you stared at yourself in the mirror—body painted in delicate lace—arms bunched against your chest as you gnawed on the skin around your nails. soft stockings covered your legs, the lacy band digging into the plush of your thighs. the panties were comfy, covering just enough to make you feel secure but leaving enough to be desired.
the top was fitted to your chest, the fabric beneath the cups flowy and see-through. vines of lace swirled throughout the fabric, and tiny bows concealed where the straps met the cups. a matching bow rested on the center of the waistband of the panties, along with one on each stocking at the top of your thighs.
the garment itself wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, it was remarkably wearable. you weren’t itchy, it wasn’t tight in places and loose in others, it was perfect.
the issue was your confidence.
you were still relatively new to relationships, not having much experience but knowing enough to get by. you and leon had been together for about a year now, and he constantly assured you that sex or anything of the sort was never a priority.
he told you that he would be happy to abide by your wishes until you were ready, and that he would never do anything you didn’t want.
you, shy as could be, were horrible at simply cuddling up to him when you wanted to feel his warmth. you had been trying to send him hints, to quietly display what you were ready for—but leon, bless his heart, would smile warmly and kiss you for being so cute before moving right along.
clad in an ethereal lingerie set you’d bought on a trip weeks ago with claire, nerves on fire and your hands shaking. you felt so stupid, so desperate, so vulnerable.
“it’s just leon,” you murmured to yourself, feeling the way your heart constricted at the words. you stared a moment longer.
you slid your fingers beneath the hem of the top, fully prepared to put on your usual pajamas. a low sound made you freeze, and you slowly turned. leon stood in the doorway, holsters still strapped to his thighs and his jacket hung loosely over his arm.
“um…” you trailed off, warming instantly at the way his eyes shamelessly skimmed your figure.
“when did you get that?” he asked, voice curious and deep, “and why does it look like you’re taking it off?”
“a while ago,” you admitted, arms lowering cautiously. leon tossed his jacket to the side, nearing you in an instant. he caught your trembling hands, eyes lifting to meet yours, “you are shaking all over, baby.”
“i’m nervous,” you shifted your gaze away, and he allowed you to hide to recollect yourself. he stepped impossibly closer, peering at you with an intensity that made your heart race. you were standing in front of him—smelling like sugar, summer rain, and a barely noticeable hint of his cologne—wearing lingerie that suited you so well it made his chest ache.
“leon…” you muttered embarrassed, hands trying to push him away. “hm?” he lazily smirked at your glare, tracing a finger along the edge of the panties. he could see his hand beneath the sheer layer of the top, and he could feel his patient restraint very swiftly crumbling.
plush where he was sculpted, gentle where he was calloused. “what’s wrong?” leon then whispered, “don’t like it?” you shook your head, and he waited. “i do, but it’s just…not what i’m used to,” you leaned against him, and his hands slid beneath the sheer lace to caress your waist. his index finger trailed along your spine, sending slight shivers through your body.
“can i ask you something without you shutting down on me? or shying away?”
you didn’t like the sound of that.
you grumbled in his arms, and his chest rumbled with a laugh, “is this your way of telling me you want me?” leon squeezed you tighter when his words pulled a sad, flustered little sound out of you.
“mm,” he hummed, lips pressing fondly to your hair, “you’re cute.”
“i’m taking it off, and you’re never talking to me about this again—“
“sorry, sweetheart,” leon cut you off, leaning back with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “who said you were taking it off?” your face heated, and he held you when you deflated in his arms. leon was your first serious relationship, and quite frankly, he loved to take advantage of the fact that you were so reactive to things like this.
you gasped when his arm swept under your knees, standing up with you perfectly settled in his arms. he carried you to the bed, one hand still free and undoing the binds of his holsters. he set one of his guns on the dresser, the leather holsters dropping to the ground as he simply stepped away from them.
he laid you down gently, smiling at the way your hair fell around you and the fabric of the lingerie top draped over your skin. your knee bent as a means of hiding, and he watched as your hands covered your face in sheer embarrassment.
“you look perfect,” he murmured, hand sliding down your thigh to shift your bent leg to the side. he made himself comfortable between your legs, and you peeked between your fingers when he moved your legs to frame his hips, “my beautiful girl. all dressed up for me.”
leon lowered his face, pressing his lips against yours. he felt your hands cradle his jaw, legs tightening around him. one of his hands pawed at your thigh, the other slipping beneath your head and embedding itself in your hair.
“new lip balm?” he teased softly, pulling away with a thin strand of spit breaking, “i wonder if all of you tastes as good as you look.”
“it’s new,” your eyes were shiny, lips swollen already and he had barely started, “and you, you can if you—“
“no, baby,” leon corrected gently, hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, “this isn’t about me. it’s what you want.” he kissed your cheek, “what you want my mouth to do,” he kissed your throat, “what you want my hands to do,” he kissed you slowly, “you make the calls. not me, yeah?”
“okay,” you leaned up to kiss his cheek, and his heart melted. “now,” leon sat up, tugging you closer where you were practically sat on his lap, “the fun part is listening to you trying to tell me what you want.”
your eyes widened, realization flooding your expression. warmth pooled in your stomach, and you could already feel the inevitable shame and desperation that you would elicit.
“mhm,” he grinned wickedly, “just gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart. i’ll do it, you know i will, but i gotta know what you want your man to do for you.”
you pursed your lips, eyes averting from his for a split second before he redirected your attention back to him. his warm blue eyes, pupils dilated beyond belief, the gentle tug at the corners of his lips. his palms grounded you, and you nodded, accepting his wishes.
“thank you, baby,” he kissed your forehead, “now, what do you want first?” he trailed off, hands greedily sliding back to paw at you.
“if you need suggestions…i got plenty.”
theartofmadeline
areudirty
blakekathryn
