Suxxubus_pen

“What about this?”

Your eyes light up when Leon steps out in the olive colored quarter zip. From here, you can tell the fabric doesn't stick too close to his skin. “I like it. Show me the back.”

He turns and you sing your approvals.

“Okay, this one is good. It's not restrictive.”

“Great!” You clap, “I saw a few more colors that we should get for you in that size.”

You speed off to that very same aisle in the men's section, leaving your husband to go back and change. Magenta, navy blue, and a dark red are bundled in your arms when you meet him at the register.

“I don't know if magenta is tactical.” Leon questions while swiping his black card.

“Aww, really? I think it's a pretty color. And it brings out the brown in your hair.”

He chuckles, “Well, you do know best.”

Shirts down, shoes to go.

But first? Cinnabun.

You go through your list of what's been purchased, enjoying a fresh, warm cinnamon roll. The crystal chain from your glasses gently sway with your movements when you cross off items with your pen. Ignoring your husband’s loving stare.

“May I help you?”

Leon feeds you another piece of the cinnamon roll, eyes latched on to how your tongue swipes at the icing. “I can’t admire my wife?”

“You can…as long as you’re just looking.”

You playfully suck your teeth when a hand rests on your lower back, his large frame close to yours. “Hard to when you look like that. Beautiful. Gorgeous.”

“Flatter me as much as you want, we’re not going to end this shopping trip early.” You push up your glasses by its bridge. “There’s a sale for boots that we should hurry up and get to. You’re getting three pairs to switch up in.”

Your husband gruffs but eats the last remaining of the baked treat. “You know, you can buy stuff too. There isn’t a dress or a pair of heels you want?”

“Nope.” You quickly stand, pointing east. “We’re focusing on you here. Not me.”

Leon grimaces, following your lead, endless of bags draped across his arms.

While making the trek to the shoe store, a display catches your eye.

The mannequin in the window is wearing these light blue boot cut jeans. They’re pretty with it’s white colored seems, brown boots and an orange colored blouse completing the entire look. You’d go in and browse, but you have more pressing matters.

“Uh-uh.” Leon stops you with his arm out, “I saw you looking over there.”

“I can window shop for your information.”

“We have money. We don’t have to just window shop.”

You shake your head, trying to move around his arm. Unfortunately, with his special agent training, he quickly stops you with his entire body. “Leon. There’s no time for pit stops.”

“We got here early, there’s plenty of time.” It was your turn to grimace as he makes you turn and go in the store. “If I’m going to be stuck at the mall, I want to make sure you get something.”

Damn your husband.

You were just going to get the jeans, see how well it fits. But Leon made the employee get the entire set that was on the mannequin. Payback for the mountain of clothes you made him try on.

Okay, you’ll try these on and go back to your original plan. It probably won’t fit that well on you anyway. You always had a weird relationship with clothes, some shirts being too tight despite picking up the right size, or some pants feeling too big. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Then you tried them on.

You can’t stop smiling at how the loose, sparkling blouse fits. It coincides well with the jeans, and the boots are a nice touch. You’re practically like the mannequin in the window; confident, hot, sexy. Maybe it was a good idea to get these.

“Wow, look at you…” Leon stands when you walk out, beaming at his stunned reaction. His blue eyes tracing your outfit like you’re trying on a new dress for the first time. “Let me see the back.”

You shake your head, turning around so he can see the flashy rhinestones on the back of your jeans. Your favorite part of them, actually.

“Before you brag and say that you’re right, I am getting the entire outfit. There’s also a pair of these jeans in a darker color that I want too-oh!”

Leon’s hand splays on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. His breath fans your ear, lips trailing from the cartilage all the way down to the crook of your neck. The sudden action makes you place a hand on top of his.

“You look great in those jeans. It highlights your curves well.”

You giggle, knowing it’s better than a moan to escape. “You mean my butt.”

His laugh is breathy, goosebumps appearing on your skin and a tingling sensation to go straight down to your core. “Yes, I mean your butt. And your thighs…your hips…”

Leon ruts his hips at your ass, hoping you get the hint. Oh you do. You really do. But there’s still shopping to be done.

“Okay, big guy. I need to change.”

He groans, planting a kiss on your cheek then your neck while he rubs your stomach. “Don’t. You should walk out of here wearing this.”

“I can’t do that. There’s security tags and I’m not putting my leg on the counter for them to take it off.”

“You’re flexible enough to do it.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you gently push your horny husband away. The comment didn’t bother you, but he said it around a couple of people passing by to use the dressing room. And you’re sure they can see and hear how desperate he’s getting.

“Behave.” You press. Leon pouts like he wasn’t trying to fuck you in the dressing room.

This man.

Once that card is swiped and he’s carrying your new outfit in his hands, you focus back to the task at hand. Shoes. The shoes for Leon. The shoes Leon needs to perform at 100% at his job.

You’re not going to think about the fact that his eyes never changed after leaving the store. Low and hungry. He takes a few steps behind you, honed on the sway of your hips as you walk. Like he’s trying to get a chance to say forget about the mall altogether. And pick up where you two left off in the morning.

Not now. Not until you get these boots.

You pick out a few pairs for him to try on, making sure they fit properly. Leon goes along with it. For two seconds.

“Hey, you should change into that outfit again. We’re out the store now.”

You scoff, “This store doesn’t have a full dressing room.”

“The one next door does.”

You bite your lip, “I’m not changing my clothes in another store. I’ll wear it another time, baby.”

Leon slides his feet into the boots, walking around and looking in the mirror to see how they look. You compliment on how great they look on him, imagining him coming home one day sweaty, boots hitting the floors in exhaustion. But not tired enough for him to give you a kiss and hold you in his arms.

Ah, now you’re going crazy.

“At least put on the jeans.” He asks, “God, you should see the way they look on you…” He’s on your form once again, practically picturing some obscene thoughts.

“Leon.” You push with a nervous laugh when he squeezes your ass. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

“My wife is sexy. Is that not enough of a reason?”

He digs into your back pockets, pulling you close enough to lock on to your lips. A kiss designed to make you reconsider and steal your breath away during the influence. You hate that it’s working. You can’t think for a hot minute when he’s a hair away, breath fanning your lips. “Come on. I wanna see it again.”

You hum. A lick to your lips and you’re wondering what route he can take to get you home faster. Ugh, but you didn’t stop at the polo store and the sale ends today. Damn. Damn!

“Baby, focus. I’m not changing. You’ll see them again when we go home.”

He shakes his head, deciding to not try on the other pairs of boots, saying they’ll fit him anyway. In any other instance you would make him try them on just in case. But the shift in the air makes you pause.

Is he angry at you? All because you didn’t want to change your clothes? That’s ridiculous. He’s never gotten upset at anything like that before.

Leon’s face is neutral, straightforward. He pays for the boots and carries it into the bouquet of bags. Not complaining, not pushing you anymore about changing. “Where to next?”

“Ah, there’s some polo shirts that I think would fit you.”

He motions out the door, “Lead the way.”

On the way to the polo store, there’s silence. Neither of you make conversation or coerce each other to make another pit stop. You’d still think he was mad if only he wasn’t close to you. Closer than usual.

He’s by your hip inside the store. A hand landing there when he helps you get what you want for him to try on. Despite the array of bags on his arms, he manages to bump along your backside, muttering a “sorry, honey”. Like he did it on accident.

You inhale to steady the excitement in your heart. Leon’s clearly aroused. If that tent you felt in his pants had anything to say about it.

He gets hard when you walk around in your nightgown, the one with a stain from a burrito that you can never seem to get out. But now that he’s not angry with you, you think it’s time to go home.

You grab a few handfuls of polos you think would look nice for him and get ready to check out.

“I’m not trying them on?” He asks.

“Nope, I think they’d fit you just fine.”

Leon hums, “You sure? I can wait if-”

“No, no. I know your size, they’ll fit fine.”

He doesn’t argue as you swipe his card.

Then you’re walking back to the car faster than usual. Being the ever so DSO agent, he’s able to keep up. With bags in the trunk and your seat belt on you exhale.

“I know what you’re up to.”

Leon raises an eyebrow when starting the car, “I’m not sure what you mean.” He breaks out into a grin with a look to his direction. “Alright, you got me. My fault for thinking you look sexy in that outfit.”

“It is your fault. Now, you have to wait a little bit more until we get home.”

“Huh, do I?”

The Mercedes roars when Leon drives off. He doesn’t turn into the direction of home though. He drives a bit further behind the mall, to an abandoned parking lot where a restaurant used to be. Once he pulls up behind the building, shutting off the engine, he undoes his seat belt.

His legs spread wide, the seat slightly pushed back. “Come take a ride.”

You look around first, “What if someone sees?”

“The windows are tinted, honey.”

“But if someone gets super close, they’re still gonna see…”

“They won’t.” Leon circles your arm with his knuckles, “Don’t be scared. I got you.”

You shiver from his touch and his seductive gaze. It’s just the two of you alone in an abandoned restaurant parking lot. In the middle of the day on a Wednesday. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Alright.”

You make your way over, careful not to knock against the gearshift. Your husband watches you straddle him before pushing up your glasses once more. “Stay still, don’t move…”

Leon’s lips find yours. With more energy than before, pouring his heart out from what he originally wanted to do back at the shoe store. You keep steady with hands on his chest and finally allow yourself to relax into his embrace. No worries about any sales going on or if he had enough pants. Just you and him. Right here.

He palms your ass again, kneading it deliberately. Your breath hitches at the bite to your lip before his tongue parts yours for a taste. He groans above you as prickly stubble and the ocean sea says hello. You moan with desperation, clearly showing him how much you needed this. Needed his touch.

“Those jeans really outline your curves…”

You sigh at his whisper, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe. “You still thinking about that?”

“Mmhm…” He unbuttons your jeans, helping you lift up so they can slide off your legs. “I can’t get how they fit out of my mind.”

You jolt at the gentle slap to your rear, fiddling with his jeans. “I’ve never seen you go crazy over a pair of jeans before.”

“Not just the jeans…” He lifts up his lips so you can pull them down. “That blouse…those boots…shit…”

Leon latches on to your neck, peppering it with kisses, sucking at your pulse. You roll your hips along his arousal, noticing the light wetness occurring below. Unsure if it’s from you or from him.

“Tell me more…” You rasp, gripping the nape of his neck when he nudges against your clothed breasts, taking in the cotton fabric. “Tell me how that outfit drives you insane.”

“I want to fuck you in just that blouse.” He mutters, lifting up your shirt to see your bra. “Right on your back so I can see it shining like your tears.”

“Leon…” Your head goes back when he pulls down a bra cup, latching on to your nipple. Your hips roll some more, hard enough for him to grip your side. He sucks and rolls his tongue over your bud, drawing a low moan out of you. Every single time he manages to make you feel good. So good.

Even when he switches breasts, pulling down your cup to groan against your skin. Suck on your tit like he’s never sucked before.

“Your boots…” He continues, lifting you up with one arm, two fingers sliding along your wet lips. “I want you to walk around naked with just those on. Only for me.”

You nod and your panties are gone. Thrown in the backseat. Cool air hits your cunt, causing another shiver to go through you.

“Wear them out on a date and we wouldn’t last thirty seconds outside.”

He pulls down his boxers, cock springing free. That pink tip blushing and leaking with pre down his long shaft. He dips into your soaked hole, in awe at how wet you are. He doesn’t break eye contact when stroking himself for you.

“Let me…” You follow his movements, taking turns stroking him. Sticky sounds fill the car as you twist and pull. A thumb pressed on his tip to smear more cum down below. It was Leon’s turn to take a shaky breath.

There wasn’t much time to waste when you line yourself up. You sink down on to him and submit to the most glorious stretch of your life. One to knock any remaining air from your lungs.

“Fuck, you always feel so good…”

Leon makes you lean back into the wheel, careful not to blow the horn. His hand grips under your knee before thrusting up to you. You whine, holding back a moan before he sharply thrusts again, creating a quick rhythm. Fast and steady. Some of it leering into what he tried to start this morning. His movements lacing with anticipation.

It didn’t help that your pussy is drenched. Making it easy for him to fuck you like this. Bumping along your walls, drawing out any noise that you can muster. Damn near knocking your glasses off.

“You like that, honey?”

“Uh-huh…” You shift, moving to the right so he can hit that g-spot. But you move too much, causing the horn to go off. You jolt forward, enough for Leon to get a better angle and fuck up into hard. Both hands settling on your ass.

“I don’t usually like shopping…” He chokes, eyes fluttering. “But I’d go a lot more if I can see all the outfits I can take off and make love to you in…”

He shoots his hand between your legs, thumbing your clit after each hurried thrust. You cry, trying to hide your emotions by sloppily kissing him. He follows you during each buck of his hips, each rolling of your hips, while playing with your bud.

It’s getting too much. Your head swims from the rough motion of the car and his attention on you. Your moans get shaky, louder. You stop kissing him and press against his shoulder to ride out that upcoming pleasure. The lower pit of your stomach quakes, thighs ache from this difficult position. You can’t pull away to escape.

“I’m right there…” You shudder, eyes shut to focus on everything your husband.

“Let’s do it together.”

Leon sits up, holding you close to fuck you with as much strength as he could. Rocking that Mercedes until both of you explode with ecstasy. You molding his cock while he spills into you like it’s his mission. Pumping that load into you until he has nothing left. Besides the vision of you in that outfit.

When the quiet settles and what’s left is thrown clothes, swollen lips and a lingering scent of sweat, you nudge into his chest.

“We should go back inside. I think I saw this cute, yellow sundress when we walked by Polo…”

“What about this?”

Your eyes light up when Leon steps out in the olive colored quarter zip. From here, you can tell the fabric doesn't stick too close to his skin. “I like it. Show me the back.”

He turns and you sing your approvals.

“Okay, this one is good. It's not restrictive.”

“Great!” You clap, “I saw a few more colors that we should get for you in that size.”

You speed off to that very same aisle in the men's section, leaving your husband to go back and change. Magenta, navy blue, and a dark red are bundled in your arms when you meet him at the register.

“I don't know if magenta is tactical.” Leon questions while swiping his black card.

“Aww, really? I think it's a pretty color. And it brings out the brown in your hair.”

He chuckles, “Well, you do know best.”

Shirts down, shoes to go.

But first? Cinnabun.

You go through your list of what's been purchased, enjoying a fresh, warm cinnamon roll. The crystal chain from your glasses gently sway with your movements when you cross off items with your pen. Ignoring your husband’s loving stare.

“May I help you?”

Leon feeds you another piece of the cinnamon roll, eyes latched on to how your tongue swipes at the icing. “I can’t admire my wife?”

“You can…as long as you’re just looking.”

You playfully suck your teeth when a hand rests on your lower back, his large frame close to yours. “Hard to when you look like that. Beautiful. Gorgeous.”

“Flatter me as much as you want, we’re not going to end this shopping trip early.” You push up your glasses by its bridge. “There’s a sale for boots that we should hurry up and get to. You’re getting three pairs to switch up in.”

Your husband gruffs but eats the last remaining of the baked treat. “You know, you can buy stuff too. There isn’t a dress or a pair of heels you want?”

“Nope.” You quickly stand, pointing east. “We’re focusing on you here. Not me.”

Leon grimaces, following your lead, endless of bags draped across his arms.

While making the trek to the shoe store, a display catches your eye.

The mannequin in the window is wearing these light blue boot cut jeans. They’re pretty with it’s white colored seems, brown boots and an orange colored blouse completing the entire look. You’d go in and browse, but you have more pressing matters.

“Uh-uh.” Leon stops you with his arm out, “I saw you looking over there.”

“I can window shop for your information.”

“We have money. We don’t have to just window shop.”

You shake your head, trying to move around his arm. Unfortunately, with his special agent training, he quickly stops you with his entire body. “Leon. There’s no time for pit stops.”

“We got here early, there’s plenty of time.” It was your turn to grimace as he makes you turn and go in the store. “If I’m going to be stuck at the mall, I want to make sure you get something.”

Damn your husband.

You were just going to get the jeans, see how well it fits. But Leon made the employee get the entire set that was on the mannequin. Payback for the mountain of clothes you made him try on.

Okay, you’ll try these on and go back to your original plan. It probably won’t fit that well on you anyway. You always had a weird relationship with clothes, some shirts being too tight despite picking up the right size, or some pants feeling too big. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Then you tried them on.

You can’t stop smiling at how the loose, sparkling blouse fits. It coincides well with the jeans, and the boots are a nice touch. You’re practically like the mannequin in the window; confident, hot, sexy. Maybe it was a good idea to get these.

“Wow, look at you…” Leon stands when you walk out, beaming at his stunned reaction. His blue eyes tracing your outfit like you’re trying on a new dress for the first time. “Let me see the back.”

You shake your head, turning around so he can see the flashy rhinestones on the back of your jeans. Your favorite part of them, actually.

“Before you brag and say that you’re right, I am getting the entire outfit. There’s also a pair of these jeans in a darker color that I want too-oh!”

Leon’s hand splays on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. His breath fans your ear, lips trailing from the cartilage all the way down to the crook of your neck. The sudden action makes you place a hand on top of his.

“You look great in those jeans. It highlights your curves well.”

You giggle, knowing it’s better than a moan to escape. “You mean my butt.”

His laugh is breathy, goosebumps appearing on your skin and a tingling sensation to go straight down to your core. “Yes, I mean your butt. And your thighs…your hips…”

Leon ruts his hips at your ass, hoping you get the hint. Oh you do. You really do. But there’s still shopping to be done.

“Okay, big guy. I need to change.”

He groans, planting a kiss on your cheek then your neck while he rubs your stomach. “Don’t. You should walk out of here wearing this.”

“I can’t do that. There’s security tags and I’m not putting my leg on the counter for them to take it off.”

“You’re flexible enough to do it.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you gently push your horny husband away. The comment didn’t bother you, but he said it around a couple of people passing by to use the dressing room. And you’re sure they can see and hear how desperate he’s getting.

“Behave.” You press. Leon pouts like he wasn’t trying to fuck you in the dressing room.

This man.

Once that card is swiped and he’s carrying your new outfit in his hands, you focus back to the task at hand. Shoes. The shoes for Leon. The shoes Leon needs to perform at 100% at his job.

You’re not going to think about the fact that his eyes never changed after leaving the store. Low and hungry. He takes a few steps behind you, honed on the sway of your hips as you walk. Like he’s trying to get a chance to say forget about the mall altogether. And pick up where you two left off in the morning.

Not now. Not until you get these boots.

You pick out a few pairs for him to try on, making sure they fit properly. Leon goes along with it. For two seconds.

“Hey, you should change into that outfit again. We’re out the store now.”

You scoff, “This store doesn’t have a full dressing room.”

“The one next door does.”

You bite your lip, “I’m not changing my clothes in another store. I’ll wear it another time, baby.”

Leon slides his feet into the boots, walking around and looking in the mirror to see how they look. You compliment on how great they look on him, imagining him coming home one day sweaty, boots hitting the floors in exhaustion. But not tired enough for him to give you a kiss and hold you in his arms.

Ah, now you’re going crazy.

“At least put on the jeans.” He asks, “God, you should see the way they look on you…” He’s on your form once again, practically picturing some obscene thoughts.

“Leon.” You push with a nervous laugh when he squeezes your ass. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

“My wife is sexy. Is that not enough of a reason?”

He digs into your back pockets, pulling you close enough to lock on to your lips. A kiss designed to make you reconsider and steal your breath away during the influence. You hate that it’s working. You can’t think for a hot minute when he’s a hair away, breath fanning your lips. “Come on. I wanna see it again.”

You hum. A lick to your lips and you’re wondering what route he can take to get you home faster. Ugh, but you didn’t stop at the polo store and the sale ends today. Damn. Damn!

“Baby, focus. I’m not changing. You’ll see them again when we go home.”

He shakes his head, deciding to not try on the other pairs of boots, saying they’ll fit him anyway. In any other instance you would make him try them on just in case. But the shift in the air makes you pause.

Is he angry at you? All because you didn’t want to change your clothes? That’s ridiculous. He’s never gotten upset at anything like that before.

Leon’s face is neutral, straightforward. He pays for the boots and carries it into the bouquet of bags. Not complaining, not pushing you anymore about changing. “Where to next?”

“Ah, there’s some polo shirts that I think would fit you.”

He motions out the door, “Lead the way.”

On the way to the polo store, there’s silence. Neither of you make conversation or coerce each other to make another pit stop. You’d still think he was mad if only he wasn’t close to you. Closer than usual.

He’s by your hip inside the store. A hand landing there when he helps you get what you want for him to try on. Despite the array of bags on his arms, he manages to bump along your backside, muttering a “sorry, honey”. Like he did it on accident.

You inhale to steady the excitement in your heart. Leon’s clearly aroused. If that tent you felt in his pants had anything to say about it.

He gets hard when you walk around in your nightgown, the one with a stain from a burrito that you can never seem to get out. But now that he’s not angry with you, you think it’s time to go home.

You grab a few handfuls of polos you think would look nice for him and get ready to check out.

“I’m not trying them on?” He asks.

“Nope, I think they’d fit you just fine.”

Leon hums, “You sure? I can wait if-”

“No, no. I know your size, they’ll fit fine.”

He doesn’t argue as you swipe his card.

Then you’re walking back to the car faster than usual. Being the ever so DSO agent, he’s able to keep up. With bags in the trunk and your seat belt on you exhale.

“I know what you’re up to.”

Leon raises an eyebrow when starting the car, “I’m not sure what you mean.” He breaks out into a grin with a look to his direction. “Alright, you got me. My fault for thinking you look sexy in that outfit.”

“It is your fault. Now, you have to wait a little bit more until we get home.”

“Huh, do I?”

The Mercedes roars when Leon drives off. He doesn’t turn into the direction of home though. He drives a bit further behind the mall, to an abandoned parking lot where a restaurant used to be. Once he pulls up behind the building, shutting off the engine, he undoes his seat belt.

His legs spread wide, the seat slightly pushed back. “Come take a ride.”

You look around first, “What if someone sees?”

“The windows are tinted, honey.”

“But if someone gets super close, they’re still gonna see…”

“They won’t.” Leon circles your arm with his knuckles, “Don’t be scared. I got you.”

You shiver from his touch and his seductive gaze. It’s just the two of you alone in an abandoned restaurant parking lot. In the middle of the day on a Wednesday. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Alright.”

You make your way over, careful not to knock against the gearshift. Your husband watches you straddle him before pushing up your glasses once more. “Stay still, don’t move…”

Leon’s lips find yours. With more energy than before, pouring his heart out from what he originally wanted to do back at the shoe store. You keep steady with hands on his chest and finally allow yourself to relax into his embrace. No worries about any sales going on or if he had enough pants. Just you and him. Right here.

He palms your ass again, kneading it deliberately. Your breath hitches at the bite to your lip before his tongue parts yours for a taste. He groans above you as prickly stubble and the ocean sea says hello. You moan with desperation, clearly showing him how much you needed this. Needed his touch.

“Those jeans really outline your curves…”

You sigh at his whisper, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe. “You still thinking about that?”

“Mmhm…” He unbuttons your jeans, helping you lift up so they can slide off your legs. “I can’t get how they fit out of my mind.”

You jolt at the gentle slap to your rear, fiddling with his jeans. “I’ve never seen you go crazy over a pair of jeans before.”

“Not just the jeans…” He lifts up his lips so you can pull them down. “That blouse…those boots…shit…”

Leon latches on to your neck, peppering it with kisses, sucking at your pulse. You roll your hips along his arousal, noticing the light wetness occurring below. Unsure if it’s from you or from him.

“Tell me more…” You rasp, gripping the nape of his neck when he nudges against your clothed breasts, taking in the cotton fabric. “Tell me how that outfit drives you insane.”

“I want to fuck you in just that blouse.” He mutters, lifting up your shirt to see your bra. “Right on your back so I can see it shining like your tears.”

“Leon…” Your head goes back when he pulls down a bra cup, latching on to your nipple. Your hips roll some more, hard enough for him to grip your side. He sucks and rolls his tongue over your bud, drawing a low moan out of you. Every single time he manages to make you feel good. So good.

Even when he switches breasts, pulling down your cup to groan against your skin. Suck on your tit like he’s never sucked before.

“Your boots…” He continues, lifting you up with one arm, two fingers sliding along your wet lips. “I want you to walk around naked with just those on. Only for me.”

You nod and your panties are gone. Thrown in the backseat. Cool air hits your cunt, causing another shiver to go through you.

“Wear them out on a date and we wouldn’t last thirty seconds outside.”

He pulls down his boxers, cock springing free. That pink tip blushing and leaking with pre down his long shaft. He dips into your soaked hole, in awe at how wet you are. He doesn’t break eye contact when stroking himself for you.

“Let me…” You follow his movements, taking turns stroking him. Sticky sounds fill the car as you twist and pull. A thumb pressed on his tip to smear more cum down below. It was Leon’s turn to take a shaky breath.

There wasn’t much time to waste when you line yourself up. You sink down on to him and submit to the most glorious stretch of your life. One to knock any remaining air from your lungs.

“Fuck, you always feel so good…”

Leon makes you lean back into the wheel, careful not to blow the horn. His hand grips under your knee before thrusting up to you. You whine, holding back a moan before he sharply thrusts again, creating a quick rhythm. Fast and steady. Some of it leering into what he tried to start this morning. His movements lacing with anticipation.

It didn’t help that your pussy is drenched. Making it easy for him to fuck you like this. Bumping along your walls, drawing out any noise that you can muster. Damn near knocking your glasses off.

“You like that, honey?”

“Uh-huh…” You shift, moving to the right so he can hit that g-spot. But you move too much, causing the horn to go off. You jolt forward, enough for Leon to get a better angle and fuck up into hard. Both hands settling on your ass.

“I don’t usually like shopping…” He chokes, eyes fluttering. “But I’d go a lot more if I can see all the outfits I can take off and make love to you in…”

He shoots his hand between your legs, thumbing your clit after each hurried thrust. You cry, trying to hide your emotions by sloppily kissing him. He follows you during each buck of his hips, each rolling of your hips, while playing with your bud.

It’s getting too much. Your head swims from the rough motion of the car and his attention on you. Your moans get shaky, louder. You stop kissing him and press against his shoulder to ride out that upcoming pleasure. The lower pit of your stomach quakes, thighs ache from this difficult position. You can’t pull away to escape.

“I’m right there…” You shudder, eyes shut to focus on everything your husband.

“Let’s do it together.”

Leon sits up, holding you close to fuck you with as much strength as he could. Rocking that Mercedes until both of you explode with ecstasy. You molding his cock while he spills into you like it’s his mission. Pumping that load into you until he has nothing left. Besides the vision of you in that outfit.

When the quiet settles and what’s left is thrown clothes, swollen lips and a lingering scent of sweat, you nudge into his chest.

“We should go back inside. I think I saw this cute, yellow sundress when we walked by Polo…”

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon would be genuinely fascinated watching you paint or sketch, even if he didn't understand all the techniques; hee just likes seeing you happy.

Shows up to every gallery opening in his nicest suit, looking way more nervous than you are because he wants everything to go perfectly.

Secretly circles the room making sure people are respectful around your work. Nobody's touching the paintings on his watch.

His favorite piece is never the one everyone else loves; it's always something personal that reminds him of a quiet moment you shared.

If someone compliments your art, he's standing there with the biggest proud smile like "Yeah, that's my partner."

Buys flowers after every exhibition without fail, even if you tell him it's unnecessary.

Keeps every tiny doodle you leave lying around. Receipts with little sketches? They're somehow saved in a drawer.

Doesn't always understand modern art, but he'll nod thoughtfully and ask questions because he genuinely wants to know what inspired it.

If critics leave harsh reviews, he'll quietly remind you that one opinion doesn't erase your talent.

Loves when you paint him, but gets ridiculously flustered if it's even remotely romantic. He has no idea where to look.

Chris Redfield

He's your biggest cheerleader and tells literally everyone that you're an artist.

Carries your supplies without complaining, even if he's hauling an absurd amount of canvases across town.

Doesn't know much about art, so he'll ask a million questions just because he wants to understand your passion.

At galleries, he keeps sneaking pictures of you admiring your own work because he thinks you look happiest there.

Gets emotional seeing people connect with your paintings more than he'll ever admit.

Proudly hangs your artwork all over the house. Blank walls don't stay blank for long.

If someone wants to commission you, he's already encouraging you before you've finished doubting yourself.

Loves sitting quietly while you work. He'll read or clean his weapons nearby while enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

If you're stressed before an exhibition, he'll make sure you've eaten and remind you to get some sleep.

Every successful gallery ends with him taking you out for dinner because "we're celebrating whether you think you deserve it or not."

Albert Wesker

He immediately notices your technical skill before commenting on the emotional side of your work.

Rarely gives empty compliments. If he praises a piece, you know he truly means it.

He'd quietly fund higher-quality materials if he thought they would improve your work, pretending it wasn't a gift.

Gallery openings become networking opportunities in his eyes. He notices every influential guest in the room.

Watches how people react to your art almost as carefully as he watches the artwork itself.

If someone insults your talent without reason, his response is calm enough to be terrifying. They usually regret speaking.

Appreciates portraits with precise anatomy and perfect composition the most.

Keeps one favorite painting in his office where almost nobody is allowed to see it.

If you painted him, he'd study every detail before asking why you chose certain colors or expressions.

He won't constantly shower you with praise, but his quiet support and unwavering confidence in your abilities say more than words ever could.

Carlos Oliveira

Absolutely brags about dating an artist every chance he gets.

Volunteers to help set up galleries even if he has no clue what he's doing.

Accidentally becomes everyone's favorite guest because he's chatting with every visitor and hyping your work.

Cries over emotional paintings way easier than he'd like to admit.

Wants you to teach him how to paint, only to discover he's hilariously terrible at it.

Keeps asking if you'll paint a giant portrait of the two of you together.

Buys you snacks while you're working because he knows you'll forget to eat.

Gets distracted staring at you instead of the paintings during exhibitions.

Loves colorful, lively artwork because it reminds him of your personality.

Ends every successful gallery night by wrapping you in the biggest hug and saying how proud he is.

Piers Nivans

He's the type to memorize the meaning behind every single piece you've ever created.

Arrives early to every exhibition just to help with anything you need.

Gets quietly emotional seeing strangers admire something you poured your heart into.

If you're anxious, he'll stay beside you the entire evening unless you tell him to mingle.

Keeps a sketchbook you filled with little doodles because throwing it away feels wrong.

Loves listening to you explain your creative process, even if the conversation lasts hours.

Notices tiny improvements in your work that even you overlook.

Always signs the guestbook with an overly heartfelt message about your talent.

If someone asks about your art while you're busy, he's surprisingly good at explaining your inspiration.

His favorite moments aren't the gallery itself; they're watching your face light up when someone truly understands your work.

Jake Muller

Pretends art isn't really his thing, then somehow ends up staring at your newest painting for ten straight minutes.

Acts embarrassed about attending gallery openings, but he's always there before they start.

Rolls his eyes when you thank him for coming. "Where else was I gonna be?"

Secretly keeps a small sketch you made of him tucked inside his wallet.

Gets defensive if someone talks down to your work, even if you were ignoring them.

Doesn't understand abstract pieces at first, but he'll ask what they mean instead of pretending he gets it.

Loves watching you work because you're completely different when you're focused.

If you paint him looking soft or smiling, he'll complain... while refusing to let anyone else have the painting.

Quietly buys you expensive art supplies after hearing you mention them once, insisting it was "just convenient."

After every exhibition, he'll casually mutter, "You did good," which, coming from Jake, is basically the highest compliment imaginable.

Jack Krauser

Thinks it's funny that someone as soft as an artist ended up dating someone like him, but he'd never admit he actually likes the contrast.

Stands in the back of every gallery with his arms crossed, silently watching people's reactions to your work.

If someone insults your art just to be rude, they're suddenly on the receiving end of one of his intimidating stares.

Doesn't understand every artistic choice you make, but he'll always ask why because he wants to know how your mind works.

Secretly likes when you sketch him, even if he complains that you made him "look too nice."

Keeps one of your smallest drawings tucked into his gear where nobody else would ever find it.

Calls galleries "boring," yet somehow never misses a single exhibition.

Loves seeing how relaxed you become while creating. It's one of the few times he sees you completely at peace.

If a piece clearly reflects your feelings, he'll notice long before anyone else does, even if he doesn't bring it up.

After every show, he'll give your shoulder a quick squeeze and quietly tell you that you did well.

Luis Sera

Spends the entire gallery flirting with you while pretending he's there strictly for the artwork.

Proudly introduces himself as "the lucky one dating the artist" to literally anyone who will listen.

Loves hearing you explain every hidden meaning behind your paintings, even if he's already heard the story before.

Constantly asks if you'll let him be your model, insisting he has "excellent angles". He won't hesitate becoming your nude model, because of course, he's Luis.

Brings you coffee whenever you're painting because he knows you'll lose track of time.

Gets genuinely emotional seeing complete strangers connect with something so personal to you.

If someone wants to buy your favorite piece, he'll jokingly ask if you're sure because he wanted it for himself.

Has absolutely zero shame bragging about your talent to everyone he knows.

Keeps little sketches you make of him tucked inside books where he'll randomly find them again later.

Ends every exhibition by kissing your forehead and telling you how proud he is before you can doubt yourself.

HUNK

Rarely comments while you're working, but he'll quietly sit nearby for hours without disturbing you.

Shows up to your galleries without mentioning it beforehand, blending into the crowd like nobody notices him.

Pays close attention to every piece even if his expression never changes.

If someone compliments your work, he'll remember exactly what they said and casually tell you later.

Keeps one favorite painting in a private room that almost nobody else ever enters.

Doesn't fully understand abstract art, but if it matters to you, he'll take the time to understand it.

You'd never catch him openly bragging, but hearing someone praise your talent leaves him quietly satisfied.

Makes sure you get home safely after every exhibition without making a big deal out of it.

If you're exhausted after a gallery opening, he'll silently take over carrying everything back for you.

His version of saying "I'm proud of you" is simply hanging your newest artwork where he'll see it every day.

Karl Heisenberg

Immediately claims your studio is now his favorite place to hang around, mostly because you're there.

Loves teasing you while you paint, then acts innocent when you threaten to throw a brush at him.

Thinks your creativity is fascinating because it's so different from the way his own mind works.

Shows off your artwork to anyone visiting, whether they asked to see it or not.

Loudly argues with anyone who says they don't "get" your art, as if it's a personal insult.

Tries convincing you to make giant sculptures together just because he thinks it'd be fun.

Keeps asking if you'll paint him looking cooler than he actually does.

Secretly treasures every little sketch you leave around the factory, even if they're just doodles.

Gets ridiculously smug whenever someone buys one of your pieces like he personally made the sale happen.

After every successful exhibition, he's already planning how you're celebrating before you even leave the building.

The Merchant

Somehow always manages to find rare art supplies before you even realize you need them.

Calls your paintings "valuable treasures" with the exact same excitement he has for everything else he sells.

Loves wandering around your gallery, happily admiring every single piece like it's part of his collection.

If someone buys your artwork, he's somehow even more excited than you are.

Keeps your smallest sketches carefully stored away as if they're priceless artifacts.

Never lets you pay full price for anything related to your art, though he'll insist it's "good business."

Quietly encourages your creativity whenever you start doubting yourself.

Could listen to you talk about painting techniques for hours without getting bored.

Finds genuine joy in watching people stop and admire your work.

Always ends exhibitions by proudly declaring your art was "an excellent purchase" even when nobody actually bought anything.

Glenn Arias

Prefers private gallery viewings where he can admire your work without crowds interrupting the moment.

Notices details in your paintings that most people completely overlook.

Would absolutely commission you to paint something meaningful rather than buying expensive artwork from strangers.

Keeps your favorite painting displayed somewhere only a handful of trusted people ever see.

Enjoys discussing symbolism and hidden meanings with you long after everyone else has gone home.

If critics misunderstand your work, he'll dismiss their opinions without a second thought.

Watches you while you explain your art more often than he actually looks at the paintings.

Quietly supports every exhibition behind the scenes, making sure everything runs smoothly.

Gives thoughtful compliments instead of dramatic praise, often pointing out details even you forgot you included.

At the end of every gallery night, he'll simply tell you your work deserved every bit of attention it received.

Billy Coen

Zeno Wesker

Loves sitting nearby while you paint, enjoying the quiet without feeling the need to fill the silence.

Thinks it's amazing that you can turn ordinary moments into something beautiful with just a brush.

Shows up to every gallery looking a little out of place, but he's always the proudest person in the room.

Keeps every little sketch you casually hand him, even the ones you insist aren't very good.

If someone compliments your work, he'll smile to himself before casually mentioning that he's your boyfriend.

Never rushes you while you're creating, even if it means dinner ends up being hours late.

Likes landscapes the most because they remind him of peaceful places he's rarely had the chance to enjoy.

If you're nervous before an exhibition, he'll quietly remind you that your art speaks for itself.

Doesn't always know the right words to describe your work, but he'll always tell you exactly how it made him feel.

After every gallery, he'll suggest taking a quiet walk together so you can finally relax.

Victor Gideon

Finds your creativity interesting because it's something completely different from his own way of thinking.

Pays close attention whenever you explain your artistic choices, remembering more than you'd expect.

Prefers smaller gallery events where he can actually spend time looking at each piece.

Gives honest feedback instead of empty compliments, but it's always thoughtful.

Secretly keeps one of your earliest drawings because he likes seeing how much you've improved.

If someone dismisses your work too quickly, he'll politely challenge their opinion just to make them think.

Likes watching you paint more than actually talking while you do it.

Quietly replaces worn-out art supplies before you realize you've run out.

Never forgets the dates of your exhibitions, even if he pretends he almost did.

Tells you he's proud of your progress far more often than he compliments the finished paintings.

Ethan Winters

Treats every gallery opening like an important event and insists you celebrate afterward.

Loves hearing the stories behind your artwork because they're usually his favorite part.

Has a habit of standing beside your favorite painting just to watch visitors react to it.

If someone buys your work, he's somehow happier than the person who purchased it.

Encourages you to experiment with new styles instead of staying in your comfort zone.

Never lets your self-doubt last very long before reminding you how talented you are.

Keeps photos from every exhibition you've ever invited him to.

Loves collecting little prints or postcards of your artwork whenever they're available.

Makes sure you're eating and drinking water during busy gallery nights because he knows you'll forget.

Ends every exhibition by telling you he can't wait to see what you'll create next.

Nikolai Zinoviev

Thinks your artwork makes the house feel warmer, so he's always asking where the next piece should go.

Loves watching you paint while he quietly works on something else nearby.

Shows up to galleries looking a little awkward, but he'll happily stay for as long as you need.

Doesn't know much about art, so he'll ask simple questions that somehow make you see your own work differently.

Keeps little doodles you make on sticky notes instead of throwing them away.

Gets genuinely excited whenever someone tells you your art made them feel something.

If you're overwhelmed before an exhibition, he'll remind you that people came because they already wanted to see your work.

Proudly tells friends that every painting in the house was made by you.

Loves portraits of everyday moments because they remind him of a peaceful life together.

After every gallery, he'll ask which painting you're happiest with before talking about anything else.

Pretends gallery openings are a waste of time, yet somehow always ends up attending anyway.

Quietly studies your paintings longer than he'd ever admit if you asked.

If someone annoys you during an exhibition, they're suddenly dealing with him instead.

Doesn't hand out compliments often, so when he calls a piece impressive, you know he means it.

Thinks it's amusing how passionate you become whenever you talk about your art.

Keeps one of your sketches tucked away where nobody else would think to look.

Notices when your paintings reflect your mood, even if nobody else catches it.

Rolls his eyes whenever you apologize for spending too much time painting, telling you to finish it properly instead.

Never admits he's proud outright, but he'll casually mention your latest exhibition to other people.

With a roughened grunt, he’s jostling your limp legs to lock up even tighter around his neck, the sloppiest mating press he’d even manhandled you into. Baring such a feral grin that makes you realize within your heady mind that neither of you just might be making it out of tonight alive. 

You don’t even know how it started - didn’t have a clue. One minute you’re at another stuffy clan gathering, speaking with a few other clan leaders from across the country; and the next, Toji’s all but dragging you towards the closest bedroom in your estate. 

Rotund knees slipping and sliding across that ever-growingly sticky pool of seed dawning on the silken blankets. 

But Toji can’t even bring himself to be disgusted, no, he wants more.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck s’too deep- hngh-”

“No-” he chokes out throatily. “S’not deep enough.”

Shakily, he’s splaying out his greedy fingers about halfway across your stomach, swiping across for that familiar nudge where he can feel his swollen tip glide wet gushes of swelteringly hot precum across your bruised g-spot. Where he was knocking into your very womb-

“There.”  And without any warning, he’s pressing down - hard. Mean mouth dropping softly in awe at those saccharine sweet dredges of his cum drooling down your thighs, drip drip dripping in thick ribbons to paint a creamy ring around his reddened base. “N-now ya have space, dontcha, doll?”

One of his calloused palms slides down to attach to your squirming waist. “Don’t- don’t run away, ma—” And you swear you could hear his rumbling baritone crack ever-so-slightly at the very end of his words. Hips sloppying up the very insides of your thighs with every harsh smack! “Haven’t f-filled up this cute cunt all the way yet- ah h-haven’t oh- fucked a baby into ya.”

The rounded edges of his digits swirl in such a sultry way around your soppingly wet clit, leaving tiny swats! that make the puddle of cum and your sweet, sweet slick splatter.  “S-see, so much of it gone to ah- waste. How am I s-s’pposed to show off to those fuckers who my pretty hngh- wife is. The pretty momma of my heirs–?”

Your bleary eyes snap open, a broken whine on the very edge of your heavy tongue. “S-so this is what s’all about- you were j-”

But his rummaging thrusts are too much. Inch after girthy inch being fed into your drooling pussy, you could feel his voluminous loads of cum sloshing around your gummy walls. Clinging to you so syrupy - and Toji couldn’t stop.

He didn’t even know if he could cum again, whether it was possible. But fuck, if he wasn’t going to try.

Dark brows scrunching together in ecstasy, strands of his soft hair sticking to his sweat-simmered forehead. His body hunches over with such a sensitive gasp, skin burning when he’s feeling his fat, cum-filled balls squeeze. Once. Twice. 

Driving him mad.

“Y-yeah so what-” he’s grumbling out gutturally, and his eyes roll to the very back of his head. “Shit, hate those m-meetings. Hate those no-good bastards.” Teeth tugging on your wobbly bottom lip, “-so what if I wan’ show off- to have you so round and- and glowing that they know what I did, ma?”

The thought is enough for him to bark out a drunken bout of laughter. Humorless. Sleazy. Over and over where he’s rummaging at your melty insides. “They’ll know they’ll know- oh, th-they’ll know how I made ya mine.” Smearing a wet glide of seed down your throbbingly neglected clit. “How I hngh- f-fucked a baby into ya. How s’me that filled ya up- all me-”

And it’s just about all it takes for you to cum - for him to cum.

But Toji’s so fucking hypnotized by your heavenly pussy that he barely even realizes at first. Just letting his entire hulking body shudder with a trail of violent shivers, bowing enough to graze that raised scar of his positioned on his lips against yours. Soft. “Gonna be the clan momma- hngh- clan ah-”

Scratching back and forth back and forth back and forth- while he’s cumming blanks.

Angry, sobbing divot at the very end of his length shooting out wispy little beads of white. Again. And again. 

You’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Toji- Toji might just be seeing heaven. With you right there, his pretty angel.

And he feels your skin underneath his sharpened canines. Biting into the crook of your neck so hard it was like he was out for blood.

“Me-” he giggles. Giggles. Shamelessly bringing forth two rude fingers to pry open your whiny mouth, “Me me me me- every other clan’s gonna see you and- hah- see me-” Punctuated with drippingly wet ruts of his hips, not even thrusts anymore. He didn’t have the sanity. And he spits a wad of honeyed saliva right onto your taste-buds, “-because you’re mine, aren’t ya, madam?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Madam Nanami

Nanami thinks he might just be drunk - hypnotized - anything and everything that’s keeping him from paying attention to the important clan meeting currently at hand.

And of course, it was utterly your fault.

“My love…” Nanami’s deepened voice hums lowly in your ear from behind. His thick fingers curl roughly around your waist, holding your shifting hips in place. “We’re at a meeting.”

You’re batting your lashes as the haughty elders speaking over each other, sounding so utterly unapologetic when you leer smugly up at your husband. “What? M’jus’ getting-” And he can only suck in a shudderingly sharp gust of air when you grind your ass down even harder on his lap, dragging your sodden panties up to where he was rock-hard. “-comfortable, Ken.”

Over and over. Your puffed-up pussy lips positioned just above his fat, weepy head.

It’s been like this for too long now. And Nanami could feel his sanity dancing away, he could feel it building up within him. He was going to-

His drunkenly half-lidded eyes veer down at you, and you catch the way that his stern jaw clenches. Gritting through clenched teeth, “You’re going to be in trouble, ma’am.”

“So what?”

SLAM!

And it’s like Nanami couldn’t stand up fast enough, couldn’t shove your pretty body down onto the cool mahogany urgently enough. One hand of his long fingers curled around your throat, the other flicking towards the door, “All of you out. Now.”

Not even bothering to look towards whether or not they’d scrambled towards the door before your seepingly soaked panties are pulled just enough to the side. 

He grunts, “Pretty–”

Barely even a split-second later before you’re being stuffed with inch after veined inch of Nanami’s girthy cock. He’s letting his head fall backwards, a leering dribble of drool placing down the corner of his lips already, toned hips snapping forwards at the clingy push and pull of your slobbering cunt. 

And it feel so unfairly good when he sinks in with a few ragged breaths, so unfairly heavenly-

“Spit.” Nanami’s choking out, mouth falling slack, sculpted front pressed down bruisingly at your back. Keeping you stuck pinned underneath nothing but him and his mercilessly pressurized jackhammers. And you do - saccharine sweet saliva hitting his tongue- “Fuck fuck fuck, you feel s-so-”

And the clan leader can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, can’t do anything but slur out a staggered mantra of your name over and over when that’s all it takes for him to cum. 

Voice lilting up to a pathetic pitch, every wavering gush of seed having his head lolling. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he heaves. 

Far from finished.

“Can’t- can’t believe I-” The back of one of his thumbs comes to dredge up the gleaming white sheen of cum, and he’s going wild with the honeyed taste on his tongue as soon as he’s sucking. “Oh, were ya th-this wet throughout the entire ah- meeting, my love?”

You shiver at the way his still-fattened cockhead was nudging you open, the stretch so maddening. Your cunt so tight. “M-maybe-”

Smack!

And it’s like he’s thoroughly drunk on your pussy already when his soft palm splays out across the sting on your ass, gushing out in another sticky ribbon of seed down your g-spot. And another. He couldn’t stop- You can feel it swiveling slowly around your elastic walls. 

Fuck, just your tone makes his hefty balls squeeze, so tight and painful with every stingingly wet thwack! thwack! thwack! against your cunt.

He hauls you upwards like some ragdoll with the vice-like grip around your throat. “Th-tha’s not ‘nough, darling-” he’s purring, nosing down your neck. “The m-madam’s gotta use her ngh- big girl words, no?”

You feel those tufts of blond scratch teasingly against the fat of your ass, rummaging the swollen length of his cock down every nook and cranny he could reach - every single one. Thump thump thumping! furiously against all of your tenderized sweetened spots. “C’mon now- tell me. Tell me what ya want so badly.”

“P-please-” Your mouth slacks in awe, “Want you to cum inside- to bre-”

Because Nanami Kento would give his madam anything. Anything. 

Even if that has him pummeling his achingly hard cock into your even further, deftly covering your mouth with one of his palms. He’s huffing out in a feverish puff against your ear, “Mhm- did s-so well- now let your hngh- husband take care of it now, honey-” Kissing down the side of your forehead, he hikes up one muscular thigh to drivel his cock into you sloppier. Wrenching out loud squelches. “-let’s hear what this p-pretty pussy has to say now- let’s let’s hear-”

He was out of control. 

Oh, he’s like a broken record, fighting with every shred of will left in his hunched-over body to stop his babbling mouth.

Pressing gentle kiss after kiss all over your face, fingers at your neck tightening. While his hips were rattling off the most mean crashes into your g-spot. 

“I think–she’s saying-” Nanami’s dark groan sends shivers down your spine, hissing through his bared canines when your back arches even sluttier. Jostling at the perfect angle for him to pool the trail of milky cum dribbling from your soppingly wet lips onto two pads of his fingers, a glistening gloss all the way down to his wrist. And, this time, he’s plugging the creamy wads back into your overly stuffed cunt. Bullying. Stretching. “-that…”

Shit, he was going to cum again. 

You felt too good. And he swears he’s going to marry you all over again.

“Wh-what-” you’re crying. Begging. Knees weakening to such an extent that your husband was gladly supporting your full body weight with one big beefy arm wrapped snugly around your waist. “-tell me, K-Ken-”

Ah, he truly was nothing against you.

He rasps in a low whisper against your ear, “-that I wanna make ya a pretty momma, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Madam Geto

“Easy, girl, easy–” Geto’s silken purr made your thighs just quiver, gasps stuttering in your throat. “You could think of it as jus’ you n’ me.”

And he’s batting his dewy lashes down at you - his wife - shit, just thinking of the word was enough to have his cock twitch animalistically inside the very depths of your snug cunt. 

Glissading his soft palms underneath your thighs to spread them even shamefully wider, making you keen at the utterly mean way he was folding you into a full nelson - all for them to see through the bed’s half-opaque curtains. The elders. The council. His pearly white teeth sink into your ear lobe, eyes drooping more and more close-lidded with every one of your squelching clenches. “Or…we could give ‘em a show?”

Ah, truly, this was Geto’s least favorite part of the marriage initiation - being watched on your wedding night. Or, at least, it was. 

He feels drunk on your pretty pussy already when he’s rutting up in mindless, languid drags of his hefty cock down your velvety walls. Filing up every free inch of space inside your snug cunt with his swollen cock - every free inch. 

You’re sputtering out at his ragged pace, squirming down sultry gyrations against his defined hips. “W-wan’ to give them a show, Sugu-”

And oh that was enough to have your all-new husband’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, to have his humorless bout of laughter ring in your ear. Dangerous. “The new madam’s gonna be the death of me, g-gorgeous-”

He was already planting pound after pound on all your most tender spots, fucking away like he was addicted to the lewd smack of skin-on-skin. Loud enough to drown out those low mutters from around the bed. About to lose it if he couldn’t feel the smoothened drag of your elastic walls massaging down his veins for just a second-

“Really wanna give ‘em a hngh- sh-show?” Geto’s echoing against your ear, still in utter disbelief at those filthy, filthy words spilling from your sweet mouth. Slender fingers glide across to your puffy clit, pinching. “Then how about–” Fucking heaving for air, scrambling to prattle out coherently, “-ya show ‘em jus’ how the next Geto heir is made.”

His hips are stuttering up at an almost inhuman pace, long locks splaying out into those plush pillows. Shit, the only thing keeping his head still held up was the sight of you down below.

The way your ravaged pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, struggling to take him entirely even after so long. But swallowing and swallowing so greedily that it made his throat dry, eyes blinking open desperately to catch the way his twitchy balls smacked your drooling cunt. 

“The next h-heir?” The words are just now registering, and just about all you can do right now is let your head loll backwards to graze a wet kiss along Geto’s blooming pink lips. “M’gonna make ya a d-daddy?”

Fuck- he rams his hips up thoroughly. Stuffing you full of so many of his staggering, solid inches that you’re being fucked stupid. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Geto pants out, and you feel his curvaceous pecs heave up and down with each of his ragged breaths. “-g-gonna let me make you a pretty hah- momma, aren’t ya?” Craning his arm around to press onto your womb, smear his palms through every inch of skin he could reach. “Let me f-fill ya up? Have you all hngh round n’ glowing f’me? Pretty- gonna be s-so so pretty–”

God, his voice was so hypnotic. 

But no one was thrown into a more feverish desperation than Geto himself.

He’s letting plaster a pussydrunken grin at the stares around your sweat-slicked bodies - some wide, some downturned, all shocked at just how completely he was ruining you. 

Ruining himself. 

Because soon enough shaky babbles are wrenching out from his lips, unsteady. Needy. “Makes me wanna m-marry ya I swear-” 

Planting his two feet flat on the bouncy mattress to ram his weepy cockhead in rummaging swipes even faster, head whirling at every gushing clench. He leaves teary, overstimulated kisses down the side of your face. “-make you my hngh- wife- my madam. Make you the m-mother of my heir.”

You’re giggling, barely-lucid yourself. “M’already your ah- wife, Sugu–”

Fuck-

He didn’t think those would be the very words to send him over the edge - hell, he didn’t think his orgasm would be crashing into him this hard, either. Good, it felt too good.

Because you melty walls mold around him so tightly that Geto whines at how difficult it was for him to be spearheading his fat cock into your gooey insides. So cozy - and then you’re gushing.

Making his overworked, achy mouth fall in awe at the sheer way your dripping cunt was coating him in seeping wet waves of your juices. Glossing him in a translucent sheen - so fucking heavenly that he almost doesn’t realize that he’s cumming. 

Pouring out thick stringy wads of his seed that french kisses the very bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that Geto can feel his swollen balls jolt, a swirling coat of cum creaming down his shaft. 

Oozing out slowly, in a way that makes his mouth water, “You’re right–” he breathes. So quiet, so broken that it takes a second for your ringing ears to hear him. He chuckles, “-so now m’only b-behind on givin’ you my ah- heir.”

In a split-second, his powerful reflexes are pinning your back flat against the soft mattress, puffing out all the air out of your lungs with just how greedily he was shoving you. Your legs thrown over his shoulders, sliding at the perspiration, his cock smack! smack! smacking right on your clit. 

Geto tilts his head towards your initiation audience, grinning. “Better keep yer heads down while I f-fuck the future mother of my ah- kids. Or I’ll kill ya.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Madam Kamo

“F-fuuuuck-” Choso really can’t help the way that his rawly red lips fall slack, he really can’t help the way his eyes droop even more pussydrunkenly lower. On his knees. Tongue lolling out to drag roughly across your sopping wet folds. “Might jus’ be addicted, baby—”

Your fingers thread even tighter into this long, sweat-dampened strands of hair. Tugging, pulling - but no amount of force could ever stop Choso Kamo from French-kissing his way to your clit. 

“Ch-Cho you have to be oh-” you’re cut off with a sudden surging moan. Frantically covering your mouth with your free hand when he wraps his lips around your sensitive nub and sucks. “-t-to be quiet. We’re gonna get caught.”

That tiny inkling of rationality in Choso’s syrupy mind knows that maybe the chambers of his childhood estate wasn’t the best of places to utterly ravage you. 

Knows that maybe - just maybe - he should tone down those honeyed squelches being reeled from your sopping wet cunt. Push back the rasping ah! ah! ah! resounding at the back of his throat, if he didn’t want to be caught by the rest of the Kamo clan.

But oh, you just tasted so good-

“C-can’t help it, baby–” the clan leader’s whining, teary lashes fluttering up at you. Shoving you weakly standing against the wall, pouty mouth twisting into a delirious smile, “-why did you have to g-go n’ act all motherly with hngh- Yuji.”

Shit, those drawling words almost hurt Choso to be able to wrench out. They threw his mind into such a syrupy state, and had his swollen, achy cock twitch with another ribbony ooze of translucent precum. Drip! drip! dripping through his yukata and onto the tatami floor. 

With a pathetically broken whimper, he’s gripping on tight to the fattened hilt of his shaft. Hissing at the stark coldness against his swelteringly hot length, “Shouldn’t h-have done that oh- shouldn’t have-”

He was addicted. 

Burying himself in so deep that Choso doesn’t even need air right now. Nose meshing against the very top of your drooling pussy lips, chin grinding against you with each trail of his scorching hot tongue back and forth back and forth back and-

“Sh-shit, Cho-” you’re gasping, back arching in such a slutty bow. “-that i-is what this is all about?” 

It was. But right now he couldn’t even think of describing exactly what those tiny, domestic gestures did to him. How it’d awoken such a deep, primal part of himself. 

So instead, he’s jostling one of your weakening thighs up onto his broad shoulder. Roughly attaching the pads of his fingers onto your wrist, tongue only growing more hypnotically hungry. “Love you-” he spits into your pussy. Wet, sopping wads of spit that connect in delicate strings all the way down to the lower half of his innocently flushed face. “-love you love you, my madam. Love you so-” His noble cheeks hollow around your clit,  “-much. Hgnh- love you- what a p-perfect momma you’d make, baby–”

And then suddenly your ears feel like popping when your body wracks with waves of your orgasm. Over and over you’re cumming on Choso’s pretty face and he’s loving it.

Guiding both of your trembly hands onto his head, he makes you drag your slobbering cunt all down his features - using him.

Wrist aching with just how fast he was swirling his thick thumb around his rotund head, up and down up and down.

“Yeah- yeah-” his words are hoarse little whines. Eyes half-lidded shut at the gushing waves of your saturated slick, he’s blowing sloppy kisses around your winking hole. “Use me- use me. A-anything for you, baby- please- s’more baby– my wife-” 

It practically hurts to pull away.

And your dripping pussy is left with the final vibrations of Choso’s disappointed moan- before he’s surging up unsteadily onto two feet. 

One of his massive palms resting greedily underneath the globes of your ass, hoisting you up to kiss the very edges of your swollen folds with his fat cockhead. Gliding across a see-through glisten of precum before he’s cumming.

“Fuck.” 

“Shhh, q-quiet, baby-”

Choso wrangles his fingers deftly around his thickened base, biting down hard on his lower lip when he squeezes out dripping wet load after load onto into your sloppy entrance. Fucking his hand ever-so-slightly to just milk out more and more, “C-can I put it inside, baby? Please, baby?” His babbling mouth drags against your own, not even capable of managing a kiss right now. “-wanna fill you up n’ make you allll mine, y’know? Wanna- please.”

You let out a honeyed giggle, smoothing down the big fat tears that’d started to roll their way down Choso’s eyes. “Of course, you can. No n-need to be shy, Cho.”

And you’re barely even finishing your sentence, the words only halfway registering Choso’s hazy brain before he’s plugging you full of his circular girth. “G-god jus’ being inside s’making me hngh cum again.” Streaming out whatever dredges are left of his cum-filled balls. “Please- give me an heir- please- a lil baby-”

It’s trailing down the end of your puffy slit, and Choso can’t help but gasp a sharp inhale when he’s pooling the milky dribble on his fingers. “D-do you think this got you p-pregnant, baby?”

“Maybe…” you’re humming in that smug tone that does anything but wonders for his sanity. “Might hafta hah- try it out again jus’ to make sure, don’t you think, Mr. Clan leader?”

There’s a sudden clack! as he’s dropping to his knees, barely even giving you a second to realize anything before Choso’s ravenous mouth was heated on your messy cunt once more. 

Dragging his tongue across the milky outer layer, so filthy. Every pearlescent bead pooling on his tongue - and he just spits it back sloppily onto your cunt. Depraved. 

“B-be quiet f’me, baby–” he’s hushing you in a drunken soothe. “Gotta make space.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Madam of Curses

“Kuna…” Your babbles are music to the king’s ears, and he can feel his sleazy grin plastered all over his face already. “-I-I want…”

Smack!

“Now, what have I told ya, brat?” The sharpened lengths of his black fingernails brush up on your plump clit. Sukuna’s rumbling warning blooms such delicious clenches of your gummy walls around his jostling cocks, forcing him to hold back a moan, “If ya want somethin’, don’t stutter.”

Well, Ryomen Sukuna would give you the moon if you so much as glanced at it with want - stutter or not. But times like this made his swollen tips twitch to tease those irritated mewls out of you.

You’re stubbornly wrapping your trembly arms around his hulking shoulders, just barely able to wrap around his muscles. Glassy eyes narrowing, “I want a baby, Kuna-”

Fuck, you might just have broken him. You’ve finally defeated the strongest sorcerer in history. Because those very words spilling from your pretty lips have his chest heaving with a deep inhale, his entire body bowing when his angry cocks gush excitedly inside of you. Smearing your melty walls with wave after dangerous wave of his steaming hot precum.

“Wh-what?” he’s hissing through clenched canines, devilish red eyes honing in on you as if you were his next meal. Hauling your body all the way down those silken sheets, until he’s spearheading his rotund tips right into your cervix. “Don’t talk outta ya pussy, woman.”

“B-but it’s true-” you’re sobbing at this point. Batting your lashes at him in a way that he knew you were pulling out your dirtiest tricks. “-dontcha hngh- want an heir, baby?”

Heir.

Oh, fuck. Heir. 

Just the word has Sukuna’s head throwing backwards, snarling growls ripping from his strangled throat when his hefty balls clench in excitement. Just the word enough to get him to cum, but no-

“No.” His hot breath blankets your face, and before you’re able to bare him with that glossy pout of yours, Sukuna sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. Pulling. “I want two.”

And it’s like something snaps.

Because in an instant, he’s flipping the two of you over, until your snug cunt was filled to the brim with both matchingly hefty cocks. Sliding down, down, down. Sukuna’s creeping one of his large hands to your thighs, nudging them even more shamefully open.

He’s gifting the curve of your ass with a stinging swat, grinning, “If ya wan’ my heirs s-so badly then ride me for it, brat.”

And fuck, Sukuna underestimated how sheerly eager you’d be, shuffling your hand precariously onto his bulging pecs. Bouncing up and down on the rock-hard upright curve of his cocks like you were addicted to it.

God, he could feel those hoarse whimpers bubbling up into his throat. He could feel the way his heavy lids were fluttering shut every time your velvety walls constricted tightly around his girths, swirling around in wet gyrations. 

And he finds it in himself to laugh - laugh, “Oh- oh god, I shoulda done this hngh- sooner. Soo much sooner-” Running those pinkish strands hastily out of his eyesight to drink you in even better, “Woulda b-been able to see what a cockdrunk slut the madam of curses becomes f’me, isn’t that right?”

All you can do is nod pathetically, and he’s gesturing his head much the same way in a half-mocking sense. Simpering, “Mhm– really wan’ me to fuck- fill you right up-” Running down one of his palms across your abdomen, “-here, right? Want to get p-pregnant on my cocks, brat? Should jus’ said so sooner-”

Sukuna can’t stop now. He doesn’t even know when it started but right now that slurring nonsense was tumbling out of his slack-jawed mouth faster than he could register it. 

Rutting his hips up like an animal to plant pound after pound into your already battered insides, rummaging around his fat cocks. 

One of his mean thumbs comes up to massage over that inflationary little bump where he could feel himself spearheading into your g-spot and your cervix. At the same time. “Jus’ like this, heh- j-jus’ like this but yer gonna be ngh- so much rounder, s-so much-” And one of his globular divots weep a stream of milky precum. So close. “-fuller. Gonna give me t-two, huh? Two brats- a girl and a boy.”

Milking himself for all that he’s worth, it’s impossible not to get absolutely hypnotized by the sultry grinds of your hips.

It’s all that he can think about right now.

Sukuna feels his tongue loll out - both of them, much larger one veering from that slit on his stomach to drag sloppy stripes up the areas of your puffed up clit. Rolling over the very peak, “Ngh- gonna have y-your pretty eyes n’ my hair. My strength and fuuuuck- so tight- your smile.” His eyes clench droopingly closed, glaring up at you lovingly. “Isn’t that right, my queen?”

And when you cum, it’s with those same eyes on you - and when he does, shit, they’re rolling to the back of his head.

Decadently royal bed creaking with protest at the aggressive crushes of your sweat-sheened bodies. Sukuna couldn’t get enough when one of his angrily rugged cocks cums, the swirling slosh of his warm seed spurring the other to burst just as much.

“Sh-shit-” you’re gasping, toes curling with the explosion of bliss. Peak after peak being fucked out when your shaky knees firm to ride Sukuna out of his mind. “So much- too much- fuck fuck fuck-”

He’s stirring your insides until you’re overspilling, flashes of white-hot pleasure melding with the steady stream of Sukuna’s voluminous cum seeping from your wet slit. 

So much of it that he really can’t help but swipe his larger tongue easily across the absolute mess of a puddle. And you swear you hear his voice crack, “Heh, guess ya r-really were talking outta ya ngh- pussy, huh, woman?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Madam Gojo

“Let them see-” Gojo’s panting, fingers so jittery where he’s pushing your trembly leg apart. Abs rippling and aching with just how long he’s been wracking his fatigued body. He’s kissing hungrily at your lips, “Let them- let them see- fuck I don’t care don’t-”

And Gojo can’t even bear to think about finishing his sentence before he’s being hit with another vicious clench of his sensitive balls. Heaving out another burst of stars behind his eyes. He throws his head back, teeth grit when his angry cockhead spazzes with another dry orgasm. 

You’re blinking back the tears in your eyes, reaching up and arm to wipe away his own. “S-s’okay, Toru- we’ve been at this for hngh- hours.”

“No-” Gojo gasps, snowy brows knitting together furiously. And he’s shaking his head like he’s trying to wash away any thoughts of stopping. Because Gojo Satoru didn’t want to stop. Didn’t know if he could stop. 

His bleary eyes focus on the circle of elders standing stock-still at the very end of the traditional tatami room, heads bowed so low that they touched the floor. 

“I’ve got s-somethin’ to prove-” And another one of his harsh French-kisses into your very bruised cervix sends a gush of his stringy cum glossing down your inner thighs. Slipping and smearing everywhere when Gojo messily dances his fingers up to roll over your puffed-up clit. “-got to show ‘em. T-talking about fuck- my wife n’ my h-heir. Gonna show them-”

And you’ve never seen him this furious, blazing eyes driving down your body. Seeping into every one of his lewd movements when he’s drilling his swollen cock into your dripping cunt even more riotously. 

No care or concern for the marks he’s sure to leave for the next week at least - his curvaceous balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, fingers everywhere and anywhere on any bit of skin that his ravenous self could reach.

Gojo couldn’t get enough.

Your pussy lips like velvet, swallowing him up inch by solid inch so greedily despite however long it’s been by now. An hour? Two hours? Five? Fuck, he doesn’t even know right now. Doesn’t care. 

Doesn’t care what those shuffling elders have to think, either.

Can’t even imagine thinking about anything but stuffing your tight channel overly full, eyeing down with his hazy gaze at the way that makes his seed salivate out of you. He twists his deft fingers on your clit, it’s enough for your teeth to just sink into the tender junction at his throat. 

And it makes him cum.

Sensitively. Depravedly. 

Over and over in dry grinds of his hips, while his overstimulated head wrenches out nothing but wispy little beads of pearling white. 

“A-again?” you’re gasping. Eyes blowing wide and resting on Gojo’s fucked-out face - oh how pretty the clan leader looked. With his innocently rosy blush, and eyes drooping so low it’s like they were almost shut, mouth pecking syrupy glides across yours. “Did you just ah- c-cum again, Toru?”

He shutters his head into your throat, darting out his tongue to run down that rapidly thumping pulse of yours. “Yes, madam. Your pretty pussy’s got me s-so fuck- hooked. Can’t s-stop-”

But he wanted to cum again. Properly, this time.

To fill you up over and over, adding another layer to the sloppy skin of creamy white that already stuck to your cunt. He was going to make those old gossips pay for having your name in their filthy mouths, for implying that their leader doesn’t fuck you properly if you haven’t had an heir by now. 

He was simply going to show it to them.

“Need- ah- need you to cum f’me a-again, sweetheart-” Gojo’s babbling out the words, but his greedy eyes are locked on the sinful sight of your cunt, instead. “C-can you do that? Can the future m-mother of my kids do that?” It pains him to be slurring these out over your pretty keens, and he’s swiping a finger over and over on your clit as a tiny apology. “C’mon now, n-need to give me an mmpf- heir, right?”

You nod, hips arching up to make you feel like such a slut. “W-want it so badly–”

“I know, honey, I know–” his words come out in raw whimpers, cupping your face with his free hand to connect your foreheads together. “Which is wh-why you’ve gotta shit- cum, right? They say you don’t get p-pregnant if the hah- mother doesn’t cum, hm? C’mon baby, gimme an heir- please, please, please let me breed you f-full-”

It’s just about all the garbled mess he’s able to get out of his mouth before Gojo’s reeling you headfirst towards your nth orgasm of the night. Waves of pleasure making you convulse underneath him, forcing his big beefy arms to wrap around your waist to get you to stop moving-

“Shit-” he’s gasping, eyes blowing almost comically wide. “M’cumming, sweetheart- m’cumming again- fuck fuck fuck- can’t stop, can’t h-hold back.”

His drool-worthy back muscles flex when Gojo’s bending all the way down to snap you in half. And you feel his heavy hanging balls twitch once. Twice. Before flooding your tight pussy with thick, smearing loads of cum, glissading down your thighs.

Spurts of it splatter down your slit, all the way to Gojo’s wrist when he’s circling your throbbing clit to wring you even harder through your high.

“Th-there we- there we go-” he’s shuddering, bursts of his hefty gulps of cum swirling around all of your sweetened spots. Stretching out your taut walls to their limits with how much he was inflating you from the insides. And it takes everything in Gojo to stray his eyes away from his wife - from his madam. Everything in him to focus on the crowd of silent elders, “So- s’that ‘nough of an heir for you or do I hafta make another one?”

A/N. Also hugging my babygirls in the US of A extra tight tonight <3

His only saving grace is you, another agent who he works with on his rare duo missions. You’re just about the only other single person in the entirety of the DSO—that’s what it feels like. Sometimes, you two will sit at events and roll your eyes at people showing off their partners. Then an awkward silence after of a silent agreement ‘cause you both know you’re just envious.

“Do you think we can call in sick?” Leon sighs as you both sit in your hotel room before you have to leave for an event. This ceremony thingy-bullshit is a bigger, more nationwide one that your boss sent you both to. One room, but two beds, at least. Cheapskates knew you didn’t have significant others and didn’t bother with privacy.

“I mean, prolly… but we lowkey might get flamed,” you reply. He leans against the doorway of the bathroom as he watches you do your makeup. The pretty, long dress you have on is a far cry from the tactical gear he usually pairs you with. Both looks are hot as hell, he definitely can’t deny that. He’ll just tuck that secret in his pocket for now.

“Well, hurry up. Maybe we can show up and leave as quick as possible,” he says as he checks his watch and pretends as if he didn’t just try to check you out. Not that it would be the first time.

Extremely unfortunately, you make it to the event, dreading every click of your heels against the marbled floors as you step inside. This one’s clearly expensive and fancy—that’s worse. The bar quickly becomes Leon’s victim. He lets you know he’ll get you a drink while you find them a spot at a table with an easy escape.

Well, he didn’t really expect to come back and find some guy hitting on you. He’s more curious than annoyed, but it’s there. This guy has the audacity to hit on a girl like you?

“Really? They flew you all the way out here, huh? So you’re pretty special,” this idiot smirks, thinking his blinding white teeth are gonna win you over. Leon can tell you’re irritated.

“Sure, you could say that,” you reply with pursed lips and your best disinterested voice. Your gaze shifts briefly to Leon standing behind him who looks amused. You’re only taking note of your drink that he’s holding.

“Well, special lady, would you maybe like to go to dinner with me somewhere more… private?” He lowers his tone leaning in a little, thinking he’s smooth as hell.

“Uh… no, y’know my schedule’s kinda full…” you shake your head, using that very obvious rejection tone. If he hasn’t taken the hint already, he has to take it now, right?

“Okay, no date. Maybe just uh… a night together?”

Nope. You were stupid to think a man would ever take a hint.

His tone makes it obvious what he’s asking, he wants his head under your dress. He says it like he knows you’ll say yes.

“Oh, I’m celibate, actually,” you smile tersely. He gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you.

“Really? A pretty girl like you isn’t interested in sex?” He raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer as if that’s gonna fix your supposed virginity. “I find that hard to believe, sweetheart.”

“Ah, too bad. Really sucks when not every living female wants to fuck you, huh?” You can’t help but mock, returning the raised brow. “Afraid it’s just gonna be you and your fist tonight.”

He scoffs, trying not to look as offended as he clearly feels. He finally seems to take the hint. “God, some special lady you are,” he grumbles, pushing off the chair he was leaning on and giving you a look before disappearing.

“Celibate? Really?” Leon chuckles when he finally gets to talk to you again, holding out a glass of wine for you. He knows first hand that you're just about the opposite of celibate. You’ve been out drinking together multiple times… one thing leads to another.

“Just a white lie, cant hurt,” you shrug with equal amusement. You finally sit down at your carefully scouted table right next to the exit for a quick, uninterrupted escape.

The rest of the night is as boring as you expected, but a couple more glasses of wine gets you through it. The millisecond you receive your awards—some bullshit that you don’t even think needs to be awarded—you and Leon are out of there. You’ve never been more happy to see your hotel room.

Taking your time undressing and relaxing for a while, eventually you turn in for sleep. You’re even wearing your cute silky set, all curled up under the sheets. And clutching them tightly. It’s literally freezing.

“Mmh, Leon…” you mumble, trying desperately to warm yourself up. You look over your shoulder at his bare back turned to you on the other side of the room. When did he take his shirt off? “Are you awake?”

After hearing a quiet grunt, you continue. “Are you cold? I’m freezing.”

“No. ‘S hot as hell,” he grumbles. He waits for you to say something else, and just as he’s about to offer you all his sheets, he hears shuffling from your bed. A moment later, he feels the mattress dip behind him and turns over to see you kneeling on the bed and inviting yourself in.

“Y’don’t mind if we cuddle?” You murmur, slipping under the covers. He swallows as he sees your cute pajamas with the lace and he can already tell this isn’t gonna end with just cuddling. He wordlessly opens his arms up for you, wrapping them around you when you make yourself the little spoon.

He makes sure the sheets are pulled up over your shoulders, rubbing your arms and thighs underneath to try to warm you up. “Still cold?”

Well, not really. You're very hot now, actually, but you nod your head, mumbling yes.

“Want me to warm you up another way?” Leon offers, his voice quiet and rough in that way that sends a shiver down your spine. He rubs his nose against your neck, fingers brushing up under your shirt. How are you supposed to resist?

“Yeah,” you nod against the pillow, squirming slightly as he rubs your side—ticklish little thing. You help shift your legs as he pushes your shorts and panties down.

“There you go. I got you,” he murmurs, sliding his hand back up the inside of your thigh. He kisses the side of your neck as his fingers part your soft curls to get to your pussy. You can feel him smirk against your skin when he feels how wet you are.

“Doesn’t feel very cold to me,” his warm digits spread your slick around, finding your clit with ease and gently circling it with his middle finger. You whine quietly, hands grabbing his forearm that’s around your waist.

You’re snug but not tight around his fingers, easily dipping them in your wet cunt and spreading you open. He shifts, almost draping himself over you to “keep you warm” as he fingers your needy little pussy and gets you nice and ready for him.

“Oh, Leon, right there,” you whisper into the pillow as he makes sure the heel of his hand is rubbing against your clit as he adds a third finger. Your hips lightly rock against his palm, your brows pulled into that soft crease that makes you look fucking adorable.

“Look at you, going around telling people you’re abstinent and yet you’re crawling into my arms,” Leon teases gently, curling his fingers in a slow, languid way that makes your spine straighten and your breath catch.

Just as you’re mumbling about getting close and about to cum, he takes his hand away with a kiss to your shoulder beside the strap of your top. You whine, but he turns you around in his arms with one of those dumb smirks.

“C’mon, girly, you’re on top tonight. Show me how celibate you claim you are, hm?” He taunts, bringing you with him as he rolls into his back, big hands on your soft hips.

“Ugh, how did I let you talk me into this? Didn’t we say we’d stop after last time?” You complain as you settle your hands on his bare chest, your naked hips lazily grinding against the tent in his pajama pants.

“We both know we can’t stop. ‘Sides, I barely talked to you, just tried to warm you up,” he grunts as you start dry humping him, rough hands sliding down your scarred thighs. Rubs his thumbs over the small, raised lines before giving you a light slap on the ass.

“Get going, princess. You’re slow,” he says with fake impatience, staring up at you with that cheesy smirk. You roll your eyes but start to pull down his sweats and boxers anyway.

Your hips shift restlessly with need as you grip his hard cock, giving it a couple light strokes before positioning yourself above him. With your eyes on your movements, you hold him still as you slowly sink down on him with a low, gravelly moan.

“Mmh—fuck, there you go. Hug me so nice,” he sighs with a grunt of your name as he watches you. You sit there on his cock, looking up at him expectantly. This is usually the part where he takes over again and holds you hips while he thrusts up into you.

He simply returns the look. Asshole. What happened to chivalry?

You sigh dramatically, your knees on either side of his waist as you find leverage with your hands behind you on his hard, strong thighs. You don’t usually do this part.

You suck in a breath, lifting yourself up a bit, and then back down with a soft moan. Up and down, up and down, grinding softly against him and keeping eye contact.

But it’s just not the same! Even as you keep up a nice rhythm, your soft moans getting louder and your grip getting tighter, he’s not deep enough. Not hitting the spots he usually gets.

“Leon, c’mon… it’s better when you do it,” you sigh as your hands come back to the front, tracing his abs as you do your damn best riding his cock. He simply stares, amused as his hands rub up and down your thighs.

“…Leon,” you say more firmly this time, hoping you can chastise him into fucking you. It doesn’t work, and you’re getting impatient. You groan dramatically, circling your hips as you lock your eyes on his. “Leon, just fuck me already! Fuck me hard!”

He can’t help but laugh. It gets him going to see you all frustrated, as much as he hates it when you’re anything but happy. Anyway, who’s he to deny you? His hands slides up to your hips, pausing to grope your ass before firmly planting themselves above your thighs.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before lifting you up and then pulling you back down to meet his thrust. A moan slips from both of you this time as your fingers dig into his bare chest.

“Mmh, fuck yeah Leon,” you groan, leaning back so you can see his face a bit better. Not for long, ‘cause then he pounds into you hard enough to pull out a high-pitched whine and make you throw your head back with pleasure,

“God, fuckin’ love that, don’t you? You can’t even ride me properly. Always need my help,” he grunts as his hips jump to meet yours every single time. He always scolds you in that sickly sweet voice that has your pussy dripping.

“Oh—mph! Right there—yeah, nail my shit, just like that,” you say breathlessly, your head dropping to his chest as one of your hands snakes beneath you to find your clit. A half moan-half growl slips from your lips as your back arches deliciously, teetering right on the edge.

“Jesus, cumming already? Needed it bad, did you?” He murmurs as he trails gentle, contradicting kisses compared to his rough thrusts against your shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.”

It’s hard to hear his words over the squeaking of the bed and your own moans. Almost forgot you were in a hotel—no, you definitely did forget. That’s not what’s crossing your mind right now, though. You’re too busy crossing the finish line. Moaning his name, your fingers still on your clit as i grinds up into you to help you ride it out.

“That’s it, girly. Good girl,” Leon mumbles in your ears, rolling your hips against his pelvis. Once he’s decided you've had enough rest, he gently manhandles you onto your back, quickly pushing your legs up and squishing your knees against your tits as he gets right back to work.

His hands grip the backs of your thighs, his fingertips denting into the plush skin as he pounds into your pussy. His voice leaves him in harsh grunts and satisfied groans, his gaze fixed on his cock coming in and out of your soft cunt.

“Y-Y’know… how much it pissed me off… when that guy was flirting with you?” Leon grunts through gritted teeth, almost like he was trying to keep it back.

“Fuck… yeah?” You question through your sex haze. You guys don’t really talk about other people, or your feelings. Especially not towards each other. So to have him essentially admit that he’s jealous.

“Yeah, princess. Couldn’t believe he thought he had a chance with… you,” his words come out a little slurred—he always talks too much when he gets close. You whine softly, the jealousy woven in his voice making your insides quiver.

His hands grip tighter on your thighs, not enough to bruise but definitely no less than firm. He leans over you a bit, putting a little more of his weight on top of you as he fucks you harder. He barely manages to remember he didn’t use a condom, whining pathetically as he uses all the forces of his self restraint to pull out.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he whispers under his breath, one big hand pushing your thighs together as he strokes himself with the other. You make sure you’ve got a front row seat to see his brows furrowed and your name falling helplessly from his lips.

Leon moans your name, his head falling back as he finally pours his hot, sticky cum all over the backs of your thighs. Rope after rope lands on the soft flesh, making him moan a little more as he squeezes as much as he can out of the tip. You look so pretty like that, he’d take a picture if he knew you wouldn’t kill him.

“Oh god… so perfect, sweetie. Did so well,” he mumbles lazily stroking himself a little longer before letting go. He smears a bit of jizz across your skin before bringing his thumb up to your mouth, letting you lick it off.

It takes a moment to recover with his thighs feeling like they’re on fire, but eventually he pats your hip and gets up. He finds a small towel in the bathroom and runs it under warm water to come clean you up. Once you have everything you need, he puts your panties back on and double checks that you're nice and cozy as his little spoon after a very abstinent night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The light wakes you up in the morning, streaming in through the thin curtains. You grumble, waking up and shaking Leon’s shoulder awake soon after. He kisses you and says thanks for last night, before the two of you return to your “normal friendly mission partners” routine.

Just as Leon closes the door behind you, about to head out to go home, you glance over at the sound of the persom in the next room over leaving as well.

The last thing you expected was to lock eyes with the man who tried to hit on you at the event, looking tired as hell, as if he didn’t get any sleep.

“…you didn’t sound very celibate to me.”

a/n: hi hope u enjoyed!! any notes always super duper appreciated 🙌

“Welcome home.”

Leon’s voice is plump with sarcasm as he pushes open the door. It slings wide with a shrill creak, the stiff hinges croaking from disuse. You barely have a moment to forget to laugh when he cracks another one of his jokes. 

“Don’t happen to have any WD40 on ‘ya?” He snarks. It makes you wonder if it’s a coping mechanism–the way the quips roll off his tongue, one after another–a shield to protect the gummy meat beneath the big, strong shell. 

He did lead you to safety after all, and though you consider it reparations for saving his life, it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a little. He looks so pathetic, standing there, waiting for a reaction. 

A forced smile–one that doesn’t meet your eyes. “Oh shoot, I knew there was something I forgot.” 

He exhales a strained sigh, his shoulders dipping an inch, like he’s relieved you finally gave in, because if you hadn’t, that would mean he really did do something wrong, and that would hurt more than the sting of you not finding him funny. 

“Well, here it is.”

You blink hard, pupils flaring to adjust to the dismal darkness enshrouding the cabin. Plaid curtains undrawn, lights–if there are any at all–shut off, the only illumination breaking into the space being the white sheets of snow blanketing the ground outside. 

Now that shelter has been found, the freezing fluff plummeting from the sky doesn’t look all that daunting. In fact, if your legs weren’t still numb from sludging through it for three miles, you’d be tempted to run out and play in it, make a snow angel or two, throw a few balls compacted so tight they’d fly like bullets…right at the man who got you into this situation in the first place. 

If he had just gone with you when you told him to, both of you would be on a jet back to D.C. by now, and you’d be spending the night in your own bed, in your pajamas, under a cozy blanket of your choosing.

An abandoned Umbrella facility–abandoned on the surface, that is. Inside the rotting corpse of steel buttresses and termite-gnawed wood, the building was still being used to house servers and data depicting their next moves to destroy the planet, one virus at a time. 

Kennedy and his partner, Agent Reed were supposed to go in, extract the codes, load them onto a USB, and get the hell out of dodge. Except, Agent Reed was served a minor head injury on their last assignment together, and was out of commission. You volunteered to take his place. It would make you look better after all, less like a newbie who didn’t know her left from her right, and more like a real agent, ready to be put to good use. 

The only set back was supposed to be the weather, not the fact that the facility was armored with mangled beats ready to attack once the wrong sequence of numbers was entered into the security system too many times. Apparently, three was the magic number. 

“Home sweet home.”

You cut your eyes at him in clear warning. If he makes one more joke, you’re going to stop being polite and tell him how you really feel.

“I’m kidding,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Kidding. Just until the snow stops.” His eyes find your face and he winces at your unamused expression. “Or at least until the roads clear and someone can come and extract us.” A shorter time-frame–one that’s small enough for you to swallow. 

“Come inside,” he ushers with the wave of his hand. “You’re letting all the cold in.” 

Too little too late, you think. The cabin is an ice box. A Siberian chill nips at your feet as you make quick work of unlacing your boots and kicking them off by the closed door behind you. Socks soaked, the wet wool encases your feet in a tomb that promises hypothermia if you don’t yank them off soon and place your frozen toes by a fire…maybe in the fire. Waterproof, they said. 

The long-disconnected comms device in his ear comes out. His wool cap is tossed down, a hand coming up to fluff his flattened hair. 

“Take your clothes off–just the top layers,” Leon commands softly, already yanking the sopping leather jacket off his back, throwing it onto the raw oak table beside him, along with the long-sleeved compression shirt beneath it. There’s nothing playful in his voice now, all business. The seriousness of his tone gets you to move, mirroring the man in front of you as he works the metal buckle of his belt, the button and zipper of his tactical pants. He strips down, standing in nothing other than a pair of DSO-issued thermals, the waffle fabric, slightly damp, sticking to his form, covering his body from ankle to wrist. 

He notices that your long-sleeve is soaked through, the wet fabric transparent against your abdomen, highlighting every line and bump of muscle. “That has to go too, sorry.” 

“What?” 

“No time to be modest. You’re asking to freeze to death if you keep it on.” 

By some merciful being in the stars, your pants are dry, lest you have to drop those too. You’re left standing in your knit thermal pants and a sports bra, that also, thankfully, is somewhat dry. Leon doesn’t seem to mind or care, quickly turning around to search the cabin for supplies. 

“Fuck,” you bite between sivers that roll through your body. Chillbumps rise beneath the waves of ice that travel through your veins like river Cocytus, lighting your limbs on fire–a white-hot fire, blue-tipped and deceitful. “It’s freezing in here.” 

Leon glances over his shoulder. He’s crouched by the fireplace, loading cylinders of chopped wood onto the grate, fishing a box of matches from a metal lockbox by the brick surround. “Sorry. I’m going as fast as I can here.” 

“It’s alright,” you say, biting your bottom lip in an effort to quell the uncontrollable tremble of your chin. “Take your time.” 

And just like that, the wood ignites beneath the flicker of the match. The heat radiating from the hearth is slow to warm the room, quick to illuminate it. Finally, you’re able to get a better look at the cabin, all the fixtures, less utilitarian and Spartan in their design than you imagined the furnishings of a safe house to be. You pictured steel benches and scratchy blankets woven with threads of plastic fishing line. 

There’s a bed beside the fireplace, a mattress cradled by an old mahogany headboard and footboard, engraved with swirling flourishes. It’s made up with flannel linens and two stuffed pillows encased in plaid cotton, a pattern akin to the one on the curtains. 

“Come sit down,” he says in a cautious command. He’s sitting by the fireplace, patting an open spot next to him. 

You settle yourself onto a pelt that once belonged to whichever animal has the warmest fur. Fox or bear or wolf. You’re not completely sure, just grateful. 

The hearth glows orange, casting the room in a glow reminiscent of juice-bearing tangerines in the summer, of burning sunsets that melt into the horizon of the sea, of sticky peaches.  

“Here you go.” 

So caught up in the hypnotic fire, its flames dancing in front of you, you nearly squeal, and definitely jump, when Leon approaches from behind, handing you two packs of charcoal and iron, shaken to activation. They warm your palms. 

You didn’t even realize he had left your side. 

“You’re so tense,” he states. “Relax.” 

Gulping hard, you remind yourself to breathe as he reclaims his seat beside you, bringing his knees into his chest. “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little shaken up. I’m not used to those…things…the way you are.” 

“No worries. Can’t say it gets any easier, though.” He smiles and it makes you melt in a way the heat from the fire can’t. You take the time to really study his features, not sure you ever have before, not that you’ve had the time or the proximity. When he’s not swept away on assignments, he’s rarely roaming the halls of headquarters, rarely lingering in conference rooms, never to be seen serving himself a cup of burnt coffee in the break area.

“Good to know.” 

His white-blonde hair takes on the color of the blaze. Blue eyes sharpen as they gaze back at you, trying to decipher the intensity with which you stare. He cocks his head, the dimple of his chin smoothing as he pulls in his bottom lip. 

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, sure,” you reply with a shrug. Bad idea. A band of muscle in your shoulder catches and you wince. “Just my shoulder. I think I tweaked it today…not like it was doing well before that, though.” 

He hums in agreement, or observation, or understanding. 

You lean forward into the fireplace, hoping the flames will singe the nerves that keep you jolting at every breeze and change in the air. Its flickering tongues warm your wind-burnt cheeks, the frozen button of your nose, your chapped lips. 

Leon grows unusually quiet, and before you can respond to your observation, a pair of hands lightly graze your shoulders. You jump again beneath a set of fingers, sturdy and sprawled across your trapezius muscles.  

“Let me.” It’s more like a question, begging for permission. You nod in silent allowance, and Leon’s hands begin to knead the decade-old knots in your shoulders. Your nose wrinkles, your lips purse, face contorting into a grimace until the initial pain blurs into relief.   

An embarrassingly lewd sound escapes you, and you whole-heartedly expect him to laugh and give you a hard time for it, but he doesn’t. He just lets you feel the release in whichever way you need. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you prevent any other shameful gasps or groans from fleeing from the safe space behind your teeth. 

“You really missed your calling, Leon,” you spit out through labored breaths, finally trusting yourself to speak. 

No response, just an unbroken channel of concentration from his palms to your shoulders. He works the muscles on either side of your spine with his thumbs, the tight knot at the nap of your neck. Then, he retreats, and the absence of his hands on your body makes you physically ache. 

“Wha–” 

“Give me your feet?” 

“W–what? No.” 

He finds a spot beside you once more, leaning back on the heels of his palms, too smug of a smirk on his face. “Fine then.” 

After a moment, and once you realize he’s not joking this time, you relent. “Fine,” you sigh with a roll of your eyes, shifting on your seat, kicking your legs out at him. He catches one foot in his hand with the swift reflex of a man that can aim, shoot, and kill with his eyes closed. 

The pads of his fingers dig into your heel, the ball of flesh beneath your blistered toes. They knead and massage, pressing deep circles into the center of your foot, tenderizing calloused flesh.  

You close your eyes, staticky constellations flickering behind your lids like the lights of a city’s skyline. Maybe you groan again, you wouldn’t know. The pleasure is all too loud in your ears, thumping like a heartbeat on a monitor.

“Do you like that?” He asks in a low gruff. The timbre of his voice sets your soul ablaze. 

You’d be amiss to ignore the sexual undertones of this situation, the honeyed words he speaks, his hands hot on your skin. So, so eager to please. Your cheeks flush sanguine at the realization, beads of sweat pooling at your hairline, your brow. Maybe you’re sitting too close to the fire after all.  

Before you can take another second to read further into Leon’s touch, he pulls you by the ankles until your seat is all the way at his knees and you’re on your back, staring up at the plastered ceiling, broken up by wooden beams. There’s no time to resist, not that you’d want to anyway. No, no. You want this. You want him. A moan escapes you, a sound belonging to someone far too willing and not at all hesitant for what’s about to happen next. 

“Too tense,” he coos, clicking his tongue in disapproval. You rise up on your elbows to see Leon tugging at his shirt as though he’s about to dive into a pool. Gawking at the sight, you’re unaware that your jaw has fallen slack until Leon looks up at you and laughs breathily. “Like what you see?” He says with raised brows. 

“Mhm,” you hum, taking in the curves of his biceps, the corded muscle that lies beneath pale skin, glistening white under the sheen moonlight that seeps through the windows. The veins in his forearms throb as he flexes, holding himself up as he hovers over you, planting peckish kisses up and down your abdomen, a love bite at the curve of your waist. 

He murmurs sweet nothings against your flesh. Praising your beauty, your scent, your skin, and you melt under each one, a puddle of putty on the rug. Your fingers find his shoulder, balled and strong, and you dig, leaving half-moon indentations in the sinewy muscle. He shirks beneath the touch, chuckling. 

“Ouch,” he says with mirthy sweetness, feigning pain, as if someone whose entire body has the muscle mass of one of his thighs could do any real damage to him. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, reclining all the way down onto the floor so he can come up further, his hands cradling your head as he licks the line of your lips, from corner to corner, to cupid’s bow and back down again. 

Allowing him entrance, you open your mouth slightly, giving an inch as he takes a mile, thickening his whole tongue past your teeth, inviting yours into a waltz. He tastes like mint and ash. 

The two of you kiss for what feels like hours, but was realistically only a few minutes. His hands skim your body, fingertips traipsing up and down your arms, your sides, one groping your breast through the fabric of your bra. His brows furrow when he realizes there’s a stretch of fabric in his way, and he grips the elastic band above your rips, peeling it away from your skin. You shirk beneath the lack of a barrier between you, just skin on skin leaving you far too exposed. 

Once he whimpers at the sight of you bare before him, all embarrassment and shame leave your body in one cleansing breath. The tip of his tongue makes pardon from your mouth and licks its way down your neck, your décolletage, to your nipples, lapping the hardened bud. You could deny the effect he has on your bodily functions, blaming it on the cold air sweeping through the cabin, but you’d be lying. The windows are fogged with condensation from the juxtaposed temperatures of the cabin and the blizzard outside it, and your brow is soaked with sweat. You’re burning up beneath him, yet you’re shivering under every touch. 

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” He rasps, voice tight and strained. His breath is hot at your ear. It tickles.

In an effort to keep up with his quips, you chirp, “You mean the mattress that’s two feet away?” You feel him nod against your cheek, his lips still warm and gentle at your jaw. He nips at the tendon beneath your lobe, a sensitive spot that leaves you breathless. “O–oh okay,” you agree weakly, all inhibitions thrown out the door the moment he reaches a hand down to cup your throbbing cunt teasingly before he removes it. 

Leon sweeps you up into his arms as he stands up from kneeling, his bare feet slapping the hardwood beneath them. You stay lying across his crooked forearms while he makes the trek to the mattress, plopping you onto it. The springs bounce beneath your weight. 

“Hips up.” 

He needn't tell you twice. You buck your pelvis upward, allowing him room to grab the band of your thermal bottoms, yanking them down your thighs in a swift swoop, tossing them somewhere on the floor. The only fabric left on your body is a thin pair of plain panties, soaked, but not from the storm. Leon licks his lips at the sight of the damp patch on the cotton gusset, so obscene a gesture you think he might be kidding. That’s before he drops to his knees, pushing yours apart. 

You yelp at the sudden suction of his mouth on your clit, already a squirming mess beneath his mouth, hips bucking, thighs squeezing against his head. He presses your knees apart again until the sides of your thighs meet the crisp fabric of the patchwork quilt. A silent command to keep yourself open for him. 

His tongue widens, lapping at your bud like a kitten at a bowl of milk. The sounds are disgusting, wet and sloppy, as they reverberate against the cabin walls, announcing your climb to pleasure. 

Moaning his name, he takes it as an order to not stop what he’s doing for anything. In fact, he takes it as an order to do more. He pulls back for just a moment, long enough to make you whine for his return, slicking ring and middle with spit. He teases the tip of his fingers at your entrance, already primed with slick arousal, just circling and flicking until your head comes up and your face just looks so pretty and pathetic, he can’t resist. 

He dives back in, this time working your pussy with his fingers, crooking them at the knuckle, waiting to hear your moans quicken so he knows he’s hit the spot. It doesn’t take you long to cry out for him, confirming his suspicions that he’s found your sweet spot, the button behind your pelvis that makes your abdomen tense and contract, your walls clench around him. 

“That’s a good girl,” he groans against your clit, the vibrations exiling your soul from your body. “You’re so close, huh? I can feel it.” 

Your hand finds his hair, fingers weaving through icy blonde strands, pressing him closer to you. He growls in pleasure beneath the pinch. 

“Let go for me.” 

And you do. 

His tongue–those lithe fingers–works you through your climax, continuing to lap and suck like there’s still work to do. He doesn’t stop until your desperate cries begin to wane, replaced by labored breathing and mumbles of gratitude. He smiles against your clit before giving it a kiss, so tender and soft like the wings of a butterfly flapping against your hand, or the light flicker of eyelashes on your cheek. 

Crawling onto the bed to meet you, Leon wears a proud grin. You take a moment to study the features of his face, now under a different light–one of affection and attraction, a n

“Are you alright?” He asks. The glossy look in his baby blue eyes is nothing short of sincere as he draws tight circles on your leg, holding them tight to his side. 

You giggle. “More than alright. You really know how to use your hands, Leon.”

The corners of his mouth rise into a grin as he props himself up on his elbow, eyes still glued to your shape, drinking you in–every inch, every curve, every freckle. His chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. You study the metronomic rhythm. 

“So are we going to…” your voice trails off into timid nothingness. You can’t even bear to look at him for fear of turning red, but you force yourself to. “Have sex?

He laughs, the sing-songy sound jubilant amid the dour, wood-paneled walls. “Yeah, yeah, we will,” he assures. “Just let me catch my breath, ‘kay? I put in a lot of work down there.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” A wink. “That was just as much for me as it was for you.” 

Before you can respond, though  you’re not sure what you’d have even said in response to such a raw admission, Leon’s mouth finds yours, once again sucking and nibbling at your bottom lip, tongue swiping across your teeth. The two of you kiss for a while, exchanging moans back and forth, hands finding the curves and dips of each other’s bodies. His skin is smooth, though striped with scars, some transparent and long-healed, others pink and freshly won. 

“Please, Leon,” you plead against his lips. 

“What do you want, baby?” His hands stay tangled in your hair as you tip him onto his back, climbing atop his lap, thighs encasing his hips beneath you. 

“I want you. Now. Inside me.” 

He chuckles mirthily into your mouth. “I can do that.” Hands moving to the band of his pants, he tugs them down along with his briefs, freeing the erection that has pained him since you stripped down to your bra. He tried to quash the mean dog of lust nipping at his heels. Your shirt was soaked. You would have faced countless degrees of hypothermia if you had stayed clothed. He was a man, after all, and whether or not you had to strip out of necessity, you were a beautiful, half-clothed woman standing in front of him, and his body did the rest. 

“Inside,” you repeat in a half-moan, half-gasp, fingernails clawing at the sinewy muscles of his biceps, too perfectly sculpted to belong to any human. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Suddenly you’re on your back, Leon hovering above you, his eyes focused on the cock he’s pumping with his hand. It’s long and thin, like the neck of a swan. You have half a mind to tell him how beautiful he is. Such a pretty man. He fists himself until fully stiff, and you can’t help but watch as he lines himself up with your slit and slides the first of many inches inside. 

Leon groans, throwing his head back. It’s been a while. 

“Fuck, baby,” he hisses, retreating for fears he might actually finish on the spot. “Just give me a moment.” 

After two seconds too long, he enters you once again, the walls of your pussy stretching to accommodate his girth. “Please, Leon,” you whine. “All of it.” 

“Okay, okay,” he obliges, thrusting all the way into you, eliciting several cries of desperation and ecstasy, sounds too pornographic to be shared between two co-workers. 

A few swears are huffed under his breath as he presses down on the backs of your thighs, bringing your knees into your chests, using the leverage to angle himself deeper inside. Every time he draws back an inch, the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock slides against a spot you didn’t even know could sense so clearly. It’s your turn to swear, a string of curses leaving your lips. He catches them with his mouth, coming back down to you. 

“Harder, Leon. Please. F-fuck me.” 

“Any harder and this isn’t going to last long, baby, and I wanna take my time with you,” he says, every couple words punctuated with heavy breaths. Pulling back, he looks down at you with crooked brows.  “Will you let me do that?” 

All you’re able to do is nod, giving him a tight smile in an attempt to hide your disappointment. 

“Thank you,” he replies with such sweet sincerity it makes your stomach jump. 

A couple more thrusts and you can feel the coil tightening behind your abdomen, a tell-tale sign of guaranteed wreckage. Those muscles tense and release, over and over, the sensation growing stronger by the second. You shiver beneath the pulsations, electric shocks vibrating beneath your skin. 

“You’re still so cold, baby.” 

You laugh through another wave of shivers, your teeth chattering, deciding not to correct the misinterpretation. “Then you should warm me up.” 

He pulls his lower lip in between his front teeth, sucking, nodding. “You’re right.” He thrusts himself back into you, all the way, to reach beside your head for one of the lit candles on the bedside table. 

“W–what are you doing?” 

A wicked grin appears on his face. “Warming you up.” He tips the candle over your chest–sticky beeswax rolled into a pillar–lining up the mouth so the molten wax can pour down onto your sternum, dripping down the valley between your breasts toward your collarbone. It burns so good, eliciting staccato gasps and whines from your lips as you shiver beneath the paradoxical chill, so hot it’s cold. 

He moves the candle to pour more down the line of your stomach, all the way down to your navel. It dries like splatters of milky acrylic on a canvas. 

Your back arches off the mattress, your skin aflame beneath the sensation of something so oddly intimate. His hand comes down to massage the wax deeper into your skin like it’s an anointing oil. Then, with the same hand, he presses down on your stomach as he dives back into your gushing cunt, heavy palm making sure both walls feel each and every thrust. 

“Come with me, Leon,” you beg, pulling him down to you, chests glued together with spit and sweat, and the molten wax splashed up and down your torso. He groans into your ear, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. “I’m so close.” A promise. A warning. 

“Keep clenching me like that,” he commands in a deep growl. Who would you be to deny him? “Goog girl, that’s it, baby.” His hand comes up to your jaw, fingers splayed across your cheek. “Open up.” 

You part your lips slightly, just enough for him to spit a glob of saliva down your throat. You willingly swallow, desiring to have every part of him inside you. His lips meet yours again before he detaches to send an ursine growl into the air, tossing his head back in euphoric pleasure. 

He fucks you through your second orgasm like a man determined, pistoning into you until the very last moment, when your climax grips him so tight, he can’t help but spill into you, giving you every last drop. 

When he finally rolls over, only because you begrudgingly admitted you couldn't breathe, Leon looks over at you, capturing your gaze. His eyes are bright beneath the glow of the fire, of the candles, the snow falling relentlessly outside the window. Oceanic blues sprinkled with flickers of gold. You’re utterly entranced. 

For a few minutes, the two of you just stare at each other, committing the other’s features to memory, neither one wanting to forget a single single freckle or dimple. And finally, for a rare moment, neither of you are cursing the storm that trapped you here. 

To say you weren’t struggling would be a lie. You knew college was going to be difficult, but this was on a whole other level. You couldn’t afford to miss a day of lecture or you would be completely behind, and don’t even think about trying to study the night before your exam.

But hey, that’s what it took to get a well paying career these days, right? 

It also didn’t help that Claire, your dormmate that was assigned to you at random when you moved in, was in a completely different program than you. She understood that you needed your time to do your work, but when it came to a massive frat party being thrown, like tonight, there were no excuses.

“Please, it’s my brother’s first party that he’s throwing as President, and I promised him I would invite as many people as I could,” Claire begs, closing your notebook on top of your hand. You audibly sigh, and finally meet her gaze.

“I don’t think one person will make much of a difference,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Claire’s eyebrows furrow together, her bottom lip pouting. 

“y/n… it won’t be nearly as fun if you don’t come with me!” She got onto her knees in front of you, her hands gripping both of your thighs in desperation. You would think she was a drama major by her performance right now.

You can see her brain working, coming up with one final way to convince you to get out. Her eyes light up, a wide, toothy grin covering her face.

“I know,” she begins, getting up from her knees and walking towards the middle of your shared room, “we can complete number eight on your bucket list tonight.” 

She points to a giant poster that you and Claire had made, stuck on the wall in between your beds. The poster read ‘Y/N AND CLAIRE’S COLLEGE BUCKET LIST’ in big, bold sparkly letters at the top.

It was an exercise that your residence assistant had you guys work on to get to know one another, but as the two of you got to know each other more, the list got more unhinged. 

It started with, ‘try every dining hall on campus’, and ‘meet each of your professors for each class’. But then the two of you brought it back to your dorm, and came up with some real bucket list goals.

Claire had some for herself, like ‘try a keg stand for the first time’ or ‘go skinny dipping at the pier’. Your goals were less ambitious than hers, as you were quite a lot less experienced than her. But for you, it was way out of your comfort zone.

Your goals consisted of ‘stay out all night partying’, ‘sneak out to the football field at night’, and of course, goal number eight.

‘Lose your virginity’

The words stuck out at you like a sore thumb. All throughout school, you never really had a boyfriend. You always prioritized your studies, your friends, it never really crossed your mind.

But now you’re in college, and the closest you’ve ever been romantically with someone is a cheesy game of spin the bottle in high school.

For the longest time, it felt like the person you were to “give your virginity to” had to be someone special. The timing had to be perfect, detail orientated, and with someone you were in a relationship with. And truth be told, you did still somewhat feel that way. You kept telling yourself if I’ve gone this long, I can wait a little longer, but time is running out.

Being dormmates with Claire really put things in perspective for you. The two of you were at opposite ends of your lives in that area, she had all of her “firsts” a long time ago and was definitely more spontaneous than you.

She would never pressure you into anything, but she helped you realize that your first time having sex is never usually a pleasant experience no matter who it’s with. So it was better to get it done and over with, as she had put it, so you’re not so nervous to do it with your first partner.

Your eyes widened, jaw slacked as you followed Claire’s finger to the poster. 

“No way Claire. Nuh-uh.” 

Claire sighed dramatically, planting her hands on her hips.

“y/n, you said you didn’t care who you lost your v-card to. I don’t see how tonight isn’t the best possible night to do so!” You run your fingers through your hair anxiously, head spinning with thoughts.

You had been studying for days already, your brain feeling impossibly full with material. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Claire was right. A house full of frat guys, unlimited alcohol supply, and a chance to put the textbooks down. What could possibly go wrong?

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not promising anything-”

You were interrupted by high pitched squealing, and a strong hug around your shoulders.

“Thank you thank you! We are going to find you the perfect frat boy to hook up with tonight!” Claire ran to her closet, already beginning to plan out her outfit for the party. 

You sighed, closing your textbooks for the day. This would be the first frat party you’ve attended in college, and to say you didn’t know what to expect would be an understatement. You just hoped you didn’t make a bad decision, and worst comes to worst, you just cling to Claire’s arm all night.

-

From the moment you stepped into the frat house, you figured the former had come true tonight.

The place was a mess. College kids every square inch of the house, beer cans and solo cups covered every surface. There were people playing beer pong on the dining room table, someone funneling a drink in the kitchen, and couples making out on every step of the stairs. Needless to say, it was a typical frat party.

You immediately felt self conscious as you stepped in the door. You knew you looked hot, as Claire kept reminding you, in your mini light blue jean skirt and white low neck t-shirt. Casual for a houseparty, but enough to show off all of your best assets. What was making you anxious was how out of place you felt.

You felt like a little kid in these situations, feeling out of place and a million years behind everyone else. It was times like these where you wished you didn’t keep your nose in your books all throughout high school so you could at least pretend like you belonged. 

Claire waved a hand in front of your face, one eyebrow raised.

“Hello? Earth to y/n?” You blinked rapidly, exiting the zone you trapped yourself in, and focused on her face.

“Huh?”

“I can see on your face that you’re spiralling, y/n. Don’t overthink it, okay?” She smiled, placing a supporting hand on your shoulder. You only nodded, letting out a shudder.

“Yeah, okay. I think I just need a drink.”

You and Claire head to the kitchen, where a large bowl of some sort of spiked punch was. You pour two hefty cups of punch, and pass one to Claire. She raises her cup in a toast, 

“To you getting laid tonight!” You nearly choke on your drink as you take a sip, tasting the much too strong juice on your tongue. You hope that you at least get drunk enough to ease the nerves, and just try to have a good time tonight.

-

“God, it’s been a fucking hour and he’s nowhere to be found,” Claire whines, leaning against the staircase. You stand next to her, overlooking the whole house. Claire had been searching for her brother, the President of the frat, but no luck thus far. You two had made your rounds throughout the house, watching as Claire got stopped by multiple guys desperately trying to flirt with her.

And how could you blame them? Her light brown hair was long down her back, black tank top underneath her cropped red leather jacket. Her black jeans hugged her perfectly as she swayed her hips around the house.

Meanwhile, you just kept drinking, a buzz slowly flooding your senses. You were starting to feel defeated; although you had no expectations of someone catching your eye tonight, it did hurt to watch all the attention Claire was receiving and you get none. 

You tipped your cup up to your mouth to down the rest of the punch, a little spilling at the corner of your mouth. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and placed the cup down on a table.

You decided it was almost time to go. You’d have one more drink, possibly, then make some excuse that the alcohol isn’t sitting right in your stomach and head back to your dorm. As much of a bust tonight was, you were still proud of coming out tonight. 

You leaned over to Claire, raising your voice so she could hear you over the music and chatter,

“Hey, I think I’m-”

“-Oh my God! Chris!”

In your line of view, you saw a tall, broad shouldered man come inside the house from the back door. He had that similar light brown hair, and hazel eyes. He locked eyes with Claire, and opened his arms for a hug.

Claire turned to you, toothy smile on her face, “Wait here, I’ll be back!” She was already out of your line of vision before you could say anything back. You watched as Claire ran to her brother, jumping into a hug.

“Great, now I’m stuck here for at least another hour,” you mumbled to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. You lean against the wall of the living room, watching as Chris introduces Claire to some of his frat brothers. 

You started to feel your stomach do flip flops. You were standing by yourself, spotlights suddenly feeling like they were shining down on you. As you watched Claire so effortlessly make new friends, you wondered why it was so difficult for you to go and talk to someone?

Why is everyone staring at me? Just go up and talk to someone! 

Your inner monologue was screaming in your head, anxiety starting to paralyze your body. You knew this was gonna be a bad idea to leave Claire’s side, you should just go-

“H-hey, can I get you another drink?”

Your head whips to the voice coming from your right, eyes wide and face tense.

The last thing you expected to see was one of the cutest boys standing right in front of you. He was tall, skinny but there was evidence of muscle building, bright blue eyes, and swoopy blond hair framing his face. 

He was perfect.

He stood in front of you, one hand scratching the back of his head, cheeks a warm pink unsure if it was from the alcohol or if he was… nervous? 

Why would someone as cute as him be nervous to talk to you?

Your throat dried up, an awkward cough leaving your mouth as you tried to reply, “Uh, s-sure, thanks.”

He only nodded quickly, and sped off to the kitchen. He wasted no time in grabbing two solo cups of punch, extending one arm to give one to you.

“You didn’t lace this, did you?” You teased, taking the cup from his hand, fingers grazing quickly. The boy’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head at your question, his head shaking violently.

“What? N-no! I wouldn’t-”

“-I’m kidding,” You chuckle, taking a sip from the drink, “thank you…?”

“Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Leon relaxes, shoulders loosening and a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Nice to meet you, Leon Kennedy. y/n.” You push yourself off the wall, turning yourself to face him completely.

“That’s a pretty name, I like it.” You begin to feel heat rise up to your face, definitely not from the alcohol. You mutter a shy, “Thanks”, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Leon just watches you intently, like he’s admiring your features. 

“So, what brings you here tonight?” Leon asks, stepping closer to you to be able to hear your response. You suddenly feel very aware of how close he’s getting, and your breath shudders.

“Well, my friend dragged me here because it’s her brother’s party, but I’ve seemed to have lost her,” You look around the room, Claire and Chris nowhere to be found. Leon’s brows raise, taking a large sip out of his drink.

“Oh, you know Chris’ sister? That’s so cool! He’s my President, actually.” 

Your head tilts to the side. Leon’s a part of this frat? Off of first impressions you did not expect him to be into something like that. 

“This is your frat? I’m not gonna lie, you don’t look like someone who’d enjoy something like this.” Leon’s shoulders shrug, looking around at the combobulation of drunk college kids.

“Because it’s really not,” he begins, “I joined just so it would look good on an application. This kinda stuff isn’t really my thing,” he gestures to the party, voice softening. 

You couldn’t help but admire him. He was dressed casual, a grey hoodie with the college’s name embroidered on the front, baggy blue jeans, and beat up white sneakers. If you had met him somewhere else, you would’ve thought he was a lot younger than he was.

You watch as he takes another sip of his drink, throat bobbing as he swallows. Your face felt like it was on fire, how could you get so flustered just from watching him drink?

“N-not a partier?” You stutter, internally cringing at yourself, “What are you doing here then?”

Leon reaches to scratch the back of his neck again, looking down at his feet.

“Kinda have to be at every party we throw,” He mutters, looking back up at you with rosy cheeks, “but I-I was also hoping I’d run into a pretty girl tonight.” 

This had to be a joke.

First, this gorgeous boy approaches you. He offers you a drink, brings it back untouched (so far), stands far too close for a casual conversation, and is now flirting? 

Looks like goal number eight might actually be achieved tonight. 

Although Leon seemed kind, he was still a frat boy. And one thing about them is they’re accustomed to sex. What would he think if he knew you were a virgin? It was better to pretend that you knew what you were doing, than having to embarrass yourself about the truth.

You step a tad closer to Leon, a small smile forming on your lips. 

“Yeah? Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Leon smiled, head tilting down to meet your gaze directly. 

“I think I’ve managed to find the most beautiful girl in the room.”

On the outside, you’re calm and collected. On the inside, you’re screaming. You don’t think someone has ever called you beautiful that wasn’t family. 

Okay, you can’t fuck this up. Leon obviously knows what he wants, and that’s you. He’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes, neck craning down to block you behind the wall. If that doesn’t scream, I wanna have sex with you, you don’t know what does.

You take one final sip from your drink, never losing eye contact with Leon. You flutter your eyelashes a little too quickly trying to be seductive.

“Is there somewhere quieter we can go?” You shout a hair too loud, trying to have your voice reach over the chatter around you two. Leon’s eyes widen a fraction, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He looks over his shoulder at the stairs next to them, then back at you.

“Follow me,” he whispers against your ear, placing his drink on a nearby table to reach for your hand. You do the same, almost slamming your drink down on the table and grabbing Leon’s hand. 

He guides you up the stairs, stepping over couples making out and stray beer cans as you head to the second floor.

The chatter dies down, as there’s far less people upstairs either in line for the bathroom or even more making out. Leon walks to the end of the hall, free hand twisting open a door that leads to an empty bedroom. 

He lets you in first, letting go of your hand to move to the small of your back, just gently guiding you inside. The room is small, with a double bed taking up most of the space, but it’s organized and private.

You hear the door close behind you with a soft click, turning to face Leon.

“Better?” 

The music and chatter is only a low hum below you, the air feeling fresher and calm. You turn to face him, and he’s a lot closer to you than you thought. You can smell the cologne he’s wearing, surprisingly it’s not that awful one every frat boy wears. He smells fresh and woodsy.

You don’t dare meet his eyes, nervous beyond belief, and take a look at the bedroom walls instead.

“Much better, yeah. Is this your room?” You ask, looking at the college memorabilia, a couple posters of movies like The Breakfast Club and Scream. You feel Leon move closer towards you, not even paying attention to the posters on the wall.

“Yeah, all the brothers live here. I try to keep the door locked during parties…” he trails off, and you finally turn your head to look at him.

His pupils are blown, darting from your eyes to your lips. His chest rises and falls rather quickly, like he’s reminding himself to breathe. You fully turn your body to face him, head tilting up. You feel butterflies exploding in your stomach.

Is this really happening? Is this frat boy about to kiss you? You’re not even quite sure how to kiss, to be honest. You figure you’d let Leon take all the lead, since he knows what he’s doing. 

“Hi,” You whisper, eyes rapidly scanning his face for any sort of expression. He smiles, hands hovering awkwardly just over your waist. His head dips a little lower, only inches away from your lips.

“Hey,” Leon whispers back, “you feeling okay?” 

You nod quickly, a nervous smile forming on your face. The butterflies felt like they were trying to escape out your throat, it amazes you just how gentle and sweet this boy is. His hands finally land on your waist, the touch warm and grounding. 

Leon’s eyes focus on your lips for a second, his own parted slightly and the bridge of his nose a deep pink.

“C-can, can I… kiss you?” 

“Y-yeah,” you breathe out, and slowly shut your eyes. You relax your lips, standing perfectly still until you feel the feather light pressure of Leon’s lips on your own.

By any means, this kiss isn’t perfect. His lips aren’t puckered enough, as if he’s afraid to be too forward, and you just barely reciprocate.

But it’s perfect to you. 

Your arms, laying still at your sides, nervously slide up to rest on Leon’s shoulders, which encourages him to deepen the kiss. He adds more pressure, lips firmer against yours, and you follow suit.

His fingers press into your waist more, one hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades to push you against his chest. 

No matter how much of that spiked punch you drank, nothing could compare to how drunk you feel kissing Leon. Your chest tightens, not only from the lack of oxygen but from the intense feeling of excitement.

You feel yourself gaining more confidence the more you kiss him, your lips match his rhythm and your nose is angled so it slots right against his.

For what felt like hours, the two of you pulled away with a wet clack, heavily breathing and foreheads resting against each other’s.

 “Do you w-wanna sit down?” “Leon whispers. You nod, eyes fluttering open and you pull your head away to look at him.

His lips are red and glossy, eyes still staring deeply at you without faltering. He nods as well, and slowly guides you backwards to his bed.

You feel the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit down, Leon following suit beside you.

Your thighs press against each other, the hands that were on Leon’s shoulders now folded awkwardly in your lap. The air is still for a moment, both of you gathering your bearings for what’s next to come. 

Leon shakily raises a hand, reaching to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes scanning every inch of your face. You bashfully avert his gaze, eyes looking down into your lap.

“Thanks…” If Leon wasn’t paying so close attention he wouldn’t have heard you. But he was so engaged, analyzing every movement and expression. 

His hand moved to your chin and tilted it up gently, getting you to look at him. His eyes flicker between your eyes and lips again, breath shuddering against your face.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, your eyes already beginning to shut and your face lean into his. Your lips slot together more effortlessly this time, the kiss still so gentle and reserved. Leon keeps his hand holding your chin, the other snaking its way back around your waist.

Your body relaxes more, getting used to kissing him. For it being your first time properly kissing someone that lasted more than a second, it was going a lot better than you expected. You almost thought you were a natural, the way Leon was reacting.

His hand on your waist started to move, trailing higher up your body ever so slowly. His thigh pressed harder against yours, trying to move impossibly closer to you. He kissed deeper, the suction on your lips more fervent and hungry. You felt his tongue poke sharply at your lips, a little unsure of its motives.

Okay, this is it. He wants to go further, and as nervous as you are, you also want more. You’d say you’re doing a pretty good job at making him believe that you know what you’re doing, or he’s just so eager to get in your pants he doesn’t seem to care.

You feel Leon’s tongue prod at your lips again, more persistent this time. The only thing you thought to do was open your mouth wider, and his tongue slid inside. The feeling was foreign, full in your mouth and slippery. But, you didn’t freak out, and let Leon take the lead.

Your hands folded in your lap reached back up to his shoulders, your nails scratching at the nape of his neck. Leon let out a sharp inhale, a quiet moan vibrating against your mouth. His hand on your waist, moving ever so slowly, reached the side of your ribcage. The base of his hand nudged the side of your breast, and it almost retracted like it burned him.

You grab a hold of the back of his hand with your own, and guide it to cup gently around your breast. You both gasped at the same time, Leon’s fingers flexing reluctantly over the mound. His hand trembles as he squeezes harder, and his kisses get uncoordinated, lips bruising yours and tongues twirling around each other.

Your heart is racing. You can feel Leon get more forward, cupping the underside of your chest and grasping hungrier. You try to get yourself to relax into his kisses again, remembering to slow your breathing and focus on the moment. But everything is happening so fast, and trying to pretend like you know what you’re doing is exhausting. It almost seems better to confess to Leon now, maybe he’d understand and might even-

Your thoughts are thrown out the window when Leon pulls himself off you, lips popping away from yours and hands flying off your chest to bury his face. 

“Fuck- I’m sorry,” he muffles in his hands, “I-I just can’t-” He pulls his hands off his face and runs his fingers through his hair. You frown, watching how flustered Leon’s getting. Was it something you did? Did he think you were a terrible kisser?

Your hands go to push yourself off the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry, I’ll just go-”

“No! Don’t- don’t go,” Leon puts a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down on the bed. His face is tomato red, pupils dilated so much the ocean blue of his irises barely visible anymore. You only frown, your embarrassment turning into confusion. If he doesn’t want to continue with you why won’t he let you leave?

“A-are you okay?” You ask, watching as Leon breathes in through his nose and out his mouth. His eyes are wired shut, head up towards the ceiling. 

“I have to, fuck- I can’t keep doing this if I’m not being honest,” he stutters, head dropping to his lap, still refusing to look at you. Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to try and look at him.

“Be honest about what?”

Reluctantly, Leon opens his eyes and looks at you. He scratches the back of his neck, and lets out a final shaky breath.

“Look y/n, I’m really sorry, but I…” He begins, averting your gaze again and looking down at the floor, “...I’ve never done any of this before. I mean, I’ve never even gotten to third base yet. If this isn’t what you were hoping for I underst-”

You cut Leon off with a snicker, which turns into a burst of laughter. You laugh, eyes closed shut and head thrown back, stomach almost hurting. You were so relieved. Of all of the frat guys you tried to hook up with, of course you managed to pick out the one who was in the exact same boat as you.

“I’m glad my virginity amuses you,” Leon scoffs, shaking his head. 

“No! No, Leon,” you calm down, controlling your breathing once more and subsiding the laughter. Reassuringly, you place a hand on his thigh, head tilting to catch his gaze.

“I’m laughing because I can’t believe this.”

“Believe what? That I’m a virgin?” 

“No, because I’m also a virgin,” you emphasize, pointing your finger into your chest. Leon’s eyes widen, head whipping to face you fully. His shellshocked expression makes you chuckle again, his eyes darting all over you. 

“Huh? Y-you’re a-”

“-Yeah,” you sigh with relief, propping your hands on the bed, “I didn’t say anything because I just wanted to get it over with. Figured a frat party would be a great place to meet experienced guys.” 

Still bewildered, Leon’s jaw is slacked open, eyebrows so raised they almost touch his hairline. Then, he begins to laugh. His nose scrunches, head thrown back with one hand holding his stomach. His laugh is infectious, and then you’re laughing again.

It’s light, relieving, and instantly calms your nerves. You feel like you can be more authentic, embrace the nervousness and uncertainty of the situation. Now you know you’re not alone in this, and the two of you can get to share this experience together, it makes you all the more excited.

You lean into Leon’s side more, giggles settling in your chest as a comfortable silence envelops the room. He slides an arm behind you, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“So,” he murmured, cheeks pink again, “does this mean we can stop pretending now?” 

You look to the side of him, eyes trailing across his soft jaw, you can see the relaxation on his face.

“Yeah, I guess so,” your voice is soft and smooth. Leon shifts, facing you directly, and grabs ahold of your hands. They’re slightly shaky, but he brushes his thumbs across your knuckles to ground himself.

“Look, this is all so crazy. A-and I totally get it if you don’t wanna go through with anything anymore, but I wasn’t overplaying when I said you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You look away from Leon’s face and to where your hands are intertwined, heat rushing up to your face and ears. If anything, you felt more inclined to continue with Leon. Not only did you find him very attractive, but he was incredibly caring, attentive, and was just as clueless when it comes to being intimate.

 “I want to keep going,” you look back up at Leon. He smiles, eyes lighting up with excitement and gives a couple squeezes to your hands.

“Are you sure? I-I can’t promise that it will be very enjoyable for you, but I want to try.”

“I’m sure, Leon. I want to do this with you.” You nod reassuringly, leaning in closer to Leon, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He melts immediately, lips slotting into yours and kissing you passionately, as if he’s trying to savour the feeling. He pulls back, a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths.

“Alright. If I do anything you don’t like, you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Leon nods before leaning to kiss you again, with more fire in his movements. He lets go of your hands to grip at your waist, pulling you almost flush to his chest. You drape one arm over his shoulder, the other hand pressing flat against his chest. 

You can feel the fast rhythm of his heart, his pectorals tensing under your touch. Leon goes to swipe his tongue over your lips again, softer this time, and you open your mouth to let him inside. A strained groan vibrated against your mouth, the sound giving you goosebumps. Who knew just by a sound alone could get you so riled up?

Leon’s hands, steadier and firmer, roam your waist, fingers slipping past the hem of your shirt to touch your ribs. You moan, the heat of his fingers melting your skin, and Leon pulls his lips away from yours. He takes a quick glance at your shirt before looking back up at you.

“Can I take this off?” Leon whispered, gently pulling at your shirt. You look at him with lustful eyes, lips swollen and parted. You nod quickly, going to reach for the bottom of your shirt. He stops you, placing his hands on top of your own.

“Wait- I need to hear you say yes. N-need to make sure you’re comfortable with everything I ask,” he places a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, and you pull your hands away from your top.

“Y-yes, Leon. I want you to take my shirt off,” you whisper, smiling as you watch Leon nod affirmingly and go to tug at the hem of your shirt. You raise your arms and he lifts the shirt up and over your head, gently dropping it on the floor. Before he takes the chance to look at you, he pulls his hoodie off and drops it on the floor as well.

It’s a fleeting moment, but you both take the time to admire one another. Leon is slim, but you can see the muscle on his chest and faint ab lines on his stomach. His arms were the largest, biceps round and muscular on his arms.

You peel your eyes away from Leon’s body to his eyes, and he’s still transfixed on you. You were wearing a light pink bralette under your shirt, and that’s all where he was looking. You felt your face heat up, but you didn’t feel self conscious. It was more of an unfamiliar feeling of being admired.

His eyes meet yours once again, and he reaches out to caress your face.

“You are… breathtaking, y/n.” Leon kisses you, short but passionately, and rests his forehead against yours.

Your heart melts in your chest, his praise almost being too much for you. You’ve gone from no male attention whatsoever, to this absolutely lovesick puppy being so careful and attentive to you.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders again, fingertips putting pressure on his bare skin, “Sh-should I lie down?” 

Leon brushes the side of your face with his hand, watching the way his fingers thread through strays of your hair.

“Yeah, you can lie down,” he whispers, pulling away from you to let you adjust yourself. He watches as you scoot yourself up his bed, resting your head on the headboard. Leon stands, and grabs your legs to slip your shoes off. He neatly places them at the end of the bed, and kicks his own off before climbing back onto the bed.

He crawls up beside you, not entirely hovering over your body but propping himself to lean over top next to you. He uses his hand to turn your head to face him, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I…I’d like to try something, if you’ll let me,” he began, kissing your lips quickly, “if you like or don’t like anything I need you to let me know, alright?” 

His face is just inches away from yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips. You shift into him more, nodding,

“Okay, I promise.” Leon smiles back at you, closing the gap with his lips. Leon focuses, eyes wired shut and eyebrows knitted together, internally cursing to himself not to mess this up. 

The kiss starts slow, the sounds of their lips smacking against each other filling up the room. You lie still on his bed, goosebumps fanning over your half naked body. That familiar sense of butterflies in your stomach begins to form again, but this time it’s not overwhelming anxiety.

Of course you were nervous. How could you not be? A lot of firsts were happening tonight, which was enough to keep your nervous system on overdrive. But you were also excited. You had been dreaming of this situation for so long, and now that it was finally coming true, it felt surreal.

Your head comes back down to earth when you begin to feel Leon’s lips leave your lips, and trail down your jaw. He peppers kisses along it, making his way down to the underside, sucking just a bit harder on the soft skin.

That elicits a breathy moan from you, Leon’s lips suckling on your neck is a brand new feeling that you realize you’re going to crave for the rest of your life. You tilt your head towards the ceiling to give him better access, and he takes that advantage to kiss all the way down the column of your neck.

Leon’s hands begin to roam, where they once were caressing your face to move down south. With a little more confidence than before, but not much, Leon gently grasps at your breast. His hand stays still for a moment, focusing on kissing your collarbone, but then squeezes.

You pant out of your mouth, the love bites at your shoulders and the friction against your breast was intoxicating. Leon massages and kneads your breast outside of your bra, the flesh spilling out of his palm as he tries to grab a handful. 

Leon’s lips trail back up your neck, sloppier as they move quicker to reach your lips once again. As he kisses you, lips hungry, the hand over your bra moves backwards to the clasp.

You feel as Leon attempts to unclasp your bra, fingers fumbling over the hooks the more impatient he gets. You let him struggle for a minute or two until you’re laughing against his lips, pulling away to reveal a large smile.

“Need some help?” You ask, arms already reaching to your back. Leon just sighs, cheeks flushed and a weak smile on his puffy pink lips.

“S-sorry, it’s a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute,” you say sweetly, effortlessly unclasping your bra, the straps falling down your shoulders. 

Slowly, you remove it entirely, dropping the bra over the side of the bed. The newfound cool air breezes over your bare breasts, nipples already hardening at the temperature. You avoid Leon’s gaze, your face feeling hot as someone other than yourself is seeing you this vulnerable for the first time.

“Hey,” Leon whispers, tilting your chin to have you meet his eyes, “you alright?” Slowly, you look back up at him, eyelashes fluttering trying to shake away nervous thoughts.

“Yeah, just…” You pause, “...feeling a little nervous.”

Leon’s eyes are round and bright, scanning your features before giving your lips a soft kiss.

“It’s okay to be nervous, y/n. But I got you, okay?” He nods encouragingly, moving his hand from your chin to brush the side of your face. 

You smile, looking deep into Leon’s eyes, a nervous exhale escaping your lips.

“Okay, I trust you,” you whisper back, flickering back to Leon’s lips and encapsulating them. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing against the soft skin as he kisses you back, long and deeply.

You feel your heartbeat regulate, putting your trust in Leon was something out of the ordinary for you. The attention and admiration he was giving you was different for you, nevermind stripping so bare before somebody. 

But Leon made you feel calm, and you barely even noticed the way his hand slid off of your cheek and down your neck, to gently grasp at one of your breasts.

His hand was warm and firm, the rough skin of his palm rubbing over your nipple sends a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, kissing firmer when you felt Leon’s hand squeeze at the flesh, cupping and massaging. 

A small moan melts into your mouth once his thumb and index finger form around your nipple, rolling it between the digits and pinching. Your back arches off the bed at the sensation, your brows furrowing under his touch.

Still playing with your breast, Leon pulls back to watch your reaction. 

“That feel good?” 

“Y-yes,” you moan, eyes still shut and mind hyperfocused on the fingers tugging at your peaks. Leon kisses the hollow of your neck, trailing sloppy kisses downwards to your collarbone, chest, to the valley between your breasts before landing on the hard nipple of your neglected breast.

A high whine escapes your mouth at the sudden sensation, back arching higher into Leon’s face as he kisses hungrily, his tongue swirling and flicking around the nipple. 

Your legs cross below you, feeling the growing warmth in your core as Leon continues to worship over your breasts. He looks up at your face, lips and hand still glued to your skin, watching as your body writhes under his touch.

He can feel himself already rock hard, pulsating under his jeans from just watching you so stimulated by his actions. If he doesn’t get this moving along soon, he’s going to finish before you even get the chance to.

He places a final kiss to your breast before pulling off with a wet pop, the skin glistening with his saliva. His hand on your other breast slides down to your waist, then further to the button of your jean skirt. His fingers toy with the waistband, feeling you out before doing more than you’re comfortable with.

“Can I pull this down?”

You look down at Leon’s hand, brushing just under your bellybutton at your skirt. 

“Yeah, please,” you say as you’re already lifting up your hips, watching as Leon unbuttons the skirt and you help pull it down to your knees. You kick it off completely, all that’s left on you is a white thong, already a small wet patch forming over your core.

Leon smiles at you, hand resting on your hip. 

“I-I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I wanna make you feel good,” he begins, “so you tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” His face is so serious, you can tell he is so afraid of messing this up.

And whether it’s because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, or that he genuinely wants to be able to make you feel good, you can’t tell. But you just nod, matching his smile and swiping a stray hair that had fallen over his eye.

“Okay, I can do that.”

He kisses you softly, forehead resting on yours as his hand slides off your hip, and down and below your underwear. His hand rests on your core, unsure of what to do before slowly, his fingers swipe between your folds. 

Your breath hitches, the feeling foreign as he drags his hand up and down your folds, the slick coating his fingers and reducing the friction. He doesn’t necessarily rub in a specific spot (or the specific spot), just ghosting over your entrance or spending a little too much time on your labia.

You can’t blame him for trying, he told you he didn’t know what he was doing, but a chuckle couldn’t help but escape your lips as he practically touched every part of you except your clit. It was endearing, feeling him try so hard to please you, but you knew if you wanted this night to be somewhat enjoyable you had to step in.

Leon slowed his hand as he heard you chuckle, looking at you confused, “What? A-am I doing something wrong?”

“No no, it's just…” You place your hand on top of his, guiding his first and middle finger to hover over top of your clit, “...try right here. Slow circles.” 

“O-okay,” he stutters, your hand leaving his to rest on his bare chest. Leon puts pressure over the spot with his fingertips, and just like you told him, rubbed slow clockwise circles.

That did the trick, the nerves shocking your body, hips bucking in reaction. Leon notices the action, and quickens his pace.

“Is that better?”

“Yes, a lot better,” you exhale, lashes fluttering as you watch his hand work under your panties. Leon watches your face intently, almost more focused on your reactions than the movement of his fingers.

His brows knit together in concentration, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he keeps those slow circles over your clit. Your thighs twitch around his hand almost instantly.

“Oh,” you breathe, fingers digging into the skin of his chest. Leon’s eyes widen slightly at your reaction, shoulders relaxing just a little. 

“Th-that’s good?” He asks softly, almost hopeful.

“Mhm,” you nod quickly, lips parting when he presses a little firmer, “don’t stop.” 

The words seem to shoot straight through him as he keeps going, a shaky breath exhaling through his nose. You can feel the confidence in him now that he can see he’s doing something right. His fingers maintain the slow rhythm you guided him into, careful but eager, like he’s memorizing every reaction your body gives gim.

Your hips begin to move against his hand without thinking, chasing the friction. Every soft gasp and breathy sound that leaves your lips only seems to encourage him further. 

“You’re doing so good,” you whisper, almost delirious from the sensation. Leon’s face flushes immediately at the praise.

“I am?” He asks quietly, almost sounding surprised. You let out a small laugh between breaths, reaching from his chest to his wrist and holding on tight. 

“Yes, Leon- fuck- just like that,” you curse under your breath, and it nearly ruins him. 

You can physically see the effect it has on him; his jaw clenches, blue eyes darkening as he watches you writhe beside him. But instead of rushing, he forces himself to stay steady, fingers moving in those same tight circles while his other hand slides to cup around your breast again.

Your breathing grows uneven, thighs trembling faintly around his hand. Your core clenches around nothing, your panties dampening the more aroused you became. Something warm begins tightening low in your stomach, unfamiliar but overwhelming in the best way.

“Leon…” You whimper, brows pinching together. His movements immediately slow with concern.

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” you breathe quickly, shaking your head, “no, keep going. I just-” Your words dissolve into a gasp when he presses into your clit again, returning to the quick pace. Leon swallows hard, eyes flickering nervously between your face, your breast where his hand massages, and his other hand beneath your panties.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispers. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. As amazing as it feels against your clit, it feels like something is missing. 

“I-I need you to put a finger in,” you murmur, “but don’t stop, please.” 

Leon nods instantly, transitioning to his thumb to rub faster circles on your clit. His fingers swipe between your folds once again, collecting the slick between them, and slowly pushes his middle finger inside you.

You immediately clench around the digit, the stretch foreign and unforgiving, but it seems to fill the missing void as the knot in your stomach tightens. He pumps his finger quickly to match the pace of his thumb, and the wet friction and repeated pressure makes your back arch off of the mattress.

“Oh my god-” Your hand tightens on his wrist, nails digging into the skin.

“There?” Leon asks breathlessly, almost panicked, “Right there?” 

“Yes-yes, right there.” The praise and reassurance seems to completely undo him. His forehead nearly drops to your shoulder as he keeps touching you, increasingly fascinated by every tiny reaction he pulls from you.

Your legs shake harder now, breathing stuttering as the knot inside you winds tighter and tighter. His thumb is rapidly circling your clit, pressure so deep it almost burns, and your walls constrict around his finger as it pumps faster inside. Then suddenly, the knot snaps.

Your body jerks softly beside Leon, a broken moan leaving your lips as your fingers clutch at his wrist harder, the other hand grasping at the bedsheets. Leon practically freezes for half a second in shock before continuing to motion through it, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure as your thighs tremble around his hand.

Only once your breathing starts to calm does Leon start to slow down. The room falls quiet, except for both of your uneven breaths. He stares at you with wide eyes, somewhere between stunned and relieved.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. A weak laugh escapes your chest as you cover your burning face with your hands. Leon immediately pulls your hands away gently, almost worried. 

“Was that okay?” He asked quickly, “Did I-”

“That was more than okay,” you laugh breathlessly. The tension leaves his shoulders all at once. And then, to your surprise, a shy grin spreads across his face; proud, disbelieving, and a little overwhelmed all at once. His hand pulls out from your core, sliding to your waist to give a reassuring squeeze.

“That was really fucking hot,” Leon mutters as he goes back in to kiss you, tongue jetting out and sloppily swiping over your lips and teeth. You giggle into the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth and explore. Your hands wrap around his shoulders, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. He groans, leaning against you and crushing you deeper into the pillows on his bed.

Leon pulls away, staring adoringly at your face surrounded by the pillows. His hand pulses around your waist, the other brushing the hair that fell over your forehead.

“I was so scared I was gonna be bad at this,” he mutters, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You feel him kissing the skin there, and you thread your fingers through his hair, nails scratching at the scalp.

“You did so good,” you spoke into his ear, “took a second but we got there.” 

He lifts his head to look at you, and pulls himself up from the bed to hover on top of you. Your head is caged between his hands on the bed, your legs spread wide for his body to slot in between them. 

You can feel his hips pressing into yours, more specifically the rock hard print under his jeans. Leon groans when you lift your hips to rub against it, his head dips and shakes above you.

“Fuck y/n,” Leon’s hips grind against yours, chasing the friction, “you’ve got me so hard.” 

You look down at his hips, the outline prominent on his jeans. You swallow hard, those butterflies erupting in your stomach once again.

This was the part you were the most nervous about. According to ‘losing your virginity’, this would be it. And because it being your first time, you knew that it wouldn’t be as pleasant for you. But you trusted Leon, and he had already stimulated you to prepare, so the best thing you could do was to try and relax.

“Do-do you want to…” You trail off, almost embarrassed to say it. Leon seemed to understand what you were alluding to, and his face instantly flushed.

“Only if you want to. I know it’ll mostly be for me,” he leans his head down to gently peck your lips, “but we can stop if it’s too painful or-”

You interrupt him with a kiss, your hands caressing the sides of his face. 

“Leon, I want to. I really do,” you assured him, lifting your hands to brush the hair out of his face. He melts into your touch, head nudging against your hand. It warms your heart how considerate Leon is; you can clearly see he’s aching to go further, but would never do anything more than what you were comfortable with. And that’s what turned you on the most.

 Leon rose from the bed, standing next to you as he began to unbuckle his jeans. You watched as he clumsily fiddled with his belt, unzipped his pants and let them drop to his ankles.

You almost gasped when you noticed the large bulge through his boxers, practically straining itself to be free. How is that supposed to fit inside of you?

Leon must’ve read your mind, or the blatant concerned look on your face, and he scrambled to his nightside drawer.

“Uh, I think I have…” He opened the drawer, rummaging through it before pulling out a brand new bottle of lube, and an unopened box of condoms. “You never know I guess,” Leon mumbled, opening the box to pull out the gold foil packet. Leon toyed with the waistband of his boxers, before reluctantly sliding them off and letting them pool on the floor.

Instinctively, you looked away, focusing on the posters on his bedroom wall again, but you remembered where that thing was about to be, so you might as well get a good look. 

You weren’t sure if it was because this was the first penis you’ve ever seen in person, but Leon’s cock was big. Not only long, but a decent thickness to it as well. It looked painfully erect, the head red and throbbing, already oozing milky precum out the slit.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, slapping his stomach before bobbing out in front of him. His focus was on the condom in his hands, ripping the foil and tossing it on the nightstand before clumsily unrolling it onto his cock. 

When Leon finally looked up at you, catching your slacked jaw and bright red cheeks, he awkwardly chuckled.

“What, don’t like what you see?”

You stuttered, hands tucking your hair behind your ears while trying to come up with the most appropriate thing to say, “N-no it’s just… I think you’re gonna tear me in half with that.” 

Leon laughed, climbing onto the bed again, hovering on top of you. You could feel his latex covered cock press against your panties, your teeth biting your bottom lip in reaction.

“We’ll take it slow, and that’s what this is for,” Leon grabbed the bottle of lube, opening the lid and squirting maybe a little too much along the length of himself. He groaned when he grabbed ahold of his cock, coating it fully with the lube. After putting the bottle down, he directed his gaze to your hips, where your core was still clothed.

“Can I take your underwear off, y/n?” Leon whispered, his head leaning down close to your face. You begin to nod, and as Leon’s about to correct you you blurt,

“Yes! Yes, you can take them off.”

He breathed a laugh as he reached down to your panties, hooking his fingers around the waistband as he slid them down your hips, taking them off completely and dropping them to the floor.

The air was cold on your core, your panties peeling off slowly from being sticky with your slick. You watched as Leon eyed you, eyes darting all over between your legs. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, spreading your thighs apart with his knee, “this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You snicker, resting your hands on Leon’s shoulders, lifting your head to look down at both of your hips. Leon catches the way your eyes flick nervously between his face and where your bodies press together, and immediately his expression softens.

“Hey,” he murmurs, thumb brushing along your hip, “we don’t have to rush this.” 

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing as he hovers over you. The earlier confidence you’d built up starts to crumble under the reality of what’s about to happen.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m just nervous.” 

Leon nods like he understands completely.

“Me too.” 

That makes you laugh softly, and the tension in the room eases almost instantly. Leon leans down to kiss you again, slower this time, more reassuring than heated. His hand slides up your waist, giving gentle squeezes. 

“You tell me if you want to stop, okay?” He says quietly against your lips.

“I will.”

He presses one last kiss to your mouth before pulling back just enough to look at you, icy blue eyes searching your face carefully, analyzing every reaction. 

Leon goes to grab ahold of his cock at the base, and gently presses the head up against your folds. A small gasp leaves your mouth as you feel him swiping the head up and down your entrance, mixing the lube with your slick to try and make this as painless as possible. 

He stalls for a second, eyes looking back at yours, “You still okay?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“It might feel better if you… touch yourself when I go to put it in,” Leon suggests, looking down at your hips to align himself in front of you. You take your dominant hand off of Leon’s shoulder and slide it down to your clit, using your first and middle finger to draw slow circles overtop of it. 

You feel yourself relax a little more, face less tense as you feel Leon’s tip just kissing your entrance. 

But that relaxation immediately disappears the moment Leon moves his hips, the tip forcing its way into you.

The stretch is unforgivable, it feels white hot the deeper he tries to push himself inside. You hiss, eyes wiring shut and nails dig into the skin on Leon’s shoulder. He instantly stalls, pushing no further the second he sees the uncomfortable look on your face.

“Too- ahh- too much?” He almost whines in between words, the constriction from your walls around his cock is almost enough to get him to cum instantly.

“Just- don’t move for a second,” you spit out, concentrating on breathing as you feel your walls adjusting. Leon does as he’s told, not moving an inch as he watches you contort your face. He rubs soothing circles on your waist with his thumb, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw. 

You can feel your walls stretching around him, the burn subsiding as you continue to stimulate your clit. Your face relaxes, head that you didn’t realize you had raised, lowered back down on the pillow. 

Leon felt your fingers declaw from his shoulder and it triggered him to pull off of your jaw.

“Better?” He asks, eyes scanning yours for any sort of discomfort. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you nod, inhaling deep through your nose.

“Yeah, you can keep going.” 

Leon whispers a small “Okay”, and grabs ahold of his cock again before letting himself push deeper.

You remind yourself not to hold your breath as Leon inches further in your core, letting out a large exhale mixed with a whine.

You knew this was going to hurt, but not like this. You feel impossibly full, the girth of Leon’s cock felt like a foreign object trying to squeeze itself somewhere it shouldn’t. Just when you thought it was going on forever, you felt his hips flush against yours as he fully bottomed out. 

“O-oh my- fuck,” he groaned loudly, stilling to not only let you adjust to his full length but to control himself.

Leon knew he wouldn’t last long, but the way his cock was being vacuum sealed around your cunt, only a couple of thrusts would be enough to make him cum. 

His grip on your waist grew tighter, stabilizing himself as he dragged his cock back out, pulling out to almost the tip before slowly sliding back in.

Leon was a moaning mess on top of you. Little moans as he thrusted so slowly, feeling every ridge along your walls the deeper he went. When he would bottom out, a breathy whine sheepishly escaped his lips, absolutely reveling in the pleasure. 

You thanked him for encouraging you to play with your clit, the little nerve bundle relieving the pain the more he picked up the pace.

You locked eyes with Leon, his brows knit tightly on his face, jaw slacked and panting.

“Are you- my god- doing alright?” He asked between thrusts, his hips becoming uncoordinated and faster in movement. You weakly moan in response, lifting your head to gently kiss him.

“I’m good, feels better,” you smile into the kiss, feeling Leon’s hips rut faster into yours.

It did get better, not by much, but your walls adjusted around him and you didn’t feel as stuffed. You continued to rub your clit, circles moving faster to intensify the pleasure. You watched Leon’s face as it became more contorted, nose scrunching and eyes wiring shut the deeper he plunged his cock.

“y/n I’m not- not gonna,” he moaned, thrusts becoming shallow and quicker, “oh fuck!”

He stalls his hips pressed against yours, his shoulders tense up as if the wind was knocked out of him. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, a string of moans leaving Leon’s lips give you enough clues to figure out that he came. 

His face is a blushing mess as he realizes how quickly he came, eyes prying open to look down at where your hips connected. They flash back up to you, flickering with embarrassment.

“Oh my god y/n,” he dipped his head to hide his face in your shoulder, “I’m so sorry.” 

You laugh, both hands reaching up to scratch the back of his head. You place a grounding kiss to his temple, keeping your lips pressed against him as you mutter,

“What are you sorry about?”

You feel Leon sigh against the crook of your neck, slowly pulling his head up to look at you. His face is still bright red, eyes wide and pleading.

“You… didn’t get to finish,” he mumbled, his hands pressing firmer into your waist. He feels so tense, beating himself up for something you knew he couldn’t control. You just smiled reassuringly, sliding your hands around to cup the sides of his face.

“Leon, it’s okay. You already made me finish,” you peck his lips, thumbs swiping along his cheeks, “you did so good.” 

The praise cracks a small smile out of Leon, his shoulders finally relaxing, head dipping lower.

“Are you sure? It-it didn’t hurt too bad?”

You shake your head, “Just at the beginning, but then it felt good.” 

Leon sighed with relief, his hands loosening the grip and sliding further up your body. His thumb brushes across your nipple, causing a shiver up your spine. 

“Well,” Leon kisses your lips, soft but passionate, “I still wanna make it up to you.” 

Your brow arches, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“Make up for what?”

Leon’s lips drag along your jaw, sucking that newly found sweet spot just below your ear. His lips are already to your collarbone before he mumbles out, “Gonna make you cum again.” 

You go to speak but are replaced by a low whine as Leon pushes himself off of you, his slowly softening cock pulling out of your core. You suddenly feel so empty, walls clenching around nothing. Leon sits up and removes the condom, tossing it into a small trashcan by his bed. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he lies back down next to you, hand massaging down your hip.

“I would like to taste you, y/n,” Leon whispers, eyes searching yours for a reaction. You give him that familiar confused expression, not clueing in to what he’s asking. 

“What do you mean?” Your head tilts, and Leon only travels his hand across your hip, fingers ghosting over your mound. Your eyes widen as it finally clicks for you.

“Only if you’re comfortable with that, but I’ve always wondered what it’s like.” He blushes, keeping his hand resting overtop of your cunt and leaning his face in to nudge your nose.

You swallow nervously, feeling your own face get warm. Of course, you’ve also wondered what having someone eat you out would feel like. And now would be no better time to have you find out, with a willing participant. 

You had already been so intimate with Leon, but something about him getting so close and personal between your legs felt even more intimate. But you’ve come to trust Leon, his eyes are genuine and all he wants to do is please you. 

He’s watching your face as you contemplate, and you slowly nod.

“Yeah, okay. You can do that.”

Leon’s eyes light up, a toothy grin spreading across his face. 

“I’ll do the best I can, I promise,” he finishes his sentence with a kiss, shifting his body to hover over top of you. His lips trail down to your jaw again, and make their way down south. Wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, chest, on each breast, stomach, and just on the top of your pelvic bone. 

Leon wedges himself between your legs, hooking your thighs up and over his shoulders as he becomes face to face with your core. You look up at the ceiling, face still flushed and nervous.

You felt kisses along your inner thigh, moving to kiss the other one before his lips got too close. Your breath hitched when you felt the warm air fan across your folds, eyes shutting in anticipation.

“Hey, look at me,” Leon whispers just inches away from your core. Reluctantly, you tilt your head down and open your eyes to meet Leon’s. “You’re okay. I got you.”

The words are so simple, but the way he looked into your eyes and spoke so earnestly, your heart wants to shatter into a million pieces. You nod and smile, reaching your hand down to thread your fingers through his hair. You must think this boy has a magic power of calming your nerves, because you didn’t look away as Leon dipped his head, jetting out his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle of your core.

Your hips jerk in reaction, mouth wide open and shallow breaths leaving your chest. Leon’s arms wrap under your thighs to push your hips down into the bed, stabilizing them. 

He licks another long stripe, tongue parting your folds before stopping right on your clit, and placing a gentle kiss on top of it. 

That elicits a moan from you, the fingers in Leon’s hair gripping tighter as he continues to kiss your clit, taking the bundle of nerves between his lips and sucking softly.

“Leon, fuck- yes,”

Your hips try to buck into Leon’s face, chasing that friction, but his hands won’t let you budge. He just groans against your clit, the vibrations making you whine loudly. 

Leon watches your face as he continues to suck on your clit, seeing that this was eliciting the best reaction from you, and only goes to suck harder. He stiffens his tongue to flick against the bud, causing your head to throw back in pleasure.

You feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach, your thighs closing around Leon’s head the tighter the knot becomes. Your hand gripped his hair tighter, pulling it closer to your core as you tried to grind your hips on his face.

You felt delirious. Nothing had felt this overwhelming until right now, but in the best possible way. The way the suction around your clit made it throb, Leon’s hard tongue replicating his fingers from before and swirling in circles, it was almost too much.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your stomach very suddenly approaching your second orgasm of the night, “I-I’m gonna!”

Leon hums against your clit, lips clamping down on it and shoving his nose deeper into your mound as the knot in your stomach snaps.

Your legs involuntarily crush Leon’s head, face contorting as the orgasm floods through you harder than before. Your chest burns as you hold your breath, muscles tensing all over your body as the waves keep crashing down. Leon rides out your high by kissing your clit, gentler than before, not even phased by you practically suffocating him against your core.

Leon only stops once you finally come down, entire body relaxing into the bed. Your thighs fall to their sides, hanging loosely on his shoulders, hand untangling in his hair and flopping beside you. You watch as Leon finally releases your clit from his mouth, prying his head from your hips to look up at you.

The biggest smile you’ve ever seen was plastered on his face, mouth soaked with your juices and lips pink and swollen.

“Holy fuck y/n,” Leon pants, sliding your legs off his shoulders, “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.” 

You laugh, hands reaching up to brush back your hair, “Imagine how I feel right now,” you lift your head to watch as Leon crawls his way back up to you.

“I did good then?”

“You’re a fucking natural in my books, Leon,” you grab ahold of Leon’s face to pull it up to yours, kissing him fervently. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered to you now was how this night couldn’t have gone better than you ever dreamed of. 

Leon pulled himself to the head of the bed, settling in next to you with his back leaned against the headboard. You shifted closer to him, head resting on his shoulder and a hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest.

All that could be heard in the room was the deep breaths leaving both your mouths. 

The silence felt only the slightest bit awkward, finally coming to realize what you had just done. You’re lying bare naked in a stranger’s bed, next to that naked stranger, and have just completed number eight on your bucket list. 

You bashfully avoid Leon’s gaze, your eyes looking down at your hip where he’s got a hand massaging the skin. You can feel his eyes burning the side of your face, like he’s mustering up the courage to speak.

“I uh, didn’t hurt you, did I?” He whispers into your ear, lips tickling just the shell of it. You turn your head to face him, his face a lot closer than you thought it was, and shake your head.

“No, not the entire time,” Leon’s eyes widened, afraid that he had done something wrong for you to have been in pain, “it’s not uncommon for a girl’s first time to be uncomfortable, having such a big thing be put up there.”

You chuckle, and so does Leon, easing the worry away, “Alright, it’s not that big.”

“Just take the compliment, Leon.” 

You both laugh, Leon’s head leaning down to rest on top of yours while you nudge closer into his shoulder. He snakes an arm behind you, pulling you even closer, your warm bodies melting into each other.

You can still hear the bass of the music from downstairs, the party still going like nothing had even happened. To you, it felt like time had stopped. 

Leon must’ve been thinking the same thing, muttering into your hair after placing a kiss on the top of your head, “So, does this still count as ‘getting it over with’?” 

It takes you a second to reply, because technically, had it been anyone else, you would’ve considered it ‘getting it over with’.

But now you’re here, in the arms of this caring, gentle, selfless boy, who had made sure you were taken care of and reassured. And he was looking at you like you were sent down to him from heaven, a glow encapsulating your body. 

Maybe waiting this long to lose your virginity wasn’t so bad after all. 

“No, I don’t think it does.” 

Leon pulses his hand on your hip, nose inhaling the scent of your shampoo in your hair.

“You know, y/n,” Leon whispers, lifting his head to get a better look at your face, “I’m glad it was you.” 

You lift your head off his shoulder to find his gaze, the brightest smile on your face Leon has seen so far. 

“I’m really glad it was you, too.” 

You reach up to kiss him, not too rough but just enough to show him how much this meant to you.

“Would you wanna,” Leon speaks against your lips, reluctantly pulling away, “maybe, go out for dinner sometime?” 

“Well that’s a little backwards, sex first and then the date?” You tease, patting his chest with your hand. Leon rolls his eyes, but couldn’t help the big grin growing on his face.

“I think this whole night has been a little unusual, don’t you think?” 

Your face goes a little more serious, eyes holding Leon’s gaze, sheepish smile forming.

“Actually, I think tonight was perfect.” 

Leon’s eyes brighten, and the hand that was on your hip comes to cup the side on your face.

“Me too.” 

He kisses you once again, just a gentle peck, confirming that he was feeling the same way as you.

“I was thinking that I could take you-”

*RING RING RING* 

Your head whips as you hear the familiar ring of your phone, coming from the floor of Leon’s room. You sit up from the bed, bending over to the floor to search your jean skirt pockets to find your buzzing flip phone.

The little preview screen showed Claire’s contact, and you cursed to yourself.

“Oh shit,” You muttered before answering the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“Hey Claire-”

“-y/n! Where the hell are you? I’ve been looking all over this house for over an hour!”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Leon sits up beside you, watching your face as he can quietly hear the yelling through the phone.

“I uh, I’m upstairs.”

“What? I’ve checked up there like three times,” there’s a pause for a second, and you can almost hear the gears in Claire’s brain working as she figures it out, “wait, are you-”

“-Not another word, Claire. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “No way! Who is it?”You sheepishly turn your body away from Leon’s, as if that would do anything for him to not hear as you whisper, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

You utter a small goodbye, and hang up the phone. Your hands rest on the edge of the bed, and let out another big sigh. “I guess that’s my cue to go, Claire’s looking for me.”

You stand up to look for your clothes, skewed all over Leon’s floor, and he helps you pick up each item. As he goes to hand you your skirt and top, he stops.

“Wait- I’m serious about dinner, y/n. I really want to see you again.”

You grab the clothes in his hands, your fingers lingering on his. “I really want to see you again too.” 

You throw your clothes on, adjusting them to make you look somewhat presentable, and notice a notebook and pen lying on Leon’s desk. You open the notebook to write your phone number.

“Call me, and we can figure out a date.”

Leon smiles wide, finger tracing over the numbers on the paper. He goes to give you a hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist tight. You reciprocate and wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling the smell of his cologne.

“I wish you could stay,” he whispered against your hair. You smile, and turn your head to kiss Leon’s cheek.

“Me too, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

Leon nods, pulling away just enough to place a final kiss on your lips as his answer. As his lips slot perfectly into yours, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up getting so lucky tonight.

After taking a quick peek out the door, you slip out quietly, and head to the stairs. The party is still as busy as before, unaware of one of the most important things in your life happening in the other room.

The second you reach the bottom of the stairs, Claire is waiting for you, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping impatiently.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, y/n."

She looks you up and down, seeing your clothes wrinkled, hair a mess, and face flushed red. You just laugh, and walk with her towards the front door.

Your boyfriend is needy.

Coming back home after a long day at the police station, dick visibly hard, because you decided to tease him with a picture of your tits. Unlocking the door and making a beeline straight towards you, fucking you so desperately next to the kitchen sink; where you once were doing the dishes before he interrupted.

Your boyfriend is sensitive.

Tears brimming in his eyes and glossy lips from constantly running his tongue over them when you give him head. Whining and groaning at the sensation of your hot mouth and warm tongue, lapping over the sensitive head of his cock. Precum and saliva dripping all over the floor, as his heads lulls back and forth in pleasure.

He doesn’t last much when you go down on him. Your mouth is too good, his words not yours. He’s honestly adorable when he’s all fucked out like this. Whispering words of affection and pouring all his love into you cause he can’t think straight. Then spilling his load into and all over your mouth, cumming so hard his hands start to shake.

Your boyfriend is needy.

Waking you up in the middle of the night to him rutting himself between your thighs when you’re fast asleep. How inconsiderate, but you love him so you’ll let it slide. Plus, he always apologizes when he does wake you up.

“I’m sorry baby, you looked too good sleeping in my shirt.” His breathy voice would say.

Either way, you were more than willing to help him out. The poor guy has been working so hard lately, he surely deserves to let off some steam, even if he’s waking you up at four in the morning.

Your boyfriend is forgiving.

Immediately forgetting that he was mad at you, when you decide to wear his favorite lingerie set and proceed to walk around the house with it on. Favorite because you told him that you bought it since it reminded you of his eyes. That must’ve ignited something within him, pounding you mercilessly into the mattress. Neighbors got no sleep that night.

Your boyfriend is affectionate.

Making out with your pussy like he’s getting paid to, like it’s the thing he was born to do. Pulling up the hood of your clit before lapping and sucking at it. He would spend a lifetime down there if you wouldn’t pull him away from overstimulation.

Somedays he doesn’t even want to fuck; instead, he just spreads you out on the bed, nuzzled up against your cunt till the point where you question if he can even breath properly, and uses one of his hands to jerk himself off.

Your boyfriend is appreciative.

Drinking up every last drop of arousal that leaks out of you. Enjoying the melodies that you sing for him when you cum on his dick, face, fingers, whatever it may be, savoring the look on your face, blissed out and satisfied.

Admiring his masterpiece when your mixed fluids start dripping out of your pussy. Cock twitching and becoming hard just from the sight.

Your boyfriend is a good cop.

Binding you to the bed with his cuffs and doing whatever he pleases with you. Teaching you “self-defense” while play fighting which is just him basically finding an excuse to pin you down and you guessed it, fuck you both stupid.

He has been late to work a few times because you apparently made the mistake of “cuddling too close” to him in the morning and now he’s hard. Rushing over to work with visible hickeys on his neck, messy hair, and like he just ran a marathon.

Your boyfriend is touchy.

Grabbing your waist and pulling you closer when kissing. Removing the hair out of your face while laying down in bed, asking to touch your tits cause “they deserve to be loved” and pinching you stiff peaks, watching your expressions as he does so.

Slapping your ass any chance he got. Bending down to load the washing machine? Slap. Getting out of bed? Slap. Getting all dolled up and looking pretty for a date? Slap. Making breakfast and half asleep? Slap.

Truly cannot catch a break when he’s around.

Your boyfriend is a great listener.

Running over to the bathroom whenever he hears the sound of the shower being turned on. Walking in uninvited and joining like it’s some bonding experience. Shamelessly watching the warm water run from your shoulders to your stomach and down your thighs. Gawking at your plum lips, soap-covered breasts, and taking in the scent of your shampoo.

Your boyfriend is sweet.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear as the two of you bask in the afterglow of your release. His fingers caressing your sides as you lay next to each other, chest to chest, heart to heart.

Cleaning up the mess you both made off of you, and changing the sheets so you get optimal rest.

Your boyfriend is loving.

Kissing all over your body and face when you struggle to love yourself on certain days. Offering to take you out to your favorite place to eat when your job has been nothing but a pain in your ass.

Making you smile over how stupid his jokes are when your sad and upset. Being your number one supporter when self-doubt gets the best of you, reciting a corny ass quote to prove his point.

Your boyfriend, your boyfriend, your boyfriend, always yours.

"Korsch, leave us," Albert ordered to your lab assistant. You didn't seem to notice him as you flitted back and forth between two stations. Albert stood by the door and waited for the two of you to be alone before he finally paused your music. Still, you didn't seem to notice anything until Wesker physically pulled you away from your computers.

"Oh, it's you! When did you get back in? Did Ada recover my samples? Any word from the inv-" Albert was quick to stop your questions with a simple grab of your chin. His hold was gentle as he waited for your breath to hitch a little before he leaned in for the kiss. The moment your lips met, you simply melted completely into him.

That was something Albert really loved about you. You seemed to focus completely on whatever was in front of you. Umbrella utilized your focus by keeping you on research teams, and it was because of that Albert had met you. He hadn't expected himself to fall for anyone on any of the junior teams, especially not a simple lab rat, but you were different. You noticed the things that others didn't, and Wesker was the same way.

"I don't know how you can think with that music as loud as you have it." Albert knew that no matter what he said, you'd never turn it down. The music helped you focus, at least that's what you had told him. It was one of the many reasons he insisted on keeping his own lab work far away from yours.

"You didn't answer any of my questions," you noted with a pout. "Was Ada able to recover any of the samples at all?"

Instead of answering you, Albert ran his finger along your eyebrow as he stared down at you. It wasn't common for him to touch you like that at all, much less at work. A kiss here or there in the privacy of an office wasn't the same as holding or caressing you. Albert was purposefully trying to avoid all the questions you had for him, which was more telling than he seemingly knew.

"Luis was in Spain, right? Albert this is important, if I don't have those samples then I don't have a purpose here!" You stared up at him with wide eyes, hopeful your panic might sway him to be more forthcoming. Instead, he seemed content to continue trying to distract you from more pressing matters.

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are? It was one of the first things I noticed about you physically. You kept staring at me, and I had to look away or I'd never get anything done," Albert said softly. You took his clear attempt at flirting as your final answer on the samples. Ada hadn't recovered them, so you project was done for. The only thing they wanted you around for was doomed to fail, and it was only a matter of time before someone came to relieve you of your position permanently.

"No, but I'm sure I will have lots of free time to hear it," you said, finally relenting on your questions. "Your eyes are pretty too. Well, I guess fascinating is a more accurate way to describe them."

“God, I missed you.”

Planting his face between your breast, he trails a few kisses across your sternum and makes his way up to your neck. Your hands tangle around his hair, outgrown from the last mission he came back from, pulling him even closer.

“Missed you more.”

Sloppily, his lips kiss the crook of your neck while his hand cups one of your breasts, calloused fingers tweak and pinch the stiff peak causing your back to arch.

The scene is filthy, filled with wanting eyes and unsatiated desires. If anyone were to watch the two of you, they’d assume he’s your lover.

Well, he is.

But he was never supposed to be.

The man trailing his hand beneath the waist band of your panties should be your husband, the man you walked down the aisle for, and the one who got to change your last name to match his.

Your dear husband, supposed to be your ride or die, your one and only, and the father of your last two children.

But isn’t.

The sickening weight of guilt has abandoned you the minute you decided to grab your children and run away with your husband’s brother. Some might call your actions shameful. Others, deplorable, damned, even sin stained beyond redemption. They’ll whisper among each other about your doing, point and judge of what a horrible example of a wife you’ve made.

 The wife who broke the vow, and the woman who chose ruin over silence.

Infidelity is a curse, a sickness without a cure. Snaking into its host’s mind, seducing reason and dragging them away from what is right. Your husband was its first victim, found him tangled in the arms of another when you were five months pregnant with his child.

You cried and broke and swore to never allow him to see your face or that of your unborn daughter for the rest of his life, only to find yourself together again.

“Do it for your daughter, she comes first.” Is all you heard, from your friends, family, even from the wind that howled through that bitter November air.

Your husband wasn’t there for the birth of your first child, wasn’t there to hold your hand as pushing exhausted your muscles to the brink of collapsing, wasn’t the one sleeping on the couch during your hospital stay, and wasn’t the one who your daughter looked forward to seeing on her birthday.

Uncle Leon was.

“You got this, darling. Hold on a little longer.”

Tears streamed down your face and sweat droplets formed on your forehead. Squeezing on the strong hand you’re holding as its thumb caressed your skin delicately.

“I’m gonna die.”

“No, you won’t. She’s almost here.”

It was then five minutes later when your first daughter was born into this world. At first, having the man who is supposed to be her uncle carry her before her own father stung, but now you wouldn’t wish it in any other way.

“She looks so much like you.”

“Me? Those are the Kennedy’s eyes not mine.”

And Kennedy’s eyes there were indeed. Blue and dusky, just like her other two siblings. Only difference is you didn’t have to hold in your laugh whenever your husband would say that she got them from him.

Your husband is a hard worker, that is if being a shitty father and husband was a job. God only knows how exhausting it must be trying to fall asleep on the couch with three kids running around the house— children he conveniently forgets are also his to raise.

You can’t quite remember the last time you had something positive to say about this man. Not about how he leaves his dirty laundry on the floor, not about how he made it through fatherhood without changing a single diaper, and not the way he’d rather break a rib before washing a single plate in the sink.

But all is well because you have uncle Leon is coming next week, and that’s something to look forward to. Walking through your front door, gifts for each of the kids as if he’s an all-season Santa Claus. Spanish hand fans, Statue of Liberty snow globes, prison shirts from Alcatraz—which you’re not particularly thrilled about, but you let it slide.

It’s nice having someone who cares for a change. Someone who shows up.

Memories flood back to five years ago, to when your daughter had just recently turned one. Leon came to visit the two of you after he got off work.  Luckily, he managed to see your daughter a couple of minutes before her bedtime; but it wasn’t long before she started falling asleep in his arms.

“I’ll take her to bed, don’t worry about it.”

After tucking her in, he makes his way back to the living room and sits on the couch next to you.

“Is he not home yet?” he asks, referring to his brother.

“No, he comes home pretty late. Says the crying is too much to handle.” You reply, muttering the last few words in a mocking murmur.

Leon sighs, and you attempt to avoid the eyes on your side staring at you with pity. “He’s always been an ass to deal with.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. If only I figured that out sooner.”

The two of you continue talking for a while, explaining to him how draining it is to keep up with the endless house chores and to raise a baby all on your own. You explain the sleepless nights and the arguments that circle the same dead ends, over and over.

Leon listens, really listens. And while you are touched by this kind gesture, you can’t help but feel a tad bit pathetic at how you’re pouring your heart into a crumbling marriage and to your husbands brother.

Tears begin to sting in your eyes as you try to fight the lump rising in your throat. Despite your efforts to hold it together, your voice wavers—and when he hears it, his eyes soften.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Hey no, it’s okay.” Pulling you in a hug, all the pent-up frustration you’ve been holding back finally snaps. His hand soothingly runs up and down your back as the other holds your head against his chest.

“You deserve better, I know.”

It feels like it’s been ages since you’ve finally let out all of the pent-up emotions. Your hands grip on Leons shirt for comfort as he tenderly tries to calm you down.

After what feels like eternity, you finally quite down. Pulling away, you can feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment. Eyes lowered; you wipe the stray tears that are rolling down your face.

You nervously fix your hair and notice out of the corner of your eye the wet patch of tears you left on his shirt.

“Sorry, probably the hormones or something.” You awkwardly whisper. Finding the courage, your eyes look up to lock with his. It’s only then that you realize the close proximity between the two of you.

His eyes linger on your face, his hand placed delicately on your side. He inches closer, eyes still locked with yours.

You go to push him away, snap yourself out of the trance you’re in. Stop yourself from thinking about his soft pink lips and about the arm wrapped around you, solid and sure. And perhaps, that was what you were supposed to do, what you’re meant to do.  

But you don’t. You stay.

For once you let yourself indulge, break free. You allow yourself to cross the line, to shatter the boundaries between what is wrong and what is right. And even if it was for just this once, his lips meet yours. And oh, who knew that sin could taste this sweet—the most saccharine kind of wrong.

Your hand grabs onto his thick arm, feeling the defined muscle beneath; you let your mind wander and you let the thoughts consume you.

“He doesn’t deserve you, why are you with someone like that.”

“Show me what I’m missing out on then.”

You knew what you got yourself into, the fire you just ignited; and knowing so you let it burn. His body weight pushes your back flush against the sofa the two of you were sitting on. Your hands tangle in his hair, seductively brushing against the top of his ear every now and then.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull his pelvis flush against yours. He begins to roll his hips, causing you to bite your lip in response; feeling how hard he is underneath his jeans.

“Wanted you ever since I first saw you.”

Sliding your hands beneath his shirt, you let them roam against his bare skin before pulling him into another heated kiss. You allow him to kiss you till you’re practically drooling.

“Want it Leon, please.”

His lips curl in responds, his hand reaching towards your clothed cunt. His thumb rubs against where your clit is causing you to buck your hips in response. You feel the blood drain from your head and rush straight to your pussy in pleasure.

 “You’re so sexy.” He whispers beneath his breath. “Can I take these off?”

He asks, his hands grabbing the hem of your shorts and panties but not pulling on them. “Please.”

Pulling them down, he presses his broad palm against your thigh opening them wider for him to see. You watch as he takes in the view of you half naked in front of him, and that alone causes more slick to drip from your aching cunt.

His thumb presses against your slit, collecting the wetness and moving up to circle your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips, pulling him down to kiss him once more.

Your hands reach over an undo his jeans, slipping past them and rubbing his clothed hardened cock. He grunts against your lips, sucking in a breath when you pull him out of his boxers.

Squeezing your hand around his length, you stroke him slowly. Watching as globs of precum leave his tip and drip down your hand.

“Leon, I need it.” He laughs lowly, placing a breathy kiss on your ear. “I haven’t shown you what you’re missing out on yet, sweetheart.”

Pulling back, he places your thighs on either side of his head. His sultry blue eyes make sure to lock with yours, as he places an opened mouth kiss on your clit. He plants a few kisses on your inner thighs teasingly before giving into your whiny moans and placing his tongue flat and licking up your weeping cunt.

Your head falls back against the sofa, hands grabbing onto one of the throw pillows near you. Leons tongue dips into your pussy, his nose bumping against your sensitive clit making you see stars every time it does so.

He pulls away momentarily, shiny slick coating his stubble and mouth. His index slowly protrudes into your heat, pumping in and out of you in a slow pace before being joined with his middle finger.

“Fuck sweetheart, she’s practically crying for me.”

His fingers continue their slow motion before curling and finding the spongy spot inside you. Once your whines become louder, he takes it as a hint to pick up the speed. Your hips buck at the sensation, causing his large hand to hold them in place as his mouth sucks on your throbbing clit.

Your eyes drop down momentarily and notices that he’s stroking himself as he eats you out. A scene so filthy, it almost pushes you off the edge.

“Leon, I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum, baby. Cream my face.”

It doesn’t take long before the knot in your stomach snaps, Leon’s hand covers your mouth preventing your from waking up the baby in the other room. Your head drops down against the soft cushions beneath, you feel his fingers slip out of you and hear him suck on the taste you coated them with.

He rises up and cages you beneath him, tucking one of the stray hairs away from your face and behind your ear. You smile in return, post climax sleepiness hitting you hard making your eyelids feel heavy.

Giving you a soft smile he whispers. “You seem tired, you wanna go to sleep?”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer to peck his lips.

“Sleep? Is this not part of the deal?” you ask slyly, dropping your eyes to his dick.

You spit on your hand and wrap your fingers around his leaking tip. He hisses at the sensation, and watches as you stroke his length. You rub your clit with his tip before aligning it against your entrance.

“You sure?”

He asks, looking like he would cry if your answer was anything other than a yes. You nod your head, and the two of you lower your eyes to where the two of you connect.

You both let out a moan in unison, watching as he bottoms out inside you with ease; you’re so wet its dripping down to the couch beneath you. Grabbing your hips, he begins to thrust into you, backing away slowly before pushing back in.

You can feel him stretch you out with each thrust, you’re so incredibly full you’re almost seeing stars.

“Best pussy, can’t believe my brother’s wife has the best pussy.”

His pace picks up; and you watch as strings of wetness and slick coat his length and connect with yours.

“Oh, fuck. You feel so good.”

“Yeah? Like being fucked on this cock?”

You let out a moan when you feel him bump against your cervix. You’re completely cock drunk at this point, babbling nonsense earning a low chuckle from him.

“He doesn’t fuck you nearly as enough huh? Poor thing.”

Your grab onto his shoulder, nails digging into the muscle beneath them.

“What if he walks in right now? Sees how I have you here beneath me.” You walls tighten around him earning a grunt from him in return.

“Like that? Like that he’d see you stretched out on my cock?”

The idea sounds sick and utterly disgusting, but before you can register it, your walls tighten around him, your orgasm hitting you out of nowhere. Leon thumb circles your clit, helping you ride the wave of pleasure out.

“That’s it, baby. Cream my cock.”

Your tense muscles relax, your breathing becoming more even again while Leon’s pace picks up. He lets out a few choked up moans before pulling out and finishing over your pussy. He grabs onto the backrest of the couch, helping him keep his balance while he catches his breath.

You take in the moment, your brain finally capable of formulating a coherent thought for the first time in a while. You take in the man standing in front of you, sweat droplets on his forehead, chiseled muscles peeking beneath his shirt, his hand soothingly rubbing your sides.

A warm feeling blossoms within you, a flicker of faux liberation. Riding the wave of sick, forbidden pleasure while guilt coils tight around your ribs. You feel torn between two wrongs, damned if you stay in the arms that hold you now and damned if you go running back to the ones who never truly did. Maybe if-

“Sweetheart.”

A voice snaps you out of the past. You look down to see Leon between your thighs, his face buried in your clothed cunt.

“You with me?”

You smile, your hand running though his hair.

“Yeah, I am.”