved ocean breeze fabric softener. Maybe you should get a bottle on the way home. 

The doorbell rang and you smirked, having waited for this exact moment. You knew who it was even before you opened the door. 

“Uh, hi,” Leon said, awkwardly raising a hand in greeting like he had no idea what your pussy tasted like, like he hadn’t left your house last night, his entire face covered in your juices. “I think I might have left my jacket at your place.” 

You chuckled, opening the door wider, leaning against it. “Did you now?” 

His gaze trailed down your body, pointing at your chest, lips pressed together. “That's the one, yeah. I was looking for it all day.”

You shook your head. “You know, Leon, this trick is as old as time.”

“What trick?” he asked, but his cheeks turned a rosy pink.

“If you wanted to see me again, all you had to do was ask.” 

He gnawed on his lower lip. “And you would have said yes?” 

You pursed your lips, leaving him hanging for a little while, because his puppy eyes were so damn cute. “No.” 

He nodded. “Alright, uhm, I’ll just get the jacket then and I’ll be off. Sorry to bother you.” 

You nodded, not moving. 

He scratched the back of his head. “So, can I take the jacket? Can you take it off, or…?” 

You took a step toward him, batting your eyelashes at him. “If you want the jacket so bad, why don’t you take it off?” 

He did a double take. You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

His hands were shaking when he brought them up to the zipper under your chin, slipping off the first time he pulled it down, having to reach for it again. You watched his face as he did, finally unzipping the jacket. 

He inhaled sharply. “You’re not wearing anything underneath.” 

“Oh?” You looked down. “Dang it, not again.” 

Leon let his hands fall to his sides, clearing his throat. “So, maybe I’ll just wait out here and you go in and change or something.” 

You shook your head. “Take it off.”

You looked up at him again, meeting his eyes this time. He blew out a heavy breath, swallowing, his throat bobbing. His fingers grazed your shoulders light as feathers when he gently pulled the jacket down, desperately trying to keep looking at your face. 

When he finally held the jacket in his hands, he froze, lips opening and closing again like a fish. 

You smiled, wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He let out a surprised sound, his arms coming to rest on the small of your back on instinct. You opened your lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Leon gasped, pulling you closer to him, returning the kiss with an intensity that made your breath hitch in return. 

You backtracked into the living room, pulling him with you. He kicked the door shut. 

“What does this mean?” He asked between kisses. “Is this you…are you giving cons—…I mean do you want to—” 

You shut him up with another kiss.  

“I’m so confused,” he whined eventually, brows knitting together helplessly.

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cleft chin, guiding his hands to cup your breasts.

“Please don’t play with me,” he breathed and you kissed him again, hands reaching down to undo his belt. 

“Does it seem like I’m playing, Leon?” 

He whimpered. “You’re always playing with me. Don’t think I don’t notice.” 

You chuckled again, undoing the button of his jeans too, slipping a hand inside, grabbing him through his boxers. “Do you like it though?” 

He let out a shaky breath. “A little.” 

You raked your fingernails over his clothed length. “I think so, too.” 

He growled and kissed you again. There was no innocence in that kiss whatsoever. “I want to taste you.” He caught your lower lip between his teeth. “But please don’t send me home again after, I want to stay.” 

You nodded. “Take me to bed then.” 

Leon didn’t miss a beat before he grabbed you and hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“It’s straight through there,” you instructed, kissing him, feeling yourself get all hot and wet at the thought of having his puppy eyes look up at you while his tongue was caressing your clit. 

As soon as your back hit the mattress, he pulled your biker shorts and underwear down. 

“You’re so god damn beautiful,” he whispered. 

“You mentioned that before,” you said, yanking at his shirt and pulling it over his head, as he lowered himself down between your legs. 

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” His mouth found your pussy, licking up between your folds and you arched your back, pressing your head deeper into the pillows. 

“Fuck yes, Leon. Make me cum like that again.” 

“I love when you say my name like that,” he moaned and pushed his tongue into you. 

Leon didn’t play around. Just like the first time it didn’t take long for you to be writhing under him, fingers buried in his hair, legs instinctively clamping around his head, so he pushed them apart over and over again, spreading you wide for him, while he feasted on you. 

“Leon,” you panted, beginning to see stars. “I’m gonna cum.” 

He didn’t reply, he just kept going, licking, sucking, lapping up your juices, his fingers working in sync with his sinful mouth, coaxing moan after moan out of you, bringing you closer to the release you seeked. 

“Oh god,” you moaned, as the wave of blissful pleasure washed over you, your walls clenching around Leon’s fingers. The bastard removed them to feel you cum on his tongue instead, the new sensation adding a whole new level of pleasure for you. 

“Oh,” was all you could say, as your hips bucked against his face as you rode out your orgasm, your cheek pushed into the pillows. 

“Holy shit,” you panted as you came down, swallowing hard. “You’re really talented.” 

Leon clicked his tongue, the mattress dipping under his weight beside you. “It’s not talent, it’s skill.” 

Your head shot up and you stared at him, as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean, closing his eyes in pleasure before meeting your gaze.

“What?” he said, muffled by his fingers. 

“A little cocky, don’t you think?” 

He pulled his fingers out, shrugging. “It’s not if you can back it up.” 

You huffed and he gave you a shit-eating grin. “You know you would be lying if you said ‘no’.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” 

He wrinkled his forehead. “No? What made you think I was?” 

“I was just wondering,” you murmured, reaching into your nightstand to grab a condom. “I was a little worried I might be popping your cherry.” 

He shook his head, eyes following your movements. “You’re not.” 

“Who was it?” you asked, as you moved down his body, pulling down his boxers, his thick cock springing free. 

“A girl named Claire,” he murmured, watching you with deep concentration, watching what you were going to do next. 

“Was she your girlfriend?” you asked, fingers closing around his shaft and having a hard time to reach. You gulped, feeling a little panicked, but okay. 

You spread the precum over his tip with your thumb, gently caressing him, before pumping your hand up and down with a firm grip. 

Leon let out a breathy moan. “No, I told you I've never had one.” 

“Why not? Was she not nice to you?” you went on, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his tip. “Or were you not nice to her? Which one was it?” 

Leon’s breath hitched. “Look, can we not talk about her?” he pressed, having a hard time getting the words out. 

“Okay,” you said, letting go of him and he whined. You ripped the packet open, rolling the condom over him. It was a snug enough fit. 

“It’s best if you go on top the first time, that way you can take as much as you can handle.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Did you just tell me what to do?” 

He shook his head, panting in anticipation, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. You really hoped this wouldn’t be over before it even started. 

“It was more of a suggestion,” he murmured, holding on to your hips as you straddled him, the broad head of his cock pressing against you, the feeling of it making you bite your lip and your pussy flutter. There was a lot more where that came from and you were so looking forward to it. 

You gently lowered yourself down, spreading your pussy lips, watching as his tip dipped into you. He gasped at the feeling of your hot wet cunt gripping him tightly, even with this little of him inside you. 

“Oh fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed, fingers digging into your hips. 

You panted, sinking down a little lower, massaging your clit to make it easier. You might as well return the compliment. You had never felt anything like it, squeezing him involuntarily. 

Leon answered in a low moan. “Yeah baby, just like that.” 

You moved back up, rocking against him, taking a little more of him each time you came back down, the sheer size of him stretching you so deliciously. 

When you were about halfway down, you started to ride him slowly, breathing heavily, propping yourself up on his pectorals. God, he felt so firm under your hands and you felt so fucking full of him already.

You moaned, one hand moving down to play with your clit again and you threw your head back. You were nearly there, feeling your walls flutter around him, anytime you took more of him into you.

Oh fuck. 

A wrinkle formed between your brows. This felt so damn good. He reached depths in you nobody had ever been able to. You circled your clit faster, taking him deeper, mouth falling open with the way you were panting. 

“Oh fuck, Leon,” you breathed, sinking down fully, him bottoming out and you leaned back, grinding down on him, grabbing your tits, feeling your pussy ripple around him. 

You came. Hard. 

Riding out your orgasm, you moaned loudly, chest heaving. 

A blush crept onto your cheeks. This really was done before it had even started, but not because of him. 

Your gaze found his, he was pressed into the pillows, full lips agape, eyes glued to you. “That was fucking amazing,” he whispered, breathless himself. 

You let out a whimper, tentatively rolling your hips. Did he cum too? You were so caught up in the task at hand, you hadn’t even realised. 

He moaned, guiding your hips and meeting your thrust. 

He hadn’t. 

“Oh fuck, Leon,” you whined at the overstimulation. Two orgasms back to back like that were something else. You didn’t even know you could do that. 

He flipped you over, pinning you under him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, not missing a beat and thrusting into you. 

You cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Holy fuck,” you breathed. It was all you could muster. You felt like a butterfly pinned to a wall. 

Leon pushed one of your legs over to the other side, your body twisting as you held on to his shoulders still. He pressed his forehead to yours, rutting into you. 

This was way too intimate. Feeling like he was hitting from behind while making you lose your mind with sloppy kisses. 

A high pitched moan fell from your lips and he groaned. “Fuck, I love those,” he panted, picking up his pace. 

This was going to be how you died. You were sure of it. This was you leaving your worldly body. 

His pace faltered and you could feel him twitch inside you, moaning into your ear. You shook your head, feeling another orgasm come on. This wasn’t real. Absolutely fucking not. 

Leon whimpered, whispering your name, your real name, breathlessly, as he pulled out all the way and slammed back into you to the hilt.

“Leon,” you moaned, holding onto him for dear life as he set a punishing pace, pushing you further up on the mattress in the process.

“Leon, Leon, Leon.” It was the only thing on your mind. 

You cupped his face, pulling him down to you, running a thumb over his full lower lip, his breath fanning your face, as he stared at you, eyes glazed over.

“I’m gonna cum,” he panted. 

“Me too,” you gasped, feeling yourself pulling him deeper, fluttering around him. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping against the back of your thighs.

You cried out, hoping Crystal would be the one arranging your funeral.

“Are you ready?” you asked, hand on the lever. 

“I’m not sure,” Leon said, looking at you. 

You shrugged, shoving a bunch of parsley into his hand. “Well, ready or not, I’m releasing the beasts.” 

You pulled the lever and the little guinea pig chute you had installed with the help of bowsaw wizard Dave lifted up. Four fuzzy guinea pigs ran into the living room, filing through yours and Leon’s feet, wheeking loudly. 

Leon let out a surprised squeal, overwhelmed with how fast they were. You giggled. 

“They’re a lot bigger than I thought they would be.” 

“Common misconception,” you said, crouching down, emptying the entire bowl of chopped veggies onto the blanket you had put down on the hardwood floor. The furry piranhas started to demolish them straight away. “People usually assume they’re the size of hamsters.” 

Leon watched them, unsure what to do. He eventually sat down, cross legged. Arwen’s head shot up, looking for where the smell of parsley came from. When she pushed past her brethren, walking all over breakfast and put her front paws on Leon’s knee, chin jutted up, still looking for the green herb, he stiffened. 

“What do I do?” he whispered. 

“Give her the parsley,” you chuckled, watching him slowly extend his hand toward the rodent. Arwen didn’t miss a beat, making quick work of the parsley. 

Leon reached out to scratch her behind her floppy ears, but she froze and sped off back to the herd before his fingers so much as grazed her skin. 

“Another common misconception,” you said. “People tend to treat them like cats. But they’re prey animals. Anything that comes from above is potential danger.” 

You took the parsley from him, rustling it softly, all four piggy heads immediately perking up, Caramelo being the first to secure himself a piece. 

“What's your favourite thing about them?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about that.” You shrugged, trying to think of something. “I think they’re very brave. They protect the other pigs in the herd at all costs. Even if it means sacrificing themselves.” 

You caught Leon staring at you. He cleared his throat. “I should probably go. I can’t be late for work.” 

You nodded, allowing him to pull you up with him. You stood in your living area, four guinea pigs at your feet, neither of you knowing what to do with your hands, opening your mouths to say something, closing them again. 

It was ridiculous given the fact that not even twenty minutes ago, Leon had made you see god once again while you were in the shower together. 

“I,” you both started at the same time, awkwardly chuckling once you realised. 

“I had a nice time,” you said, offering him a soft smile. “I’d like to do that again some time.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, me too,” he said, searching your face for any sign of you messing with him again. When he didn’t find one, he pointed at the door. “I was just about to…” 

“Sure.” You nodded, getting out of his way. 

He paused, hand on the door handle, watching Guinevere follow you as soon as she realised you were going somewhere she wasn’t. 

“Can I open the door?” he asked. “I mean, aren’t they just gonna run off?” 

“Oh,” you whispered. “No, they won’t. They wouldn’t leave the herd like that. And they don’t know the area.” 

Leon thought about that for a second. 

“Don’t forget your jacket,” you said, grabbing it off the couch and handing it to him. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, slipping out the door. 

You sighed, looking at Guinevere, who got up on her hind legs looking like a fuzzy T. rex, nose reaching for you. 

What the hell even was last night? Once you and Leon were done fucking and had fallen asleep, both completely depleted, you woke up in the middle of the night to fuck some more. And this morning, instead of breakfast, Leon had eaten you out against the fridge, only to bend you over the kitchen counter to sink into you again. You thought you’d keep your hands off each other long enough to eat at least, but you were wrong. And the shower sex? You got wet only thinking about it. 

Thank god for the RPD because you would have continued like this well into the morning and probably for the rest of the day, if he didn’t have to leave for work. At some point your vagina probably would have just gone on strike, fed up with the strenuous working conditions and constant overtime. 

A knock on your front door made you jump. Did he forget something? 

You opened the door to Crystal, all clad in casual hiking gear. 

“What are you wearing?” you asked, wrinkling your forehead. 

“Why did I just see a toddler come out of your house at eight-thirty in the morning?” she asked in return, checking her watch. “And what do you mean, what am I wearing? What are you wearing? We’re going on a hike.” 

A hand flew to your forehead. Right. Crystal had suggested it after your last weekend shift, to get some sun and fresh air into your usually very nocturnal lifestyle. 

“I have to get the pigs sorted before we can go,” you said. “And change into something that’s not pyjamas.” 

Crystal closed the door behind her and tapped her watch. “Well, chop, chop. I want to get to the top before it gets all hot and unbearable.” 

You rushed to the sink, filling up a small bowl of water to replace the one currently in the enclosure. 

“And you didn’t answer my question,” she kept pressing, slipping off her hiking boots. 

You bit back a grin. “Guess how many orgasms I had last night.”

Crystal shrugged. “He’s so innocent and sweet looking, I wanna say zero, but you wouldn’t ask if that were the case. So I’m gonna be generous and say he got lucky and gave you one.” 

You shook your head. “Try again.” 

“Alright two.”

You shook your head again, harder this time. “Crystal, come on.” 

“He did not give you three,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He’s an infant.”   

“Seven,” you stated, emphasising every syllable. “Seven toe curling, earth shattering orgasms.” Your gaze fell onto the fridge and kitchen counter. “And then this morning he ate me out against the fridge, bent me over the counter and just kept going. And we had sex in the shower. So I guess we’re in double digits now.” 

Crystal, who had been about to grab a cup of coffee off said counter pulled her hand back, wiping it on her leggings. “That sounds like you’re about to get a UTI from hell.” 

You huffed. “Haha, Crystal, very funny.” 

“And congratulations, he’s going to walk straight into the RPD and brag about how he’s the one who managed to fuck Lola.” 

Your face fell. “No, he won’t.” 

“He will, he’s twenty-one.” She clicked her tongue. “And you’re a stripper. You're unattainable. That’s your job. That’s what they all pay for. All your regulars. Who are all cops by the way.” 

Your stomach sank. “I know he wouldn’t do that.” 

“Sure.” She looked at you, lips pursed. “What do you know about him except that he’s capable of fucking your brains out?” 

You opened your mouth, pressing your lips together again. Failing to come up with something. You really didn’t have all that much in common. Especially since you were so much older than him. “He likes tiramisu.” 

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Everyone likes tiramisu. Just like everyone wants to be the one exception to the rule, the special boy who gets to fuck the stripper.” 

You swallowed. The golden boy who the stripper actually likes more than the others. That was the fantasy you were selling for a living. To all of them. And you had handed that off to Leon for free. Multiple times.

"He won't tell anyone," you insisted. "He's not like that."

------