Genre : smut, 18+, mdni, riding, edging, dirty talk, nipple play (focuses on Leon's pleasure)
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"Oh fuck, shit shit shit", leon gasps all in one breath, his head rolling back on to the pillows, as you continue to suck on his nipple, wrapping them like a gift between your lips, while covering them with your saliva.
He laid completely bare beneath you, his hard cock twitching against your belly, while your nipples brushes with your every move against his thighs creating a delicious friction that shoots right into your core, which you could not help but let it bury in your lower belly, then you sigh and realize the position you were in: completely sprawled over him and even though you had a good weight on your body, he didn't struggle at all, he just savoured whatever you were giving him, and right now you could see it in every twitch of his body that he needed more.
But you werent ready to give it to him yet.
he whimpers again, yeah actually, whimpers, that pity little mewl escaping him, that sounded almost like a plea sound for you, that said 'not to stop' but instead finally wrap his cock, in your walls, and you sigh feeling every little thing happening between you both.
his hands desperately and finally reached up and he curled them against your hair not pulling them; but just running them softly through your hairs.
"Didn't know, my pretty boy, could make such noises," you breathe against his peak before letting his nipple fall from your mouth with a loud obscene pop: just for a second to speak the words before latching onto them again, your other hand, guides up to his chest until they found the other one, you pinch it slightly at first making him close his eyes in utter pleasure then you played with it, flicking them at every possible direction, at that, his hips involuntarily jerks up with you on top of him though, you dont let the assault on his nipples stop and slowly you start to feel your wetness drip onto mattress below, while your walls clench around nothing but air of the room.
and instead you only suck them deeper, vaccuming that peaked beauty right beneath your teeth and grazing it a little, "holyyyy shittt", he moans, his thighs quivering with after-shocks of what you were doing to him, and his voice came out as almost a sob, yet you kept sucking him, and finally looked up to through your lashes.
"baby, I think , I think fuck its embarrassing", he hesitates, breathing unevenly. "say it leon", you croon around him, encouraging him, "fuck I think my pre-cum is leaking from my tip, and it needs your heat, fuck it needs to be inside you, my balls, they ache so bad like they are gonna explode, right this moment, fuck i want you wrapped around me before—"
Fuck. You have never seen him this needy, this hungry, before: but now you have you dont know if you want to see anything else.
"Patience pretty boy," you interrupt him, finally stopping the assault on his nipples, and lean back a little, dragging your thumb pad over his bottom lips, then he shivers at your touch his hips shifting and jerking beneath you, then you chuckle, softly, and continue: as his need and moans hits every hidden spot inside you, "Before you make a mess all over yourself without even putting your cock inside me?" You drawl, your thumb still travelling over his lower lip as he hangs his mouth a little open, his eyes now glassy, then you murmur, "that's what you were going to say, pretty boy? That you're so close already just from having your nipples sucked?"
He sobs out a yes, then he begs, making a pout from his pretty little lips "please touch my cock, please, its hurting, please, baby." he repeats.
God hearing him say please like that is really gonna make you cum. Fuck. He looks so pretty like that you want to mold, yourself into his ribs and never get out.
And one thing your mind start to replay was— that you loved him, every part of his body and soul.
When you look at his, trembling body and flushed face, it sends a sharp shrill of electricity down your spine, and you breathe hard, already on verge of breaking, so instead of giving in you straightened yourself up from his body, feeling his hands looseing from your hair and limping at his sides, and soon as you sit up straddling his thighs. his cock instantly springs free from beneath you, hard and flushed in deep shade of purple, while his tip remains shiny wet with the pearl; like moon of pre-cum, dripping from his tip to already onto his own skin.
For a second you look at it, with a teasing smirk then up at his face, and instantly, he covers his eyes with his arm, embarrassment taking over him completely, but still, his cock didnt care about it, and his hips bucks up anyway, seeking friction from your body, and you hum in satisfaction at his desperateness, then you finally wrap your hand around his shaft, giving him one deliberate slow stroke that has him gasping for air, and his arm falls away from his face so he can stare at you with those blown-pupil eyes. "You that sensitive, pretty boy?" You ask, seriously, while his cock remained twitching in your hand.
He nods frantically, biting his lip, those puppy blue eyes remaining fixed on you. His hands comes to grip your hips and he pulls you against his length, and in one motion you sat on his stomach while his cock stayed between your soaking folds and his stomach. You shiver instantly, "holy-- oh fuck," you moan, starting to roll your hips and rubbing that pretty member of his between you and him, and he chokes out your name almost begging for you to ride him.
But you dont, just yet, because you needed to break this pretty boy, more before you let him inside you: even if you were desperate for his cock inside you so you start, grinding down against his length, feeling him throb between your core, and he moans loud, his head falling back against the pillow, as his exposed neck glistens with sweat, and throat bobs up and down with suppressed moans.
and you keep rubbing your pussy on him and finally with a low groan of your own you lean down on his chest, before capturing his lips in a trembling kiss. The kiss was sloppy, messy, mixing with salt of your skin, but either way he moans into it, "baby, let me be inside you. Please."
"Will you be good, pretty boy?" You stop moving, completely and for a while, he stared at your and the room only echoed with your synced heavy breaths, you feel your wetness spreads over his stomach and his cock, wrapping them between you, while your core throbs fluttering to be filled by him too.
"Yes ma'am, I will," he says, "I will be very good." His eyes widens in earnestness: or maybe adrenaline you could not decipher.
You nod, breathlessly and lift yourself up a little and squatting over his thighs while his tip teased your hole, and you feel your wetness drip onto his tip and to his pelvis, you close your eyes for a second mumbling his name as he groans, "baby, fast', then you smirk, mouthing 'no' and slowly, you sink down on him, inch by inch, feeling your back arch with each inch he adds in your cunt, and you close your eyes feeling him stretch you open, and then he throws his head back, mouth falling open in a silent scream. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his voice completely wrecked, and his fingers dig in your hips, but they were still gentle though, and you shiver, lowering yourself until— you scream his name, and finally he was buried deep into your cervix, and you both stays there for a second, breathing hard, feeling each other throb and begging to come undone in silence of words. "Move," he begs, softly. "Please, baby, move, I need—"
You croon his name, then, finally, start rolling your hips in slow circles, grinding down against him, and he cries out, your name loud and whimpering, while his hands slides down to grip your waist, holding you tight, then you close your eyes and lean forward, while bracing your hands on his chest, then you pick up a rhythm and rides his cock, fast and messy, picking up the pace, feeling him hit that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur, and the tacky noise squelching of each thrust, filling the room while the friction send white through your entire vision.
"Baby," you gasp, "so fucking good, my pretty cunt is filled up by your cock oh fuck—"
He sobs— actually sobs his eyes filling with tears, and god he looked so so breakable like that, and in a moment all you wanted was just to kiss him, make him feel so good, then without warning he lifts his hips to meet your spot, and your entire thoughts dissolves into the back of your mind and you make desperate, needy, sound when his thumb finally finds your clit, and he starts rubbing it clumsily and frantically. "Oof—". You feel your entire body shaking, "Leon—wait oh my god", your and his thighs quivers as you moan out "it feels—"
"Gonna—" he warns, "gonna come, I can't stop, you feel too good, please— baby, let me come inside you."
You shake utterly lost, your brain fogged by being fucked so good, and silently you fall on his chest, and drop, your forehead against his, noses brushing, and you whispers, "Come then. pretty boy, Give it to me. I want it."
And he does, his hands grabs your waist tightly and for the last time he thrusts his hips upwards, his tip meeting your spongy spot, and spasming walls with his throbbing member, and your eyes widely opens at the shock of feeling the pleasure you never felt before and your back arches with a soft crack, as if breaking in two.
with a loudest wail that sounds like your name, his whole body archs up off the bed too, his hands clutching your waist like you the only thing keeping him anchored, and you feel his cock pulse inside you, hotly and finally he shoots his cum inside you gifting your womb, and planting kisses over your cervix with his white thick ropes, while you keep your eyes and closed and riding him through it, milking him dry, until he is whimpering again, oversensitively done, but still holding you and letting you chase your high and finally your body gives out too and you shiver moaning his name and your walls fluttering, around his cock, and you feel yourself spasming every inch of his shaft, and his veins throbs inside you, and you could feel him already harden.
though he doesnt move anymore for a moment, but he holds you close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he give it a small bite and you yelp loudly jumping out of your skin, though he doesnt let you go instead he holds you like that for another long second before whispering in your skin.
• Your husband, Leon, usually works late, often coming home long after you've already fallen asleep. Still, no matter how late it is, he always slips quietly into bed beside you, careful to not wake you up and he instinctively pulls you into his arms before he lets himself rest, but not before he confesses something in quiet of the night, he murmurs in that soothing tone of his, "baby.. I am sorry I was late, I love you, and know home isn't this place, where I come to sleep, you are", and then he gently kisses your neck, you just stir , a sleepy smile playing on your lips, feeling you were dreaming it all, and he carefully brings you even closer to him until you are flushed against his chest and then only he sleeps.
• By morning, you almost always wake up tangled together, finding him clinging to you as though you were a part of his own skin. But sometimes he has to leave before sunrise for missions that seem to take the life out of him and on those mornings, you wake to find his side of the bed completely empty, the sheets already cold. And no matter how used to it you should be by now, it still disappoints you every single time —more than you are willing to admit.
• honestly you know everything with Leon comes with his job, and you really dont want to be a selfish brat, asking for more, or be a burden to him , already knowing that Leon does everything in his power to balance the work life and one with you: though it doesn't make it any easier for you and your poor heart — and you can't help but secretly pray for days he finally retires, so you could spend each and every single day with him.
• Spending mornings with your husband, isn't as constant as you'd like, but somehow, you still find yourself looking forward to every single one — the quiet mornings where he's beside you, holding you close, as if the rest of the world ceased to exist around you both.
• That aside, you love the mundane mornings with Leon. After all they're your favorite — not just favourite but your everything. And the quiet ones too, where the world hasn't quite woken up yet, and he's completely still in your arms, while you just smile taking in his bare and vulnerable form: in your gaze and play absentmindedly with his hairs while he buries himself closer to you, and the only sound he makes being the occasional sharp breath as he holds you just a little tighter, and even in sleep he refuses to let you go.
• Your arms lazily caressed his bare back, your fingertips absentmindedly tracing the letters of your name against his skin while you simply lay there, looking at him, somehow falling even harder for him with every passing day. Without thinking, the words slipped past your lips, quiet enough that they almost disappeared into the silence. "Even if the world ceases to exist... I hope we can still be together." Your eyes burned with hushed tears as you continued to mumble incoherent little wishes that only made sense to you. "I wish today never ends, and tomorrow never comes... that we stay frozen here, like two birds who refused to fly away from the veil of love."
• Your husband Leon loves morning kisses and no matter how stinky you both are he loves it, because somehow it is uniquely yours, your musk is something that runs in him like a primal instinct which he can't help but breathe in.
• Leon mostly sleeps naked beside you, because he says he likes to 'feel free in his sleep' and not be bound by anything external— okay maybe the true reason is he loves to fuck you wildly, first thing in the morning, no matter how tired you both are night before, or even if you didnt sleep an eye, he had make sure next morning he shows you again, how extremely beautiful you are and how much he loves you.
• Leon is definitely a light sleeper if you are not beside him. But if you are, it's almost always you who wakes up first, leaving you to admire your Greek god of a husband while he sleeps peacefully beside you. Though on the rare mornings when Leon wakes up first, he never gets out of bed immediately. Instead, he simply lies there, quietly staring at you, noticing and observing every little thing you do in your sleep. By now, he has mapped every tiny sound you make while you're deeply asleep, every little habit you've never even realized you have.
• The way your hand lazily drapes across his arms as he faces you, the way one of your legs always finds its place over his hipbone without fail. He traces your features with his eyes alone— your closed eyelids, your lips, your cheeks as though he's committing them to memory all over again.
• Then, so gently, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before quietly murmuring, "Gorgeous." He loves waking up to find you tangled all over him in the mornings, something he never thought he'd get to experience. And somehow, seeing it play out day after day never loses its magic. It simply finds its way deeper into his heart, warming every part of it.
• Leon loves to have morning sex with you and by now its almost like a ritual to him and without it he can't seen to function at all.
• His morning voice is something that makes your pussy clench around nothing but need of his cock, you always get shocked how easily turned on you get, with nothing but his voice, but you also love how deep and husky his voice in the morning, and it gets the strained edges at his words carry when he sleepily mumble, "morning princess," and you just moan in response, while kissing his forehead gently, "morning, baby", and he just easily unclasps your bra, while slowly playing with your hardened peaks, and you chuckles breathlessly, "how do you always have this much stamina?!" making you shudder all over again, "because I love you and need you.", he says desperately, and a low chuckles rumbles in his chest which vibrates against your whole body, and you just nod in response almost frantic, because god forbid you want him desperately too, and its the only, permission he needs.
• when Leon has days off he spend most day in bed with you by fucking you or just holding you against him.
• he usually wakes you up by tracing circles over your lower back and when you do wake up: he doesn't wait for you to settle anymore instead he pulls you on top of his thighs while his erected cock slaps against the crease of your ass, making you shriek in giggles and soon before you know it, he is rubbing your clit, with immense pressure, while you just sleepily moan, feeling the pressure of — pleasure building in your core and lower belly, then he just looks up at you while laying flat on his back as you straddle either side of his thighs and your knees presses in the mattress beneath you, and Leon mutters huskily, sliding his hands up until he is palming your breasts and kneading them gently with his calloused palms, "i need you to ride me, fuck--", you just breathe still half-asleep and shift your weight and hover over his tip, "sit down, darling", he commands, but doesnt wait for you to respond instead he grabs your waist, and pulls you down onto his cock, and your back arches off while you gasp his name like a prayer, 'you are so deep baby', you manage, because if anything you have never felt this way, this loved, this desired, and all of it is happening while your husband remained pussy-drunk, is the best thing that has happened to you, and soon you found yourself cursing in languages you didnt even know, as he hits the right spot in one push inside your core, "leon-- god", and he grunts, "thats right baby, i am your god", then he digs his fingers tightly in your hips bruising your skin, until he is rubbing the ridge of your g-spot, and you close your eyes everytime, he thrust his hips upward from the bed and slams into you, making your wall spasm around him, and you feel your pussy remembering each and one of his veins that are running alongside his cock and he moans your name, while your head falls back and you hold his pecs to support yourself, and he just smiles crinkling his eyes, before slamming few more thrusts and rubbing your clit until you are a dump for his cum, and when you are both done at the same time he lets you ride your high and you feel him spurting his seed deep into your womb, until your guts are marked by his semen, and the room is filled by the obscene sounds and words.
• He loves to finger fuck you awake every morning, and if you were to tell the truth you love finding him breathing into the crook of your neck while he lays beside you and his fingers remains curled inside your cunt, as he hooks them under the right spot, while holding you close to him, not caring his erect cock lined up to crease of your ass, and you feel your wetness drip all over his hand, while his other hand plays with your nipples pulling and rolling them between his fingers, though you never complained to him, because who in the right mind would, because waking up like this was one of your favourite moments.
• Some nights, he falls asleep still buried inside you, his cock nestled deep in your cunt. And in the morning, when the orange light filters through the curtains, you feel him stir— first as a twitch, then a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, circling, searching, until he finds that right spot, the one you could never quite reach yourself. And you feel him throb and getting even harder, as his cock stretches your walls and his length fills you completely, owning every inch of your cunt.
• Your eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep and sudden arousal of the feeling of his cock in you, and the words slip out of you in a voice you barely recognize as yours, raspy and needy, "Morning to you too, baby." He just chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against your flushed back. "Missed you," he murmurs, and begins to move in an earnest way. But soon, as you let him push deeper, instinct inside you takes over, and without a thought, you spread your legs wider, and folding them back to rest over his thighs, opening yourself completely to give him an easy access. Then he grunts as he knows what you did, breathing and cooing into your neck, 'while breathing thank you darling,' then he sinks deeper at the new angle, filling you until you feel the pulse of him against your cervix, and then his hand drifts lower, finding your clit with precised accuracy, and his fingers pinch, roll, and rubbing your engorged nub— and your nerves explode like live wires under his touch, sparking pleasure through your half-awake body in violent, beautiful waves, while he erupts his seed into you. And yeah. That was another favorite way to wake up.
• Some mornings, when you wake up, Leon asks you to walk on his back to massage his sore muscles with your feet. You happily oblige, carefully stepping across his back while he lets out quiet groans of relief. And once you're done, he always thanks you in his 'own' way, by that you mean he fucks you into a coma to show his gratitude.
• Every night before going to bed, Leon makes it a habit to lock the bedroom door so your kids can't come barging in without knocking and accidentally find the two of you like... this. According to him, he's simply saving them from future trauma. Honestly, you can't even argue with that — because what can you even say, Leon has always been a smart man.
• though he hates some mornings. When he's buried deep inside you, your hips locked together in that perfect, lazy rhythm, and then a knock comes, small fists banging against wood, high voices calling "Mommy? Daddy?", and you both freeze, suspended in that agonizing space between pleasure and responsibility, and soon you both just chuckle shaking your head, and say simultaneously, "coming, baby." Then he pulls his cock out of you with a wet, filthy sound, his cock leaving you empty and aching, while you still throb and his member glistening and hard against his stomach. You watch his jaw tighten, the muscle jumping there as he suppresses a groan of pure frustration.
• then both of you scramble away from each other and he yanks up his boxers that do nothing to hide his arousal, so he wears his pants too, and you pull the sheets up to your chest as if the cotton could erase the flush on your skin.
• after that parent mode switched on like a flashlight and then other soft voices and cereal bowls and finding lost shoes, fills the air, though the unspoken ache between you and Leon humms like a live wire.
• But after, the backpacks are hoisted, and you send them over to the bus, Leon clicks the door shut with a finality that breaks the spell.
• He turns to you in the sudden silence, his eyes dark, and your gaze lower , towards his pants that he already lowered, and then he removes them altogether, before stepping towards you, "Quick," he growls, and he doesnt wait instead he is already backing you against the kitchen counter, lifting your nightgown, finding you still wet from before. "Need to fill you before I leave" and you just nod in agreement and he sinks his cock back in where he left off, desperately chasing the interruption away with every sharp thrust until you're both breathing with need of each other. Then in another few more thrusts he has you clenching around him while you milk every drop of his cum. Yeah. He really fucking hates those mornings. But he always likes the latter.
• some mornings he sleeps on your stomach and you wake up to find him holding your waist while he clings to you like stars in the night sky.
• Some mornings, you wake not to light, but to sensation of a rhythmic pulsing between your legs, wet that pulls you from sleep like a tide. And your eyes flutter open to the sight of him there, nestled between your thighs, his mouth working your cunt with devoted precision.
• You groan, still half-drowned in dreams, and your hands find his hair, gripping them and you buck your hips upward to give him better access, then you press yourself harder against his tongue. He hums against you, the vibration sending electric shocks inside your cunt, and slowly he starts sucks your clit into his mouth, vacuuming, it until you are crying out in pleasure, while his fingers soon find its way and curl inside your hole, seeking that spot, finally he finds that spongy bud inside. The one that makes your vision blur and you gasp his name, "Go deeper," you pant, and he obeys hungrily, groaning against your folds while fucking you with his fingers , while his tongue never stops its assault on your nub. Your orgasm builds like a storm, your thighs trembles around his head, hips stuttering, until you're clenching around his mouth — and spilling your juices onto his tongue in shuddering waves. He licks every drop you give him unhurriedly, not stopping until you've finished twitching beneath him. Then slowly with a satisfied sound, he moves upward, crawling over your body, and his mouth finds yours, and you moan into the kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, your arousal mingling between your tongues. Then he pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dark with satisfaction. "This dessert," he murmurs then he leans down pressing his head onto your chest while giving your cunt a little slap, making you twitch out of your body, "I could eat all day." And God help you— your pussy throbs all over again, already hungry, at the sound of his voice.
• and just like that, waking up beside Leon becomes something far too special, and you find yourself engraving every quiet, sweet, and intimate moment deep into the memory of your soul —something you'll carry with you even to the grave.
Summary : Whatever led you here, you are grateful for it because who would turn away from the opportunity to be the sugar baby of Leon Scott Kennedy, right?
Genre/note/cw : sfw, nsfw, 18+mdni, dirty talk, language, suggestive, legal age gap (leon is 49 and reader is in mid 20s) guys maybe its cringe idfk lmao, BTW its long. Enjoy.
• Leon, as your sugar daddy, will randomly send you thousands of dollars for absolutely no reason. You'll text him, "Daddy, I need $500." A few seconds later, his reply pops up: "That's all, love?", a second later another reply pops up, "That's kinda cheap don't you think?", Before you can even answer, another message appears. "Here. Take this." Then your phone buzzes with a notification. $10,000 transferred. You just stare at your screen, completely wide-eyed. "Holy mother of God..." you mutter under your breath, blinking at the amount. This man is genuinely something else.
• Leon as your sugar daddy as much as he likes 'grand gestures', or expensive trips, he likes mundane moments with you, more than he can imagine.
• As your sugar daddy he had never ask for how much you spent on things or how much things cost, you just need to express your desire for something and he had make sure you get it, in any way possible.
• Leon, as your sugar daddy, loves showering you with gifts almost as much as he loves showering you with his attention. At first, you tell yourself it's just generosity. Maybe he's lonely. Maybe he simply craves companionship after years of living a life that never really was his. But the more time you spend with him, the more impossible it becomes to ignore that there are real feelings tangled between expensive watches, surprise bouquets, and candle-lit dinners.
• Because the way he cares for you? Lord, have mercy. It isn't measured by the price tags of the gifts he buys, but by the way he remembers everything you mention, he notices when you're tired before you say a word, drapes his jacket over your shoulders without thinking, and looks at you like you're something precious he'd spend a lifetime protecting. And as time passes it stopped feeling like an arrangement and started feeling dangerously close to love — though its mutual, because how in world you were supposed to resist a man like kennedy?
• Leon, as your sugar daddy, loves it when you call him "Mr. Kennedy," the professionalism in that, never fails to make his mouth twitch upward or when simply you say on rare ocassions, "Daddy." He loves the sound of your voice, and hearing you call him "Daddy" never fails to turn him on, because there is such softness in it, that never fails to get to him.
• As your sugar daddy, he absolutely loves showing you off — to his colleagues, business partners, or honestly anyone willing to listen. Unless you're someone who prefers keeping the relationship private, in which case he'll respect that without question. But if you don't mind? Oh, he'll make sure everyone knows you belong to him, one way or another. He introduces you with respect, to anyone he meets.
• Leon loves physical intimacy with you, its not a secret, because no matter where or if the area or place you went to is crowded, or not, his hands will glide to your lower back and settle there in a quiet firmness, he loves holding your hand intertwining your fingers in his, he loves to let the world know he is the man beside you.
• As your sugar daddy he randomly buys you expensive necklaces and loves to put them on you, it somehow feels more intimate than the gift itself.
• He showers you with money, gifts, and anything you could ever need, but more than that, he showers you with his love. Every little thing you mention in passing somehow ends up in your hands days later, and every need you never voiced is somehow already taken care of. Yet, above all else, he loves showing you exactly why you're not just his sugar baby. You're the one person he trusts, the one he cares for, and he'll spend every single day making sure you never have to question your place in his life.
• Leon as your sugar daddy takes you to every place imaginable, every dream place you have had. There is not a single thing left in your life that you haven't experienced, and doing it all with him? Is just a cherry on top.
• Leon at first tries to keep his feelings separate from the arrangement but fails miserably, because with you he is more than a 'government tool', he doesnt have to hide himself from you, there is nothing that is hidden, and in his forty-nine years of his life he has met "fair share of women", but never quite someone like you, but its also true he thought he had settle by now, but what he never thought was he would be you 'sugar daddy', and he had happily play this role as long as you are there with him.
• as your sugar daddy, Leon wants you more than his sugar baby, he wants more than an arrangement, he wants an actual life with you unless you dont, because if thats the case, he had respect that with his heart on line, because after all he is a true gentleman.
• as your sugar daddy he never hides anything from you unless that thing could worry you. Because he wants to take the tension off your shoulder not being a burden to you. He also tells you what actually he does for work and how he came here; what struggles he faced, what he lost, and that means everything to you, and you had just listen to him, squeezing his hands every few second to let him know that you are there for him — because believe or not: he had become someone more than his money or just you 'sugar daddy.'
• Leon as your sugar daddy isnt really the jealous type because he knows no other man could match what he could offer you, emotionally and physically. If you know, you know. Though still if someone hits on you, he had make sure that person knows his place, but nonetheless no one dares to do so, seeing a buffed government agent beside you, or seeing you get out off his Porsche, so usually he doesnt get the chance to be jealous. Still he makes sure, he knows you belong to him.
• Leon as your sugar daddy, loves to make you wear fancy lingerie that shows your curves only to him, and is lacy, especially from Victoria's secret, he loves to see you all dolled up for him.
• As your sugar daddy, he always picks you up and drops you off in his Porsche. Whether you're going to college or work, he never misses the chance to be the one driving you there. He proudly drops you off, casually glaring at any guy who gets a little too touchy or stands a little too close before driving away as if nothing happened. He doesn't mind whatever you tell your friends about him — he'll never force a label onto you. But secretly? He hopes that, one day, when someone asks who he is to you, you'll smile and simply call him your partner.
• As your sugar daddy, he fucks you like you're his little toy or whore — with such desire or passion, that almost linger on borderline greed, he usually pins your wrists above your head, ravaging your cunt like no one ever has, not that it bothers you in the slightest, and in that moment he shows you who actually owns you.
• What you didn't anticipate, was the disarming duality of your sugar daddy when he fucks you. The same fingers that leave bruises on your hips in the dark are the ones that trace your jawline like you're something precious and breakable every morning. Some nights; and some days it was making love, and if you were bratty, then it was him showing you your place that day he fucks you like he's trying to claim territory, and others he moves inside you with such devastating patience that you feel the shape of his cock: his worship in every breath, every unhurried stroke inside you.
• leon as your sugar daddy in bed , has a dirty mouth, he had call you his slut, his love, his whore, and yet everything coming out of his mouth just turns you on even more.
• Because somehow, what you didn't know was that fucking him, rough or not, he was gentle in every way to you.
• You hadn't expected your sugar daddy, leon, to have that well-sculpted cock , a solid eight inches on him, thick and wide. You never knew a cock could be so aesthetically pleasing or so beautifully proportioned. And the stamina he got, you thought he would get tired soon but he never does — but god, you thought after your endless shifts and exhausting work hours or study sessions, you didn't think you had it in you either to keep up with him. But he never fails to satisfy you, hitting every right spot, and bringing out everything you hide inside you or didnt know you had it in you, he loves to draw out every ounce of your pleasure, and leaving you deliciously wrecked.
• as your sugar daddy, leon loves to fuck you in his porsche, if you make a mess on his expensive seats he just says he can get it replaced, he never lets you worry over trivial things, only your satisfaction or pleasure matters, leon usually stops his porsche in the dark forests, while you are completely naked on top of him: uncomfortable, but still, needy with desire, you almost always ride him, you hovering over him, your cunt dripping wetness all over his cock, while he pushes himself inside you, surprising your walls with his cum, he never stops -- not that you ask him to, he goes on until your cunt or womb is completely filled with him.
• he usually loves to cum inside you, you once mentioned how you like him raw inside you, but you weren't ready for any kids, and to your surprise he gets vasectomy done, and mentions it so casually that it steals the breath from your lungs, you had asked, "you did that for me?", he just chuckles while embracing you close, while nuzzling his head, deep inside your neck, "by now you should know I had do anything for you.", and moments like this only make you realize you were way too much in love with your sugar daddy.
• as your sugar daddy, he loves to send you expensive dresses, sandal, jewelry that goes with it, with nothing but a note in a bag, that says 'meet me in your parking lot at 8 p.m. we have to go to dinner' , it never fails to coil unfamiliar feelings inside you -- all good ones though.
• as your sugar daddy he loves to call and text you randomly, the moment he gets free time or even in middle of his work he lets you know, how much he misses you, and what constant is him texting "good morning, love", every day, without fail, because he cant start a day without thinking of you.
• He has his penthouse named after you, where you and him spend time together, half of the time you are there with him, and he loves how your things always lie around his place, it feels oddly romantic to him.
• as your sugar daddy leon loves to wear your used panties or thongs as scrunchies onto his wrists: which is quite scandalous but so is your age, isnt it? And it turns you on even more, how every few seconds he takes a quiet sniff of it, not that anyone knows what he was wearing on his wrists, but its the thrill of it that gets you, and every-time he had lean down in a room full of people, and murmur in your ear, nibbling on it 'how he can't wait to get you alone and out off the dress you were in,' which has you, rubbing your thighs restlessly.
• as your sugar daddy leon calls you: daddy's good little girl, his good girl, good princess, which have you on your knees in front of him, while your work your way and free him out of his restraints of the pants, he swallows hard every time, rubbing his thumb over your glistening lips, and press them inside your mouth as you suck on them, your eyes closed briefly as you let the pleasure of it sink in your gut.
• While his other hand stay above your head, as if grounding you, then you slowly look up at him from your place, and say, "can this good girl, get your cock, inside her mouth?", you breathe, and he just groans deeply, and gives in completely, but not before saying, "say, please", and you smile, fluttering your lashes, "please, daddy let me make you feel good,", and without a warning he pushes his member inside your mouth, and without gagging or coughing. You wrap your mouth completely, over him, and he grunts moaning your name, "you are such a good little girl.", "I--f'ckn, love you", and you just smile unable to speak, until he comes inside your throat and paint your throat with his semen, then only you swallow, and reply "I love you too."
• As much as your sugar daddy Leon can be needy and insatiable when it comes to you, his favorite part of the day is always afterward—when the two of you are curled up together, simply holding each other. He loves spending the rest of the evening tucked away in your arms, his head resting against your chest while you absentmindedly play with his hair. It's the only time his mind truly quiets, the only place where the weight of the world slips from his shoulders. In your embrace, Leon doesn't have to be an agent, a soldier, or the man everyone depends on. He gets to be just Leon. And to him, that kind of peace is rarer than anything money could ever buy.
• As your sugar daddy, Leon even creates a social media account on Instagram, where he follows no one but you, and keeps the account completely private, because honestly he doesn't like online media that much but he wants to feel closer to you wherever you are.
• and the only people on it are two or three of those closest to him, he makes it just to share little moments of the two of you. Photos of your dates, blurry pictures he secretly took when you weren't looking, your hand in his, sunsets you watched together, and every memory he wants to keep somewhere beyond his camera roll. He is also the first one to like your photo you post, and comment, "my girl", God, and it makes you feel special than anything ever had.
• At last, as your sugar daddy, he doesn't just fill your bank account, he fills every need you've ever had. And suddenly, you become quietly, completely content with everything: with your life, with him. And suddenly, money isn't everything you need anymore — he is.
Summary: After a day of endless teasing from you, Leon is pent up to the point of no return. During a fancy dinner you decide to take it a step further, which ends in Leon bending you over the balcony railing.
Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, curse words, public sex, fingering, P in V, lots of teasing, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, Reader and Leon are the same age (late fourties), slight voyeurism bc of public balcony
A/N: Hello my Sweethearts and welcome to the second part of the 2k Followers celebration. I am so excited to show you Leon’s oneshot! This boiling hot idea won and it came from my wonderful, beautiful, whimsy fairy bestie @tothelions. You can find her idea here. (I love your brain! You know it but I will tell you again!) Once again, I would like to thank everyone for being so welcoming and supportive of me and my fics. This was so so so fun to write. I have a thing for these night settings, especially with a skyline view. On top of that, I added a hot idea my champagne anon mentioned: you can find it here. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this wild ride and I would be so so happy to hear your opinions. So much love, Shell xo
“You won’t forget about the dinner tonight, right?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe as you watched Leon reading through some papers. He seemed to be deep in thought, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent.
His desk looked messier than usual, implying that he had been working non-stop. Thank God, it was Friday already.
“Hm?” He asked, looking up in your direction. It was obvious that he hadn’t been listening to you at all, with his mind being still clouded with work and various other duties that were waiting for him.
“The dinner tonight,” you repeated with a chuckle as you approached him. It was a dinner hosted by the DSO, officially. Well, more or less. Only the highest members were invited, and that obviously included Leon and you. What was originally planned as a small gathering between coworkers had turned into an uptight dinner event over the years. The two of you were never particularly thrilled for these kinds of parties. If it were up to you, you’d end up on the couch with your favorite wine and a movie playing in the background; however, that wasn’t in the cards for you tonight.
“Yeah, I remember,” he muttered, leaning back into his chair.
“You sound just as excited as I am,” you joked as you stood behind him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and started to lightly massage the tense muscles there. “You need to relax a little more,” you whispered.
He groaned lowly, leaning into your touch. You focused on the tight knots, putting just the right amount of pressure on them to help ease the tension.
“Easier said than done, love,” he said as he looked back to the papers in his hands. You only hummed in agreement. The last few weeks had been hectic and stressful, and there hadn’t really been any chance for spending a little bit of quality time together. Not even on the weekends. Unfortunately, bioterrorism threats rarely cared about regular working hours.
“Maybe it will boost your motivation when I tell you that I bought a new dress for the occasion.” You smiled, letting your hands wander from his neck down his upper body. “Even in your favorite color,” you continued, your voice dropping lower.
“That definitely helps.” A slight smirk crossed his features as he watched your hands making their way down his torso. You bent down a little to give him a few kisses on his neck as well.
He closed his eyes at your delicate touches, hissing when one of your hands brushed over his bulge. It could have been dismissed as an accident, but it was never accidental with you. Especially not now when you had been teasing him the whole day already. He loved it, he really did, but it was on the brink of getting painful, considering that there was simply no time to indulge in each other and releaseyourselves.
“What do you think you’re doing, hm?” He asked, the papers in his hand long forgotten.
“I am just trying to help my husband relax,” you stated in a sweet-sounding voice. Your hands brushed another time over his clothed dick, this time with a little more pressure.
He gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from moving any further. “I feel like this is doing the opposite, actually."
"Unless..." he slightly turned his head to look at your face. “You intend to do something about it.”
You grinned, enjoying the satisfactory proof that he was just as worked up as you were. And it was all because of you and your mischievous provocations. With excruciating slowness, you started palming his member until you felt him hardening under your touch. Not to sound too cocky, but there was something oddly satisfying about knowing how easy it was for you to get him hard.
“As much as I’d love to help you, I have another meeting in 10 minutes,” you explained with a smile, pulling back slightly and letting your hands drift back to his shoulders. He sighed, letting his head fall against the headrest.
“Of course you do,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Aw c’mon. Besides, I don’t want to distract you from work.” You smirked, giving his shoulders a few more squeezes before making your way back to the door.
“Too late for that,” he chuckled lowly, watching as you reached for the door handle. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me here with a boner?” He asked.
“Just look forward to tonight. When we get home, I might let you help me out of said dress,” you said, taking one last glance back at him. “Like a reward.” You winked before disappearing into the busy hallway.
He let his gaze linger on the door you'd just disappeared through before forcing his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which, admittedly, wasn't all that easy when the blood in his body had decided his brain was no longer its priority.
“This woman will be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a slight grin.
Maybe this was your final payback after the most recent times he'd driven you crazy in the most inappropriate settings.
The mutual teasing had become a well-established part of your marriage. Being married for over twenty years and working as elite agents meant it sometimes took creativity to keep certain things, like intimacy, from falling by the wayside. Showing how much you craved and longed for each other and how there was still the same lust and desire as twenty years before, seemed to be your secret recipe. The only difference was that by now it felt even deeper and more grounded.
The rest of the day went about the same. Not-so-accidental touches when you met him in the hallway, sultry remarks whispered into his ear during a short meeting, and a peck on the lips that lasted a tad too long on the drive home.
Leon handled it like a pro for the most part, holding onto the thought of ravishing you as soon as he had you all to himself again.
Once you arrived at your apartment, Leon's hands were on you. He was so good at charming his way into your heart that he was convinced you couldn’t say no. Not when he seductively offered to do it in the shower. Or in the hallway. Or in the car. Or on the couch.
Such damn tempting offers, if it weren't for the fact that you weren’t done teasing him. So instead of giving in, you’d put him off with the same excuse of not having enough time until you had to leave for the dinner. Surely, it would have been enough time for a quick release, but that was not what you wanted. You wanted him losing his mind for you. You wanted him so worked up that he couldn’t think straight anymore. So desperate that he was ready to pull you into the next empty hallway to take you against the wall.
If only you’d known by then how that would play out later.
“Leon? Will you help me with the dress?” You called from the bedroom. You’d slipped into your silky midnight-blue dress that ended just above your knees. It was sexy, yet still elegant and classy. Perfect for the occasion.
“On my way,” he called back. He’d already been dressed and ready, waiting for you in the living room.
A hushed and low “wow” was the first thing you heard when he entered the bedroom. Your back was facing him, your dress still hanging open as you waited for him.
You giggled. “You can’t even see the dress properly yet.”
“I see my beautiful wife. Think that is enough,” he hummed lowly, letting his fingers brush over the exposed skin. You shivered at the delicacy of his touch, feeling the goosebumps running all over your back.
“Fuck.” His hands stopped at the zipper, seeing your matching lace underwear that you’d decided to wear underneath. You smiled when you noticed his reaction. Exactly what you wanted.
“Hm?” You asked innocently, as if you were completely oblivious of your seducing undergarments.
“You are really trying to kill me,” he stated, his touch lingering on your skin for a few more moments until he slowly zipped up your dress.
“So, it’s working?” You grinned, holding your hair up a little as he adjusted the dress a little on your neck.
“All too well,” he sighed longingly. “How am I going to concentrate when I am seeing you in this dress all night long?” He gently placed a few kisses on your neck, inhaling your scent.
“Maybe that’s the point,” you said softly, closing your eyes when you felt his lips brush your skin. By now, every touch felt electric, the tension between you becoming unbearable.
Once Leon was done, you turned around finally, letting your gaze wander over him. He was dressed to the nines, wearing one of your favorite suits of his. It was all black, combined with a white shirt and a black tie. He looked delectable, so handsome and like a total dream come true. You’d seen him so many times in suits before, but something about today was different. It felt like seeing him for the first time again. Even the butterflies in your stomach seemed to agree.
“You look so beautiful.” Leon was the first to say something, as you were still ogling him and trying to catch your breath.
“And you look…wow,” you stated, your eyes returning to his handsome face and his steel blue eyes that were admiring you.
“Can’t compete with you, Mrs. Kennedy,” he smirked, reaching for your hand. “Shall we?”
You would never get tired of hearing him call you that. It always gave you a sense of pride, knowing that you were carrying his name and were officially his. Forever and ever.
“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said with a grin in the same teasing manner, accepting his hand and following him out of your apartment.
The drive to the location was quiet, with none of you wanting to ramp up the tension any further. At least not yet, when your professionalism was called for.
When you arrived, the place was already packed. It was a lavish and spacious apartment on the top floors that felt more like a huge mansion. It was one of those places you could only get into by previous registration and via a separate elevator. It belonged to one of the bigwigs at the DSO. Even though it sometimes seemed a bit over the top to you, you were there for every dinner event.
“Ah, the Kennedys arrived!” One of the men from the forensic team announced with a big grin, inviting you over to his small group that had gathered on a nearby table. The two of you exchanged an amused look before joining the group.
Leon and you spent the first half of the evening doing exactly that. Having small talk with your coworkers and sipping on your drinks with a few laughs here and there. All the while, Leon rested his hand on the small of your back, drawing soothing circles over the silky fabric of your dress. At other times he brushed his fingers over your arm, like a silent reminder that he was appreciating you even when he wasn’t looking at you.
After the main course was served and eaten, you felt yourself becoming more and more restless. Talking about work for what felt like the twentieth time and answering the same questions over and over again felt tedious after a while. You tried your best to smile and engage in the conversations, but after a few more conversations, you just turned on autopilot.
When you glanced back at Leon sitting next to you, you were intrigued by how well he managed to stay so professional, talking with the same charm in his voice you fell in love with.
After another glass of wine, an idea crossed your mind. While he was still talking to the other guests on the table, you gently laid your hand on his thigh. An innocent and comforting gesture between a married couple, at least that was what it looked like to the others.
You started drawing small circles and patterns on his thigh, while you smiled and nodded whenever someone said something amusing.
By now, the conversations grew more relaxed, the drinks were flowing, and the overall lighting was adjusted to a nicely, dimly lit brightness. It was as if the universe was aligning with your plans, or so you thought.
On top of that, your leg occasionally brushed against his, running up and down to ensure even more contact. Leon listened attentively to one of the men speaking, wearing his perfect poker face, but the higher your leg wandered, the more you could see the tension setting in his jaw.
At some point, you couldn't move your leg any further, so you decided to continue with your hand. You were more than grateful for the oversized cloth napkins that covered your legs.
Slowly, you let your hand wander higher until you stopped at his crotch. Your fingers faintly brushed over his bulge, the same way you’d done it in his office a few hours ago. You gauged his reaction, trying to break his poker face, but he played it cool. After all, he was a well-trained agent, so you needed to do more than just that.
You leaned a little forward eventually, hiding what you were doing with your hands, as you began palming him through his pants, feeling him getting harder under your touch.
With a satisfied smirk, you noticed his answers becoming noticeably shorter.
“It seems like the two of you really work well together as a team,” one of the guests said with a friendly smile.
Leon nodded, fidgeting just slightly when you applied more pressure on his dick. “We really do."
You enjoyed watching him trying to keep his composure as he grew harder by the minute, your hands applying the perfect amount of pressure in all the right places.
“So nice to see a happy couple after all these years,” another woman added with a warm smile.
“Yes, she is just the most precious and wonderful person in my life,” Leon said charmingly, using this opportunity to take your hand away from his throbbing member and kissing the back of your hand, before placing your intertwined hands on the table. The whole group went “aww” once they saw your seemingly innocent and romantic gesture, completely unaware of the things happening under the table.
Leon shot you a stern look when no one was watching. When he reached for his glass, he leaned a little more in than necessary so he could whisper in your ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked in a deep voice, his breath brushing your ear.
“Making the evening more interesting?” You said in a questioning tone, the feigned innocence dripping from your voice.
He huffed as he pulled back. “You sure did.”
After sharing a short smile and you giving him a peck on the lips as a form of a declaration of peace, you assumed that your little game would end here. However, you knew your husband better than that.
Once the conversation drifted to different topics and the other guest seemed to be less engaged with the two of you, Leon's hand drifted under the table again.
He laid his hand on your thigh, sneaking it under the hem of your dress. In the corner of your eye you could see that he was eyeing you, studying your response to the feel of his fingers on your bare skin.
Out of reflex you closed your thighs, careful not to draw any more attention to you, but he was not having it.
Chuckling at one of the jokes that were told, Leon looked back to one of his colleagues. He was an expert at playing his part, his hands never leaving your thighs.
Without much effort, he nudged your legs apart with his hand, running it along your inner thigh.
There were two voices in your head talking insistently to you. One was telling you to set an end to this and finish this evening as soon as possible so you could go home finally.
The other was persuading you into keeping this game going.
As soon as his fingers reached your panties, stroking over the lace fabric with enough pressure to fondle your clit, you decided that you’d let the second voice win.
Putting on a neutral face, you tried your best to keep your composure, smile at the right times, and even answer a question or two, but Leon wasn’t making it easy for you.
You suppressed the moan building in your throat the second he pulled the lace aside. Immediately, his fingers made contact with your clit. A heavenly feeling, considering the last sex had been a while ago.
He massaged your sensitive nub a few times, letting his fingers drift lower to your entrance. You gripped the stem of your glass a little too tight, hands turning sweaty and nearly tripping it over.
“Leon,” you whispered in a warning tone, turning your face toward him just slightly. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He kept rubbing your sensitive parts with his skilled fingers without moving the rest of his arm or hand too much so it wasn’t getting obvious. He was definitely a pro.
“Hm?” He leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” he whispered in your ear.
Carefully, you put your hand on his wrist, trying to stop his movements. Your clit was getting increasingly sensitive, your wetness soaking his fingers already, and you knew it wouldn’t take long until you’d come.
“Maybe a little too much,” you muttered under your breath, a shiver running down your legs when he started applying more pressure. There was no way you’d be able to keep still any longer.
You didn’t know what was more embarrassing. The possibility of people assuming you would be fidgeting in your seat like a toddler because you needed to pee or them actually noticing that you were getting fingered by your husband under the table. Both options seemed…not ideal.
As he brushed his thumb over your clit for a final time, almost causing you to grip onto the edge of the table, you choked on your drink.
You were so close to cumming, but you couldn’t let that happen. Not here when you were threatening to moan his name out loud in a room full of people.
A friendly-looking woman shot you a look. “Is everything okay?”
Leon's fingers slowed down, the tight circles from earlier turning into soft strokes over your folds.
“Yes, sure. I think I just need to freshen up a little." You smiled apologetically, looking over to Leon, who played the part of the perfect, worried husband all too well.
“Are you sure? Can I bring you anything? Water maybe?” He asked, mirroring the worried-sounding voice of the woman at your table.
“No, thank you, darling.” You smiled sweetly at him.
You gently pushed his hand away from between your legs and stood up. “Would you excuse me?” You continued, disappearing into the next hallway.
A little lost and still in a heated haze, you made your way through the long corridors. The voices from the party became quieter with each step you took, fading into the distance until it was only you and your ragged breathing.
Maybe some cold water would do? But in your state, you'd need a whole bucket of ice to cool you down again.
Shortly before you could reach the bathroom, an opened door caught your attention. Now, you were really no one to snoop around in other people’s businesses or spaces, but you couldn't help yourself and take a peek inside. After all, the door was already open, so it couldn't be something top-secret anyway, right?
The room was nicely furnished and looked like a spare bedroom or guest room. A nice bed, some drawers, and a mirror were decorating the room, as well as various fancy pictures hanging on the wall.
What really caught your eye though was the huge balcony that was attached to it. The large glass doors let enough light in to bathe the room in a nice blueish hue.
You bit your lip. Maybe some fresh air would be even better than your originally planned face-splash with cold water.
After taking one last glance behind your back to make sure that no one had followed you, you tiptoed through the room, right to the huge glass door.
As you opened it, you were met with the chilly air of the night, combined with the loud sounds of the traffic below you. The lights from the surrounding buildings made everything feel kind of surreal. As if you were in a dream.
You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your mind and nerves, but it was quite obvious that it only helped for so long.
The heat between your legs was still prominent; the feeling of Leon's fingers slipping under your panties was still lingering on your skin.
You needed him. You needed him so badly that it was on the brink of getting painful.
Sure, you'd enjoyed teasing him the whole day and seeing his clenched jaw and furrowed brows. Feeling his hardening member twitch under your fingertips was enough to make you wet and ready for him.
However, the touching underneath the table had proved to be too much. Even for you.
You took a few steps forward, leaning against the railing to take in the skyline.
Your options were limited. Going back, acting like nothing happened and hoping Leon and you could keep your hands off each other. Very unlikely.
Going back, saying you weren't feeling well so you both could leave as soon as possible. If you were lucky, Leon might fuck you in his Porsche. Not ideal either.
Instead, you grabbed your phone and looked at Leon's contact. Biting your lip, you thought about calling him, your thumb hovering over his number. But what should you tell him?
Meet me at that secluded balcony? Yeah, sure.
Apparently, your intimate parts overtook the thinking part, because you actually ended up dialing his number. It didn't take two seconds until he picked up.
“Where are you?” He asked in a tense voice, sounding as if he were trying his hardest to keep his voice down. In the background you could hear wild chattering and the sound of clattering dishes.
“At…a balcony,” you said innocently, making it sound more like a question rather than a statement.
"A balcony?” He asked.
“I needed some fresh air, I guess,” you mumbled, looking down to see the cars rushing over the intersection.
He huffed. “So, did it help?”
You weren’t sure if he was teasing you or if he was being serious. It was hard to tell due to his low voice and the noises in the background.
“Barely,” you groaned in frustration, closing your eyes. “Leon…”
“You started it, sweetheart,” he said. Now you were certain he was definitely making fun of you and your situation. “Come back and I might help you,” he said, followed by a low chuckle.
That wouldn’t do. Not anymore.
“It’s not enough,” you mumbled, shaking your head. The wind was blowing through your hair; the first few strands already started to loosen from your hairdo. A few moments of silence followed until you finally spoke your truth.
“I need you to fuck me, Leon,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I am so horny. I really need you to fuck me as soon as possible,” you confessed, suppressing another groan spilling from your lips.
From the other side on the line, you could hear Leon drawing in a sharp breath. He couldn’t possibly be indifferent to your confession, not after the relentless teasing from you and the activities under the table.
You were just about to take your words back and come back to your senses when Leon finally answered.
“Where is that balcony?”
His words cut through the silence like a knife; so deep and yet so sharp, they made your head spin. Was he really-
He couldn’t possibly-
Feeling as if another person were speaking through you, you described the way to the secluded balcony, and without another word, he hung up on you. Just like that.
You took a deep breath, hiding your face in your hands for a few seconds to contemplate your options. You weren’t actually doing it on a balcony, right?
You quickly turned around when you heard the glass door being opened. He was quicker than you'd thought, but on the other hand, he was an agent after all, so what did you expect?
His eyes looked even darker than before, hair slightly tousled, and his neck had turned into a slightly reddish tone. To others, he looked like he always did. To you, however, he looked like he was worked up to the point of no return. And you knew he was.
You suppressed a nervous chuckle. “You found me.”
“I did,” he said humorlessly as he closed the door behind him.
Slowly, he took a few steps forward until he stood right in front of you. With his eyes still locked on yours, he placed his hands on the railing, caging you in as he looked down at you.
“Do you have any idea how risky that is?” He asked in a low voice.
“I mean…the bedroom door is locked, right?”
“And what’s with the other hundreds of potential spectators?”
Well, he was right. You were surrounded by several skyscrapers. There was no way this was happening.
You stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity until he ultimately crashed his lips onto yours and sealed them with a hungry kiss.
He gently pushed you against the railing, the cold metal pressing into your skin, right through the thin layer of your dress.
In an instant, your hands pulled him closer to you, grabbing onto his tie, which had started to loosen already.
The kisses were messy and needy, with teeth clashing together and occasional gasps whenever Leon pushed you back against the railing.
“We should leave,” you mumbled against his lips, still holding onto his tie for dear life.
“We should,” he confirmed, without breaking the kiss. It was clear that none of you made the effort to actually leave. By now, it felt like there was a magnetic pull holding you together. The panting from both of you grew louder and more desperate, almost drowning out the traffic noise, if that was even possible. All you could see, hear, and taste was Leon.
“You and this dress are the reason I can't fucking concentrate,” he hissed, squeezing your ass through your dress. “I love you so much, but goddamn, you can be such a tease.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” you panted, as his lips wandered down your neck. “May I remind you that you were the one who fingered me under the table? So don't play innocent.”
You could feel him grinning against your skin.
“Mhm, true,” he simply muttered.
“You are pretty quiet for someone that moaned into the phone that she wants to be fucked just two minutes ago,” he whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
“I didn't expect you to actually-“
Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled your dress up just slightly and sneaked his hand under the fabric, heading straight to your soaked panties. There had already started to build a wet patch from him toying with you earlier.
“What? That I actually do this?” He huffed as he slipped his fingers under the fabric. With ease he found your clit again, circling it in a gentle motion.
“Y-yes,” you whimpered, hands gripping onto the railing as you felt the cold breeze hitting your intimate parts, combined with the warmth of his calloused fingers.
One hand held you back against the cold metal, while the other stroked through your folds, spreading your wetness all over you.
“You were so close to cumming, hm? Under the table,” he breathed against your lips, rubbing you a little tighter while pressing his lips to yours again. You could only nod, feeling your bud becoming more sensitive by the second. This was even better than getting fingered under the table.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled before getting on his knees. Your eyes shot open, hands still holding the railing behind you.
“Leon-“
“We can stop anytime,” he said, hooking the fingers in the waistbands. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked, looking up at you with dark eyes.
“No, please go on,” you whispered, closing your eyes when you felt him pushing up your dress just enough to get access to your throbbing cunt. He leaned forward and started lapping at you right away, knowing that there wasn’t enough time to tease you like he normally did. He went straight into you, eating you out as if he were starving, all the while holding your thighs open for him.
You moaned his name, arching your back just right so your pelvis was at the perfect angle meeting his tongue. He alternated between kitten-like licks and sucking on it with the perfect amount of pressure. In a matter of seconds you felt your orgasm approaching, your walls clenching around nothing.
He took one of your legs and lifted it slightly over his shoulder for better access. That way, he could lick you even better, his tongue going deeper into you and causing your eyes to roll back in your head. He sped up his movements, fully making out with your pussy now, moaning when he tasted your arousal.
By now, he was sure he knew what the term "blue balls" meant because never in his life had he ever been this pent up. The mixture between the ongoing teasing and the adrenaline rushing through his body from doing something taboo turned him on so much that he was fearing he might come in his pants if he kept going.
“Fuck Leon I’m gonna-“ You sobbed, one hand tangling in his hair and pushing him just slightly against you for more friction.
“Doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he praised between licks, moaning when he felt you riding against his tongue. “Cum for me,” he urged, feeling you tremble under his touch.
And you did, more intensely than you thought you could, given the circumstances. Your orgasm washed over you, causing you to shudder, electricity running through your whole body.
Your lower body moved against him as he kept licking you through your high, doing his best to give you the maximum amount of pleasure. With a satisfied hum, he lapped at you a few more times, gathering all the arousal he could on his tongue.
“Shit,” you muttered as you tried to catch your breath, watching as he got up. His eyes were dark, hair messy, and lips glistening with your lust.
You watched him in awe before pulling him down to you, kissing him and tasting yourself on his lips.
“As much as I’d love to stretch it out….we need to be a littler quicker,” he panted.
“I know.” You nodded, reaching for your panties that were still sitting at knee level. You thought he meant leaving this place finally and finishing at home, but that was not what his true intention was. Far from it.
Suddenly he spun you around, his body caging you in like before, just in a different position. You gasped when you felt him press himself against you, his erection grinding against your ass. Holding onto the railing, you looked out into the skyline, wondering if this was even real anymore.
“I’m not gonna last until home, baby,” he whispered into your ear. “I need you now.”
“Oh god…” you whispered, your cunt clenching at his words. If your friends were ever to ask you again what your wildest sex experience was, this would make it easily the number one top.
“Is that okay? Do you still want this?” He asked in a raspy voice, his words ringing in your ear.
“Yes please, fuck me already,” you begged, rubbing yourself against him impatiently.
“Thank god,” he said huskily, pulling up your dress a little higher.
You looked behind you, watching as he opened his belt with light hands. God, this man was hotter than anything you could have ever imagined. Not that you didn’t know this already, but he proved it to you time and time again.
He pulled down his pants just enough to free his thick cock, basically presenting it to you. Your mouth watered at the sight. The tip was red already, glistening with pre-cum. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but if you concentrated enough, you were sure you saw his member throbbing in his hand.
You would have loved to wrap your lips around him, giving him the sloppiest blowjob you could think of.
“Another time,” he hummed, watching your hungry gaze, as if he could read your mind. “Lean forward for me, love,” he said, hands gripping your hips as he helped you adjust your stance.
“You look so goddamn perfect,” he muttered under his breath, watching your glistening sex as he gave himself a few good strokes with one hand. The other stayed on your hip, gripping into your skin.
You bent forward a little more, gripping tightly onto the railing as he finally aligned himself at your entrance. You were slick with arousal, making it rather easy for him to enter you. With a groan he bottomed out, feeling your tightness engulfing his member in the most perfect way.
“Fuck,” he cursed, closing his eyes at the sensation of your tight pussy around him.
“Mhm, Leon, this feels so good,” you moaned, feeling him stretching you out, the angle making it even better.
His hands stayed on your hips as he started moving, thrusting into you with a slow pace at first to test your reactions. Each thrust felt better than the one before, gliding perfectly against your walls.
When you opened your eyes again, you looked into the night, the city moving at its own pace, blissfully unaware of the action happening this far up here. Your initial hesitation was swiftly replaced by nothing other than lust, your mind slowly starting to get cock-drunk.
“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, picking up the pace just slightly. “Getting fucked on a balcony by your husband?” The way he was emphasizing the word husband with his strained voice, caused your walls to flutter around him.
His hand gripped your chin and turned your face to him, searching for your lips as he kept fucking you against the railing. Your lips crashed against each other, smudging your lipstick all over your mouth.
“I love you so much,” he panted in your mouth, hands gripping more tightly into the flesh of your hips to keep you at the perfect angle. “Your pussy’s taking me so fucking well.”
“Oh god yes,” you groaned, knuckles turning white by how tightly you gripped onto the railing. As he kept pounding into you, he looked down to where your bodies were connected, enjoying the erotic sight of his cock disappearing into your tightness. He pressed his hand against your upper back, causing you to bend down even lower.
By now, your dress had slipped above your ass, giving Leon an even more enticing view.
Your eyes rolled back when he changed the angle, hitting your g-spot in an impeccable way.
“Leon-,” you whimpered, the rest of your words dying in your throat when you felt his hand drifting between your legs. This time he didn’t start slow. He matched his movements with the pace of his thrusts, drawing tight and fast circles over your sensitive clit.
You started getting tighter around his cock with every movement, making it impossible to keep your eyes open.
“Shit…I’m not gonna last much longer, baby,” Leon gasped, pressing kisses along your neck, all the places he could still reach with the position you were in.
“Please don’t stop! I’m so close,” you whined. “Please fuck me harder Leon.”
The obscene sounds of skin clapping against skin filled your ears as he did what you begged him for. He pounded you harder against the cold metal, holding you tightly to keep you safe and secure still.
At some point, you couldn't tell up from down anymore. His hands were everyhwere. On your hips, tangled in your hair or on your tits, toying with the soft flesh in his hand.
“You okay?” He asked through gritted teeth, chasing his high as he felt the first spasms of your walls around him.
“Yes yes yes,” you cried out into the night when you felt your release rushing through your body. Rarely had an orgasm felt as intense and delectable as this one. All that pent-up desire suddenly dissolved. Leon followed right behind you, spilling his hot seed inside you. His thick ropes of cum filled you, marking you from the inside. Just the way he liked it.
„Fuck,“ He groaned, fucking you a few more times, securing you were taking every last drop of him. Something about cumming inside you drove his mind wild.
A variety of curses left his mouth as he kept moving lazily inside you. Both of your releases were mixed, the first drops already making their way down your legs. This was going to be one hell of a mess.
Your legs trembled, the aftershocks of your intense lovemaking still tingling in your core.
“Hey, careful,” Leon said out of breath, helping you to get back on your feet properly. “Hold on tight for me,” he mumbled lowly as he helped you pull your panties back up. You just stood there, catching your breath, trying to return to reality. He then straightened your dress as best as he could.
“Thank you.” You whispered, shakingly turning around to face him again. He was busy putting himself back in his pants, looking just as chaotic and messy as you were. His tie was hanging loosely from his neck, his shirt was crinkled, and the hair tousled.
“You’re looking….”
“Freshly fucked?” He asked with a grin, fastening the belt on his pants.
“Yeah.”
He looked up, brushing his thumb over the smudged the lipstick with a gentle smile. “I could say the same about you,” he chuckled.
You looked into each other's eyes, still panting, chest heaving with ragged breath. Slowly, the sounds of the city started returning to your orbit. It felt like waking up from a dream. A wonderful, sexy, and illicit dream.
“We are really fucking crazy,” you said.
“You definitely are,” he laughed, kissing your temple and pulling you flush against his chest.
“Hey, this was your idea!” You retorted, playfully acting offended.
“I only had this idea because you were driving me insane the whole day,” he said, caressing your back a few more times before reaching for your hand.
Like teenagers sneaking out past their bedtime, you made your way back through the corridors until you reached one of the bathrooms. You freshened up as best as you could, helping each other to look presentable, at least for another one or two hours max.
“We should hurry up or else they file a missing persons report for us,” you joked, drying your hands after washing them.
Leon was already done, leaning against the sink. He had been eyeing you the past minutes like a man falling in love over again.
“Did you listen to me?” You asked when you noticed his gaze.
“Yeah,” he nodded, taking your hand to guide you to the door. “I was just thinking about how much I love and appreciate you. Even after all these years. And I thought you should know that,” he confessed suddenly.
You blushed a little, your heart skipping a beat at his words.
“Do you just say this because we had some freaky public sex?” You asked teasingly.
“No I don’t,” he muttered, kissing you one last time. “Even though the sex helped for sure,” he grinned.
“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile, dragging him out of the bathroom.
When you returned, your whole table was empty. Most of them were either at the bar or had switched to other tables.
Leon and you exchanged a look, silently communicating whether you should just leave, but it was too late. A familiar voice greeted you.
“There you are,” the forensic guy from earlier said a little surprised, taking a seat at your table. “You guys totally missed the dessert! Was wondering where you went.”
You took a sip of your wine before answering. Leon's eyes were glued on you, barely able to contain the smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips. How would you tell this poor man that your private dessert had already been served on the balcony?
As if on command, the other guests from your table returned one by one, watching you with genuine worry in their eyes.
“I am sorry. I needed some fresh air and Leon looked after me,” you explained apologetically with a soft smile playing on your lips.
“He was so worried for me,” you continued.
“Well, I hope you feel better then,” one of them said, looking back and forth between you and Leon.
“Oh, I feel much better, thank you,” you said with a satisfied smile.
“Seems like you guys are really made for each other,” another man chimed in, holding up his glass and gesturing in your direction.
“We really are,” Leon and you said in unison, causing the whole table to laugh in admiration of your bond. If someone had told you this morning that you’d end up getting fucked on a balcony by your husband, you’d probably burst out laughing. On the other hand, it didn’t surprise you. You were simply unable to keep your hands to yourself, but who could blame you?
Your marriage would never get boring. Not with this wonderful man by your side.
Final Note: I hope you enjoyed it! As always, feedback is very much appreciated and means the world to me! No matter if its comments, likes, reblogs. I appreciate the support so much. 💗
My Leon Kennedy masterlist can be found: here
If you want to be tagged in future stories, feel free to reach out to me here or in the comments (I have one for Leon and one for Carlos. You can also be added to both ofc 😊)
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synopsis: after years of surviving monsters, conspiracies, and the ghosts of raccoon city, leon never expected to find peace in something as ordinary as a neighborhood park, a cozy apartment, and a little boy with endless questions. what begins as a chance encounter slowly grows into something neither of you saw coming—a family built through quiet moments, shared coffee, late-night phone calls, and the comforting realization that home isn't a place, but the people waiting for you when you come back.
warnings: fluff, slow burn, found family (he deserves it), mentions of traumas and ptsd, leon being a completely softie. a very kind and lovingly reader. soft angst with happy ending, slice of life and lots of comfort.
word count: 6342k
notes: based on this request by @zeviedtiz. thank you so much for it! i really hope you enjoy it. and i'm sorry i took a while to post it, i wanted to write something really fluffy.
Ever since Raccoon City was wiped off the map in 1998, Leon hadn't had much time to think about family or relationships. His job kept him far too busy for that.
The previous year, he had traveled to Spain to rescue Ashley, the President's daughter, after she was kidnapped by a cult led by Osmund Saddler. If it hadn't been for a handful of people who helped him along the way, neither of them would have made it back alive. Since then, commitment had been the last thing on Leon's mind.
He had only recently returned from a particularly unpleasant mission in Pittsburgh. After a viral outbreak spread through a hospital and turned several victims into zombies, Leon was convinced that life still hadn't run out of ways to surprise him.
For a government agent like him, having a normal day was extremely rare.
He had barely wrapped up the Pittsburgh case when he was called in to deal with a situation at the White House. From his perspective, it was always one crisis after another. The world never seemed capable of enjoying a single moment of peace, and if that was the case, neither would he.
This time, however, Leon hadn't expected the crisis to be caused by someone within the government itself. On one hand, it was good to see Claire again, even if they often found themselves on opposite sides when it came to bioweapons and the secrets the government preferred to keep buried. Leon often reflected on those matters because, deep down, he felt that what he was doing was protecting the people he cared about.
The truth could be cruel, but not everyone needed to carry the weight of it all the time.
When he finally arrived home, he was greeted by the familiar emptiness of his apartment. It wasn't anything new, but it was starting to feel exhausting and repetitive. The silence was expected by now, serving as a constant reminder of everything he knew he would probably never have.
Even so, he found himself sitting on the couch with an expensive glass of whiskey, his tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and the television playing the same shows he always watched. It was his way of keeping his mind occupied, distracting himself from the feeling that had been quietly growing in his chest with each passing day.
The next morning, Leon decided he needed to clear his head. He desperately needed a break from the crushing weight that seemed permanently settled on his shoulders. Caught in the endless cycle of violence that defined his daily life, he rarely had time to go out, have fun, or simply enjoy himself. There was something almost ironic about realizing that his entire life had been devoted to protecting people who didn't even know his name—or that he existed at all.
Lost in his own thoughts, Leon noticed a boy who couldn't have been older than seven happily playing on the playground. The kid's ball suddenly rolled toward the street, and if Leon hadn't sprinted after him and pulled him back just as a car drove by, the morning could have ended very differently.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" you rushed toward the boy, visibly shaken as you immediately checked him over.
"Yeah, Mom. The man didn't let me get hurt," Jason said, pointing at the stranger.
"Thank you. I don't even know what to say." You looked at the man, who seemed far calmer than anyone should have been in that situation. "It happened so fast. I barely had time to react."
"It's okay." Leon offered a polite smile. "That was a close one, huh?"
"JayJay, what do we say when someone helps us?" you asked, turning back to your son.
"Thank you, sir," the boy said with a bright smile.
"You don't have to thank me." Leon shook his head. "But I think you're going to need a new ball—and maybe be a little more careful at the playground next time."
"Definitely." You nodded quickly in agreement.
"Are you okay?" Leon noticed the slight tremble in your hands. It was obvious that you were still shaken.
"I will be. Don't worry. It was just a scare," you replied with a gentle smile, grateful for his concern.
Leon let out a short breath, relieved to hear that. Jason already seemed to have completely forgotten about the incident and was once again clutching the ball against his chest while staring at the playground with an obvious desire to return to playing.
"Kids are quick to move on," Leon commented, watching the boy.
"I wish I had that ability sometimes," you replied with a nervous laugh.
For a moment, the two of you stood in silence. Jason was already distracted again, pointing at the slide and enthusiastically telling some story about a superhero that apparently only he knew.
Leon found himself smiling.
"He's quite a character."
"Is that a polite way of saying he keeps me busy?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Maybe a little."
The answer drew a genuine laugh from you, the first one since the scare. Leon noticed that the trembling in your hands had finally started to fade.
"Well... anyway, thank you. Really." Your gaze returned to him. "I don't even like thinking about what could have happened."
"But it didn't happen. That's what matters."
There was something strangely comforting about the way he said it. No dramatics. No turning the situation into something bigger than it needed to be.
Jason suddenly tugged at the hem of your shirt.
"Mom, can I go back and play?"
You looked at your son for a few seconds before letting out a defeated sigh.
"You can. But stay away from the street."
"I promise!"
The boy took off running before he had even finished the sentence.
"That promise lasted exactly half a second," Leon observed.
"You're already figuring out how he works."
The two of you watched Jason for a few moments. The park was busy, the morning sun illuminated the playground equipment, and little by little, the lingering feeling of panic began to fade away.
"Sorry, I never asked your name," you said, realizing that neither of you had properly introduced yourselves.
"Leon."
"Nice to meet you, Leon." You smiled shyly.
"Likewise."
You offered your hand out of courtesy, and Leon shook it briefly. It was a simple gesture.
After the incident at the park, Leon disappeared for a few weeks because of work. That was practically routine for him and nothing out of the ordinary, but for some reason, he kept thinking back to the day he met you.
Not that he was building expectations or anything, but Leon thought it would be nice to see you again, even if he wasn't entirely sure what to make of that feeling. Maybe you didn't even remember him anymore—the stranger who had saved your son's life. Then again, he hadn't noticed a wedding ring on your finger. That could mean a lot of things, or absolutely nothing at all.
Three weeks later, Leon was at the grocery store near his apartment, picking up a few essentials, when someone accidentally knocked a can off a shelf nearby. He crouched down to pick it up, and when he stood again, he found himself face-to-face with Jason.
"Didn't lose your ball this time, huh?" Leon laughed, handing the can to the boy.
"Nope. My mom bought me a new one," he replied politely. "But she also says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
"Well, she's right." Leon nodded, amused by the situation before spotting you approaching.
"Jason... didn't I tell you not to run off?" you said with a sigh, sounding mildly exasperated. Then you noticed Leon. "Oh, hi, Leon. What a coincidence!"
You let out a small laugh, clearly not quite believing the coincidence yourself.
"I swear I'm trying to teach him not to take off running everywhere."
"She says that about twenty times a day," Jason informed Leon with an indifferent shrug.
"Because you make me repeat it twenty times a day." You rolled your eyes at your son.
"Fair enough," Leon admitted, trying not to laugh.
Jason seemed satisfied with his contribution to the conversation before becoming distracted by a nearby shelf that was obviously much more interesting than two adults talking.
"So..." you turned your attention back to Leon. "How have you been?"
"Good. And you guys?"
"Surviving."
The answer came with a tired smile that made Leon wonder just how many nights of sleep a seven-year-old was capable of destroying.
"That sounded oddly specific."
"You have no idea."
For the first time since meeting each other, the conversation felt completely natural. There was no near-accident hanging over the interaction and no lingering tension from a stressful situation. It was easy, uncomplicated, and comfortable.
Strange, perhaps, but not unpleasant.
"Do you shop here often?" you asked, making conversation.
"Almost every week." Leon shrugged. "Or whenever I'm actually home, anyway."
"Then I guess we live relatively close to each other."
Leon had already realized that before responding. Considering it was the closest grocery store in the neighborhood, it made sense.
"Probably."
For some reason, the realization pleased him more than it should have.
The conversation was gently interrupted when Jason reappeared in the middle of the aisle carrying a cereal box that looked nearly as big as he was.
"Mom, can we get this one?"
You glanced at the box.
"No."
"Why?" Jason gave you the most convincing lost-puppy look he could manage.
"Because that's basically sugar with a little bit of cereal mixed in."
"But it tastes good."
"Exactly."
Leon let out a quiet laugh as he watched the negotiation unfold. Jason immediately pointed at him, a mischievous grin spreading across his tooth-gapped smile.
"See? The guy agrees with me."
"Don't put words in my mouth, buddy."
"Traitor."
The boy's indignation was so genuine that you ended up laughing too. Jason crossed his arms over his chest, clutching the cereal box as if he were protecting a treasure that was about to be stolen. The pout that appeared on his face earned another chuckle from Leon.
"I'm going to remember this."
"Are you really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I am."
"You forget where you leave your sneakers."
"That's different," Jason shot back, still pouting.
"How?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.
Jason opened his mouth to answer but quickly closed it again, clearly unable to find an explanation that supported his logic.
"Because it is."
Leon had to look away for a moment to hide his smile.
"Solid argument."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Oh."
You shook your head, far too used to that kind of conversation to be surprised anymore. With a resigned sigh, you took the cereal box from the boy's hands and placed it back on the shelf. Jason followed the movement with the same expression someone might wear while watching a tragedy unfold in slow motion.
"My cereal..." Jason began in a whiny voice.
"You'll survive."
"You don't know that," he argued again, a little stubbornly.
"I'm pretty sure."
"Pretty?"
"Ninety-nine percent."
Jason seemed to consider that information for a few seconds before accepting defeat. As the boy wandered a few steps ahead, distracted by other colorful products on the shelves, a brief silence settled between you and Leon.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
In fact, it was the kind of silence that naturally appeared when two people realized they were enjoying each other's company.
"Sorry about that." You discreetly gestured toward Jason. "He's a force of nature."
"I'd already noticed," Leon replied calmly and politely.
"He wasn't always like this." You took a deep breath, watching the boy, who was completely absorbed by the shelves.
That caught Leon's attention.
"No?"
You watched your son for a moment. Jason was trying to figure out which package of cookies looked the most interesting, completely oblivious to the conversation.
"When his father left, he got really quiet for a while." Your voice softened. "I thought he'd lost that spark all kids usually have."
Leon didn't respond immediately. He simply followed your gaze toward the boy and considered his words for a moment, perhaps thinking about the best way to respond without sounding rude or intrusive.
"But he got it back," he observed.
A small smile appeared on your lips.
"He did."
For some reason, seeing that smile made something tighten in Leon's chest. Maybe it was because he knew exactly how valuable it was to smile again after life had tried to take that away from you. And for a brief moment, Leon simply decided he should take a chance.
"I know this might sound a little sudden, but..." He looked at you with a hint of hesitation. "Would you maybe like to grab a coffee sometime?"
The question seemed to catch you off guard.
For a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The grocery store remained busy around you, people pushing full carts, children begging their parents for candy, and the distant sound of cash registers ringing up purchases, but your attention was completely focused on Leon. Maybe because you genuinely hadn't expected that.
Not because he was unpleasant, or because the idea hadn't crossed your mind at some point, but because Leon seemed like the kind of man who thought carefully before acting. The type who considered every possibility before taking a step forward. And yet there he was, clearly a little uncertain, waiting for an answer.
A smile slowly appeared on your lips.
"You know that sounds a lot like a date."
Leon let out a quiet laugh through his nose, glancing away for a second.
"I think that was the idea," he replied shyly.
That made you laugh too.
It was strange how natural the conversation felt. You had only met twice, but there wasn't that awkward feeling of talking to someone you barely knew. Maybe because your first interaction had happened during such an intense moment. Maybe because Leon carried a sense of calm that was almost impossible to ignore.
You studied him for a few seconds. The relaxed posture, the reserved demeanor, the way he seemed to genuinely pay attention to everything around him. There was something about him that inspired trust, even if you couldn't quite explain why.
"I'd love to."
As composed as your answer sounded, you still noticed the small wave of relief that crossed his face. It was quick. So quick that someone else might not have noticed.
But you did.
"Really?" he asked, surprised.
"Really."
"Great."
Leon nodded once, almost to himself, as though he were processing the fact that it had actually worked.
"You seem surprised."
"Maybe a little."
"Should I be offended?"
"No." He smiled. "I just thought the chances of you saying no were higher."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
The question seemed to make him think for a moment.
"Because you're a single mom who just met a random guy at the grocery store."
The honesty was so unexpected that you couldn't help laughing.
"Fair point."
"I try to be realistic."
"Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Realistic." You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him with obvious amusement. "You already had a few advantages."
"Oh, yeah?"
"You saved my son from getting hit by a car."
"That helps."
"It helps a lot." You nodded lightly.
A smile appeared on Leon's lips. Not one of those polite smiles he seemed to wear so often, but a genuine smile capable of completely softening his features.
Before either of you could continue, Jason came running back down the aisle with two packs of cookies in his arms and the kind of energy that clearly belonged to a child who had not yet learned the meaning of the word calm.
"Mom, look!" Jason called for your attention.
You immediately sighed.
"What is it now?"
"These are on sale."
"Jay, sweetheart, you don't even know what 'on sale' means." You looked at him with genuine surprise.
"It means you buy more." The little boy shrugged, completely unfazed by your response.
Leon had to look away to hide his laugh. You, on the other hand, looked like you were reconsidering every life choice that had led you to that moment.
"Who taught you that?"
"You did." He answered as though it were obvious where he had learned the word.
"I definitely did not teach you that."
"I'm pretty sure you did." Jason shook his head.
The boy flashed a proud smile, completely convinced by his own answer. Leon watched the exchange between the two of you in silence for a few moments. There was something incredibly simple about the scene. Something ordinary. And maybe that was exactly why it felt so pleasant.
For years, his life had been made up of chases, missions, violence, and goodbyes. He had grown accustomed to the idea that his existence would never be normal.
But there, in that grocery store aisle, watching a mother argue with her son about cookies while trying not to laugh, normality seemed surprisingly appealing.
And far more appealing than it probably should have been.
When you looked up again and caught him watching the scene, Leon had the strange feeling that maybe he was exactly where he wanted to be.
"Here, this is my number. You can call me about that coffee," you said, handing him your phone number.
With that, you finished your shopping and left, allowing Leon to do what he had originally come to do without any more childish distractions. He remained standing in the aisle for several moments, simply reflecting and processing everything that had happened. In a way, he found himself genuinely looking forward to the coffee.
The weeks passed far more quickly than he would have liked to admit.
Between missions, meetings, protocols, and the endless bureaucracy that came with his job, Leon began to worry that you might be upset about his sudden disappearance. Not that it was anyone's fault, but sometimes his work could be incredibly unpredictable. Deep down, he truly wanted this. He wanted the chance to get to know someone and see where it might lead.
So, gathering a bit of courage, Leon dialed the number you had given him that day at the grocery store, hoping you would answer and somehow forgive him for disappearing. When the call connected, it felt as though all the air had left his lungs.
"Hey, it's me, Leon..." he began, his voice slightly shaky, almost imperceptibly so. "I know I've been gone, but I can explain. Well, if you're still willing to have that coffee with me, anyway."
"Hey, Leon. Are you okay? Your voice sounds a little... strange," you replied, immediately noticing the hesitation.
"Yeah, I'm okay. It's just... work stuff." He let out a heavy sigh. "Anyway, I wanted to see if you're still up for that coffee."
"Yes, of course! Today?" you answered with a hint of enthusiasm.
"Sure. The one near the park?" Leon suggested with a smile, even though you couldn't see it.
"That sounds like a great idea. See you in thirty minutes? Jason is spending the night at his cousin's house." You leaned against the kitchen counter, biting your lower lip.
"Yeah, that works. See you in thirty." Leon smiled again.
Leon let out a slow breath as soon as the call ended, still holding the phone to his ear for a second longer than necessary, processing what had just happened. He walked past one corner of the kitchen counter, glanced at the bottles left there, and for the first time in weeks, didn't feel that familiar urge to immediately put everything back in order.
It wasn't a big deal. Just coffee. That was all. But something inside him had instantly turned something simple into something important the moment he realized that not only did you still want to see him, but you also seemed genuinely excited about the idea.
Half an hour later, they were at the café near the park, a small place with dark brick walls and large windows, iron tables on the sidewalk, and a discreet bell that chimed when Leon stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, baked pastries, and cinnamon filled the air in a welcoming way, creating the perfect atmosphere for a first date.
Leon glanced around quickly before spotting you sitting by the window, and for a second he simply stood there without realizing it. You looked different from the way you had at the grocery store. Not dramatically so, but enough for him to notice: your shoulders seemed less tense, your face softer, the same gentle mannerisms still there, only now without the stress of keeping track of a child running through aisles and shelves. When you looked up and saw him, the smile that appeared on your face was immediate, simple, and so natural that it settled somewhere in the middle of his chest, spreading a pleasant warmth through him.
"You came," you said lightly, almost teasingly, as if there was still a hint of surprise behind the words.
Leon lowered his gaze briefly, a small smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"I said I would." Leon shrugged, sounding calmer and more relaxed.
"I know." You rested your elbow on the table and studied his face with subtle attention, nothing invasive.
The coffee arrived quickly; two simple cups, steam rising in thin lines that dissolved into the air before reaching the dark wooden ceiling. Leon wrapped both hands around his cup, not because he was cold, but out of habit, as if the warmth helped organize his thoughts. You stirred your drink with a small spoon, watching the liquid swirl slowly before looking back up at him.
"So," you said, resting your chin lightly against your hand, "were the work problems really that bad?"
Leon let out a breath that sounded halfway between a laugh and exhaustion. He took a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully because he didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to suddenly unload the weight of a life that had honestly been weighing on him for far too long.
"They were just... complicated. More complicated than I expected." Leon replied, his eyes fixed on the steaming coffee.
You simply nodded slowly, accepting the answer without pressing for more, and that made more of a difference than he could ever explain out loud. That was when he realized there was no expectation behind the question, only harmless curiosity.
"So you didn't disappear because you changed your mind," you commented almost casually, though there was a spark of amusement in your eyes.
Leon raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider the accusation for a second.
"Not exactly."
"Hmm." You narrowed your eyes on purpose, playing up the seriousness of the question.
And Leon realized he was starting to enjoy that little game between the two of you far more than he probably should. The way your conversations always seemed to carry a certain lightness without ever feeling forced or intrusive.
It was easy.
Comfortable.
"I was afraid you'd think I'd thrown your number away," he admitted at last, the honesty coming much more easily than he expected.
You blinked in surprise and then laughed, a quiet laugh accompanied by a slight tilt of your head and a brightness in your expression.
"Seriously? You actually thought I'd think that?"
"It wouldn't be the first time someone interpreted silence as disinterest." He hesitated for a brief moment, a trace of insecurity slipping through.
Your expression softened for a moment, and you absentmindedly stirred your spoon without looking at him, considering what that might mean. When you spoke again, your voice was softer, though still light.
"I have a son, Leon. My schedule isn't exactly organized. If I don't reply right away, it's usually because I'm trying to handle some kind of domestic catastrophe."
That earned a short, genuine laugh from him, and the sound fit perfectly into the cozy atmosphere of the café, blending with the clinking of dishes and the faint rustle of someone turning a page near the counter.
"So I was forgiven because your life is chaotic?" he ventured, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
"It was a combination of factors," you replied, trying to sound far more serious than the situation deserved, and the two of you ended up smiling at the same time.
The date had been pleasant. Leon still wasn't entirely sure about revealing the true nature of his work, but something told him that this was only the beginning.
Slowly, he started fitting into your routine in a gentle, natural way. Friday night dinners became a regular thing, and he always made a point of keeping Jason entertained. The boy was like a miniature walking tornado. There were outings with all three of you, quieter moments with just the two of you, and countless little details that proved he had become a constant presence in your life.
That was, of course, until the night Leon showed up at your apartment late in the evening, completely injured and exhausted.
The sight of him was terrifying.
"Leon, what the hell happened?" you asked as you hurried him inside.
"Remember when I said my job was a little complicated?" he grunted in pain as he collapsed onto the couch. "Well... sometimes this happens."
"What are you, exactly? A pimp? Do you work for the mafia?" you asked, completely overwhelmed by every horrible possibility running through your head.
"No, not even close." He let out a weak laugh, immediately followed by another pained groan. "I work for the government. A division that investigates bioterrorism."
"A secret agent, seriously?" you replied, not believing him.
"I'm serious." Leon sighed, showing you his identification badge. "I wish it were a joke, but... I've been doing this since Raccoon City."
"Oh God... you were there?" Your voice was filled with surprise.
His silence spoke volumes. It wasn't really your business, but you knew about the incident and what had happened to the city; the destruction and all the deaths caused by the outbreak. Whatever had happened to him there must have been traumatic, and that was more than a little obvious.
"Come on, let's take care of this," you whispered gently, guiding him toward the bathroom.
You had already realized just how sensitive Leon could be. Even if he didn't show it, you'd noticed it long ago, probably because you were a single parent. Raising a child had taught you things that no adult ever could.
One of his biggest insecurities was clearly the scars covering his body. Every one of them came from some intense story, some trauma he carried in silence, and each served as a reminder of all the terrible things he had been forced to endure. One in particular stood out: the bullet scar on his shoulder.
Naturally, you never pressured him to talk about any of it. You always respected his boundaries, and that was something Leon valued deeply; when the voices in his head became too loud, your affection was often enough to quiet them again.
The bathroom was lit only by the warm yellow light above the mirror, casting a soft glow across the pale tiles. The apartment remained quiet except for the sound of running water from the sink as you soaked a clean towel.
Leon sat on the closed toilet lid, his elbows resting on his knees. His posture made it obvious how tired he was.
Exhausted, actually.
He watched you open the first-aid kit without saying a word, and maybe it was because he didn't have the energy to argue. Or maybe, deep down, he liked being taken care of more than he cared to admit.
"Lift your arm." You approached him slowly.
"Are you giving me orders now?" Leon smiled faintly.
"Lift your arm, Kennedy." You repeated calmly, sounding slightly more stern than usual.
He let out a theatrical sigh.
"Yes, ma'am."
Even injured, he still found the energy to be irritating in that way that only he could manage. You fought back a smile.
When you pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, the expression on your face changed immediately. The injury looked worse up close. Much worse.
A deep cut ran along part of his arm, surrounded by dark bruises that would undoubtedly look even worse by morning. Leon noticed your reaction.
"It’s been worse," he commented, trying to downplay it.
"That doesn't help at all," you shot back while cleaning the area around the cut and bruises.
"I'm just trying to reassure you," Leon replied, still sounding calm.
"You showed up at my apartment bleeding."
"Fair point."
You shook your head with a long sigh. Sometimes it was impossible to tell whether he made those jokes to lighten the mood or to hide how badly he was hurt.
Probably both.
Carefully, you began cleaning the wound, and Leon immediately clenched his jaw. It was an almost imperceptible movement, but you noticed. Because you always noticed when something was wrong with him.
It was one of the many skills you'd acquired while raising Jason on your own.
The towel brushed against the injured skin once more, and Leon slowly exhaled through his nose, focusing on anything other than the persistent sting of pain.
"That hurts," he stated.
"I noticed."
"I didn't complain."
"You made that face." You smiled faintly, a hint of teasing in your voice.
"What face?" he asked, feigning surprise.
"The face you make when something hurts." You pointed out gently, already knowing it was something obvious after spending so much time getting to know him.
"I don't have a specific face," Leon replied, trying—and failing miserably—to defend himself.
"You do."
"I don't."
He insisted stubbornly, sounding exactly like Jason whenever he was trying to avoid getting in trouble.
"You do."
Leon looked away.
By that point, it was typical. He would argue about something ridiculous only to give up a few seconds later. For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the rustle of bandages being organized and the soft patter of rain drifting through the slightly open kitchen window, making the night feel oddly normal.
When you finally finished bandaging him up, you took a step back and examined your work.
"There."
Leon looked at his arm and then at you. He smiled again, testing the mobility of the limb before declaring playfully:
"You completely missed an opportunity to charge for that."
"I'm making a note of it for next time." You shrugged, tossing the blood-stained gauze into the trash.
"There's a next time?" Leon teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Considering your track record?" you teased back, handing him a towel and a change of clothes in case he wanted a shower.
He let out a tired laugh.
And that was exactly how the three of you became a real family.
It hadn't happened all at once. There wasn't a defining conversation, a formal request, or some overly dramatic moment where everyone suddenly realized what they were becoming. The truth was much simpler. It happened little by little, growing and taking root. In the phone calls during trips. In the messages sent at impossible hours. In the weekends spent together. In the small empty spaces Leon gradually filled until one day nobody could imagine life without him there.
The calls had started shortly after he realized how restless you became whenever he had to leave for a mission. He never went into details. He never said exactly where he was going or what he was doing. Sometimes the phone would ring in the middle of the night, and all you would hear was his tired voice on the other end of the line.
"Just calling to let you know I'm okay."
Other times it was a short message saying his flight had been delayed or that he would be home in a few days. It wasn't much, but it meant everything. Over time, you came to understand that this was his way of taking care of you. Leon had never been particularly good with feelings. He grew up in a world where vulnerability was an unattainable luxury and where attachment often ended in loss. Even so, he tried in his own way. Those small phone calls eventually became as important a part of your routine as anything else.
Jason, meanwhile, didn't take long to develop an almost immediate admiration for him. Maybe because children saw things adults tended to overcomplicate, but Jason didn't see the federal agent, the survivor of Raccoon City, or the man carrying physical and emotional scars that were difficult to count. He only saw Leon. The guy who showed up to baseball games even after spending days traveling. The guy who helped with math homework at the kitchen table while pretending to understand far more of the subject than he actually did. The guy who bought ice cream after losses and celebrated victories as though they were championship finals.
You started noticing it during an ordinary afternoon at one of the school games. Leon had returned from a trip that very morning. He still looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more noticeable, and his movements carried that weight you had already learned to recognize after particularly difficult missions. Even so, there he was, sitting in the bleachers with a cup of coffee in his hand, watching every play with complete attention. When Jason hit a particularly good ball, the first person he looked for in the crowd was Leon. And when he found him, he flashed such a huge smile that it practically lit up the entire field. Leon answered with a thumbs-up, looking proud in a way that made your heart tighten.
That was the moment you realized things had gone far beyond friendship because Leon looked for Jason in the crowd too. He organized his schedule around the boy's commitments. He remembered important dates, school meetings, and presentations. He worried when Jason got sick.
He cared.
Several weeks later, on a particularly quiet Saturday night, you found the two of them asleep on the living room couch. The television was still on at a low volume, playing some cartoon neither of them had finished watching. Jason was practically sprawled across Leon, using his arm as a pillow with absolutely no regard for the circulation of the poor victim. Leon looked uncomfortable, twisted into an awkward position, and would probably wake up complaining about back pain. Even so, his arm remained securely wrapped around the boy, keeping him safe even in his sleep.
You stood there watching the scene for a few seconds.
For the first time in a very long while, everything felt complete. It didn't have to be perfect, because life itself wasn't. The missions still existed, just as the goodbyes did. There was still the fear that Leon might not come home one day.
But there was this, too.
The calm that came after a terrible storm. The certainty that safety could exist.
That comfort could be found in simplicity.
Later that night, after Jason was asleep in his room and the apartment had finally fallen silent, you and Leon remained in the living room sharing a mug of tea while rain tapped softly against the windows. The room was illuminated only by the lamps scattered throughout the space, creating a cozy atmosphere that made the rest of the world feel far away.
Leon was watching the rain slide down the glass when he spoke.
"Jason called me Dad today."
You immediately turned your head toward him. The surprise appeared before you could hide it, and all Leon did was let out a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh.
"It was an accident. He was talking to a friend, and it just happened," he added before taking a sip of tea.
For a few seconds, he stared down into his mug, completely thoughtful and quiet. When he spoke again, much of the lightness had left his voice.
"I didn't correct him," he whispered. "I didn't tell him he couldn't."
Your heart tightened. There was something in that tone you knew very well. Fear. The same fear that appeared every time something good entered his life.
"Did that bother you?" you asked softly.
Leon took a while to answer. His eyes remained fixed on the warm liquid inside the mug as he considered the question, trying to understand exactly how it made him feel.
"No."
The answer was honest.
"Actually... it was probably one of the best things that's ever happened to me."
The silence that followed was heavy with meanings that didn't need to be spoken aloud because both of you already understood everything hidden behind that sentence.
It was about loneliness. About loss. About the people he hadn't been able to save. About the ghosts that still followed him on difficult nights.
You knew Leon had spent most of his life surviving. Always running. Always fighting. Always carrying responsibilities that no one should have to carry alone.
And now, for the first time, he had found something different. Something he didn't have to earn. Something he didn't have to protect alone.
A family.
You reached across the couch and took his hand. Leon lowered his gaze to your intertwined fingers before looking back at you. And in that moment, there was such sincere vulnerability in his eyes that it almost hurt.
Neither of you said anything else, but you didn't need to, because some things were simply too big to explain. So you remained there, side by side, listening to the rain falling outside while the apartment stayed warm and peaceful around you.
And for the first time in many years, Leon allowed himself to believe that maybe he had finally found what he had been searching for since Raccoon City.
Summary: Leon takes you completely on a desk, in a mix of raw passion and overwhelming pleasure.
Content warning: Adult content, explicit intimate scenes, sex on the table, anal and vaginal sex, intense positions, mature and direct language, detailed descriptions, power dynamics and passion, consensual activity.
Rating: 🔞 18+
The room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint light filtering through the window and the soft glow of the monitor. Leon is leaning with his hands on the desk, his broad shoulders tense, his back hunched, breathing slightly heavily as if he had just finished an exhausting mission. The fabric of his shirt clings perfectly to the defined muscles of his arms and back; his tactical vest is still fastened, his weapons hanging from his belt, and that weary yet intense look makes him even more irresistible.
When you approach to ask how he’s doing, he turns around abruptly. His eyes are dark, veiled by a desire he can no longer hold back. Without saying a word, he grabs your waist with his large, calloused hands, turns you around, and pushes you gently but firmly against the cold wooden table, pressing your stomach and chest against the surface.
“Leon… what are you doing?” you murmur, surprised, feeling his body press against you immediately.
“I need you,” he replies, his hoarse, low voice vibrating in your ears. “I can’t stand being away from you anymore. I want to feel you now, right here, without waiting.”
With quick, decisive movements, he lifts your skirt and pulls down your panties, freeing himself as well. He presses the tip against your entrance, and with a single strong, decisive thrust, he enters all the way to the hilt, making you scream his name and cling to the edges of the desk with your hands.
“God… you’re so tight… so hot…” he moans, gripping your hips tightly. “Exactly how I missed you.”
He starts moving immediately with an intense, steady rhythm, his deep, powerful thrusts making your chest and thighs slam against the wood. His body is hard, hot, powerful: every movement makes you feel all his strength—years of training and survival that he’s now pouring into you. His hands grip your waist, your wrists, your hips, leaving marks that will stay for hours.
— It’s too intense… Leon… — I gasp, my face resting on the table, my forehead beaded with sweat. — I didn’t think I could be this…
— This what? — he whispers, leaning in to kiss my neck and the backs of my shoulders, nibbling lightly on my skin. — This hungry? This yours?
The pace picks up; his thrusts grow faster and deeper, causing books and papers to slide across the table. Sweat begins to bead on his neck and arms as well, his muscles visibly contracting beneath his tight-fitting shirt. You feel completely enveloped by him, every fiber of your body responding to his touch, your legs trembling and your back arching as you try to take him in even deeper.
“Leon… please…” you moan in a broken voice. “It’s too much… I can’t take it anymore… I’m too sweaty… too tired…”
He lets out a low, hoarse laugh, and with a sudden movement, he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, making you sit right on the edge of the desk. He pushes your legs wide apart onto his hips and moves closer again, entering you once more with the same force. Now you can see him: his flushed face, his disheveled hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Of course you can,” he says, bringing his face close to yours and kissing you passionately, his hungry mouth opening over yours, their tongues seeking each other out and meeting with fervor. “You want me, don’t you? Feel it… feel how full I make you.”
You immediately cling to his enormous, muscular shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, then into the warm, sweaty skin you discover as you lift the fabric. His hands slide under your body, gripping your buttocks to hold you firmly in place as he continues to thrust, harder and faster than before. Loud, drawn-out moans escape you, filling the entire room, as the pleasure builds into a wave that refuses to stop.
“I’ve never seen you like this…” you whisper between kisses, breathless and your face flushed. “You’re… so strong… so passionate…”
“Because it’s you,” he replies, kissing you deeply on the mouth, the neck, the breasts. “With you, I can’t hold back. I have to take all of you, every time, until you’re mine in every way.”
His thrusts grow more frantic, deeper, and you feel the heat rising inside you, your legs clamping around his waist as if they want to fuse you to him. Leon leans over you, his forehead touching yours, his breath mingling with yours.
“Come with me,” he commands in a hoarse voice. “Now.”
With two final powerful thrusts, you both reach your peak: you scream his name, trembling all over, while he moans loudly, thrusting all the way in to let himself go completely inside you, hot and abundant. He remains still on top of you, inside you, panting, while sweat runs down both of you and the desk has shifted a few centimeters away from the wall.
He slowly pulls away, lifts you up, and holds you close, noticing how flushed and sweaty you are, your legs still trembling. He wipes your face with the back of his hand and smiles at you with that satisfied, slightly mischievous look.
“Hey… I told you I wouldn’t stop,” he murmurs, gently kissing your forehead.
“I didn’t think it would be this intense…” you reply, still out of breath, resting your head on his chest.
“Just wait and see what I have in store for you next time,” he says, holding you tighter.
Trigger/content warnings: smut (mdni), marking, healed scars (from his missions), jealousy, power dynamics, dominant Leon and submissive Leon for a little bit, hand job, unprotected sex, praise, slight degradation, overstim
Description: You work side-by-side with your coworker for for a work assignment, and Leon isn't thrilled by it.
Notes: AFAB reader, and female anatomy is described, but no specific pronouns are used. Also RE6 Leon. Hope you enjoy ♡
Word count: 8.4k
The rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the low hum of the office copy machine filled the room, creating a steady background noise that usually helped you focus. Today, however, the sheer volume of paperwork stacked on your desk was enough to make your head spin. You leaned on your hand, staring down the looming deadline and wondering how you were going to finish it all before the end of the day.
Right on cue, a familiar cardboard cup with steam floating from it was carefully set down next to your keyboard, the faint scent of coffee filling the dry office air.
"Double shot, extra hot, just the way you like it," Connor said, offering a warm, easygoing smile as he leaned slightly against the edge of your desk.
You looked up, the tension in your shoulders dropping a fraction as you gave him a grateful smile. "You didn't have to do that, Connor. Thank you." A heavy sigh slipped out before you could stop it. "I don't even know where to begin with this quarter's data entry. It feels endless."
"Don't worry about it," he replied, reaching over to slide a thick manila folder off the top of the stack. "I cleared my queue early, so I decided to handle this half. I just put it back on your desk."
He opened the folder and pulled out a few reference sheets, pointing to the columns where he had cross-referenced the numbers. "Most of the actual logging is done on the system now, so there wasn't too much physical paperwork, but I made sure all the blank spaces were filled and signed off on the authorisation lines."
You stared at the organised file, relief flooding through you for what felt like the first time since last week. You took the folder, going through some sheets before clicking on the link on the computer, seeing it completely signed off. "You really did all this in one morning? How?"
He straightened up from your desk, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Just make sure you double check the final submission page before you hit send. The system can be a little glitchy with authorisations on Fridays because there's so many."
"I've got a system down," Connor replied. "Once you do enough of these quarterly reports, the data entry practically becomes muscle memory."
You nodded, giving him another small thanks as he walked away. You only had another half to handle today. Your deadline was 5pm, and it was 9am. You had plenty of time.
Quarter data entries were always slow for you because you were painstakingly thorough with numbers, making sure every decimal and formula lined up perfectly before moving on to the next section.
You pulled the next manila folder toward you, logged into the database, and got to work.
By the time the clock struck 4, you had completely cleared the half of your queue you had to do. You double checked Connor's authorisations before hitting the final submission button and logging off.
You packed up your bag, slid your coat over your shoulders, and checked out right at five, stepping out into the cool evening air. You knew Leon would probably also be home by this time, too.
He’d been up before dawn, quietly slipping out of bed at 6am for what he’d dryly called a "glorified errand" of a mission. A quick little briefing, a standard DSO protocol. When he wasn't on life threatening missions, he was stuck doing small briefings and security checks.
He’d promised he’d be back by 3pm at the latest, which meant he was already home, probably showered, and waiting for you.
When you finally unlocked the front door of the apartment, the familiar, comforting scent of home hit you instantly. You kicked off your shoes, tossing your keys onto the small entryway table.
"Leon?" you called out, dropping your bag onto the floor.
From the kitchen, you heard the low, familiar rumble of his voice. "In here."
You walked into the kitchen, and he was leaning against the counter, stirring a pot, a skillet next to it. He always made dinner when you weren't home to, or just didn't want to.
The moment his blue eyes locked onto you, a soft smile tugged at his lips. He set the wooden spoon down and turned fully to face you, opening his arms in a silent invitation.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice laced with that smooth warmth that always made your heart skip a beat. "How was the corporate grind?"
You didn't hesitate, stepping straight into his space and wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. You buried your face into his chest, inhaling the clean scent of his soap and the faint trace of leather and bergamot that always clung to him. Leon let out a soft huff of air, his large hands immediately coming up to rest securely against your lower back, pulling you flush against his frame. He rested his chin on the top of your head.
"It started out as an absolute nightmare, but I finished before the deadline," you said. "The data entry was so high. I thought I was going to be going until midnight."
He nodded, thumb beginning to move in slow circles. "But you finished in time. That's all that matters."
"I had help," you said innocently, a grateful smile spreading across your face as you remembered the morning. "This guy from logistics, Connor, came in right at nine with a double shot espresso, exactly how I make my own."
His thumb stopped moving.
You didn't notice the subtle shift at first, continuing to talk. "And then he took the folder off my desk and told me he did half the work. He did it in one morning, somehow. If it weren't for him, I'd still be sitting there."
Leon's hands didn't move from your back. Instead, they tightened significantly, his fingers digging into your waist, anchoring you so securely to his chest that you couldn't move away if you tried.
You blinked, looking up at him. His lazy smirk was gone, and his blue eyes had darkened, fixed on you with an unreadable focus.
"Connor?" Leon repeated, trying to sound casual, but the name sounding sharp and flat on his tongue despite his attempts. "He brought you coffee and handled your files?"
You nodded, "Yeah," suddenly noticing the blunt tone of his voice. "Is everything okay?" You asked, looking up at him once more.
"Yeah, everything's fine." He said, though the iron grip on your waist suggested otherwise. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't make a habit of letting other guys look after you," he murmured, his voice low. "That's my job."
Your breath hitched, his possessive tone leaving you completely tongue-tied for a second. You let out a quiet, flustered laugh, shaking your head. Nudging him slightly, you looked toward the pot. "Anyway, what's for dinner?"
He let out a low, gravelly huff against your hair, clearly amused but not entirely ready to let it go. But, the immediate distraction somehow worked. The tension in his broad shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he finally loosened his grip enough to let you turn fully toward the stove.
"Pasta and chicken," Leon murmured, his voice returning to that smoother, quieter tone. He reached past you to pick up the wooden spoon again, but he didn't step out of your space. His free hand slid down to rest firmly on your hip, anchoring you right next to him. "Figured you’d want something easy after a long day."
You nodded, leaning into his side as you looked down at the bubbling pot of pappardelle. Sizzling right next to it was the chicken, filling the kitchen with the aroma of dried oregano, thyme, garlic powder, onion powder and lemon zest.
"Perfect. I'll handle the toppings," you said, slipping out of his grip to head toward the refrigerator.
You pulled out the Greek yogurt and a cucumber. While the pasta finished boiling, you spooned the thick yogurt into a small bowl, mixing in fresh dill, mint, chives, and some lemon juice. Leon turned the stovetop off, taking the pasta to drain.
Taking a vegetable peeler, you drew it down the length of the cucumber, creating long ribbons.
Leon looked over, watching you work. A soft, appreciative look crossed his face as he realized you were already finishing up the prep.
"Thank you, baby," he murmured, giving you a quick smile before turning his attention back to draining the pasta.
That evening, after eating dinner, you and Leon were on the couch. He sat with an easy posture, watching the TV. You were rested against his side before you decided to shift, climbing ontop of his lap until you were straddling him, burying your face into his shoulder.
He didn't even blink at the sudden shift in weight. His broad hands moved automatically, one palm resting against your lower back while the other cupped the back of your thigh.
He shifted slightly, leaning back against the couch cushions to give you a more comfortable angle, his arm winding securely around your waist. You let out a long, slow breath.
"Still tired?" Leon asked, his voice low. His fingers moved up and down your back through your shirt, slow and light.
"A little," you admitted, shifting your head so your chin rested on his shoulder, allowing you to look at the sharp line of his jaw.
Leon hummed, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. His blue eyes drifted down from the screen, fixing on yours with that quiet, intense focus that always made the rest of the world fade into the background.
His fingers stopped their tracing, hand moving up to cup your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. His thumb brushed along your jawline, his lips slow and deep against yours.
You let your eyes close, your hands finding their place against the warm fabric of his shirt. The only sounds that filled the room was the quiet TV and the soft breaths leaving you both.
His hand on your lower back tightened when he felt your hips shifting against his, and his breath hitched for a second before he pulled back just enough to look at you, a soft, amused smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you said you were tired, sweetheart," he murmured.
You shrugged, "Maybe I am," you muttered, draping your hands over his broad shoulders. "But you're the one who started it."
Leon let out a low, gravelly chuckle, his grip on your hip tightening. "Right. Pretty sure you're the one who climbed onto my lap, sweetheart."
"Details," you laughed softly, letting your head drop against his shoulder once more. Just as your hand begun to travel under his shirt, he stopped you by gently grabbing your wrist.
"Not tonight, baby. I need to be up early tomorrow." He murmured, and before you could feel embarrassed, he started talking again. "You know I can't stop once you start looking at me like that. So don't push your luck, sweetheart. Stop teasing a starving man unless you want me to choose between my job and making you scream tonight. You know damn well I don't play fair once I'm provoked."
You pouted slightly, though the heavy weight in your eyelids made it hard to put up much of a fight. "You're no fun," you mumbled against his neck.
"I'm being responsible. For once," Leon corrected, his tone laced with fond amusement. He released your wrist, his large hand traveling up to cup the back of your head, gently pressing you closer so you could rest comfortably against his chest. "There's a difference. Now close your eyes."
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
Monday morning arrived all too quickly after a weekend that felt far too short. You woke up at 5am. Mondays were always agonisingly long.
Your eyes flickered open at the sound of your alarm, the piercing noise ringing inside your skull. You reached from where you could in Leon's arms to turn it off.
You shifted slightly, trying to slip out from under the heavy warmth of his arm, but Leon only grunted, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you right back against his chest. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin.
"Don't go yet," he mumbled, his voice incredibly deep and thick with sleep. "It's barely light out."
"I have to," you whispered, though you couldn't help but smile, leaning back into his solid frame.
Leon let out a low, reluctant sigh against your skin. Rather than letting you slide away, he brought his lips to yours, catching them in a brief, warm kiss. As you tried to pull back with a smile, he hummed in disapproval, his grip tightening on your waist as he pulled you back down for a second, much deeper kiss that completely stole the air from your lungs. He pressed one last, firm kiss to the corner of your mouth before finally letting you sit up.
"Fine," he murmured, slowly opening his eyes, the dark blue looking heavy but focused as he watched you sit up.
When you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He opened his arms, gesturing for you to walk into them with his hands.
You stepped forward between his legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist. He pressed his cheek against you, one of his hands sliding down to your thigh, slipping slightly under the towel.
"Nice try," you laughed, stepping back and pushing his hands away. "I actually need to get ready, or I'm gonna be late."
Leon let out a dramatic, defeated sigh, letting his arms drop to his sides as he looked up at you with a slow, teasing smirk. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
When you walked into work that morning, you knew you were going to try and keep your distance from Connor. Leon clearly didn't like it, and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
You stood at the coffee machine for a few minutes, waiting for it to finish. You preferred the coffee you made at home by far to the bitter, aged coffee in the office, but coffee is coffee.
Taking the cup, you sat down at your desk with a sigh, setting the cup and your bag down, logging in. As soon as you opened the computer, an email came up on your screen.
The email was from your supervisor, and the subject line read: Temporary Department Merger & Project Assignments.
You clicked it open, taking a slow sip of your coffee as you read through the text. Because of a sudden backlog in end-of-month logistics data, management had decided to pair up the data entry and logistics teams for the next two weeks to streamline the workflow.
Your eyes scanned down the page to find your name, and right next to it, the designated partner: Connor.
The email concluded with an instruction to relocate to the shared workspace desks on the third floor by 10am to set up your temporary stations.
You let out a quiet breath, staring at the screen. Your plan to keep a polite distance to avoid any friction with Leon had officially hit a roadblock before the day had even properly begun.
You checked the time. It was only 7am. You had a few hours until then.
You spent those 3 hours plowing through as much independent data entry as possible to minimise the amount of shared work you'd have to do during the day.
By the time clock crept towards 9:45, you saved your progress, shut down your monitor, and stacked the current files into a neat pile, ready to take upstairs.
You took one last, disappointed sip of your lukewarm office coffee, chucking the cardboard into a small trash can, making your way to the elevators.
The third floor was far more spacious than your usual department, filled with long shared desks designed for collaborative projects.
"Over here," a voice called out over the ambient hum of chatter and clicking keyboards.
You looked over to see Connor at a double-desk setup near the windows. He already had his laptop set up on one side, leaving the other half completely clear for you.
"Hey," you said, walking over and setting your heavy stack of folders down with a soft thud.
You didn't say much, just sitting down in your chair. The idea of working non stop with him wasn't the most enjoyable one on the planet.
He slid a printed spreadsheet toward you. "If we divide it this way, we might actually finish the whole backlog by next Thursday."
You looked at the sheet. "This actually looks perfect, Connor. Thanks. Let's just get started."
As you pulled the first file toward you, a sudden thought crossed your mind, making your stomach do a tiny flip. You were definitely going to have to tell Leon about this arrangement tonight, and given how he reacted to just a casual mention of a cup of coffee, you had no idea how he was gonna react to this.
You considered just not telling him, but that felt weird. If he somehow found out, he'd be confused at why you kept collaborating with him specifically a secret and probably become suspicious like a normal person. You knew you should just tell him.
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
You got home, pushing your keys into the door with certain level of force that wasn't aggressive, but more than you usually are. Sitting in that building all day with Connor talking into your ear non stop while you're trying to work, only focusing when he wants to and refusing to be interrupted but gladly interrupting you when you needed to work, was the most excruciating experience you have had all month.
Leon wasn't home when you got in, probably doing some work somewhere on the field. You set your bag down with a sigh that came out as more of a huff.
At least you had time to decompress before telling Leon that you had to work with someone he was clearly jealous of, although he'd never call it that, for 2 weeks.
You decided to make yourself a tea instead of a coffee for a change, looking through the boxes in the cupboard before choosing passionflower tea.
The heavy thud of the front door closing signaled his return. A moment later, Leon stepped into the kitchen.
His eyes locked onto you, tracking the tense line of your jaw and the way you were practically hiding behind your mug.
"Tea?" He asked. "When is the last time you've ever touched a cup of tea?"
"Probably the first time in a few months," you confirmed, setting the mug down. He saw the small, strained smile, and immediately knew you were exhausted. "What happened?" He asked. "Just a long day?"
You nodded, "Yeah, kind of. I've been... well, I have to work with Connor for the next 2 weeks. It's just a complicated thing. Most people in my department are doing it because of a backlog. And it was just exhausting working with him all day because he's tiring. He doesn't stop talking. I'm used to working by myself."
His blue eyes remained locked onto yours as his mind clearly flashed back to Friday evening. He already hadn't liked the sound of this guy bringing you a double shot of espresso exactly how you liked it, but finding out you were now trapped at a shared desk with him for ten business days straight was the breaking point for his patience.
"So first he's bringing you coffee and doing your work for you, and now he's spending eight hours a day in your ear," Leon said, his voice flat and completely stripped of any warmth. The gravelly edge in his tone was sharp enough to cut. "Sounds to me like he’s trying too hard to make himself useful."
"Leon, it's just a temporary assignment," you murmured, placing your hands against his broad shoulders, feeling the rigid tension bunched up in his muscles. "The supervisor paired us up randomly."
"Randomly," Leon repeated, the word sounding flat and entirely unconvinced as it left his lips.
He didn't back down or step out of your space. Instead, he closed the remaining distance between you, his boots solid against the kitchen floor. His hands came up to wrap firmly around your waist once more, his grip heavy and uncompromising as he pulled you flush against his chest. The familiar, grounding scent of him enveloped you, but the relaxed warmth from the weekend was entirely gone.
"It's just my job, Leon. It doesn't mean anything," you said, your voice gentle but firm as you met his darkened gaze. "You're being overprotective. It's just a desk assignment."
"I'm not being overprotective," Leon murmured, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that left no room for argument. He didn't loosen his grip on your waist even a fraction. Instead, he stepped closer, trapping you completely between his broad frame and the edge of the counter. "I'm looking after what's mine. There's a difference."
"He's just an annoying coworker," you countered, a slight huff escaping you as you placed your hands against his chest, trying to create an inch of space. "You're letting a cup of coffee and a shared desk get to you. That sounds a lot like jealousy."
He let out a low, rough breath against your skin as he leaned down, his jaw brushing against yours. "I'm not jealous," he said, breath warm and sharp against your ear.
"Really? Because—" His lips cut you off completely, catching yours in a deep, heavy kiss that made the rest of your sentence vanish into the quiet kitchen.
His fingers tangled firmly into the hair at the back of your neck, tilting your head up just enough to find a better angle and deepen the kiss, while his other hand remained locked like iron around your waist, holding you flush against his chest.
You let your eyes flutter shut, the lingering irritation from the office fading into the background as you leaned into him. Your hands, which had been resting flat against his chest, softened. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his dark shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
When he finally pulled back, his lips trailed down to your jawline, catching the breath in your throat. The sudden shift in intensity cut through the last of your small argument. Leon didn’t let up, his mouth pressing firm, deliberate kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck. His stubble scraped lightly against your skin, sending a shiver straight down your spine.
"Still think I'm jealous?" He asked, breath hot on your neck.
"I think this is proving my point," you breathed, gasping when he bit slightly on the skin.
Leon let out a low, rough rumble against your throat. He pulled back just enough to look down at you. "It proves I don't like other people wasting your time," he countered.
"Right. Keep telling yourself that." You whispered, a teasing smile tugging at your lips despite the heavy weight of his frame pressing you against the counter.
He didn't say another word. He silenced you by bringing his mouth back down to yours, completely cutting off any further retaliation.
You brought your hand back up to his chest, resting against him, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingers. Leon’s hand shifted from your waist, his palm sliding up the curve of your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, anchoring you against him.
You deepened the kiss, and his tongue fought against yours, hands pushing up under your shirt. The cool air of the kitchen hit your skin as your shirt shifted, but the chill was instantly replaced by the searing heat of his palm pressing against the small of your back.
A quiet gasp escaped your throat, completely swallowed by the depth of his mouth. Leon let out a low groan, his grip tightening until he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
He broke the kiss just to step away from the counter, navigating the familiar path out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway. The only sounds in the apartment were the soft friction of his leather jacket brushing against the wall, your shallow breaths, and the steady, heavy thud of his boots.
When he reached the side of the bed, he dropped you onto it, making you yelp, although you didn't have time to stay shocked as he quickly shrugged his jacket and kicked his boots off, climbing over you.
He trapped your wrists above your head with a single hand, his grip like iron as he leaned down, his chest crushing you into the mattress.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register that vibrates straight through you. "I want you to remember exactly whose hands are on you right now. No one else gets to touch you like this. No one."
Your breath hitched, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs as you stared up into the stormy darkness of his blue eyes.
Leon let out a dark, satisfied hum at your gaze, the sound vibrating directly against your chest. He didn't waste another second.
Lowering his head, his lips slammed back down onto yours, breaking into a kiss that was a stark contrast to the slow, gentle ones from earlier. It was rough, demanding, and utterly possessive, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you completely while his free hand slid down your ribcage, his fingers digging firmly into the soft skin beneath your shirt.
Every touch felt amplified in the quiet bedroom, the heavy friction of his jeans against your legs and the firm pressure of his chest, skin hot even through the fabric of your shirts.
When he finally broke the kiss to breathe, his lips didn't go far, dragging roughly down the sensitive line of your jaw before burying themselves in the crook of your neck.
He nipped sharply at your pulse point, making your back arch off the mattress with a sudden gasp.
"Leon—" you gasped out, his name a shattered whisper that only seemed to fuel his fire.
He released your wrists, but before you could even think to move your hands, his large palms slid down to grip your hips. He pulled you flush against his frame, leaving absolutely no space between you.
"Call it jealousy all you want, sweetheart," he growls against your jawline, his voice thick with heat. "But tomorrow, you're going back to that office with my marks all over your skin."
He leaned back down to your shoulder, teeth digging into your skin in a way that was almost guaranteed to leave a bruise by the next day.
A sharp gasp caught in your throat, your back arching instinctively off the mattress as your hands flew up to tangle desperately in his hair.
"There it is," Leon murmured against your skin, his voice a dark, gravelly vibration that sent a fresh wave of heat through your chest. "Feel how hard your heart is beating right now, sweetheart? Every time my teeth touch your skin, you arch right into me."
"Leon..." you breathed, your voice a fractured whisper.
"I’ve got you," he growled gently, his lips brushing the fresh mark he’d just left.
His free hand caught the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one swift, impatient motion before discarding it onto the floor. He reached under you, and you pushed yourself up to aid him as his fingers unhooked your bra in a smooth motion, pulling it off.
He didn't hesitate, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it. A gasp catches like glass in your throat. A violent, electric shock ripples straight down your spine, leaving your skin prickling with a heat.
Your entire body shuddered when his teeth brushed over the sensitive bud, the sensation bordering on pain. Your body didn't know whether to lean in or pull away, back arching and greedily leaning in whilst your thoughts stalled, completely caught off guard by how fast your hesitation melted away.
"Leon," you gasped breathlessly, fingers tangling in the strands of his hair. Your body eagerly memorised the warmth of his mouth. He eventually pulled back, allowing you to relax back on the mattress as your lungs caught up.
"Oh, look at you... completely breathless already. Did I push you too hard, sweetheart?" He murmured, his breath hot and sharp against your ear as his chest crushed down against yours. "Tell me how good it feels to lose this little argument, baby."
A breathless, needy whimper escaped your throat, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You intentionally flexed your muscles against his frame, not to escape, but to feel the reality of just how strong he was. Losing to him was the best part of your day.
"You're... you're still so completely jealous, Leon. Look what a cup of coffee did to you."
"Keep talking that shit, sweetheart, and see where it gets you," he growled softly, his free hand sliding down to squeeze your hip with punishing force. "You think it’s a joke? You'll end up over my knee before you know it. Don't test me, baby."
A sharp breath hitched in your throat, a sudden, delicious shiver racing straight down your spine at the dark promise in his voice. You swallowed hard, staring up into the intense heat of his gaze. You knew he meant every word, but the sheer thrill of it only made you bolder.
Your hands reached up to slip under his shirt, fingers feeling the solid muscle and slight scarring all over his sides and abdomen. "This isn't fair," you said, a sigh escaping your mouth.
"What?" He asked.
"You still have your shirt on. I don't." You started slowly lifting his shirt, revealing the smooth skin of his waist.
He huffed slightly, "You're so impatient, sweetheart. If you wanted it off, all you had to do was ask nicely instead of trying to strip me."
He raised his arms slightly, helping you guide the fabric over his broad shoulders and tossing it blindly over the edge of the bed.
Your hands immediately found their place against his stomach, palms pressing flat against the ridges of his abdomen. Your fingers lightly mapped the faint, silver lines of old scars.
Leon let out a heavy breath, his stomach muscles twitching under your fingertips. "Careful," he murmured. "Some of those are really sensitive."
You nodded, gentling your touch, letting your finger tips brush over the smooth, pale lines.
The both of you sat in silence. The only sounds filling the room were the small hitches of his breath when you brushed a sensitive spot, his muscles twitching and rippling under your fingers.
Your fingers traced a path up to his shoulder, lingering on an old scar, one of his first ones, the deepest one he had gotten in Raccoon City.
He eventually stopped you, his hands pausing your wrists as he leaned back down, letting his lips brush over your breasts and slowly travel down your stomach.
A sharp, helpless gasp left your lips as the heat of his mouth moved over your skin, your stomach muscles contracting instinctively.
He hummed against your skin, a low vibration that sent a fresh wave of electricity straight down your spine. He pulled back just enough to look up at you.
"Quiet now, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a rough, gravelly whisper in the quiet bedroom. "Thought you were the one trying to rush me a second ago."
"You're torturing me," you whispered. Your hips shifted instinctively, silently begging him to stop teasing, but he only let out a low, rough rumble, his free hand sliding up to grip your waist, his thumb digging firmly into your hip to keep you pinned exactly where he wanted you.
He intentionally slowed the pace down to an absolute crawl. Every touch and every press of his lips felt magnified. The cool air of the bedroom provided a massive contrast to the searing heat wherever his body met yours. You could hear nothing but the heavy, uneven rhythm of your shared breathing and the wild, frantic thudding of your own heart against your ribs.
His fingers hooked into your waistband, and with a slow, deliberate tug, he stripped away the last barrier covering you.
The sudden rush of cool air against your bare skin made you shiver, but it was immediately replaced by the overwhelming, searing heat of his body shifting to slide completely between your thighs.
"Leon, please," you gasped out, your hands desperately mapping the rigid muscles of his back, clutching at him for anchor.
He didn't respond, his fingers gliding down your stomach until they reached between your legs, thumb finding your clit, rubbing in firm circles as two of his large fingers slowly pushed inside you.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finally stopped teasing, fingers curling inside of you as his thumb made small, torturous circles against your sensitive clit.
A gasp slipped past your lips, a lazy, liquid heat blooming in your stomach. Your fingers loosely curled against his back, nails digging into the skin.
His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside you that made you arch, the slow, hot pleasure replaced by a sudden rush. He didn't pause, his fingers moving against your spot, causing you to whimper and squirm against the sheets. "Fuck, Leon..." you breathed, a sudden tremble travelling through you.
"Yeah? You like that?" His breath was blazing hot against your neck. He only pulled back to look down your body.
He pulled his hand back, making your hips arch to find him again. "Look at you, chasing my hand the second I move it. You really can’t help yourself, can you?" He murmured, hair tickling your chest as he watched your hips quiver.
His fingers brushed back over your clit, and a sharp, ragged gasp tore from your throat, your entire body arching off the mattress as a wave of pleasure rushed straight to your core.
He didn't give in to the chase. Instead, he kept his fingers just hair breadths away, letting his knuckles brush lightly over your weeping pussy.
"Look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr laced with mock sympathy. He leaned down, brushing a remarkably soft, comforting kiss against your flushed cheek. "You're shaking so badly. It’s okay, baby. Just breathe for me."
You let out a fractured groan of frustration, trying to tilt your hips up to meet his touch, but his grip on your waist was unyielding.
"Shh, I know. It's a lot, isn't it?" Leon cooed softly against your ear, his breath hot and teasing. He stroked your hip in a slow, soothing circle that only made the agonising anticipation worse. "You're so sensitive tonight, baby. Poor thing can't even handle a little space."
Your hand clumsily made it's way down his waist, gripping his belt, feeling the cool, dense grain of the heavy leather.
"Eager, aren't you?" He murmured with a soft chuckle. "You need to learn some patience. We've got all night, and I am going to make every single second last."
Despite his words, his hands moved down to the thick leather, and the sharp clink of the metal buckle echoed in the quiet room as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops, chucking it aside.
He reached back down to his jeans, pushing the metal button through the dense denim, sliding the rough fabric down his legs, leaving him in his boxers.
His fingers wrapped around your wrist, bringing it towards him, letting you feel his hardness beneath the thin fabric of his boxes, the patch of pre cum spreading further and further the more your fingers grazed.
"You see what you do to me?" He asked. "You—" He paused, a breathless groan filling the air as you squeezed him lightly over the layer of fabric covering him, causing his hips to jump slightly.
"You completely ruin me," He continued. "Just you."
The raw confession wrecked what little composure you had left. Your hands tugged on his waistband, tugging his boxers down his legs. He aided you, pushing them off, the final piece of clothing covering him.
Your bodies pressed together, searing hot skin brushing against eachother. You knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you, but you wanted to do something else first.
"Wait, Leon," you paused him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, one of your palms moving down to rest on his large, solid bicep.
"What?" He asked, a certain edge in his tone, clearly just wanting to plainly plow into you until you forgot your own name.
You pushed him off you until your positions were flipped, and he was on his back. The position change caused a slight look of puzzlement to cross his features. You moved between his legs until his hard, leaking cock was face-to-face with you, and your hand wrapped around it.
The confusion on his face vanished, replaced by a quiet huff of amusement escaping his mouth and a slight tremble at the sensation of your hand. "You don't have to, baby," he murmured, though he didn't make a single move to stop you.
"I want to," you said, completely determined. You knew he hated it when he felt like you were doing something just for his pleasure and nothing for yourself, no matter how many times you had explained that watching him lose control and moan because of what you were doing was immensely pleasurable for you.
You didn't hesitate after that, dragging your hand up and down his length, twisting when you reached the top of his cock. Your thumb found his tip, spreading his pre-cum before gently digging into the slit.
"F—fuck, baby, wait," he choked out, his voice completely stripped of its earlier smugness. You moved back down, returning back to stroking him until his hips shakingly pushed up into your hand, fucking your fist himself.
"And you said I was impatient," You murmured, watching him push up into your hand. You continued jerking him off, your thumb swiping his slit, watching his hips buck again.
He finally relaxed his legs for you, spreading them wider as your hand moved steadily, up and down his slick cock. You gave him a small squeeze, causing a strangled moan to escape his mouth.
"Right there... yeah, just like that," he panted, his voice dropping into a desperate, shaky whisper. "Please," he begged, his voice a thick whimper.
You didn't falter, picking up the pace, drawing more pathetic noises out of him. "Is that good?" You asked, watching his eyes squeeze shut every time your hands brushed past a specific spot.
He nodded, "Yeah, it's, fuck, it's so good." He shuddered, chest locking, unable to gather a full breath.
"I can't—I can't hold it back," he whimpered, a sound so entirely stripped of pride it made your heart race.
His shaft pulsed in your hand, twitching as your movements relentlessly continued. You pressed your thumb into the sensitive underside of his head, making him jump as his legs trembled.
His cock continued throbbing in your hand, his eyes rolling back as your thumb continued its torture on the horrendously sensitive underside.
"Fuck—I'm not—I'm not gonna last much longer, baby," he choked out, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.
You moved your fist up and down quickly, sending him over the edge, and his body tensed, eyes rolling back as thick, white ribbons of cum spurted out onto his own stomach as his body trembled and a row of moans and whimpers escaped his mouth.
"Jesus," he panted, shifting until he sat back up. He rested his elbows on his knees, head hanging for a second as his breathing slowed.
He didn't waste much time, quickly regaining his composure and looming over you before you could scramble backward.
His hands shot out, fingers locking securely around your wrists. He didn't throw you down, but the heavy, deliberate weight of him forced you backward onto the mattress. Before you could pull away, he pinned your hands flat against the sheets on either side of your head, the mattress dipping deeply beneath his knees as he crowded into your space.
He leaned down close, his frame trapping you completely against the pillows and leaving you with absolutely nowhere to move. You went entirely still beneath him, your voice trapped in your chest as you stared up at him, unable to find anything to say.
"Quiet now, huh? You had your fun, now it's my turn." He said, hands grasping your legs until you complied, wrapping around his large waist.
He immediately thrusted into your heat, his thick cock burying deep inside your needy little cunt. A sharp needle of pain drove straight into your chest at the sudden intrusion, and your legs locked around him.
He started moving, pulling out and slamming back in, and the point shattered, melting into a rush of pure, golden heat that flooded your veins.
A fierce, involuntary swear slipped past your teeth, slurred and entirely breathless as the sheer weight of the pleasure crushed your thoughts.
"Leon—" you whimpered, his hips snapping against yours. Your legs tightened around his thick waist, nails finding his shoulders once again.
"F—fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby," He groaned breathlessly, his gaze pinning you in place like a physical weight, his chest heaving against yours as if he had ran miles.
Every drag of his cock against your walls was winding the coil in your stomach tighter, and his breath was warm against your cheek as he leaned closer. "God, you feel so perfect," he panted. "Don't move, just stay right there."
A soft, involuntary whimper slipped past your lips, your body turning entirely to liquid beneath him. Your eyes fluttered closed as a violent shiver streaked down your spine. One hand claws into his back, nails marking the skin while the other found his hair, fingers tightening in the strands as your body arched up against his.
He pulled out and thrusted back in at a slightly different angle, his cock hitting your sweet spot directly.
You gasped, your back arching off the mattress as your fingers claw into his shoulders. "Oh, god, Leon—" you choked out, your voice high and entirely broken.
He let out a low growl, his grip tightening on your hips until it's bruising. "Right there?" he panted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"Yes—yes, please, don’t stop," you whimpered, completely helpless beneath him.
A ragged, breathless chuckle vibrates against your neck as he deliberately holds himself still, torturing you with the ache of his weight. "Look at you," he murmured, his thumb tracing your jawline to force your eyes up to meet his dark gaze. "You’re shaking."
"I hate you," you panted, tears of pure pleasure pricking your eyes. "Leon, move..." you whimpered, backing arching against him.
"Say it nicely," he whispered, his lips grazing yours, a heavy heat behind his eyes. He grinded against that specific spot just a single, agonising fraction of an inch, making you sob out loud. "Ask me nicely, sweetheart."
"Please," you whined, your nails digging further into his back. "Please, move."
He started moving again with an intensity that caught the air in your lungs. The slow burn in your stomach catches fire, and every single thrust felt electric.
"Leon—wait—" you gasped out, hands losing their grip on his shoulders, fingers tangling into the bed sheets below.
You can't form words. You can only let out a fractured, high-pitched whimper, your fingers clawing helplessly at the sheets.
"You still think I'm jealous? Huh?" He growled breathlessly against your lips, his voice a raw, gravelly vibration. He shifted against you, a deliberate, heavy friction.
Your spine arched right off the bed, a wrecked, clawing "Please" dragged out of the very bottom of your throat as the sensation turns blinding.
The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you as a blinding, white-hot rush of heat shoots straight up your spine, shattering the last of your composure into absolute nothingness.
Your eyes fluttered shut as the tension exploded into pure bliss, the sensation making your toes curl and your head roll back into the mattress.
Instead of stopping, instead of letting you sink into the quiet comedown, he kept moving. He maintained that heavy, relentless friction against that devastating spot, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath.
"Wait, please—" you choked out, your voice a fractured, desperate whimper.
Your nerve endings are entirely too raw, too sensitive. The pleasure doesn't fade. Instead, it turns into a sharp, blinding wave of static electricity that makes your whole body flinch. Every single touch feels like a shock against your skin, so loud and overwhelming that it completely drowns out your ability to think.
His fingers dig into your hips, his grip bruisingly tight as he pins you flat to the mattress when he notices your hips twisting.
"Don’t move," he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly growl right against your ear, his own chest heaving violently against yours. "I’ve got you. Just stay right here."
"It’s too much... I can’t—" you panted, tears of overstimulation pricking the corners of your eyes. Your fingers clawed helplessly at his shoulders, your toes curling as a violent shudder streaks down your spine.
A wicked, triumphant heat spreads behind his dark eyes as he watches you completely unravel. "Look at you. You’re shaking. So perfect. Look how beautiful you look when you're completely ruined for me."
You can only shake your head against the pillow, entirely undone, letting the white noise take over as he drives you blindly into a second, even deeper wave of release.
You screamed his name as waves of intense pleasure washed over you, your body thrashing against his own. He was intentionally holding his own release back, extending your orgasms, but everytime your walls clenched around him, he had to focus especially hard to not cum.
Before your mind can even attempt to settle from the second wave, he deliberately hooks your knees higher over his shoulders, shifting his angle.
The new angle made your body convulse beneath his, his thick cock filling you further.
"Leon, I can't—I can't take anymore," you whimpered, legs aching in the forceful position.
"You can take it, sweetheart." He murmured, his thrusts turning slightly messy as his body abandoned all his composure, his cock slamming in and out, thrusting your body back and forth until you saw stars. "You like feeling this full? Huh?"
You couldn't answer, your legs shaking over his shoulders, each thrust causing a quiver in your legs. The only thing your mouth allowed to escape were your breathy moans and whimpers.
"I'm close," He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him again. You could barely answer, just nodding instead. You were, too.
It only took one more thrust for your third orgasm to shatter devastatingly over you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to form words.
Your walls squeezed him, causing him to let out a sharp swear, his cock twitching inside of you as he came, spurting long ropes that filled you to the brim. The sensation caused a shiver to wrack through your already overwhelmed body.
He allowed your legs to drop from his shoulders as he pulled out, leaving you with a gaping emptiness.
He held himself up over you for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his body.
With a slow, deliberate exhale, he dropped his forehead against your shoulder, letting his full weight rest against you for just a heartbeat before rolling onto his side. The sudden absence of his heat made the cool air of the room sting against your damp skin.
Before you could shiver, he reached down, grabbed the edge of the duvet, and buried you both beneath it. He pulled you flush against his side, tucking your head securely under his chin.
"You okay?" he asked softly. You nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you spoke from the pure overstimulation.
After a few minutes, he lifted the duvet up from himself, and he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood up.
"Stay right there," he murmured, his voice soft. "I'll be back in a moment."
You didn't have the energy to move even if you wanted to. You lay there, floating in the heavy, dazed aftermath, listening to the distant sound of running water.
A few minutes later, he walked back in. Without a word, he pulled back the sheets, leaned down, and scooped you up into his arms. Your limbs felt heavy and useless, your head naturally dropping against his shoulder as he carried you into the warm, misted bathroom.
He carried you over to the tub full of hot water and bubbles, lowering you carefully until your feet, then your hips, sank into the tub.
The heat was an instant, overwhelming contrast to the cool air, making you gasp softly. He sat on the tiled edge of the bath, his large hands supporting your back until you relaxed back against the porcelain.
He helped you lean back, completely submerging your hair in the comforting warmth.
He gently guided you back up, supporting your heavy shoulders until you sat upright.
Reaching for the shelf, he grabbed the bottle and warmed the shampoo between his palms. He worked his hands into your wet hair, massaging a soothing lather into your scalp with a slow, rhythmic pressure that pushed away the last of your tension.
Finally, he cupped warm water in his hands and poured it over your head, carefully shielding your face as the suds swept away into the depths of the bath.
"So," He began, playing with the wet, soft strands. "Still think I'm jealous?"
You laughed, though the sound was just a quiet, breathy huff. Your body felt too heavy, too drained to properly argue.
"Definitely," you murmured, closing your eyes as his hands tracked a slow path down to your shoulders.
He let out a low, vibrating chuckle. His fingers didn't stop their slow, rhythmic stroking, grounding you back into your own skin.
A/N: I was working on this for around a week, so that's why i haven't posted 😭 hope you enjoyed ♡
The idea of Leon dropping to his knees and begging for forgiveness…. 🤤 hands on the readers hips but his hands are so big that he’s basically holding your whole waist. He’s got puppy dog eyes and he’s pouting and pushing his cheek against your stomach as he’s looking up at you like a damn dog.
Sorry if this is too much it’s just I have thoughts and I think you’d share them 😭
a/n; oh, I will ALWAAAAYS share the thoughts 🤤 sorry this took me so long to get around to answering! I don't know if this was intended as a request or not, but im using it to get me back in the groove + just to write some DI!Leon because it's been a long while since I've visited Leon's DI era
sum; leon needs to fix his bad habits, and when he comes home late again to find his fiancé waiting angrily, he knows he needs to make it up to her.
content; oral (f!receiving), fingering, leon is highkey pathetic in this, leon gets off on giving head, implied smaller reader, size kink-ish, leon doesn't get a reward, reader gets a tiny bit mean? but the context makes it understandable, it gets softer toward the end don't worry (I need a happy ending im sorry, guys!!!😞)
wc; 2.3k
Leon had a bad habit of working late, but it's only gotten worse. Having been injured, he took a week off, and since then, he's been absolutely swamped. It was like he was being punished for needing to heal. It made you scoff. That week of healing was almost four months ago. Four months! You were tired of waiting up for him after you'd already been working all day yourself.
Tonight was the final straw. He'd promised tonight that he'd be home in time for dinner, at the very, very least. You made his favorite dish, and waited. And waited. And by the time the clock was striking midnight, you angrily stomped off to the bathroom to shower and do your nighttime routine. Twenty minutes later, you were getting brushing your hair when you heard the front door click open, like he was trying desperately not to alert you. You pulled your robe over your silky night gown, crossing your arms as you trudged out and meeting him in the hallway. He tensed as he felt your eyes burning into his back as he was hanging up his jacket.
"You promised." You said, tone dripping with disappointment and betrayal.
"I-i know—"
"I know, honey, it won't happen again." You mocked, brows furrowing as he turned around.
"Please." He breathed, brows knitting together as he frowned, rough features dripping with guilt and shame.
"Please, what? Forgive you? Let you make it up to me? Don't be mad? You had soooo much work and deadlines." You mocked his endless excuses, voice becoming tight.
He fell quiet, approaching with light, cautious steps. When you didn't stop him, he found his way to stand in front of you, hands hesitating as they hovered near your hips.
"I know you're pissed, and I don't have any excuses or—or anything to say because it.. it is my fault. I've promised and been unable to keep the promises. Just... please, for real this time, let me make it up to you."
"And how are you going to do that? By promising me you'll be home on time? Promising you'll finish your work and get caught up and fix your schedule? Sure, go ahead, feed me more lies, I'm still hungry because I haven't fucking had dinner because someone didn't come home on time and I'm tired of eating alone!" You snapped, words coming out between gritted teeth.
In a flurry of quick desperation, Leon dropped to his knees, hands finally closing to your hips to keep you from walking away. "I'm so, so fucking sorry." He whispered, pressing his forehead to the space just below your breasts, mumbling incoherent and desperate apologies and pleas for you to 'please, god, don't leave', and 'I love you so goddamn much'.
You stared down at him, arms still crossing over your chest. "You'd better have a damn good solution to this, or you'll be on the couch until you can fix your shit, or until you push me over the edge."
"I know it's not a solution, but will you let me try to make you feel better? Please, I promise I'll fix it. But for now, will you let me..? I promise I can make you feel so much better." He trailed off, looking up at you as his hands practically engulfed your waist as they slid higher, shaking slightly like he was afraid you'd push him away. His eyes were glassy, brows knitted with guilt, lips quivering faintly as he eagerly awaited your response.
"If you waste time, or move the wrong way, you're sleeping on the couch for breaking another promise." You said, arms finally uncrossing so you could lay on hand on the back of his head, tugging back slightly so he would hiss, eyes squeezing shut.
"Please. Please, just let me show you how fucking sorry I am. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want." He breathed, pressing his cheek to your belly as he pulled you in tighter. His knees began to ache from the position, but he dared not to interrupt or move.
"Figure it out yourself since you wanna be by yourself so damn bad."
"I don't!" He insisted, hands gripping tighter over your robe. "I hate every second of it. You know that. You know I don't—"
"The more you waste time talking, the more annoyed I get. You're just digging yourself a deeper hole with your repetition." You exhaled through your nose, a small grumble lingering under the sharp exhale.
"Sorry." He whispered, much less insistent and desperate, just a little unsure and hesitant. It was clear, even through your aggravation, that Leon felt like he shouldn't even be touching you. He was just relishing the fact that you weren't shoving him away and making him sleep on the couch, because he definitely deserved it.
With a slight shake to his hands, he moved them to meet in the middle to untie the string of your robe, his fingers slipping under almost immediately so he could feel the silk of your sleepwear, the feeling making him whine a little. He looked up at you, only to find you idly messing with your nails, like you had been in the process of fixing them and were interrupted. The lack of response only made him move further. His hands slipped lower, and without more than a glance up at you, he slipped his warm, rough palms beneath the night gown, finding your waist and bunching up the fabric just above your navel. He had to bite back a dramatic cry when he saw your lack of underwear. Nothing—not even a damn thong.
"I'm sorry." He mumbled, one hand slipping down your middle and moving down gently to brush his thumb along your folds, pushing them apart so he could press gently against your clit. He knew he messed up because you weren't even turned on by yourself—normally, you were already excited and ready, but because you were pissed off and he wasn't helping, your body hadn't caught the memo yet. Your system was still mad rather than angrily aroused.
He didn't even get a response with the gentle pressure, so he continued with a steady pressure, simply hoping you'd give some sort of response. He leaned in to kiss softly at the top of your hip, kissing toward the center below your navel, finding his way down with his lips so he could replace his thumb with his mouth. He licked a slow, pointed stripe between your folds, flicking the wet muscle against your clit before he latched onto the little nub gently. He looked up at you, and luckily, you'd stopped with your faux distraction, but you still didn't offer even a twitch of your lips.
He used excess spit to coat his index finger, slipping it downward to gently prod at your entrance, hoping to further coax arousal and response. The most he got was a small clench of your core as he slipped a finger into you, followed by an idle hum. He could feel your body's response, so he eased into his efforts, slowly pushing and pulling his finger, tongue and lips working with ease against your clit. Eventually, his middle finger joined, and he heard you inhale tightly. He looked up again, pathetically pleased by the faint quiver in your lips.
He continued to work you with his fingers, now curling the thick digits so he could press into that spongy spot inside of you. He felt your stance falter, so he took his other hand to lift your thigh to his shoulder. You fell back against the wall, grumbling faintly as you grabbed onto him by the hair. He lifted your other thigh and let your weight completely fall into him. You might be mad, but fuck was it sexy when he held you so goddamn easily, especially in such a complicated position.
He pulled his fingers out, licked them clean, and grabbed onto your thighs firmly. Now that your body was caught up and you were properly soaked, he could easily use his mouth alone. With his mouth, he lapped at your folds slowly, tongue flicking and prodding at your clit before he dove downward, tongue dipping past your entrance only to delve deeper once he heard your breath hitch. Leon watched you closely, huffing heavily as he curled his fingers tighter against the flesh of your thighs. You thanked God that he had a big nose because the bridge of his nose rubbed against your clit perfectly as he tilted his head and lapped and prodded back and forth with his tongue, occasional whines and sounds of desperation leaving his lips.
He had to pull away for a moment, panting heavily as he swallowed thickly as looked up at you, mouth opening to speak. "Don't you dare ruin it, Leon." You spat, voice rough with need as you tightened your grip on his hair, earning a choked whine.
"Yes, ma'am." He breathed, brows furrowing as he took one more big breath of recovery and dove back in, eyes closed as he focused all his energy on you and your incoming orgasm. You mewled, and he moaned at the sound. Finally, some kind of reassuring response. He could've cum just from that, but without your permission right now, he risked being put in the dog house for only God knows how long.
His precise and desperate motions of his tongue and mouth pushed you to finally give in, thighs shaking slightly as you panted and breathed out soft moans. He sped up messily, hips bucking mindlessly in time with his tongue. You pulled him firmly against your pussy, and he looked up at you with those glassy baby blues. Your head fell back, chest rising and falling, and he whined at the sight. He took his tongue out and tracked it back up to your clit, lips latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves.
He took one hand from your thighs and let it find its way back to your center, three fingers slipping in easily thanks to the previous prep and your arousal combined nicely with his spit and drool. You shifted to wrap your legs properly around his head, thighs damn near acting like ear muffs as he suckled harshly at your clit and curled his fingers with every drag and push. You let out a whimper, gasping slightly as you felt a particularly perfect suck, making you jolt slightly.
"Please," he sounded like he was crying. He wasn't, but he could've been. "Fuck, please, give it to me." He heavily, lapping and flicking his tongue against your clit.
"Shut—mmh!—shut up and keep your m-mouth busy." You panted. There was less anger, more need in your tone.
"Mhmm," he hummed, whining slightly before he picked up the pace of his fingers, pumping back and forth roughly with his fingertips pushing ruthlessly against your g-spot every time his fingers retracted.
Without a warning, you felt your orgasm build up rapidly with his newfound roughness. He had hoped to do it softer, but given the circumstances and your responses, he did what he knew you liked more. Rough sucks, mean thrusts of his fingers, and desperate sounds slipping from his pathetic mouth. You pulled at his hair and bucked your hips, back arching with a pitchy mewl, lips parting as you gushed around his fingers. He worked you through most of it before he pulled his fingers out and spread your pussy open for him, tongue lapping hungrily at your sopping folds and twitchy walls.
Once you began to go limp and push his head away, he pulled back and carefully let your legs down, easing your shakes with his hands as he stayed on his knees. He let you recover and come to your senses as he adjusted your night gown and tied your robe, careful not to make it too tight. He looked up at you, chin pressing to your sternum as he waited patiently.
"I'm still mad at you." You finally spoke, but your hand left his hair and came to cup his cheek, letting his head turn to kiss your palm.
"I know." He murmured.
"But you're damn lucky I'm a forgiving lover."
"I'm so lucky. And so, so stupid." He wrapped his arms around you and held tight, eyes closing as he leveled out his breathing. "Just give me some time, okay? I.. I'll see if I can weasel my way into less of a workload. And maybe a couple of days off every week or two? Does that sound good?"
"Only if you do it and don't leave me with empty promises for another four months."
"I'm sorry, I know I've kept you waiting, and I've been so dumb, and so inconsiderate."
You gently tugged his arms, and he rose to his feet, standing tall in front of you. "Keep me waiting longer than a couple of weeks and I'll be staying with a friend until you're steady again. Got it?"
"Yes. Yes, I got it. I know."
"I can't keep sitting here like an unloved and forgotten wife."
"Wife." He mused softly, remembering so quickly that you had yet to be officially, legally married. He tugged you in tight, inhaling deeply. "I'm not gonna fuck up again. Not when I'm so close to being able to say that I'm your husband."
"Good, because I'd hate to say that I'm someone else's wife in the future." You murmured, tone softer and sounding almost scared at the thought.
"Not on my watch." He squeezed, only to pick you up and carry you down the hall. "I've kept you waiting enough. Let's get to bed." He murmured.
"Let's. You tire me out."
"Glad I still have that effect on my lady." He grinned, all too proud.
Summary- It was supposed to be the normal routine, go to the bar with friends and leave with a man for the night. But the man that catches your eyes is different than the rest, taking care of you like no other before.
TW// pure smut tbh, fem reader, alcohol, smoking, flirting, age gap (legal), mention of Leon being old enough to be readers father, daddy issues, degradation, praise, pet names, calling Leon daddy, dom Leon, sub reader, fingering, face fucking, oral both receiving, unprotected p in v, rough sex, some pussy pronouns, dirty talk, shower sex, creampie, squirting,
A/n So uh… I got this idea and it began flowing and now we have this. I hope y’all enjoy🫡 - Ghost🫶🏻
My friends decided we should come to this bar, and who am I to say no to a good time? After getting dressed I take a ride there, walking in with them as the music reaches my ears. I head to the bar to grab a drink as they all take off, looking for some guy to convince to buy their drink. Leaning against the bar top I wave the bartender down, the guy around my age walking over. His eyes drop to my cleavage, the dress I wore leaving it visible. “Whiskey neat please.” He nods, my lips curling up at his reaction. It’s cute, but all my friends know me well enough to know I wouldn’t be interested in him. As he returns with my drink I give him a sweet smile, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from my pocket. “How much do I owe you?” His eyes watch my lips as I place it in my mouth, lighting the end until it glows a pretty orange. “I- It’s on the house.” I smile, because he is so flustered and sputtering over words. “Thank you, that’s really sweet.” As I walk away I move to the edge of the room, scanning for my friends one by one until I find them all.
Everyone is with someone already, leaving me to sit against the wall with a cool glass of whiskey and a cigarette. I spot him when he walks in, his large figure one that demands attention. Broad shoulders and dirty blonde hair mixed with greys, a black leather jacket and scruff on his face. I let my eyes trail him, watching as he takes a seat at the very end of the bar. He’s brooding, a man who looks like he’s experienced more than one should in a lifetime. He orders a drink, once he has it he sips on it and looks around. Piercing blue eyes meet mine, both entering some form of a competition of who will break first. When I don’t back down I see the corner of his lips tilt, pulling a smirk of my own. Let the games begin. Hearing footsteps approach I turn, seeing one of my group members approaching. “Y/n! What are you doing against the wall by yourself, you look like a loner. Come on, have fun!” I shrug, finishing off my drink as I respond. “I’m having plenty of fun right where I’m at, got my eyes on a hot one.” She scans the bar, face scrunched in confusion. “Which one?” I mumble it around the last drag of my cigarette, watching for her reaction.
“Left side very end of the bar, black jacket and dirty blonde hair.” Her eyes widen, choking on the drink in her hand as she spots him. “Y/n! That man is old enough to be your father?!” I laugh, the sparkle in my eyes answer enough. “You know, sometimes your daddy issues concern me. You need a therapist.” I shrug, snuffing out the cigarette as I begin to walk backwards. “What can I say, I like my men older.” She walks away after flipping me off, heading back to where she had come from. Returning to the bar I make a point to stand close to him, leaning on the bar again with my ass out. Waving the bartender over again he walks to stand in front of me, taking the empty glass. “What else can I get you?” He’s collected himself, keeping a cool composure now. “Another whiskey neat.” He nods, pouring the drink before heading to the register. Paying for the drink I make eye contact with him now that I’m closer, throwing him a sweet smile that earns me an amused shake of his head. Turning away I walk back to my previous spot, leaning against the wall once more. I let my eyes scan the room, watching the way people are enjoying themselves. Looking down I pull out a cigarette, beginning to struggle with my lighter. I groan as I realize it’s out of fluid, not having a second lighter with me. “Mind sharing?” Looking up I’m met with the very man I’ve set my sights on tonight, plucking the unlit cigarette from my mouth. “If you’ve got a light.”
He pulls one out of his pocket, handing him a cigarette to which he puts in his mouth lights. Taking mine between my lips again I hold my hand out, but instead of him handing me the lighter he goes a different route. He puffs on his cigarette as he lifts my chin, arousal pooling in my underwear as he lights it for me. My breath gets stuck in my throat, his calloused thumb brushing my cheek before letting go. Taking a drag I work to collect myself, exhaling slow as I gather myself. “Thanks.” He nods, falling silent again. “What’s your name?” He looks down at me, the man towering over my smaller size. “Leon, and yours?” I answer, testing his name on my tongue. “Y/n, nice to meet you Leon.” He shakes his head, because he’s already figured me out. “I know what you are doing sweetheart, need to go find a boy your own age.” I pout my lips, taking the sip of whiskey before answering. “I don’t like boys my age, they don’t know how to handle me.” He raises a brow, exhaling smoke. “Is that so? How old are you?” I allow my eyes to take him in now that he’s closer, not bothering to hide it.
“Twenty one.” He mutters something under his breath, the deep baritone of his voice a contrast to my softer and lighter one. “I’m old enough to be your daddy.” I turn to face him completely, putting on those innocent eyes for him. “And? That supposed to deter me or something?” I can see the way he’s silently enjoying it, the way I don’t back down catching his attention. “You are trouble aren’t you.” I finish my cigarette, putting it out at the same time as him. “Troubles my middle name.” He lifts one hand, stepping closer to me while brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Better be careful baby, you’re playing with fire right now.” I lean closer, breath ghosting over his lips as I answer with no hesitation. “I’ve always like to play with fire.” He presses his thumb to my bottom lip, dragging it down before letting it go. “Getting yourself in over your head baby, you think you can handle it?” His thumb is still resting on my bottom lip, sticking my tongue out to run against the pad of his thumb. He groans as he watches, eyes dark with lust. “I’m sure daddy.” He gives a cocky smirk, as if he had already expected that. “Oh so that’s what it is? Need someone to take care of you?” I’m already falling into his hold, nodding my head with a whimper. He smiles, leaning in to whisper in my ear.
“Your daddy didn’t pay attention to you so you gotta look for it somewhere else? Poor baby, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, I’ll be your daddy.” He pulls away slightly, brushing the tip of his nose over mine. “Please.”
//
My back meets the sleek black Porsche, his body crowding me as he pins me there. His lips crash into mine, the kiss rough as he holds my chin to tilt me just how he wants me. Pulling away he trails his lips to my neck, nipping at the skin as he presses his hips against me. “Feel what you do to me?” I let out a soft sigh at the press of his lips, a breathless “yes” leaving me. The bulge in his pants pressed against me, one of his hands trailing to the plush skin of my ass and squeezing. Pulling away he runs his thumb over my cheek, seeing the way my eyes are clouded with lust. “This what you want? Want me to show you what it’s like to be fucked by a real man?” I nod frantically, chest heaving. “Yes, please.” He tuts, leaning in to bite my earlobe. “Please what?” He kneads the supple skin of my ass, pressing his hips into me more. “Please daddy.” He nods, kissing the air from my lungs again before stepping back. “Get in the car, baby.” He steps away, allowing me to move to the door. He opens it, waiting until I’m buckled before rounding the car to drive.
Turning the key into the ignition the car roars to life, his hand shifting it into gear before finding my thigh. He slowly begins moving higher, goosebumps following the path he takes. “Take your panties off.” Thank god I had worn a dress, heart pounding while sliding them off. His palm turns over, placing the lace in his hand before he tucks it away in his pocket. He pushes the skirt of the dress out of his way, exposing my cunt. He drags his fingers through my soaked folds, a gasp falling from my tongue as I drop my head back. He teases, dipping the tip of his fingers into my entrance before sliding them back out. Moving up he catches my clit, rubbing the sensitive nub. I moan quietly, but still need more. “Please.” He risks a quick look over at me, taking in the way I’m already putty in his hands. “Need more? This not enough for you?” I nod my head, the slick sounds that begin to fill the car obscene. He smiles, pulling up to a red light as he slides two thick fingers in and watches. I dig my nails into his arm, his wrist flicking as he fucks them in and out of me quick. I’m a writhing mess in the seat as the light turns green, dropping my eyes to watch where his fingers slide in and out. He presses his thumb to my clit as he adds a third finger, my back arching against the seat at the fast building pleasure.
“I’m-” He cuts me off already knowing what I’m about to say, his words pulling a whine of disapproval from me. “Don’t cum, not until I say.” My thighs shake as I try to hold it off, his fingers curling into that soft spot inside with every pass. Wrapping my hand around his arm I dig my nails in, panting as he groans from the sting. He pulls his fingers out suddenly, immediately missing the pleasure that fades. Looking over at him he pulls into a parking spot, sticking the fingers he was just fucking me with in his mouth. After licking them clean he unbuckles, adjusting the crotch of his jeans. As he steps out I pause, realizing he didn’t give my panties back. He shakes his head, holding his hand out to take mine. “Don’t need them.” I fix my dress before stepping out, his fingers laced in mine as we walk. Entering the lobby the man at the front desk greets him, Leon stopping only for a moment. “Welcome back Mr. Kennedy.” He only nods, silently greeting him back. The minute the elevator doors hide us away he presses me against the wall, hands pinned above my head as his free one finds its way between my thighs again. He groans, his lips meeting mine. His lips are soft, tasting myself as he slips his tongue past my lips. His fingers dip back inside, pumping them fast as my mouth falls open.
I try to keep quiet but moans slip through, feeling him smile against my cheek. “Sound so sweet, let me hear you baby.” I let them out, arching into him when he speeds up. The sound of his palm slapping against me adds its own melody before an unfamiliar feeling settles low. It sends a wave of panic, the elevator still climbing the abundance of floors. “W-wait, I feel like-” He continues pumping his fingers fast, raising one brow. “Feel what? You about to squirt for me?” I shake my head, stomach clenching as I try to hold off. “I don’t know- I’ve never-” He nips my ear before speaking, the pressure increasing. “Be a good girl, let it happen. Soak me, make a mess all over me.” It snaps, shaking violently with a near scream. Liquid gushes out, a cry leaving me as he groans. Flattening his palm he drags it back and forth frantically, drawing it out even longer. As it slows to a stop he lets my hands go, his lips crashing into mine as the doors open. Pulling away his hand takes mine, my legs shaking from the blinding orgasm as we walk to his door. The second the door shuts he’s back on me, tongue slipping into my mouth to dance with mine. His jeans are soaked, hands already removing the dress before we’ve even made it to his bedroom. Entering his room he pulls the see through lace bra from my body, pulling away once I’m completely exposed.
“God damn, you’re fucking perfect. My perfect girl, so pretty for me.” He stays fully dressed, squeezing my breasts before guiding me to sit on the bed. His hands move to his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Tossing it to the ground he walks over slowly, standing in front of me leaving a bit of space. “On your knees, mouth open.” I follow immediately, moving to my knees before beginning to open his belt. Pulling it from his pants I pop the button, trailing kisses along the hair until it disappears beneath his underwear. Pulling his underwear down his cock bobs up, painfully hard. Wrapping my hand around him he hisses, beginning to move my hand up and down. Leaning in I swirl my tongue around his tip, his hand finding my hair as I tease. He grunts, speaking up. “Stop playing, take me in your mouth.” I do as told, working my way down before beginning to bob my head. His hand rests against the back of my head first, allowing me to control the pace until he wants more. When both hands find the back of my head I stop, his hips beginning to thrust as he shoves himself deeper into my throat. A choked sound leaves me at the intrusion, a drawn out moan of my name sounding from above me.
He begins to pick up speed, pulling out to give me a moment to catch my breathe before thrusting back in. His balls smack against my chin, fully fucking my face as I dig my nails into his thighs. Looking up at him through watery eyes I find his head tipped back, savoring the feeling of my throat. Pushing my head down to meet him halfway my nose is pressed into the hair at his base, throat contracting as he holds me steady. He looks down at me, tears streaming down my cheeks as I sputter around him. “Fuck.” Pulling me off I wipe my mouth, Leon tugging me back up into him immediately. He kisses me all teeth and tongue, squeezing my waist before pushing me back onto his bed. Scooting up he follows, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth before traveling down my body. He stops at my tits, kneading and sucking on them before continuing his path down. Pushing my thighs apart he makes room, pinning me in place as he wastes no time.
He licks a long stripe up my folds, parting them before flicking his tongue over my clit. I tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging as he licks and sucks at my pussy. My head falls back in the pillows, beginning to try and roll my hips into his face. He presses me down immediately, holding me in place to his liking. He slips two fingers inside, pumping and curling them repeatedly as he sucks harshly on my sensitive bundle of nerves. I cry out, back arching as the blinding pleasure returns. My thighs shake, chest rising and falling fast. One of his hands trails up my body, sliding over my stomach before finding my chest. He pinches and pulls on my left nipple, my loud moans and the wet slurping of him between my thighs filling the room. My mind is empty of anything but him, eyes squeezed shut as he adjusts to any tiny sign of something I like. My thighs try to close around his head, but his hold on me and his large shoulders stop me from doing so. I tug at his hair, feeling myself on the edge again. “Daddy, I wanna cum. Please, I need to cum.” He smiles against me, not bothering to pull away when he talks.
“Mmm you asked so sweet. Saying please like a good girl, cum for me.” He gives a sharp suck to my clit and I’m sent over the edge, crying out as I cum on his face. His face is soaked when he comes up to rest above me, lips finding mine with a large hand holding my jaw. “Taste so good, could spend hours between your thighs.” I moan into his mouth, his facial hair rubbing perfectly against my face. “You wanna keep going?” It catches me off guard, the way he stops to ask with a voice so soft. My eyes bounce between his, struggling to comprehend. “Huh?” He pulls back more, moving his hand off my face to rest beside me. “Do you wanna keep going, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” It’s not normal for me, because most times the men don’t care for what I want as long as they get what they want. “I’m good to keep going. Why?” His brows furrow, smoothing his hand over my ribs. “Checking in, don’t want to assume anything or hurt you. If you need me to stop I will, just tell me ok?” I nod, though the care that seeps in begins to set a fire in my heart. “Ok.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, another to the tip of my nose before he rolls to lay on his back. “Come here, sit on my lap baby.” Crawling over him I straddle his waist, knees on either side of his hips. He runs his hands over my thighs, allowing me to rub myself against the length of him. Just as I move to line him up he stops me, a groan of frustration leaving him.
“Fuck.” I furrow my brows, staying still as he rubs a hand over his face. “What?” He cups my cheek, pulling me in for a quick kiss. “Don’t have any condoms, I can eat your pussy again if you want.” I shake my head, the choice I’m about to offer not like me at all. “I’m clean, if you want?” His head tilts back the moment he hears it, a strangled noise escaping the back of his throat. “I’m clean too, you sure you want-” I don’t let him finish, simply lifting my hips and lining him up. His hands find my hips, holding on hard enough to bruise before loosening. He eases me down slowly, stopping halfway as my head drops to his chest. I’m clenching around him tight, the stretch intense. “Shh, I know. It’s so big, poor little cunt struggling to let me in.” He pushes me down a little more, the whine I let out high pitched as my nails dig into his skin. “Doing so good for me, being such a sweet girl.” A new rush of arousal coats him, allowing him to slide in deeper. Running one hand over my back he guides me to lay on his chest, immediately following his guidance. After what feels like forever I’m fully sat on him, bottomed out as he hugs me to his chest. My breath is shaky, moaning at the fullness. He plays with my hair, not rushing anything and allowing me to adjust. “Feel how deep I am, she’s hugging my cock. Doesn’t want me to leave huh?” I shake my head, beginning to slowly circle my hips.
“Feel like you’re in my stomach.” He hums, allowing me to sit up when I move. I begin riding him slowly, picking up speed as the sting is replaced with pleasure. His head is tilted back, hands moving to hold my ass cheeks as he guides me. “Fuck, feel so good. Best pussy I’ve ever had.” I let out a needy sound at his words, switching between bouncing and grinding. Tangling his hands in my hair he pulls, exposing my neck to him. He sits up, lips attacking my throat as the slight position change sends him deeper. Loud moans rip from my throat, Leon’s lips breaking into a smile against my skin. As my hips stutter he pulls me tighter against him, beginning to thrust up into me as he holds me still. “Daddy!” He hums, the slapping of our skin ringing in our ears. “Yeah? I’ve got you baby, feeling so good hugging my cock. Daddy’s taking care of you, filling up your pussy.” He lets go of my hair, holding the back of my head as he pulls my lips to his. I do my best to keep up with his pace, moaning into his mouth as he swallows every one.
He pulls away, pressing in deep and grinding. My thighs tremble, another orgasm rising up my spine. “I’m gonna cum.” He nods, sweat slick bodies pressed tightly together. “Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Do it, let me have another one.” He presses his thumb to my clit, one circle and it crashes over me. I cry into his mouth, Leon struggling to continue thrusting. “Jesus, can barely move. She doesn’t want to let me go, holding onto my fat cock like she wants me to stay there forever.” As I come down he slows to a stop, still hard inside me as he gives me a break. He smoothes his hand over my hair, soothing me until I lift up to look at him. “More…” I trail off, drunk on pleasure. He nudges my nose, catching my lips with his. Pulling away he bites my lip, tugging before letting go. “Of course, anything you want.” As he pulls out there’s a whisper in the back of my mind, realizing that this encounter has been so different than any other before.
His hands rub my hips, tapping them. “Hands and knees for me, ass up.” I roll to my stomach, getting on my hands and knees as he adjusts me exactly where how he wants. His hand smoothes up my back, pressing my chest down to arch my back. “There you go, just like that.” He drags his tip through my folds, gasping as he catches the bundle of nerves. Sliding back in I moan loud, the depths he reaches surprising me. He begins thrusting immediately, wet slaps of skin against skin loud. Burying my face into the mattress I hear him tut, leaning over me before his arm slides beneath me. Lifting me up his hand circles my throat, pinning my back to his chest. “Look so pretty baby, my hand around your throat and pussy stuffed full.” I drop my head back against his shoulder, his lips finding their way back to my neck. He bites down, and if it weren’t for him holding me up I would’ve fallen flat. He grunts, the noise deep and guttural as he lets me drop back down to the mattress.
He holds my hip tight, his free hand raising before coming down hard on my ass cheek. The pain mixes with the pleasure deliciously, walls squeezing him tighter. “You like that?” I nod, a broken mess in his sheets. He changes the angle slightly, but that small adjustment sent him pounding into my g spot. He pairs it with his fingers on my clit, rubbing fast circles into the bud. My legs give out from the overwhelming sensations, leaving me flat on the bed. He follows me down, thrusting back in with the same intensity. It hits me suddenly, hitting before I can warn him. He curses as my walls close around him, beginning to grind instead of the rough thrusts. As I begin to come down he slows to a stop, moving my hair from my face while pressing featherlight kisses. “I’m so proud of you, taking me so well. Too good to me, letting me take care of you.” As I come to I smile, meeting his eyes as he returns it. He pulls out, helping me turn over. “You feel ok? Do you need a break?” I hesitate, because I don’t want to disappoint him, upset him because he hasn’t even cum yet. “I don’t need a break.”
He sees through it, somehow already able to pick up on the things no one else has. “Don’t lie to me, be honest. I’m not gonna get upset.” He lays down on his side, facing me as his hand gently runs on and down my thigh. “I don’t want to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want. If you need a break then we take one or if you want to be done we can be done. Tell me what you need.” My entire body relaxes, his reassurance something I needed more than I realized. The trauma I carry with me distorting my view of what’s healthy, the safety he wraps me in making me want to stay. “I need a break.” It’s quiet, barely a whisper as he pulls me to lay on his chest. Catching our breaths he doesn’t push or rush, switching between gentle brushes of his hand on my skin and kisses. Sitting up to face him his hand moves to the small of my back, leaning back in as I kiss him. It starts slow, quickly heating up again as he rolls us over. Rolling his hips his cock rubs between my folds, threatening to slip inside. “Please daddy, fuck me. I need you.” His doesn’t answer with words, lowering one hand to guide himself to my entrance.
Sliding back in he buries himself to the hilt, balls flush against my ass. He lets out a sigh, a strangled noise escaping me at the feeling. He braces both arms on either side of me, my hands finding the strong planes of his back. His own breath stutters, moaning low in my ear where his head rests on my shoulder. He starts slow, pulling all the way out before sliding back in. His hips slam into mine, my nails dragging down his back leaving red lines in their wake. He moans, thrusting even faster and harder at the sting of the scratches. “Shit- Is that how good I’m fucking you? Digging your nails into my back, clawing at me. Screaming at the top of your lungs, tight cunt trying to milk me.” My mind is numb, effectively fucked stupid. “L-Leon! Harder!” He huffs a laugh, amused by my mindless words. “Yeah? Greedy girl, fucking you stupid and you still want more. My little slut, already asking for more.” He begins railing me, my nails clawing into his back enough to draw blood. The bed frame slams against the wall, his eyes trailing down to my lower stomach.
My back arches violently, breasts flush against his chest as he moans loudly at the sight. “I can see it all the way up here, deep inside your cunt. Tiny pussy creaming on me. Look at it, look at how deep I am.” He slides a hand behind my head, lifting it up to make me look. It catches me off guard, blurry vision clearing to see the way my lower belly bulges as he bottoms out. My eyes drag lower, watching where our bodies meet. When he pulls back a white creamy mixture coats him, the pressure I’d felt in the elevator returning. “I’m- You- Fuck.” He smiles against my lips, proud I’m unable to form complete sentences. “What, you gonna cum again? Soak my cock more. Fucking you so good that you can’t even talk, ruining you for anyone else. Make this pussy mine.” It sends me over the edge, only able to make broken high pitched noises as I squirt again. He doesn’t pull out this time, dragging it out. “So messy, soaking daddy’s sheets. Wanna milk me? Take everything I give you? Fill you up til it leaks out.” He begins to lose his rhythm, thrusts turning erratic as he gets closer. “You want that? Want my cum inside you? Bet you’d like it, beg me for more.”
He grunts from the effort, the rough and frantic thrusts making me cum for the millionth time. I drag him over the edge with me, lips capturing mine as he thrusts as deep as he possibly can. He holds me there, a moan of my name filling the room as he pins me in place. It feels like he cums for the longest time, making sure I take everything he has to offer. He drops all his weight on top of me, both of us panting as we come down. He grinds his hips into mine, fucking his cum deep until I whimper in overstimulation. He pulls out slow, my hands moving to his bicep as I feel the emptiness. “Such a good girl for me, taking my cock deep inside. Letting me fill you with my cum. Come here.” Laying down beside me he pulls me over, curling into him with my head on his chest. We are both quiet in the afterglow, soft kisses shared as we come back to ourselves. Lifting my head he looks down, a nervous look taking over before he talks. “I was thinking… Can I get your number? If you want to I wanna take you on a date.” Excitement runs through me, smiling as I nod. “Yes please.”
//
His hands run over my body as bubbles trace my skin, guiding me under the shower head to wash it off. His cock comes to life again, poking my thigh as he presses soft kisses to my shoulder. Turning me to face him he lifts one leg, holding me open as he pushes back into me. My forehead finds his chest, whimpering as he begins thrusting. He speeds up until he’s railing me again, holding me in place when my knees threaten to buckle. Just before I cum he pulls out, spinning me around to face the glass door. “Hands on the door.” Doing as told he takes place behind me, thrusting deep as he regains his speed. I’m shocked there hasn’t been a noise complaint yet, unable to be quiet. “You’re so sensitive, letting me know how good it feels, screaming while I ruin you. Who owns this pussy, who’s the only one allowed to fuck you.” My thighs shake, his hand finding my throat pulling my back to his chest. “Answer me, who does this pussy belong to.” His hand tightens around my throat, applying the perfect amount of pressure. “Yours! Belongs to you daddy! Only you.”
Releasing the hold on my throat he slides his hand up to my jaw, turning my head as his lips crash into mine. The kiss is all consuming, one hand holding me to him as the other slides lower. He begins rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud, whining into his mouth as the pleasure builds. “Fuck, gripping me like a vice. You wanna cum baby, you gonna cum again.” I nod, legs beginning to tremble. “Yes! Fuck.” He nips at my earlobe, trailing down to my neck. He sucks even more marks into my skin, staking his claim over my body. Pulling out again I try to pull him back, a deep laugh leaving him. Turning to face him he bends, hands gripping beneath my thighs as he picks me up. Crowding me against the wall my back meets to cool tiles, lining himself up and thrusting back in. He drops his head to the crook of my neck, my hands tangling in his wet hair and tugging.
His hot breath fans against my skin, his pelvis brushing my clit perfectly on every deep drive inside. I move my arms around his shoulders, digging my nails in again as I break skin. His name leaves me lips like it’s the only word in my vocabulary, cumming at the same time. He slides in til there’s no space between us, pinning my hips tighter against the wall as he paints my insides white. My nails drag down his skin, his body shuddering at the feeling. He slowly lets me down onto my feet, holding me steady. “Let’s get cleaned up.” I laugh, kissing him with a satisfied smile. “You said that when we got in.” He pulls away, kissing my forehead. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.” After actually washing up he lends me one of his shirts, tugging me into his arms as we lay in his bed. Reaching into his side drawer he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, grabbing one out before tossing the pack on the nightstand. Once it’s lit he takes a long drag, holding it up to my lips right after.
As we share the cigarette there’s something the wiggles in between, the gentle care and something deeper forming. He takes me to dinner a few days later, making me officially his a month after that.
//
A/n So I was listening to Daddy Issues by the neighborhood (specifically the version with Syd) and this fic was born… I hope y’all enjoy the filth this is🫡 - Ghost🫶🏻
cws/tags: p in v, oral, smut, angst, leon pov, situationship, not quite mutual yearning, "she's a part of me i can't let go" vibes
summary: leon and ada have an agreement to meet up for one night every year, aka what if "that one night" referenced in damnation was actually a yearly thing
a/n: excuse any mistakes. editing me is tired of looking at this anymore
wc: 3.5k
“Don’t you think we’re a little too old for this?”
“You said that last year.”
“Yeah, and now we’re even older.”
“Do you want to stop doing this?”
What a loaded fucking question.
“…No.”
“That’s your answer, then.”
He mumbles a c’mere and coaxes her into a kiss, resigning himself to this compromise of once a year. In these moments, he allows himself to be needy. Needy, in times like these, translates to horny if you don’t read too far into it, and Leon knows Ada won’t bother. She knows exactly how he feels, how Leon’s obvious arousal is the mildest of his feelings. He’s past the phase where it hinders his judgment, but that juvenile horniness is what led him to agreeing to this arrangement back in his 20s. An arrangement, that’s all. There’s no legally binding contract, no blood pact. It’s not that serious.
It began in 2005. There was only one other living person who knew everything that happened in Spain. Ashley. And Leon hoped that upon her return to DC, she would remember the incident as nothing more than a nightmare, or at least, that the memories would fade over time and she would be okay. Ashley Graham could go on and live a relatively normal life — after her father’s presidential term was up and she’d be free from the shackles of the paparazzi — and that would be enough for Leon. There would be a happy couple and some cute children out there, alive because of him.
As for his future, his choices have dwindled and it’s either be the hero, pay the debt, or turn against everyone he’s ever loved, all the things he cares about, sacrifice his morals and find… well, he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t know if there was anything at all waiting on the “other side”. This is something, he decides, when brushes his teeth in the morning, forcing himself to look in the mirror and confront his physical form if nothing else.
“It all ends in death, though, doesn’t it?” he says to Ada, at the end of a long monologue, swirling a glass of whiskey, his ankle balancing upon his knee as he sits in the red velvet chair.
“Mm,” Ada says, “I think you should lay off the whiskey. It’s not healthy to get too philosophical in our field of work.”
Our field of work, she says, as if they have anything more in common than combat abilities. (Putting sexual preferences aside). There’s no shared goal, shared allies, barely any shared information, and a likely imbalance of trust. Leon trusts because that’s the type of man he is: trusting, foolish. Ada doesn’t need to trust because trusting is for people who don’t already know and she is always one step ahead of him.
In 2005, Ada and Leon already had one inextricable link formed in Raccoon City, now a second one in Spain. Leon understood very little about Ada aside from the fact that she’d chosen to save him. More than once.
Leon hadn’t quite chosen this life in the way that Ada had. It also seemed to wear him down at a faster pace. How does she do it? he often wondered. She doesn’t even have a consistent team or employer.
What she has is Leon. Leon who only ever changes the color of his hair. Their agreement isn’t formal but Leon acts as if it is. Ada gets the certainty of knowing that Leon will show up. He’s never missed a year. Despite the fact that Ada always comes, and usually arrives first, Leon knows that one day she will let him down. She has to, because if she doesn’t, he’ll have to, and Leon isn’t that type of person.
They meet at hotels — nice ones — it doesn’t really matter who pays because they both make enough to splurge for one night. Plus, they’re past all those pretenses. No one is trying to impress the other. They arrive in the evening and leave in the morning. The evidence lessens over the years. Once, it was two wine glasses and a bottle of wine left on the nightstand. Another, half-empty bottles of shampoo and used towels. Last year, there wasn’t so much as the plastic casing left in the trash can.
“Wanna get dinner?” Leon asks, barely looking up from his phone which is what he uses in lieu of a watch these days. It functions as hardly anything else for him. He doesn’t like “apps”.
“Sure,” she says unenthusiastic but not upset about the idea. “Have any preferences?”
“You know what I like.” He flashes her a smile that she does not return.
“I meant in the kitchen, not the bedroom.”
“We can do it in the kitchen,” he says tilting to the side to whisper in her ear.
“I meant,” she says more emphatically than the last time, “what do you like to eat—”
“—you know exactly what I—”
She covers his mouth with her hand and it’s unfamiliar to be in this position when they’re both unarmed.
“Enough,” she says. “I’m hungry.”
She lets him take her by the arm, open doors for her and pull out her chair when they get to the restaurant.
“What a gentleman,” she says and while her tone is sarcastic, he knows there’s an objective truth in that assessment. Leon is a gentleman — or at least, the Leon that Ada knows is. Despite his unwavering act in her presence, he suspects she may know more. Either they’ve finally invented some top-of-the-line mind reading technology or she just has cameras installed in his house. It’s not that he’s paranoid, he just accepts it at this point. If someone is watching his every move, he’s glad it’s her, considering she’s saved his life not once, not twice, but three times. Why? Either she’s a fucking philanthropist or she has some semblance of feelings for him. And the one thing he knows about Ada is that she cares only that there is money in her wallet, doesn’t matter where it’s coming from. She’s a mercenary not a martyr. She’ll save him and leave him with the scar. Ada will never bear a mark.
Early on, Leon tried to leave love bites on her neck, maybe just her collarbone if she was willing to bargain, but she threatened to leave him untouched and alone in bed. Untouched for the rest of the night, she meant. He cannot be untouched by her. Not since the kiss, or even before the kiss when he took her hand and helped her out of the rubble, saving her in turn. At least, that’s the first time he remembers. But, he woke up with her coat draped over him and his wound bandaged. Surely she didn’t help him for convenience. Letting him bleed out would’ve been easier for her. She wasted time, and gave it to him.
They don’t talk about that. Minus the once when Leon gave himself a paper cut and dabbed the blood on the white hand towels. She stuck her head through the door he left ajar to ask, in jest, if he needed her help patching himself up. In the mirror, he swears he saw the memory flash before her eyes. If only he could catch it. Or find a way to coyly ask, and hope for an answer that isn’t an unsolvable riddle. Women are complicated but Ada is impossible. And maybe that’s part of her charm. Not knowing her day-to-day, no bills or awkward family meetings, she only exists in his tiny little dream world where the princess saves the valiant knight and lets him take her home to a castle he’s rented for the night. So when the nightmares come, he can be beside her.
Lost in thought, he drops his cutlery.
“You’re worse with knives than I remember,” she says, sipping her wine. “Is age getting to you?"
“Maybe,” he says. “It doesn’t look like it’s come for you yet, though.”
He doesn’t add a wink or a cocky grin at the end the way he would’ve a decade ago. He’s not flirting with Ada. Time has made him vulnerable. He merely speaks his mind.
“Try prioritizing your skincare routine, get to the gym more often, perfect your sleep schedule…”
“You don’t like this look?” he asks. “Are the gray hairs not doing it for you?”
And, he finds himself more concerned with her opinion of him than he thought he would. It’s not like she’d ever compliment him directly. Unless she’s on the verge of an orgasm and he has the power to push her over the edge or leave her hanging. It’s the only time she ever begs. Ada says please and thank you to waiters, not to Leon. Leon’s been trained into it. Not politeness but submission.
It’s not like Leon had ever imagined a domestic future with Ada. He didn’t picture pencil marks on the walls stretching higher over the years with names and dates beside them. No one ever had to succumb to driving to soccer practice every Wednesday night or dropping preteens off at the mall on the weekends. No themed birthday parties or Santa Claus stories. There was never really a future in mind. At best, they’d settle down in a house by the water and sit on the porch swing together, different books in their hands.
“Since I can tell it’s really weighing on you, I’ll tell you what I really think.” She pauses, reveling in the power she has over him. “I think they suit you.”
Sure, it’s a compliment, but he finds himself reaching further, diving deeper into what she meant by it. Ada probably meant nothing by it. But, on the off-chance she did, what did she mean by it? Does it suit him because he’s old and tired, worn-down by the job and the state the world that carries upon his shoulders? Because he’s old to her, because he’s just gray in a world of bright colors, of verdant men waiting for her when she leaves his hotel room?
This night is a bubble. It’s meant to be a reprieve, and yet, he finds himself worrying—about different things, but worrying all the same. He doesn’t spend his days in the field worrying if he’s good enough. He is both incredibly capable and an absolute failure. Those things will forever be true. He will never save everyone. He will fail every time. Yet, the DSO will always be begging for him to do one more mission. He’ll be in this business until it kills him. Truly, he should be more shocked that it hasn’t yet considering how many lives it has taken. A lot of those near-misses, he owes to the woman in front of him.
The night is predictable. They go back to their hotel room. He undresses her slowly, and she lets him. He remembers back when he was younger, and she insisted on putting on a show, making him sit back on the bed while she disrobed. Now, he plants kisses down her neck while he unzips her dress.
His breath is hot in her ear when he speaks, “how do you want it?”
“You’re just gonna give in that easy?” she tries to toy with him, but fails as her breath hitches when his hands reach her inner thigh.
“I don’t care how we do it. All I want is you.”
They both know it comes off in a way he hadn’t intended. It sounds like something more than dirty talk. It sounds romantic in a more than temporary way. They could laugh it off if it was just him tripping over his words, but it’s his subconscious, and they both know that.
He sighs. “You know what I mean. I want to fuck you.”
“You have sweeter words than that. You can be good for me.”
“What makes you think you’re in control here?”
He grips her wrists behind her back with one hand and snakes his hands inside her panties with the other.
She wriggles out of his grasp, which was admittedly fairly loose, though he thinks she could’ve undone zip-ties if he’d managed to put her in those, and she spins around, and grabs him by the collar.
“How much do you care about this shirt?” she asks, teasing at the buttons, threatening to tear it off.
“I don’t, but I didn’t bring another one.”
She unbuttons his shirt carefully. “Planning to sleep naked tonight?”
“What makes you think I plan on sleeping?”
Once she has his shirt undone he flips her around and presses her into the mattress.
She flips them both over so that she is on top of him, and catches him in an argument rather than a physical hold. “You’ll give up after one round.”
“You know that’s not true. You’ll tap out first. You always do.”
“Because I care about your ego.”
“Oh, so Ada cares now?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But, you’re no good when you sulk.”
“I promise not to sulk.”
“I love that face,” she says, somewhat patronizing.
“What face?”
“The one where you look like you’re about to beg. It’s cute. It really suits you.”
“Fuck off,” he says, only mildly annoyed. Not at that implication that he’d beg but because she knows how to get under his skin in a way that he can’t do in turn.
You have to know someone to be able to do that. She knows him. She knows about his dead parents and all the men he couldn’t save. But that’s not it. She knows him like one knows an opponent, rather than a friend. Which should make more sense to him than it does. She can anticipate his next move.
Exhausted by his own mind, he tries to drown out his thoughts with something else. He grips her hips and she pries his hands away.
“Say please, Leon.”
“I’m not going to beg.”
“Then what are you going to do? Leave?”
“Maybe I will.” He wriggles his way out of her grasp and gets out of bed, gathers his pants and gets them up to his thighs before Ada says a word.
“You’re sulking,” she says.
“Fuck you.”
Leon turns and she’s positioned herself on the side of the bed, legs spread, bare pussy on display. Her fingers dance across her skin but her eyes are looked on his.
“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
In lieu of responding, of giving her a monologue of all the reasons he supposes he might be here — one of them including to fuck her — he gets on his knees. He won’t beg to satisfy her but he will beg to rile her up.
His face is close enough to her core that she can feel his breath on her skin and his hands keep her thighs spread.
“Please,” he says.
“Please what?”
“Please let me taste you.”
He kisses her inner thighs and she concedes. He goes slowly. Kisses her clit, just barely. Waits. Licks a stripe up her folds. Waits.
“Come on, Leon,” she whines — though she’d never admit it.
“What’s the magic word?” he asks, teasing her entrance with one finger, mouth ghosting over her clit.
“Please.” Straight-faced but he got her to say it so it’s all the same to him.
He’s done this enough times to know what she likes. He can make her come in less than two minutes but he doesn’t. He drags it out. He’s old enough to stave off his orgasm. He won’t come the first time he hears her moan.
She flops back on the bed and he climbs atop her, wasting no time burying himself inside her. With a grin on his face, knowing he’s winning.
“Don’t say a word,” she threatens.
“You don’t want me to talk? You don’t wanna know how pretty you look like this? How you taste better than anyone else? How your pussy is the best I’ve ever felt?”
She grimaces, then blushes.
Within minutes she’ll make him into a babbling mess, he won’t be able to stop whatever comes out of his mouth. He hopes it’s fucking filthy, nothing vulnerable or romantic in the slightest.
He hopes he won’t say he loves her. The last time he said it was when Chris insisted that he’s never said the word “love” in his life, and, at the very least implied that Leon couldn’t even say it if he wanted to. So, he shoved the words out of his mouth, meant for no one in particular.
Everything you say during sex is meant for the other person, specifically, unless it’s someone else’s name and then you’ve created a far different problem. Ada would probably think that’s funny. Leon considers doing it to see if she’d get insecure, maybe jealous, and jealousy would, by his calculations, make her even sexier, but on the off-chance it did get to her, he’d feel awful. Plus, what name would he come up with? Claire? Ashley? She’d give him some girlfriend-level interrogation about that slip up. Chris? He doesn’t really think about Chris during sex. That one would make her laugh.
“What are you thinking about?” Her hand is on his cheek like she’s ready to slap him but she’s far from angry, smiling at the absurdity of him thinking this hard—or thinking at all—during sex.
“It’s stupid,” he says.
“No, it’s not. You’re smiling. You look like you’re about to laugh.”
“You’re gonna think it’s stupid.”
“You’re gonna tell me or I’m gonna push you off me and your dick—”
“Fine, fine. I was just thinking about the stupidest things I could say while, I’m, you know—”
“Fucking me?”
“Yep. That’s the one…”
“And?”
“What’s the stupidest name I could say?”
“Your own.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll save that for the next time I jerk off in front of the mirror.”
“Do you do that often?”
“No.”
She narrows her eyes, questioning him wordlessly.
“Okay once. But it was a long time ago,” he concedes. “I’d much rather look at you right now.”
He runs his hands over her curves, she’s grown into them as she’s gotten older. No less athletic than she’s always been but more mature—sexier, if he’s being honest.
Sex with Ada is different—better, and not just because he has feelings for her. In this line of work you have to stay fit. You have to be strong and spry and flexible. She can take him in positions he thought were only meant for porn. She’s not the type to brag but she should. She can do the splits with his dick inside her. His first instinct upon seeing that wasn’t to come, but to applaud her. He may, if his memory serves him (and he hopes it doesn’t), have whistled at her. And he may have received a smack on the check. And he may have enjoyed it a little too much.
“Leon?” His name doesn’t come out of her mouth the way he fantasized it would.
“Yeah?” He says as if he’s answering the phone, quickly realizing she means: get on with it. “Sorry. I was just admiring you.”
“Enough admiring.”
“Would you prefer I revert back to, say, ten years ago, when I jack-hammered into you for five minutes and then blew my load?”
“Five minutes is generous.”
Instead of responding, he takes her legs and lifts them over his shoulders, fucking her fast but right this time. Paying enough attention to her reactions to every ministration that he can adjust himself to her liking while letting his eyes fall shut when they ask to, lest he come too quickly.
Regardless, there’s never only one round. Maybe only one in the bed, but likely another before and/or after they shower, maybe during, or, like last time, when he caught her getting dressed and had her up against the window one last time before she left (and he was too exhausted to notice her actually leaving).
When he manhandles her, placing her atop him, she mutters something about him being predictable. She’s equally predictable in moments like these—where mystery no longer matters, she no longer needs to catch him off-guard when his guard is already dropped entirely. She rides him, steadily increasing her speed. She arches her back and it’s beautiful in the way a painting in an art museum is—unfathomably so, but untouchable though it begs you to feel. There is something it refuses to give. He settles for a tight grip on her thighs, her ass, her hips, whatever he can reach, though he wants her cheeks in his hands.
He wants to kiss her. No, he wants her to kiss him like she did on the train to NEST in ‘98. When she was an honest FBI agent on a heroic journey in the name of justice. When she tasked him with saving the world and made him believe she’d be beside him if he managed to do so.
When she kisses him, he closes his eyes and he’s on that train again and there is still a chance for things to turn out right, for him to be the hero. Instead of the man he’s become: a tired man who grew from the ashes of the rookie who died in Raccoon City, a man who dedicates one night a year to a dalliance with nostalgia.
Summary: Life has battered & bruised you, so you aren’t expecting to find solace in a bar-regular, and yet you do.
Pairing: re4!Leon x bartender!reader
WC/Tags: 4,552 / one night stand, semi(?)strangers to lovers, p in v, heavy kissing, hand holding, talk of abuse, implied physical abuse, MDNI
A/N: I listened to FME by Ethel Cain when writing this. For day 18 of @juneofdoom ‘how long have you been like this?’ Comments & likes are always appreciated
His cheek is still tender.
The punch had come out of nowhere, some asshole that had heard about the ‘new special agent’, and wanted to make a statement. Of course. This isn’t the first time, and wouldn’t be the last. Doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
The beer he’s nursing is his third. Normally he doesn’t drink, but it’s the weekend which means he doesn’t have to wake up at four am the next day, that he can indulge in a hangover, so he plans on having probably a dozen and then stumbling back to base. It isn’t the best plan but it also isn’t the worst, and besides, it’s not like he has anything else.
Leon swallows the last of the bottle, placing it on the bar top before raising his hand. You had been expecting it, and walk over quickly, tilting your face. “Another?”
He nods once, sharp and quiet. His eyes are dull, not from alcohol yet, but something deeper. The bar’s dim light catches the faint bruise blooming along his jawline.
He doesn’t smile when you tilt your head. Doesn’t thank you either, just watches as you grab the next beer, twist off the cap with practiced ease, and slide it over. His fingers wrap around it, cold glass against calloused skin, and he brings it to his lips without hesitation this time.
Your cheek is also tender. You didn’t bother to cover it up with makeup, the swelling had already gone down and the bruising was light. The actual pain was more than skin deep, but that didn’t matter. That kind of bruise doesn’t show.
Rag in hand you wipe down the counters, toss away old coasters as Leon sips. You’ve seen him before, but this is the first time you’ve seen him stay, seen him drink. Normally he has a beer or two and leaves, but now his eyes bore into the wood of the counter like it holds the universal answer.
“Stare at it harder,” you jab, if for nothing but boredom. “Maybe it’ll speak to you.”
Leon blinks. His expression is flat, unamused. The kind of look that could freeze a man’s spine. A beat passes before he takes another sip from the beer bottle, longer this time.
He doesn’t respond with words, just sets the bottle down with a soft clink and finally looks at you properly: tired eyes scanning your face like he’s reading between the lines of the bruise on your cheekbone, how quickly you moved to refill his drink, how casually sharp your tone was despite it all being fake lightness.
His mouth opens slightly, then closes again. No comeback. Just silence heavy as lead in an empty bar after midnight.
You aren’t sure where the tension came from but it’s thick. Heavy. Your stomach flutters with that gnawing want to be ravished, to be held and maybe not squeezed so tightly; but your boyfriend, exboyfriend, doesn’t fuck like that and you aren’t sure if you really deserve that anyways. That kindness.
Leon finishes his bottle and asks for another in a quiet voice. You hand it to him, preparing to move on when his eyes move to your face.
“When do you get off?”
You blink at him, curious if he’s feeling the pull too. He looks lonely enough. “‘Bout an hour.”
He nods, the beer already at his mouth. “I can wait.”
“You making assumptions?” You ask, leaning a hand on your hip.
His expression cracks into a small smile, and it looks odd on his face. “Am I wrong?” Heat crawls up your neck and you look away, dropping the rag to the counter. The dirty bar floor suddenly looks very interesting. Leon chuckles and his beer clinks on the table. “Didn’t think so.”
The chuckle still hangs in the air as Leon leans back on the barstool. He’s not handsome in a flashy way; his face is all angles and shadows, with barely there stubble, but tiny smile makes him look younger. Softer.
He watches you avoid eye contact with quiet amusement before taking another sip of beer.
An hour isn’t long, but it feels like one when your pulse is hammering.
You grab a mop from behind the counter, not because you need to clean now, but because standing still feels too hard under his gaze. The clatter of metal against tile fills the silence while he sits there calm as ever: two bottles down, no sign of slurring or clumsiness yet, the man can hold his liquor better than most soldiers.
After a minute or so, he speaks again without looking up: “You got someone waiting for you?”
“Aside from you?” You reply, and shake your head. “No, not anymore.”
He doesn’t reply, and you go back to mopping.
When your shift ends, you empty out the trash and return inside to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move, and you try not to look up, try not to imagine what it’ll feel like to have his eyes on your bare skin.
Closing the register, you return the key before spinning to look at him. You inhale, coming around the bar and approaching his right side. “Mine or yours?”
Leon stands like his back aches, which is odd considering he can’t even be in his 30s yet. The barstool scrapes against the floor as he pushes it back. He’s taller than you expected up close, broad-shouldered, solid like a soldier should be, but his movements are quiet.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a set of keys, military-issue keychain with dog tags clipped to it, and turns them once in his palm before looking at you.
“Yours,” he says simply. “I’m on base.”
His voice is assuring, like that settles everything. Like this is already decided and all that’s left is walking out together under the dim streetlights outside.
He pockets the keys again without another word, then holds out his hand toward you. You blink at it and consider him, consider yourself because what if he’s crazy? What if he’s harder than your ex, harsher? You aren’t sure if you can stomach that right now.
Taking his hand you lead Leon from the bar without protest. He nods to his car, and you get into the passenger seat as he turns it on. You give him directions, and he doesn’t speak as he drives, just obeys in a quiet manner.
When he pulls in front of your trailer, a good 10 miles from the military base, you get out first. Your cowgirl boots kick up dirt as you close the car door and fish your keys from your purse. Leon follows you, quiet as ever when you push open the trailer door.
The trailer is small, tidy in the way your shoes are lined up by the door, a coat hung neatly on a hook. There’s soft lighting from a single lamp, and faint music playing low on an old radio: something slow and nostalgic.
You kick off your boots near the entrance. Leon steps inside behind you after removing his jacket. He doesn’t take off his boots but pauses just inside to scan the space: no photos on walls, no cluttered surfaces. Just order.
He shuts the door gently behind him.
For someone who carries guns every day and has seen war zones firsthand, he moves like this moment matters more than most.
He isn’t rushing. No grabbing at you yet, not even when you turn to face him in that dim light wearing jeans and that thin sweater that hugs your shoulders just right.
“Live alone?” He asks and you nod.
“Yeah,” you reply. “It was my dads ‘til he left.”
“He coming back?”
You shrug. “That was a few years ago, so. Don’t think so.”
Leon nods, his eyes travel over you once, then meet yours again, dark blue meeting hurting loneliness, and finally, he reaches out for you.
His hands are warm.
Large, calloused from years of combat training and gripping rifles in the field, but his touch is careful. One hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone where that faint bruise still lingers. The other settles gently on your waist through the soft fabric of your sweater.
No words.
Just breathes between you growing heavier in the quiet space, then he leans down slowly and kisses you.
It’s not aggressive or hungry like most first kisses after tension like this would be. It’s soft at first, testing lips meeting yours once, twice, a third time with slightly more pressure as his mouth moves against yours with surprising tenderness.
Your hands find his belt and his moves to the hem of your shirt.
He doesn’t move exactly slow but he doesn’t move fast either, your clothing falling to the floor in pieces. Toeing off his shoes, he tugs at his jeans while you find a condom. You sit on the couch, a tattered red one your mother had stitched more times than you can count, and lean back, your head on the arm rest. Leon rips the wrapper with his teeth, sliding the rubber over his length and his hand dips between your legs, pressing over the only fabric left on you. You shiver at the touch, and he tilts his face, watching your reaction.
“The one that gave you that,” he asks, and nods at your face. “He still around?”
You shake your head. “Nope.”
Leon grabs your panties and you lift your hips, helping him pull them down. “Good.”
You spread your legs further, one thigh pressed to the back of the couch and the other tipping over the side of it, foot planted on the ground as Leon leans over you, between your legs. With the condom on and the panties are gone, Leon hovers over you, kneeling between your thighs with that focused intensity he probably uses in his line of work, but now his attention is all on you.
He leans down first to kiss you again, deep this time, and one hand slides up your bare leg from ankle to hip while the other cups the soft skin of your breast.
No roughness, testing how you respond, mapping warmth and shivers like a man relearning tenderness after years of hardship.
His mouth trails lower, over your jaw and throat, to your collarbone, then slower as he kisses down your chest. His breath ghosts over sensitive flesh just before his lips finally brush where you want him, and then he’s kissing there too.
Your lips part as he licks at your nipple, a hand coming up to brush through his hair. His face tilts up to yours and a smile blinks across your mouth.
“The one who gave you that,” you nod at his bruise. “They still around?”
“Unfortunately.”
You make a tsking sound. “You should give em hell.”
Leon exhales through his nose, almost a laugh but not completely. He doesn’t smile at your words like someone would if they were joking.
“Already did,” he mutters before lowering his mouth again, this time catching your nipple between his teeth gently, a small bite that makes you gasp, then soothing it with warm swipes of his tongue. His hands are busy now: one sliding down to grip your hip firmly while the other trails lower over your stomach and belly button.
The way he touches isn't rushed or frantic; every movement is controlled.
Like even in intimacy, Leon S. Kennedy operates with precision, a soldier who knows exactly how to handle something fragile without breaking it, unless ordered otherwise, and he seems very focused on not hurting you.
His head lifts and his mouth finds yours.
You find you like the way he tastes.
His hips are bracketed by your thighs, and your hands run down his chest as he positions himself at your entrance. You try to relax, try to keep still and not make a sound, but then he’s pressing in, filling you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes.
His eyes, half-lidded before, focused on your face, darken instantly. You aren’t sure you like that. He freezes just halfway in, letting you adjust to his size, jaw tight with restraint. You can feel the tension coiled through his shoulders and arms where they brace above you.
For a second he doesn’t move at all, slow inhales through his nose as if counting seconds or praying silently. He kisses you again, tongue swiping at your lip, and slowly pushes the rest of the way in until there’s no space left between you.
A low groan rumbles in his chest, quiet, like he didn’t mean to let it out. His forehead drops to yours as he stays buried inside you, giving your body time. His mouth moves with yours while his hips begin to rock forward in small increments. No urgency yet.
Each shallow thrust is testing friction, heat, and when another soft moan escapes your lips? He feels it against his own mouth and something shifts.
His hands tighten slightly on your hips before one slides up under the curve of your back for leverage, then he starts moving properly, deeper rolls of his pelvis now that match a steady rhythm.
“Shit,” he grunts, his pace picking up, and your nails dig into his upper shoulder. His thrusts are deep, full, and you let your head drop, eyes flutter before his face leans close to yours. “What do you need?”
His question catches you off guard, and you blink at him. “W-what?”
His hand comes up to your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip. “How do you like it, so I can get you there?”
The question is unexpected, not because Leon isn’t capable of tenderness, but because men like him, tough guys, soldiers who’ve spent years in survival mode, they usually take what they want without asking.
But not him.
His thumb stills on your lip. His breathing is heavy now from the pace but his focus hasn’t wavered. Those blue eyes are sharp even as sweat starts to form at his temples.
He’s waiting for an answer, and you aren’t sure what to say.
“I-” you inhale, then grip his wrist and move his hand to your throat. A muscle in his jaw jumps and his hips slow to a roll, making your lashes flutter.
“That what you like,” he murmurs, and he’s so close his mouth brushes your as he speaks. “Or what he liked?”
The hand on your throat doesn’t squeeze. It just rests, warm palm against your pulse point, thumb pressing lightly into the hollow of it like he’s checking your heart rate.
He studies your face, the way you breathe faster now that his touch is gentle pressure instead of force, and then kisses you again slowly this time, a deep kiss with more feeling than friction.
When he pulls back slightly to watch for any sign, any hesitation or discomfort, he rolls his hips once more deliberately slow and asks again. “You want me to keep going?”
With shaking fingers you grab his wrist and pull his hand from your neck. He lets you instantly, and when you lace your fingers with his, you wonder if he’ll judge you, or ignore the intimacy of it completely.
He does neither.
Instead, with his fingers still intertwined with yours, he drags your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles before settling your joined hands back by your head.
Then, he fucks you.
His hips are sharp, quick, and you’re gasping as you clench around him, your fingers squeezing his while moans pour from your lips. He drops his head to the crook of your neck, grunting into your skin as his hips snap against you.
The change is sudden, gentle fingers to hard thrusts, his mouth on your neck now with hot open-mouthed kisses and the scrape of stubble against sensitive skin. His breathing is ragged in your ear as he fucks you with a rhythm that’s relentless but controlled, like every snap of his hips is measured to hit just right.
Your joined hands stay pinned beside your head, not trapped, just held there while he moves over you, all muscle and heat.
He doesn’t kiss you again, not yet. He’s too focused on chasing this feeling, the tightness around him when you clench involuntarily from pleasure, the way your moans vibrate into his shoulder where it rests against yours, how perfectly warm this trailer feels despite its sparse walls.
When you come it’s white hot and fast, your legs locking around his waist and your fingers squeezing his so tightly your nails dig into his skin.
Leon feels it the second you clench around him, the sudden, pulsing tightness that nearly stops his breath.
His hips stutter for half a beat before he groans in his throat, a raw sound muffled against your shoulder as your legs squeeze around him like you’re trying to pull him deeper. The pressure of your nails biting into his hand only fuels it, pain mixed with pleasure sharpening everything.
He doesn’t slow down but chases his release now, fucking through yours with deep thrusts that makes the couch creak beneath you. His jaw is clenched tight again, eyes shut or maybe just squeezed closed from intensity.
And then, he’s there too.
He moans, low and muffled and you can’t help but wrap an arm around his shoulder, holding him to you as his hips jerk, and then still. Both of you are panting hard as you loosen your vice grip on his hand, and gingerly he sits up, blinking down at you before pulling out of you completely.
The separation is quiet, careful.
He sits back on his heels between your legs, still catching his breath. The condom’s full now, and he handles it efficiently: knots the end and drops it onto the coffee table beside them with a soft thud. No shame or awkwardness in how he moves, just routine for a man used to cleaning up after himself.
Leon looks at you again, your flushed face, hair messy from being pressed into cushions, lips swollen from kissing.
Without speaking, he reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning down to press one slow kiss against your forehead. The movement is so tender, so rare to what you’re used to that you nearly flinch, your breathing shaky.
Leon pulls back a little to watch your expression. “I- sorry. If that was too much.”
You blink up at him, surprised not just by the kiss, but by that. An apology, for a gentle touch
His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, like he genuinely thinks he might’ve overstepped some invisible line. And suddenly you realize this isn’t just about sex for him either. This was connection. The thing you’d been missing since you’d last been hit, something rare for someone like him who keeps people at arm’s length.
“No,” you say softly before reaching up to cup his face with both hands and pulling him down into another kiss, gentle this time, lingering on his lips as if to say it wasn’t too much.
He kisses you back, his hand on the back of your head, running over your hair until you both pull back and blink at eachother.
You thought you’d both been looking for one thing, a one night stand, when it seems you both were craving something else entirely.
He reaches down to hand you your shirt and you take it as he tugs his boxer back on. You excuse yourself, moving to the restroom and take inventory of yourself. Your eyes are rimmed but not so dark, and there’s the smallest hickey just below your collarbone. You touch it with your finger tip, twisting your lips.
When you come back into the living room, Leon’s mostly dressed aside from his shoes, leaning back against the couch cushions that he had just had you spread out on. You walk to your fridge, grabbing two beers and handing one to him wordlessly.
He takes the beer without a word, cracking it open with his teeth like before. He lifts it slightly in your direction, not quite a toast, more of an acknowledgment, then leans back against the cushions again. The trailer is quiet now, only the hum of the fridge and occasional creak from old wood settling.
He doesn’t look at you like he’s waiting to leave. Doesn’t check his watch or shift impatiently toward the door. Just sits there drinking quietly beside you on that red couch where not ten minutes ago everything had changed.
“You know when you took me home,” he says gently. “I didn’t realize how much I’d want to stay.”
You blink, tucking your legs beneath you as you sip your beer. You need a second to process that, to understand its meaning. “I didn’t know you’d want to either.”
He turns his head slightly, watching you over the rim of his beer bottle. The dim light catches the bruise on his jaw again, still there, still tender, but right now it feels less like a wound and more like part of him.
“Didn’t plan to,” he admits quietly. “Usually don’t stick around after. But this is… different.”
It’s not romantic phrasing or poetry from Leon S. Kennedy; no flowery words about your eyes or how soft your lips are, he expresses things in actions more than declarations anyway.
You smile and give a shrug. “Don’t know what you mean.”
You know exactly what he meant, but one of you has to be levelheaded. Neither of you can afford getting carried away.
Reaching for the remote, Leon flicks on the tv as if he’s been here before, like he has a history of touching your things, and sets back. You stretch your legs out, and your ankles rest on his thighs. Eyes on the tv, his unoccupied hand runs over your skin, to your feet, the chipped polish dull in the limited light, and begins to massage.
His fingers press into the arch of your foot with surprising gentleness for hands that snap necks and break ribs in combat. The massage isn’t rushed, a mix of steady circles, working out tension you didn’t even realize was there.
The TV plays some late-night infomercial about kitchen gadgets, neither of you watching it seriously. He takes another sip of beer before setting it down on the coffee table and refocusing on his task, caring for your feet like this is normal couple behavior.
There’s something unbearably intimate about it, the quiet domesticity after sex that could’ve just been a fling but clearly wasn't. His touch lingers over every callus and dry patch without judgment, and while his eyes are on the tv, your eyes are on him.
You wonder if you could really like him, could give this a chance. You wonder if he could really like you.
Settling your head back against the arm rest, you twist your neck so you can watch the flashing screen too.
You aren’t sure how long you both sit there, but eventually Leon pats your thigh, whispering that he has to go. You’re drowsy and content as you nod, sitting up before you stifle a yawn. You watch him tug on his boots, lacing them up and then he stands, eyeing you.
Leon isn’t a man who lingers, but now he’s standing by the door with his jacket on, one hand already on the knob; yet he doesn’t turn it yet. You move beside him, tucking your arms around your middle. “Well I.,.I’ll see you around?”
For a second, something unreadable flickers across his face. Then he’s bending to kiss you again, this time slow and deep like goodbye kisses should be when they might lead somewhere else later. When it ends, he brushes his thumb over your cheekbone once before pulling away completely.
“You will,” he says with a nod. He glances around your apartment and picks up a sharpie on your coffee table. He takes your hand and flips it, tugging the cap off with his teeth before writing down a number on your skin. “I mean that.”
He holds out the pen to you and then holds his hand upright, and you can’t help smiling a little as you write your number into his skin. “Thanks for the ride home. I hate walking.”
His palm is warm when you take it, and the sharpie smells faintly like ink as you write your number in neat digits across his skin. He watches you concentrate, your expression doesn’t go unnoticed, and when you finish, he gives your hand a quick squeeze before pulling his back.
Leon hands you back the pen without a word and finally turns the doorknob. Cold night air slips in for just a second, but instead of stepping out immediately, he pauses on the threshold and looks over his shoulder at you, hair messy from lying down earlier, eyes soft with sleepiness but also something warmer beneath it all.
“Leon?” You aren’t sure what makes you stop him, what makes you call his name but he looks at you, waiting. You shift under his gaze. “How long have you been like this?”
He freezes, and you can see the muscles in his throat work as he swallows. His eyes flicker, that unreadable soldier mask slipping just enough to show the young man underneath.
“Like what?” he asks quietly, not turning fully back around but not walking away either. He’s giving you space to clarify without pressure. The night air hums between you, and you shift again, not knowing if you should ask.
“Alone,” you whisper. “How long have you been alone?”
Leon’s shoulders loosen a fraction, and he rubs at his jaw. When he sighs, it’s a quiet sound of defeat. “Since 1998.”
His face doesn’t change much, still composed and handsome, but something in his eyes dims when he says it out loud for what might be the first time ever to someone who actually listened, not just heard. He didn’t answer since my ex or since I joined the military.
No, he went back further than any of that. To before everything else had even started going wrong yet, when it all began, loneliness carved into him like scars from war zones nobody remembers but him.
You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re grabbing his hand, and squeezing it. Your bare feet are chilled on the steps of your trailer. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
His mouth is set in a line when his eyes meet yours, and they bounce over your face. “Neither do you.”
He squeezes your hand one more time before he lets go, moving down the steps in slow succession and stepping into his truck without another word. You fold your arms around your middle as you watch him reverse.
You aren’t sure how long you stand there, watching the road long after his car disappeared. Dragging your hand eye level you read the numbers written into your skin, before closing your fingers, and pressing your fist over your heart.
• It always starts with desperateness for each-other, you, begging for his cock, and craving his hands all over you, after that: Leon isn't the type to go slow--in you if he needs you that bad, he had show you why exactly that is.
• Though he would always give a little warning upfront, 'baby, f'ck, I can't go easy on you', 'because today I need to fuck you but remember I still love you the most, I can't control 'yself because your cunt makes me f'ckin lose my self-control', 'you won't hate me, when I am done with you, right?'
• He doesn't just make love to you, he fucks you deep, like you are his 'filthy little slut', which is shocking to you per se, because you used to think you had love gentle love making, but now after marrying the love of your life here you were, drooling literally making a mess all over your greek-god husband.
• When Leon find himself in heat, the desire to feel you wrapped around him increases and he realizes he turns completely into a different person when he is inside you, because he literally doesnt remember fucking you stupid, he doesnt remember your legs shaking violently against his either side of his torso, he doesn't remember how you fucking chanted his name, as you kept begging for him to 'fuck you harder', and he definitely doesnt remember, how filthy his mouth gets, as he says, 'my pretty wife, is such a whore,' 'isn't she?', 'I am lucky man, to own a whore who is just mine', he gets so loud with you moaning your name, not caring if in morning you have had complaints from your neighbours, though you absolutely felt a little sorry for them, but anyways what he cares for is you, and that you get what you begged for, though, after that the only thing he remembers is the feel of your pulsing walls against his throbbing cock, and he remembers clearly, is your wetness slicking his cock and the loud squelching of his skin hitting against yours and after he is done, he remembers his semen dripping out of your hole, while he is still inside you, he remembers how he wipes it and feeds it to you and you hungrily take it, moaning around his thumb as you suck them clean.
• Though there's a reason you always feel special when he's done with you, after he used you thoroughly: and fucks you like a whore, then Leon, treats you like his favorite princess, his hands achingly gentle around your skin, as he cradles your face and plants kisses all over your face, as if you are the most precious thing to him (you obviously are) and this change in his demeanor is like a trophy of his love: you carry secretly, and of course, you're not complaining.
• Then, he doesn't pull his cock out of your hole straight away instead he rolls over on his back and pulls you on top of him and cradles you against his chest and presses a gentle kiss on your temple, which makes you smile and unconsciously and you confess 'how much you loved it', 'and how lucky you are to have him', he finally feels satisfied, 'I am the lucky one, sweetheart', then he praises you until your breath slows down against him, he says things like, 'amore, you did so good', 'I am sorry if I was a bit rough today' and lazily you had shook your head, making him, smile widely, then he sighs in relief, and plays with your hair until you fall asleep, as he sees you exhausted and spent over him, he gently straighten up himself and gently lays you on your back on the mattress, and as soon as he pull out of you, you frown in your sleep, which makes him chuckle deeply, then shaking his head he moves around the room preparing everything you had need to feel less sore from all the work you did.
• Finally he finds the soft towel he always keep in drawers for times like this, then he moisten it below the warm tap water then in few strides, bring it to you, and gently he cleans his cum that is still glistening out of your cunt, as he does it you shiver all over, but he keeps at it, wiping your inner thighs and your hole: until you are fully clean of the aftermath of you and him.
• Then he prepares the bath for you, testing the water with his hands, until its warm enough for both of you, then there is this little ritual where he decorates the water with rose petals scattering them completely, then he places few scented candles of your favourite fragrance around the bathroom, whose ember lights dance across the tiles making the cozy ambience settle into the room, when he is done there, he switches off the light, letting the room settle in orange hues of the fire.
• When your eyes finally flutter open and you sit upright, he hands you a glass of water, making sure you drink before doing anything else. Once you're finished, he scoops you up bridal-style and carries you toward the bathroom, quietly asking if you need to pee so he can wait outside. When you shake your head hazily, he simply pulls you tighter against his chest, and presses his lips on your hairs and guides you inside and draws you along with him into the bathtub.
• Then he lets you settle into the bath tub against him and with gentle hands, he washes your hair and carefully cleans your body, making you take sharp little breaths in pleasure, then he takes his time, to work the shampoo onto your scalp into circular motion and you groan and lean into his reverence, then slowly he starts to massaging the knots from your shoulders, and caressing every inch of your torso, not missing a spot.
• And somehow, his acts of devotion like this: makes you feel so loved and valued. his touch is always so tender and familiar makes your heart turn into a puddle then: his quiet care warms your entire nervous system entirely. By the time the two of you finish your bath, you feel completelt refreshed, cherished, and at ease in his presence.
• After the shower he lets you get dressed and quickly he cleans the room: so you can settle into it comfortably.
• when everything is done he had ask for you to wait a little for him, then he would cook you some food and fill you up with your favourite snack that is something other than his cock. (Pun intended).
• After that, Leon would brought food back to bed, settling beside you while the two of you shared it comfortably on the bed.
• Then between mid bites you had both found yourselves in warm conversations and by the time you were both finished, you realize, you were completely in love with him, and as you simply stare at him for a moment, without overthinking anything anymore, you lean closer and press a soft kiss to his mouth.
• which is just your way to say: a silent thank you for making you feel so loved, so cared for, in all the little ways that mattered the most, and seeing his lips twitching upwards, you know he knows it too, but then he shakes his head, and cradles your jaw on both of his palms, and with the seriousness in his tone, he says, 'its nothing, baby, just know you deserve more.' Feeling you getting all emotional he pulls you into a deep kiss, and he murmurs, 'I love you', into your mouth and you do the same, groaning those same damn words into his mouth.
• And that's how, your husband, shows his love for you after he fucks you stupid.
warning: too much suffering, alcohol, vomit, sadness and nightmare.
Author: I wrote this while I was working, my lovelies, specially the one that made the asks, I’m sorry for not writing everything you asked for. I had something in mind and just came alive like this. As much of you know, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if it seems confuse. I love literature and that stuff so you are going to find a lot here. The Bradley im using here it’s Bradley from the vamps hahahah I don’t know why I put him here put I think it was a great choice. Enjoy it my lovilies! Give me your feedback!!
My masterlist
The rain fell outside the bookstore you were in. The smell of old books brought you comfort. You were in a small used bookstore in London. It had been exactly five years since you moved to the rainy city known for its royalty.
You had ventured into studying English literature, your heart already loving Shakespeare and, like every classic romantic, you were passionate about Emily Brontë and Austen.
Since that night at your house, where Leon left you, your heart had not had room for anyone else. Even after every possible therapy session, you were certain: Leon was the love of your life.
But he made his choice, and you accepted it. You followed your own path, even though you couldn’t open your heart to anyone else. There had been attempts.
James from the Law course was always around you, Charles brought you flowers whenever he remembered, and there was also Bradley, who followed you around like a little puppy. Bradley was the closest one, a musician with a sweet heart.
You sighed as you ran your fingers over a volume of The Divine Comedy. Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise. Where you were now?
“[name]?” Bradley calls your name.
That’s when you realize you had been deeply lost in your thoughts.
“Brad… hey.” You give him a small smile and return your attention to the books.
“Remember I said I would take you to a really good café?” He says cheerfully and approaches you. Bradley smelled nice, but not like him. No one was like him.
You simply nodded and looked at him.
“The café is really close to here, actually near MI6… those damn agents are picky about their coffee.” He says laughing, and you freeze.
The word agent still affected you, even after all these years. Damn it.
“Are you okay? We can go later.” He asks cautiously, looking at you carefully. “You went pale. The weather didn’t give you another cold, did it?”
“No. Let’s go! Maybe I’m just hungry.” You roll your eyes, trying to hide it.
You and Bradley walked together, the rain had stopped. The breeze felt calm. You sighed deeply. You liked being with Bradley; you could stay silent, and he didn’t ask too many questions.
“How’s work going?” Bradley asked, unaware.
“The publishing house doesn’t enslave me as much as I thought it would, so it’s going very well.” You say with a laugh.
“You could work with me too, you know? Writing some songs…” You feel his gaze burning on your side.
“I already told you I’ll think about it later.” You laugh.
“It doesn’t hurt for me to try to convince you.” He smiles. “Stay here.”
You both stop in front of a modern-style café hidden among the British government buildings.
Bradley places a hand on your lower back while opening the door for you. The cold quickly disappears, replaced by the warmth of a heater and the smell of expensive coffee.
“Can you find a table for us?” Bradley asks and you nod. “Great! For you, the usual, right? That sweet thing I always forget the name of but I know what it is.”
“Mokaccino, Brad…” you laugh at him and start walking through the café to find a table for the two of you. “Oh God!…”
You bump into something hard and solid. Not something, someone.
Someone who catches you firmly, preventing you from hitting the spotless floor of the café.
“Are you okay?”
Oh no. That voice.
As you stand up, you find ice-blue eyes. The same pair of eyes that made you cry for five years straight.
Your body freezes. It feels like you are seeing a ghost, and he looks like he is seeing one too.
“[name]…?” he whispers your name, and one of the hands that was holding you firmly moves to your cheek, giving you a touch far too intimate. “What are you doing here?”
“Leon…” you can’t look away from the depth of the blue. It’s as if everything around you has disappeared.
“Hey… don’t cry…” He wipes away a single tear that fell from your face. His eyes also look like glass about to shatter.
“[name], did you find the table for us?…” You turn your gaze to Bradley, who is standing in front of both of you.
Leon quickly removes his hand from your face and analyzes him with precision.
“Who is this? Do you two know each other?”
“I am—”
You cut Leon off before he can say anything.
“No. He just helped me not fall.” You say coldly with all the strength you have. “Thank you, now I have to go.”
You pull yourself away from Leon’s hands, suddenly feeling empty.
That is where you belong. You know it, and Leon knows it too.
He looks at you with sadness, with pain in his own chest. Deep down, he knows he hasn’t lost you completely yet, but you are far away. You have become a stranger.
He watches you leave with the man whose name he doesn’t know.
He seemed like a good man, a boy full of life. Something Leon didn’t have anymore: life. Leon no longer knew what living was after losing you.
You don’t even look back. He goes his own way, and you sit down with Bradley, who hands you your mokaccino.
The water was cold, freezing cold, and he didn’t care. It felt like torture, and it probably was supposed to be. Thick tears ran down his face while his forehead rested against the bathroom tiles of the hotel.
He was the one crying now, not because of the pain from the wounds of his last mission, nor because of the fractured rib that hurt in an agonizing way.
It was because of his own broken heart.
A heart full of regret and guilt. Guilt for leaving the love of his life, guilt for letting himself be carried away by the illusion of a promise that was never fulfilled.
Leon cried like a child without a mother’s embrace. He was vulnerable.
You already had someone. You had moved on.
Someone was in his place now, something that once belonged to him.
He stepped out of the shower, barely drying himself. He only wrapped the towel around his waist. His open wounds throbbed and ached, but he didn’t care.
He deserved this. He deserved all the pain he was feeling now.
He walked past the table in his large hotel room. There were several bottles of alcohol there, some whose names he didn’t even know.
He didn’t even bother pouring it into a glass.
He opened a bottle, throwing the seal away and making the sound echo somewhere in the room. His chest was still shaking from crying.
He drank. The liquid burned his throat and warmed his chest.
He drank a little more.
Why did he do that to you?
He threw himself onto the floor. The towel had been gone for a long time. The one bottle became three, four, five…
The state he was in now was humiliating.
Naked, drunk, wet, cold, and crying like a little child who had gotten lost in the middle of chaos.
His thoughts were already completely out of control. Tangled together, he was already hallucinating.
Leon didn’t even remember when he fell asleep.
Out of all the nightmares, this one was about you.
He couldn’t have you back.
“Come back! Don’t leave me here!” he screamed from the bottom of his lungs. “I regret it! Everything!”
He chased you through an endless room full of doors, and every time he seemed close enough to reach you, you walked through another one.
“Please! My love! Don’t!”
He ran toward you, but his feet seemed trapped. He was desperate.
His other half was gone.
“[name]! Please… come back!”
He was on his knees now. His entire body trembled.
A gentle hand touched his face, making him look up.
You.
“My beloved…” you whispered and kissed his lips.
Leon woke up coughing and vomited on himself. All the alcohol he had consumed was punishing him in the worst possible way.
His head hurt.
The brightness invaded the room.
He was still on the floor, and now he was disgusting.
He kept vomiting. The pure alcohol made his stomach ache.
Your voice was still echoing inside his head. “My beloved…”
Once all the sickness and pain passed, he managed to get himself up.
The room smelled terrible now.
The floor was sticky with dirt.
His head felt bigger than it really was. Everything felt heavy.
He needed another shower and a couple of aspirin pills.
In front of the bathroom mirror, he looked at himself.
A terrible sight.
Dark circles under his eyes, vomit stains even in his own hair, his body sticky with whiskey everywhere.
He laughed bitterly at his own misery.
He still remembered your crying when he walked out of the door of your apartment five years ago.
How much he wanted to go back and fix what he had done, but he was a coward.
“Coward.”
He repeated it to his own reflection.
You didn’t take long to disappear from the map.
He always knew about your talents, and while you loved reading, he remembered every night of torment he had, when he would curl up against your chest and you would read to him until he fell asleep with that sweet and gentle voice.
He also remembered when you read to him about love.
Plato’s Symposium.
Two things that remained marked in Leon’s heart and that he never forgot.
Love is one of the greatest human forces, capable of inspiring courage and sacrifice.
A lover would accomplish great deeds to honor the person they loved.
He also remembered the great theory that human beings were once complete beings, but were separated by the gods, and since then, they search for their other half to recover that feeling of completeness.
He didn’t feel like he deserved the first place, because he had not honored you, he had not performed great deeds.
But what if he did something now?
Leon had enough power, didn’t he?
Second, he felt incomplete without you around.
He realized that when it was already too late.
He saw you in every face, everywhere.
Before, Raccoon City was his torment.
But now, your absence was.
The small romance with Ada didn’t last long.
Actually, there was never a romance.
Leon had been used, again and again and again.
Before, he thought she was the part of him he couldn’t let go of.
But that was you.
It had always been you.
A part of his soul belonged to you, and he didn’t know how to get it back.
Your laughter haunted him.
Your smile brought him grief.
He sighed, brushed his teeth, took a shower, dressed properly, and shamefully asked them to come clean the room in the state he had left it.
He left the hotel.
He had things to resolve with MI6, agents to train.
That was how the United States government used him.
They threw him from country to country, either on missions or using him as influence in training new agents in the fight against biological weapons.
Leon decided to go to the same café from the previous day.
He needed to eat something, and deep down, he was secretly hoping he would see you there.
Accompanied or not.
He just wanted to see your face.
He adjusted his leather jacket and entered the café.
He walked to the counter, ordering a black coffee, strong and without sugar. He needed it for the hangover that made his head feel like it was expanding with pain.
He was grateful London was cloudy.
Leon also ordered something to eat, something heavy like large muffins and cheese toast.
His stomach wouldn’t handle the classic British breakfast.
He waited for his order at the counter, his fingers tapping against the thin, modern wooden surface.
For once, he felt in peace.
Heyyyy!! I know what it looks like!! But I’m going to do a part 3, chillll my babies!! Chill!!
I’m so tired from work that I only could write this and I couldn’t let you all without this.
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