KOSA is a bill being sent through Congress and the white house that is being labeled as protection for children, however, it'll be a major bill in regards to silencing LGBTQIA+ voices and content and pushing for the erasing of apps like Tumblr, Ao3, Wattpad, etc. If you live in America, this applies to you so I urge you to sign petitions you find and call representatives. The link above has a petition and a way of calling important people within the decision of passing the bill. It provides a script also so you don't feel awkward when talking to the people answering the calls!!
would you ever write for rough around the edges again??
Fantastic question! It's been a long time since I've even thought about that fic but I have missed D.C. and writing for Adrian since I did a small fic for Rick Flag JR. So, I'll definitely consider it :)
Summary: The long awaited tension between you and Leon finally breaks through, choosing vulnerability over hesitation- leading to unspoken feelings being laid bare. Not in perfection, but promises are made, ones of staying and trying. And as the two of you assist the about-to-be newly-wed couple, you realise this is the beginning of something hopeful.
He leaned over, and you raised yourself to meet him, your lips crashing against each other in a breathless, long-forgotten rhythm.
You didn’t think your lips would be on his ever again.
His hands slowly encouraged you upwards, onto his lap. You lowered yourself onto him, one arm curling around his neck, the other cradling his cheek, both of your thighs bracketing him in a gentle claim. Eyes blooming under the slither of moonlight and cheeks dusted with pink, he looked at you as if you hung the stars. Wrapped up in his leathery scent, your thumb ran along his rough jaw, every prickle, every hair you wanted to commit to memory. Your faces were so close that one small shift would bring your lips back to his.
The intensity with which he stared at you was reminiscent of his drunkenness on your porch, where his restraints were blurred and his desires were driven.
The tender loving in your eyes reigned back, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, only this close to you could Leon notice it.
“You’re not going to leave after this, are you?” you whispered, searching for the certainty in his face, like he was going to get on one knee and hand it to you.
“Hey…” his gaze fluttering over yours. His fingers reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear, his jaw tensing. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m being serious, Leon. I can’t do that again,” you said weakly, breaking the eye contact, holding onto his hand and bringing it close to your chest. “I’m not something you come to when it’s convenient for you.”
He noticed how soft your eyelashes seemed when you looked down, the way they sweetly spread and then when they fluttered when his hand squeezed your hip. The longing to memorise every outline of your body overtook his brain again, to cherish you at your most vulnerable. But he didn’t know he had already achieved that. Holding you in that elevator and taking care of you when you had a fever was only second nature to him. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.
“I know,” he exhaled, his fingers tracing up and down your arm.
“You left before,” you murmured, eyes following his movements.
He shook his head slightly, shame coating him. He chose the route that came to him with ease. His hands were used to handling the cold metal of guns rather than gliding along the silkiness of your skin. A body built for a war, not a body built for these incomprehensible feelings. Your love for him only set off the unimaginable, every time you smiled sweetly at him, every time your fingers brushed against his, every time you blushed when he stared at you for too long—you were stepping on landmines. And with each loving explosion, his walls came crumbling down.
“I know. I’m not choosing you because you’re convenient. This is far from that,” his fingers traced down your jaw, bringing your eyes back to his pale blues, “But you know what my job demands of me. I can’t promise you I won’t have to go. But I’m not going to disappear again. Not without a word or the choice of you asking me to stay.”
“And if I ask?”
“I’ll stay.”
The twisting steel around your chest loosened.
“Good.”
You still weren’t fully sure of yourself, but his lips sealed against yours, convincing you otherwise.
The gentle sweetness of the kiss was not comparable to the other kisses you had shared with him. His fingers clung around the fabric of your sweater, as if you were going to slip through his fingers, or maybe he felt he was slipping and he needed you to ground himself. They slowly shifted around your back, pushing you towards him. There was nothing desperate or needy about the way his lips slotted around yours, he knew there was no need to rush the moment. He could savour you, because he wasn’t going anywhere. Even when running was the easiest thing, even when choosing you would complicate things. Even when his walls became debris.
His harsh stubble tickled your chin, his nose brushing against yours and you shifted yourself on his lap, your thumb rubbing circles into his neck. You felt the warm exhales from his nose stroke your cheek, the sweet, delicious sounds of your lips around his.
Both of you pulled away, foreheads resting on one another, breaths tangling. A breathy laugh slipped from your lips, light and breathless, and as if it was contagious, Leon began to do the same. His laugh was always boyish, and the slight youthful essence touching him all over again brought a relief to you, a warmth settling on your cheeks.
He leaned back in, licking a stripe down your bottom lip with his tongue before kissing you again, and again, and again. The fluttering kisses fell down your chin and down the curve of your neck, each one lingering and blooming a warmth.
“You know, the first week you weren’t here,” he planted another kiss as he explained, “people were asking ‘Where’s salt and pepper?’.”
You threw your head back, chuckling, “You’re kidding.”
He leaned back, looking at you with a smirk tugging on his lips.
“Nope. And hear this, they said where is salt. Meaning I am pepper,” he claimed, happy and victorious.
“You are not pepper!”
He let out a small mocking hum before kissing you again. His body went still, the warmth of his breath replacing the absence of his lips.
“I missed you,” he said softly, the words barely anything more than the air between you. His hardened edges were giving way.
“I know you did,” you weaved your fingers through his chestnut brown hair, as he continued to gaze at you with an incredibly flustered expression, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Lips parted, his pink cheeks and red ears, an endearing sight.
“I don’t want to keep getting this wrong with you,” he admitted, his brows furrowing.
It would be a lie to say you hadn’t changed him. The way light seeped into his office when you arrived, the way his plants gained their posture and bloomed so beautifully under your touch. Just the subtle feeling of looking forward to seeing you had crept upon him so gently he didn’t even realise. Every time he lay in bed, the daily mental battle of getting up, it was you that his thoughts so easily, so naturally drew to. After seeing the way your lip quivered and you hand hung onto his absent figure when he pulled away in your kitchen, he crashed into his cabinet and drained every last bottle into his sink.
But it was also a lie to say he hadn’t changed you. You didn’t fold in on yourself in the office anymore, making yourself a doormat for those who take advantage. The continuous habit of doubting yourself over small things disappeared, your voice no longer thinned, it thickened. You blossomed next to him.
“You’re going to,” you said bluntly, “But I will too.”
Your finger drew down the slope of his nose.
“We won’t be able to be perfect for each other all the time. But if you do mess up, you can’t run.”
“I won’t. I want to stay with you,” he confessed, his thumbs absentmindedly running circles on your hips.
You both looked at each other, and with some sort of telepathic, mutual understanding you knew you were both exhausted. Leon carefully brought your back to lay on the couch, and he followed, until your head rested on his chest. He brought his worn-down hand and placed it on the top of your head, softly stroking your hair, his other hand protective around your waist.
Something as delicate as this moment, as silky as your skin, he felt, shouldn’t be handled by the roughness of his fingertips. He liked the familiarity of you behind your desk, untouched by the horrors he had seen, the blood on his hands, untouched by him. It wasn’t a desire to keep you pure; it was a nauseating self-deprecating thought because touching you was going to get you hurt—like he had done already before.
He felt like a baby learning to walk, navigating his emotions. Like you had unplugged this strangling knot in his chest, stripping him naked of all the dark black he had lost himself in, and now he was bare in front of you. This thought formed a pressure in his throat, but he only held you closer, and you slung your leg around his, burying yourself in his chest.
The thought of him leaving was stringing in your mind, petrifying you. His hesitation at letting himself desire what he wanted, at letting himself deserve things frustrated you. Because not only was it hurting him, but it was hurting you too. His selflessness had become selfishness.
“Leon?” you whispered, slightly muffled by your mouth pressing on his chest.
“Yeah?” the vibrations of his voice were felt against your cheek.
“Did you remember to water the plants in our office?”
He laughed a little, shifting you closer to him.
“For once, yeah.”
And that was good enough of a reply for you.
────୨ৎ────
You didn’t remember falling asleep, but here you were, spread-out on Leon’s body. A soft groan left your lips as the harsh sunlight blinded you, forgetting to enjoy the blissful split-second of being completely in your mind before reality hit you and your chest would tighten like it always did.
“Leon?”
He grunted, shifting himself around you, holding you closer.
“Leon?!” You said with more alarm.
He grunted again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.
“What’s the time?!” You asked, shaking his broad frame.
Then, he finally shot up, his eyes widening, “Shit,” swiping his phone off the side. It read 10.30am. His fringe was stuck upwards, and it reassured you that not even the Leon Kennedy could look perfect in the morning.
Sherry needed the two of you there for 11am. It took 15 minutes to get there. You both exchanged hopeless looks.
“Oh my God. We forgot about the arch.” Your hands began to push back your hair before you gestured at him, “Go—go shower, I’ll take care of the painting.”
You patted down his hair and moved yourself off of him.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, pushing himself up and walking down the hallway.
You picked up the paintbrush that you left yesterday, not even allowing your brain to process the confession and intimate moment you had with Leon last night. Right now, your focus was to be there for Sherry, you couldn’t make her panic any more than she was doing already.
“Okay, your turn. I’ll load this into my car,” he pointed at you, and then gestured behind him to the bathroom, his hair wet. Obediently, you nodded and hurried down into the bathroom, peeling the clothes from yesterday onto the floor.
As the water trickled down your body, you were incredibly grateful for how Sherry told you to get ready with her at the venue, so you didn’t have to arrive with much. You used Leon’s soaps, a perverting intrusion you thought—oddly intimate. There was a bar of soap that smelled incredibly plain, military style, just something that did the job. Then there was a dark green bottle, with some fancy golden top, with the woody notes neatly under the label. You scanned the bathroom further, and there were two more bottles—identical to the previous—labelled shampoo and conditioner. Of course. Every time you think he couldn’t get more practical, he managed to continue to surprise you.
It was at times like these that you also became very grateful for the emergency underwear you carried in your handbag. You knew it would come in handy one day.
You stepped out of the bathroom, clean and dry, your face radiating with a new-found cleanliness—aka Leon’s expensive face wash.
Leon was stood in front of the mirror, his collar pointed upwards as he put on his bowtie. His focus was drawn back to you, his knotted eyebrows relaxing as he saw the small smile on your lips. He patted down his collar and turned to you.
“You ready?” he asked, sliding his suit jacket on.
“Yeah—yeah,” you said, a few seconds too late.
He was effortlessly attractive. Even in a ridiculous bowtie. The glaze of the sunlight kissed his cheeks, his piercing eyes highlighted by the rays. His rough, grey stubble was illuminated, surrounding the pillowy lips that your eyes lingered on.
“Let’s go. Don’t want to worry Sherry.”
You got in his car, your last interaction in it rising in your memory before you could stop it—kissing him on the cheek. It still smelled the same, it still was in the same pristine condition you left it in. He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at you briefly before turning the engine on. Shifting your feet, you kept your eyes glued on the window.
Despite the sameness of the car, everything else had changed.
It was like someone had completely changed the arrangement of your bedroom, but when you tried to put it back to the way it was, you couldn’t remember. Nothing new, nothing missing—just different. The two of you had become so comfortable and used to the feeling of wanting one another, you never really thought about what it would mean to actually have it.
“I was thinking, maybe at the end of the week,” Leon began, clearing his throat, “you would like to go on a date with me.”
His knuckles went white around the steering wheel, jaw clenching.
The moment stilled, and you thought that your brain had forgotten to process time and the words were waiting to land.
“I would like that, Leon,” you turned to him, smiling, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies in your stomach. You only wanted to bury your face in your hands and squeal, but you weren’t a teenage girl anymore.
“Okay,” he nodded, subtly relaxing in his seat.
The rest of the drive continued in the familiar silence that was shared between you. You wouldn’t describe it as exactly silence, it was much softer than that, but to sit in it with him was a privilege you wouldn’t give away to anyone else.
When he pulled up to the venue, reality snapped into place.
“C’mon, let’s get the arch,” he said after a few seconds of silence in the still car.
“Yes, sir,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes before shutting the door behind him.
────୨ৎ────
In the dressing room,
“There you are!” Sherry gasped, almost tripping as she walks over in her long dress, “where’s the arch? Where’s Leon?”
Despite her panicked state, she was ethereal. The way the sun made her blond hair look like a halo and her white dress glow, she was an angel. A small, minimalist silver necklace sat around her pale chest, glimmering. You always thought she was beautiful, model-worthy, but this was just something else.
“Sherry, everything is fine. Leon is bringing in the arch now,” you reassured her, holding her hand. “You look amazing,” you added, quieter.
Her glossy lips curved into a smile.
“Thank you. Thank you for fixing the arch. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you two,” she said, squeezing your hand, “You look happier. Actually, you’re glowing.”
She inspected your face closely, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” you questioned, trying not to get sniffed out by her.
“Something happened between you and Leon,” she concluded.
“I don’t think this is the time to be talking about this,” you said quickly, seeing your bridesmaid dress laid out neatly on a seat by the window.
“Did you two fu—“
“Sherry! Seriously! It’s your wedding, let’s talk about you!” you cut her off, eyes widening at what she was implying.
“At least tell me what happened,” she insisted, putting her hands on her hips.
“We… talked,” you admitted shyly.
“And?”
“He wants to stay.”
Her expression shifted into something softer, not the teasing one she had before. The relief of her lack of judgement was consoling, considering the dynamics between you all. She only put you forth to keep Leon stable at work, and to push you out of your shell—it seemed to have worked, a little too well.
“That’s huge,” she stated, eyebrows raised.
Nodding slowly, you picked up your dress, feeling its silkiness under your fingertips.
“So. Did you at least kiss?” she asked innocently, stepping towards you. A grin was playing on her face.
“Sherry!”
You face gave it all away before you could explain yourself.
“You did!” she laughed, “How many times? Once or twice or… much more?”
“We’re talking about you now! And how you’re about to get married to the love of your life!” you exclaimed. She turned around, her back to you to give you privacy as you changed.
“Yeah. I am. I’m terrified,” she confessed, her shoulders caving in on themselves.
The soft thud of your clothes hitting the floor seemed louder than her words. Your fingers reached out slowly to the dress. You couldn’t see her face, but there was a vivid image of it crumpling. She hardly brought up Jake at work; you only really found out about him when she announced she was going to get married. You didn’t know what he did for work, you didn’t know how she met him, but when he was mentioned, you knew he was worth it after seeing the smile on her face.
“Hey,” you said firmer now, “that’s completely normal.”
“I just… I feel like there’s going to be a massive change. And I’m not ready for it,” she sighed, gripping the edge of the table.
You paused. You hated being put on the spot when it came to emotional support. You were never any good at it, words leaving your brain at the worst times. But you gave her only the words that you needed to hear yourself.
“That’s because there is going to be a massive change. But it’s going to be a good change,” you chirped, nodding in agreement with your own words.
“What if I hate it? What if I mess it up?” she asked, her grip tightening around the table. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, every possible scenario or nightmare occurring through her brain.
“You will. And so will he. But you and Jake love each other enough to figure it out together,” you said too quickly, slightly muffled as you figured it was easier to pull the dress over your head.
“Hm. Sounds familiar.”
“Funny that,” you mumbled, adjusting the straps on your dress, “you can turn around now.”
“Aw! You look beautiful!” she clapped her hands together, a smile slipping back onto her lips, “The makeup artist is in the other room.”
“I can’t believe you got a whole makeup artist.”
“I would’ve done it myself, but I was just so curious,” she held your shoulders and began to guide you out of the room.
────୨ৎ────
You walked out the room, your face freshly touched by powders and brushes. The arch was placed down the aisle now, wrapped in fresh flowers. Guests had begun to arrive, a few familiar faces from work, the rest—you had absolutely no idea. Soft, vintage music was playing, gracing the room with a cheerful presence alongside the laughter that bubbled. Glasses of champagne were lined up on the side, golden bubbles fizzing upwards.
Leon was sat on a dark oak bench, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was haunted with the same deep-in-thought expression he always had when you left him alone for too long. The clicking of your heels against the floor caught his attention, his gaze following from your feet all the way to your face.
His mouth was partially open, and he shut it quickly to not look like a gawking idiot.
“Hey,” Leon mirrored your smile and cleared his throat, “you look… great.”
You sat yourself next to him, holding onto the edge of the seat.
“Someone’s confident,” you teased, pressing the edge of your heel next to his shoes. He didn’t move his foot, in fact, he inched it closer.
“You could say that.”
His pale blue eyes glanced at you, the lack of restraint noticeable.
“You look great too.” You said softly, staring back at him, “How’s Jake?”
“He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s shitting himself,” he huffed, his eyes returning to the floor.
Laughing a little, the two of you were enveloped in a familiar silence. His dark tuxedo was sharp in contrast in the pale pink of your bridesmaid dress, the only thing the two of you shared within appearance was the masculine scents of his soaps.
“You ready to walk Sherry down the aisle, hm?” you asked, observing how his hands had clenched into fists.
“If you bring that up again, I will be joining Jake in shitting himself.”
“You’ll be fine. Even if you do mess up, you always fix it before someone notices,” you pat his shoulder playfully.
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned backwards into the seat, his palm outstretched. You slid your hand into his and copied his movement, the back of your head leaning against the wall. You spread your legs a little too, to match his manspread. He rolled his head over to you.
“Is Sherry okay?” he questioned, squeezing your hand.
“She is in the same position as Jake.”
“Thought so,” he said, looking back at the guests, “They’ll be okay.”
“Are you okay?” you asked, shifting yourself closer to him. He paused and then exhaled.
“Better than I was,” he admitted, eyes now sparkling back at you.
“How come?” you tilted your head, the little smile he adored so much on your lips.
“You.”
Before you could say anything, someone began shouting ‘positions!’ and the both of you stood up.
The pianist began the music, his hands trickling down the keys, the sweet melodic tune filling the hall. All the guests’ heads filed downwards as Sherry made her way to the beginning of the aisle, clutching onto flowers that matched the rest of the decorations. Each step was slow and precise, wishing she could memorise every detail of everyone’s gleaming faces. When her eyes landed on Jake, this uncontrollable beam erupted on her face, the sort of beam that made the corners of your lips curve, the sort of beam that could reassure you that everything was going to be okay after all.
Leon stood rigidly waiting for her, but as soon as her arm hooked around his, you saw the way he loosened. They exchanged small smiles with each other, a small triumphant glow on their faces. The lengths they made themselves extend to had finally rewarded them and now they could appreciate it, together.
Jake seemed like the type to not hold an honest smile on his face, in a way, it felt like a small breakthrough when you saw it yourself. The crinkling of his eyes, the small glimmer that shined through the crack, the way his twinkling lips quivered was a total breakdown on the character you built for him in your head.
Leon stepped off to the side after walking Sherry down the aisle, his eyes catching yours. Under this roof was the cherishing of many different kinds of love, the love that shaped and cemented the couple’s love for each other. You gave him a subtle look that only he could understand after working with you the entire year, it was like reaching out your hand to him in the dark. And then both of your eyes retreated to the love in front of you.
You hoped that that future promised more moments like this, where time softened to allow the present to exist—untouched. It made you wonder that if this committment could ever look like this for you. What not running looks like.
They exchanged their honest words about devotion and loyalty, giggling between them both, soothing each other’s shaking hands. A beautiful echo of claps occurred when Jake placed his lips on Sherry’s after the two firm words of ‘I do.’, their noses pressing against each other.
Your eyes instinctively fell back onto Leon, and he did the same. In a room full of people, a room with the main focus of attention, your eyes naturally found each other’s. Neither of you pulled away, as it felt like the two of you were in a room completely distant from this one for a split second. The applause, the laughter, the cheer, swirled into one and your hands kept clapping together. His expression didn’t change much, it never did, but because you learned in his absences and spaces, the things he didn’t show—you knew he was happy.
Sherry’s earlier nerves had melted into something weightless, her smile wide and unrestrained as she clutched Jake’s hand. He looked different now — or maybe you were just seeing him clearly for the first time. There was no trace of that guarded distance you had once pinned on him because it was only her now.
Petals scattered under their steps, the soft brush of them catching in the air, clinging to fabric and shoes as guests leaned out, reaching, celebrating, witnessing. It felt less like an ending and more like a beginning spilling over itself.
You felt a presence behind you, a taller, brooding one.
“C’mon, let’s watch everyone pretend they weren’t just crying,”
He gestured slightly with his head toward the aisle, letting others begin to file out before the two of you followed. It wasn’t rushed. There was no urgency in the way he moved, no tension pulling at his steps.
Just an easy sort of presence.
As you fell into step beside him, the distance between you felt less like you were following him around like that shy assistant, but more like you were walking next to him. Like it no longer needed to be measured at all.
The doors opened ahead, letting in a wash of brighter light and the distant hum of what came next — music, chatter, the promise of celebration waiting just beyond.
Speeches were delivered by the maid of honour and the best man, champagne bottles were popped and overflowing, glasses clinked together. Chatter, laughter and cheering spilled throughout the room, and you found yourself speaking to Sherry’s maid of honour, Claire. She spoke with an easy warmth, the kind that made you feel included without trying. She dipped between fond memories of Sherry and briefly mentioned Leon, with light teasing that could only be done by someone who was close.
You nodded along, smiling when needed but your attention kept wavering.
Leon stood across the room, holding a champagne glass in his hand, half-listening to someone speaking beside him. He had this amazing ability of seemingly fitting in, but his mind was in other places, and only you could notice it. His eyes scanned the room and then, inevitably, found you. It wasn’t accidental.
Claire’s voice softened, dipping closer as she followed your line of sight for just a second before looking back at you, something knowing flickering in her expression.
“You know, he’s been doing that all night,”
A heat brushed against your cheeks, “Doing what?”
“I’ll let you figure that one out,” she smiled and then someone called her name across the room. She waved at you and disappeared back into the crowd of people. You were left in her vacating space, awkward and unknowing what to do with yourself. The music softened into something sweeter, slower. Then,
“Mind if I steal you for a second?” a low voice emerged from the crowd, and you lifted your eyes from the floor. Leon. He looked incredibly shy.
A teasing smirk played on your lips, raising an eyebrow at him.
“What for?” you asked, acting clueless, despite your stomach was flooded with butterflies.
For a moment, his mouth was open and no words were coming through, but then his posture relaxed and he looked back at the couples dancing.
“Well, there’s people dancing and I thought it would be a waste to not dance to a good song,” he explained, extending his hand, “So, dance with me?”
He had this stupidly flirtatious expression painted on his face, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face, like he was partially aware of how ridiculous he seemed. You burst out laughing, and his hand fell back to his side, defeated.
“No, no! I want to dance with you, Leon,” you giggled, grabbing his hand and he sighed playfully before guiding you through the crowd and onto the floor with the other couples.
The lighting was soft and warm, lighting up what the evening light couldn’t.
The music carried the two of you, a slow sway at first, his hands careful on you, your feet making sure not to step on him.
His hand on your waist settled like he finally allowed himself to do so and squeezed his shoulder, grounding yourself there. His other hand held yours, both your hands uncomfortably warm and clammy like you two were dancing at your first high school dance. But when you finally set your eyes on his, and he saw your familiar smile, the pressure weighing on top of him vanished. Leon never believed in fate, but every decision, every loss, every mistake only threaded together to knit out this moment.
His grip softened, not out of hesitation, but trust. Like he no longer needed to hold on so tightly to keep the moment from slipping away. Like he finally understood that you were choosing to stay.
With him.
“If you step on my foot,” you whispered, leaning close enough so he can hear, “I’m telling everyone you begged me to dance.”
His eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards, flashing his pearly teeth and his hand holds you a little closer to him, enough to feel his steady warmth through the layers between you.
“Don’t worry. I clean up nice when it counts,” his voice edged with that familiar cocky lilt, the light casting a blond halo into his hair. Up close, could see every detail on his tuxedo, the threads that sewed the buttons to his shirt, every stitch, the way his chest closely rose and fell.
“Careful. You’re getting bold.”
“Only with you,” he confessed, his gaze dipping—brief, unmistakable—to your lips before finding your eyes again, an accidental linger.
“Who knew Leon Kennedy could be so smooth,” you teased, mirroring him.
“That’s what my middle name stands for,” he said, his thumb rubbing into your sensitive waist, every circle lingering on your skin.
“Since when?”
“Since this happened.”
“This?”
“Dancing. With you,” he tilted his head forward.
“Dancing with me made you smooth?” you asked, biting your lip to contain your laughter. It was frustrating with how easy he could draw it from you.
“Don’t undersell it. This is a high-pressure situation,” he whispered again, swiftly preventing the two of you from crashing into another couple.
“Oh, of course.”
“Yep. One wrong move and I lose a toe and my dignity.”
“I think your dignity is already gone.”
“Hey,” he huffed softly, his laughter brushing your skin, “I’m improving.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything else. His hand remained firm at your waist, guiding, learning, adjusting. Yours rested against his shoulder, fingers curling slightly into the fabric like you needed the anchor.
It was strange, you thought, how easy this felt.
Not the steps, those he was still clearly negotiating, but this closeness. The quiet rhythm of shared space. The way his gaze kept finding yours like it had nowhere else it wanted to be. How you longed for this for so long, and here it was. Teasing and flirting with Leon would’ve seemed like an impossible, terrifying, humiliating task so long ago and now it came without second thoughts.
“You’re staring,” you narrowed your eyes.
“Can you blame me?” he said, no teasing edge to it.
His gaze and yours naturally collided together, making the world narrow down to just his hand on your waist and the steady certainty in his eyes. His presence made everything distant, your rapid thoughts stop, and the present colorful. He made stopping easy.
“No,” you said breathily, the words slipping out softer than intended.
His smile eased into something more honest, authentic.
The music slowed, and Leon’s hand never left yours, and when it finally tapered off, he still, never left you.
“See,” he gestured to his feet proudly, a faint grin on his mouth, “No toes lost.”
“Barely,” you smirked, taking his hand and bringing him to the side. “Just need to get some air.”
He nodded, waving briefly at Sherry who was giving him a bright thumbs up before sticking his hands in his pockets.
You reached the quiet corner you settled in earlier and reached for your handbag, pulling out your phone.
3 missed calls from Mom.
Note: okay edit: the taglist is CLOSED im so sorry but i genuinely cant fit any more.
First of all, thank you to everyone who is still reading this series. I'm so, so grateful for the amount of love on this, it makes me incredibly happy. This part took so long due to me trying to figure out how I was going to end this but I've figured it out now. I will keep writing when I have the time but I have really important exams coming up soon so I can't guarantee a time frame to when the next part of this will come out. The next part will contain smut I promise this time!!!
Secondly, if I didn't get any wedding traditions right then fuck me bro I have never been to a wedding before. And yes, I keep emergency underwear in my bag. And apologies for mistakes I just want to get this posted.
Taglist (I'm not entirely sure if this works anymore):
Another stunning entry to this staple series of all Leon Kennedy fanfic enjoyers :) You've provided a fic that is so wonderfully written and speaks of the passion you hold for Leon and for the series overall, I am incredibly excited to see how it concludes and your future works from then on! Bravo!
My favourite thing ever is when you ask someone whose never had a penis what they'd do if they got one and the immediate answer is always "I'm stroking my shit crazystyle" it's so funny
Leon comes home feeling better than he has in ages, and he knows just how he wants to show you.
ao3 ✦ wc: 5.9k
tags: Leon Kennedy/cisfem!reader, marathon sex, multiple creampies, p in v, porn w/o plot, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, cockdrunkeness, rough sex, praise & degradation, aftercare, wife!reader, can imagine with or w/o age gap, re9 requiem spoilers
a/n: I meant for this to be love-making but then it turned freak nasty oops
SMS Message: Home tomorrow.
Sender: Leon S.K.
You jumped up from the couch as you read it, the words shaking on the screen you held with trembling hands.
You didn’t think he’d come home so soon. You didn’t think he’d come home at all.
The next 18 hours were a blur, and then you heard it: the purr of a familiar motor in the driveway. It stopped you dead in your tracks, standing as still as a statue in the kitchen. You tensed as you waited for the sound of footsteps outside— held your breath as you heard the key in the lock— watched unblinkingly as the handle turned— when Leon walked through the door, time itself went still.
For a moment, all you could do was stare. You didn’t know what to expect. Every mission changed him, and you didn’t know what new version of him would walk through the door now, or how to react to it. And the stakes had never been higher.
The days before his departure were spent mostly in silence, doing little else except hold each other as his departure neared every second. You both knew the two likely results: he’d either die in the place it all began or come home even closer to death’s door. He’d wait for his disease to slowly consume his soul while he made his own funeral plans, and you’d stay close to your gun to prepare for the moment he went cold.
You’d spent the time between his text and now clinging to hope and preparing yourself for the worst. You’d never felt as fragile as the moment he opened the door.
He looked your way as the lock clicked behind him. It was only a few seconds, but they expanded into eons as you searched him for signs of bad news. A knit in his brow, or a downward tug of his lips. Traces of tears he may have wiped away in the car before you could see them. His steely eyes filling with grief.
But you didn’t see any of that. Instead, he grinned and held his arms out wide.
You flew crashing into them. He was steady, firm, and tight as you clutched your fists into the back of his shirt. His arms wrapped around your head and he kissed the top of it softly, swaying you ever so slightly because he was too overcome to stand still.
For minutes, all you did was stand in the doorway and hold. That was the quiet choreography of all of his homecomings, though it never felt routine. Each time it had a different weight, and this one was the heaviest yet by far.
When you finally were able to pull away, you scanned him again for signs of injury, physical or otherwise. You knew him like you knew yourself, and even the most imperceptible changes never got past you.
Your eyes widened when they dropped to his neck.
You didn’t have to ask; he already knew the question. He answered it, still smiling, his voice gravelly and low, soft and tired, but not weary. All of it built up your hopes until he finally spoke it into reality.
“I’m alright, baby.”
His hands grazed your face, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his bare fingertips purely out of habit. You’d spent months of him preventing you from coming into contact with his infected tissue. But then you realized what you were feeling: real skin sans leather, flesh devoid of flaw. His fingers were roughened from calluses and nothing more, complete with his wedding band returned to its rightful place.
Your eyes watered in disbelief and awe. A trepidatious smile grew on your lips as he cupped your cheek in his palm. You covered his hand with your own and pressed into the warmth while your other hand traced up his torso, until you were grazing over the skin of his neck and nudging down his shirt collar.
It was free of all black-rotted dry patches, no cracks on the surface to be seen. Nothing but a fresh scar you didn’t need to ask about right now. Right now, all that mattered was that he was whole and solid, returned to his natural state, totally healed and hot-blooded under the surface.
Your breath hitched at his body heat. Oh, how you missed his skin.
“You’re really okay..?”
The words were small and barely squeaked out. You didn’t want false hope. You needed to know the healing was more than just skin deep. His reaction assuaged all fears.
“Yeah. I really am.”
The truth took a moment to permeate the air. When it did, he took you in a kiss so firm and certain, it crushed all remaining doubt.
You met it fiercely, pushing yourself against his torso to feel him closer. Your hands threaded into the hair on the nape of his neck as he wrapped his arms around to hold you firmly in place.
Your tongue darted out first, or maybe his did, you couldn’t say. And from there, it happened fast.
His hands moved to the back of your head, then your waist, and then your ass, where they couldn’t help but grope and lift until your legs wrapped around him and he held you in the air. You grabbed his face as your lips parted wider to allow his tongue further inside. He roughly kicked off his boots and then he was walking. He kept kissing you all the way through— he didn’t need to open his eyes, he knew where he was going.
Your back met the cool blankets on your bed and then he was crawling over you, caging you under him in the dark. You wrapped your hands around his biceps and felt the muscles flex as he lowered himself to kiss down your neck, covering each square inch of skin with his sloppy, desperate kisses.
“I feel better than I have in years. Spent the whole trip home waiting to show you.”
'To prove it to you' was in the subtext.
He returned to your mouth hotly and grinded his hips into your center, the friction of his jeans against the soft fabric of your home clothes making you keen into the toe-curling feeling. He pulled his shirt over his head and you took the opportunity to speak.
“Turn the lamp on, need to see you.”
He made quick work of reaching over to it, and then you shuddered as your palms felt the expanse of his abdomen. Tight ab muscles, beefy pectorals, and broad shoulders. The sight you never got sick of that made up his brawny form. All of it healed and renewed.
He kept grinding while you took him in. Your arms went up and around and down again, nearly worshipping the flesh. But when you yanked at his belt, he stopped you with his hands around your wrists, bringing them to each side of your head and caging you in again.
“Spent too much time thinking about what I’m gonna do to you.” He sat back up and you kept your arms where he fixed them as he began to pull at the elastic waistband of your bottoms. He kissed your exposed navel and you shivered as he mumbled into you. “Need’ta show you how I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”
You never felt like his age held him back much in the bedroom— his job relied on stamina and endurance, and though his job was physically demanding and he was not quite in his prime, the toll was mostly seen in the back pain after; it hardly showed in the moment. As his hands and mouth traveled every inch of exposed skin like a starving animal, you wondered if you could even handle him giving you something more. The thought of finding out went straight between your legs.
His mouth went straight there, too.
You nearly yelled as he dove into your cunt with a fervent tongue, lapping and sucking and messily making out with your folds, his thumbs kneading to pull open the soft fatty skin of your vulva. He wasn’t interested in wasting any time on teasing, clearly.
Your thighs clenched around his head and a hand pushed against his head reflexively to fight off the sudden intensity, but it was useless. The pressure of your legs around his head only spurred him on until your cunt was soaked in spit– it certainly wasn’t your own wetness– he devoured every ounce that escaped before it could go anywhere but his mouth.
You bucked and twitched as you cried out his name. “Leon, Leon, s’too much, holy— fuck, Leon—” but he only spread your thighs and kept your there, pointing his tongue to circle sharply around your clit.
“I’m just getting started, baby,” he said, sucking your clit into his mouth and letting go with a flilthy noise, “thought I’d never taste this sweet cunt again, gonna drink my fucking fill.”
Your head fell back as he dove back in, steady and thorough and obscene. You took deep breaths, although they were more like hitched pants and moans until you acclimated to the sensation. He hummed as he felt you melt under him and added a single finger inside, groaning when you arched into it.
He slowed down, his finger rocking and curling in and out and his tongue lapping at you. You looked down to see his darkened eyes gazing at his work between tastes, and you shuddered as he licked his lips before retracting all touch. Your hips flinched upwards to beckon him to return, but he didn’t. He met your eyes and reveled in your wanton expression as he sucked you off his fingers, never breaking eye contact as he rose to kneel between your parted legs.
He finally began to do away with his jeans, and something changed in his tone as he did. You shivered with desire as you watched him move. It was deliberate and slow. He was undressing like a threat.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen…”
His belt fell with a thud against the ground—
“I’m gonna fuck you until you cry…”
The button fell apart with a flick of his wrist—
“Fill you so full of cum you’ll be dripping ‘til next week…”
The zipper seemed to ache as it slowly parted open—
“And you’re gonna fucking take it.”
Unhurriedly and never once looking away from you, he pushed his pants and boxers down until his thick cock sprang free. You whined at the sight of it, eyes fixed where it hung in the air. It was dark pink– definitely darker than usual– his hot blood expanding every vein. He was harder than you’d ever seen him, a full display of the immensity of his desire, so much that it nearly looked painful. When a bead of precum began to appear on his tip, your mouth watered for it.
Your eyes scanned upward as you realized he’d stopped talking and was kneeling there in wait while you stared. You took in his form on the way up; the way his abs tightened with every throb of his cock, the striations of his brawny arms, the few new cuts over old scars. The heavy rise and fall of his chest as he held back for the last time tonight.
And then, you saw his face. His chin was slightly raised as if he was looking down on his next confirmed kill. His lips were still glistening with slick as they were pulled into something not unlike a snarl. His hair was halfway in his eyes, but it did nothing to conceal the intent within them.
“You think you can handle that?”
Your eyes fleeted to his navel, only for a second, assessing him like a loaded gun that was aimed right at you. His hands held his clothes in tight fists and his cock leaked with pre.
You met his eyes again and blinked as you nodded and choked out a needy, “yes,” and your gulp gave away your uncertainty. But that only seemed to spur him on.
He fell forward; suddenly, his face was inches away from your own, one hand on the mattress beside your head to hold himself up, the other yanking his pants off as quickly as he could.
“You know what to say if you can’t,” he grumbled, hunkering down to glide his tip against you until it notched against your entrance, “because telling me to stop won’t be enough.”
He grabbed your wrist at the same time he violently drove in, knowing you’d leap from it and keeping you there anyways. You were nothing but a mess of yelps and moans as he beat his way inside, clawing against his back and shoulders. A single finger wasn’t enough to ready you for this, and the knocks against your cervix were only soothed by the equal force against your g-spot.
Each merciless pounding of his fat cock stretched your walls to their limit, and he truly didn’t give you any other option but to take it. You groaned at the way he used his broad build to keep your legs open to him, every ounce of muscle that you were no match against weighing down to pin you there.
With an arm wrapped under you to hold you by the back of the neck and the other tightening in the hair on the crown of your head, he caged you in to face him. But your dizzy eyes were squeezed shut and could only open to roll back into your skull.
He shook you lightly by the hair. “Look at me,” he growled. You mewled as you attempted it, but your glossy eyes went straight back behind your eyelids. He did it again, harder, pistoning up to fuck you harder, too. “Look at me, you fucking bitch.”
The shock of his words made your eyes shoot open with a gasp and a furrowed brow, far removed from the gentle reverence he held you in at the door. His gaze bore straight into you with a scowl, his adoration replaced with possession.
He was terrifying. Unhinged. A madman on the loose inside of you. A killer who lashed against your walls with uncalculated raw power. Though you could only see his face, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.
While you were still reeling from the disparagement, he gritted angrily into your face, crowding you until your noses nearly touched.
“Who owns you?”
You could only attempt to answer, your voice breaking into a sputtering moan as he bottomed out harshly again and again, not needing any of the great focus it took you to speak.
The pitiful noise you’d made wasn’t good enough for him. He squeezed the sides of your neck and you arched off the bed, but that only sent your body flush against his, which didn’t make you any clearer-headed.
“Tell me who fucking owns you.”
You felt like you were floating as your brain was cut off from blood flow, and out of care for your own wellbeing, you managed to answer him.
“Y-you, Leon—“
He let go of the pressure and smirked as you gasped. “Mouth not so good for talking right now, huh? Only good for one thing?”
He unclasped his fingers from your hair and brought them to your chin, delving into your parted lips to hook around your bottom teeth. You let your jaw fall open and watched in shock as he spat inside.
“Swallow it,” he commanded, fingers digging into your face as he pushed it shut. You shuddered as you did, and his own eyes rolled back now.
His head fell into the crook of your neck with a smoky groan. You felt hot puffs of air against your pulse as his hands became gentler, like he revered you for doing what he demanded.
“Gorgeous fucking girl… needed this cunt so bad, went through hell to get back home to you…”
His hold on you may have lessened, but his words held your heart in his fist and squeezed. He’d captured your thoughts so purely on the present, you nearly forgot the context.
Your arms were limp as they tried to wrap around his back, barely able to hold on as he moved with every pounding of his hips. But still, they searched him, chest filling with every inch they felt unmarred by disease, and your cunt pulsed as he searched you for places to grab. Your ebbing breasts, the small of your waist, the meat of your hips, landing finally on the underside of your knee where he changed the angle to impale himself even deeper.
You were losing it, and he could tell. He thrust upwards to meet where your hips rose to help him land in that perfect spot and he kissed your jugular— first a peck, then an open-mouthed kiss, and then a full-on lick of his tongue.
Your legs trembled under him. “Leon, I’m, fuck, please,” you breathed.
He twisted your nipple and nipped under your ear as if to mock how it made you writhe. “Oh yeah? You sure you wanna cum so soon?”
‘So soon’ ..?
Maybe he wasn’t all talk when this started. Maybe that savage look in his eye wasn't a trick of the light. At this rate, he wasn’t going to fuck you until you cried, he was going to fuck you until you died.
But he wanted it. He lifted himself enough to sear your mouth with a kiss, his thrusts slowing momentarily to wedge his hand against your clit. He gathered the wetness between your bodies to easily rub against the silky nub. Your toes curled and your spine curved to seek the friction of his freshly calloused fingers. He deepened the kiss as you moaned, and it became all tongue so he could swallow the sounds in his throat.
He was debauched. Delirious. A bad man smiling as he plucked petals from a flower. Delightfully drowning himself in sin. All you could do was surrender as he brought you your undoing.
You came with wild cries and jolts of ecstasy, nails digging into his deltoids as he sped up even more. You watched him look down at his cock being covered in your cream, a ragged sound in his throat as you tightened around him with each wave of pleasure.
You panted sharply as you barely began to come down, and he lifted himself up on his haunches, kneeling between your legs as he soaked up the sight.
Once your half-lidded eyes met his, he grabbed your hips to brutally fuck you into him.
You clawed at the sheets as he used you like a toy. You won’t be surprised if your ass is speckled with fingertip-shaped bruises tomorrow. All you could see in front of you was your breasts recoiling from each thrust, and behind them, Leon lost in his own world of feeling. His head was tipped back and you saw the stubble under his chin— his pecs were flexed and flushed pink from the vigor— all of him covered in a light gloss of sweat that shone in the warm lamplight.
He was intoxicating to behold, and it was absolutely unfair, because you already lost the ability to think straight. Now you drank him in with your eyes, and you were totally inebriated.
Your moans turned into some kind of mumble. You didn’t know what words you were hoping to form, but it was something along the lines of a warning that he was approaching the realm of too much. He looked down at your babbling with a lust-filled, lazy smirk, all too pleased with himself already.
“Whatdya want, love? You drunk on my cock already?”
He slapped your clit and laughed lowly as you gasped and jolted, then propped your limp legs around him and barreled in even more. Steady, fast, and loud.
Thank god the apartment days were over or the cops would come any minute. Skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging dents into the drywall, you crying out for him like he was carving out your heart. A noise complaint in the making. But when he signed the property deed, it came with the right to make you scream, neighbors be damned.
And scream you did as he held you even tighter and thumbed your swollen clit, evoking your walls to seize in the way he needed to release. He leaned back with a sharp and airy shout, hips sputtering as you felt him unload deep inside, his remaining jerky movements making it trickle out around him.
You were a touch thankful as he slowed down and his hands rubbed soothingly on your thighs. You could finally catch your breath. But your graciousness was short-lived as he flashed a grin and flipped you onto your stomach. The breath was forced out of you as your chest fell into the mattress, and your eyes went wide as he lined himself back up, slowly pushing inside, his cum allowing his cock to slip easily inside regardless of how sore your folds already were.
You whined and knotted your fists into the fabric under you as he bottomed out and pulled away with slow and liquid motions. You heard the faintest laugh rumble in his chest before he spoke.
“I’m not anywhere near done with you,” he huffed.
You buried your head in the soft sheets below. Filled with his load and the promise of another, you felt totally and completely his. Exactly where you wanted to be. Right where you belonged. You couldn’t help but smile, until he moved and it was wiped off your fucked-out face.
He gripped the meat of your ass as he steadily picked up speed, the silver of his wedding band cold against you in contrast to the heat of your bodies. A wet spot collected underneath you from his cock coaxing out his cum with each thrust. The sounds were softer yet even more crude with your cunt so sopping wet.
“Gripping me so good, look at you,” he spread your cunt apart a little more, “goddamn, you’re perfect.”
You felt mildly embarrassed at the messy sight of you that he was undoubtedly staring at right now, but at the same time, you envied his view. To watch his cock disappear inside of your puffy and well-used folds, then withdraw covered in his cum and a healthy mix of your own. To view his strong hands holding you open, to see yourself laid out in submission.
But all you could do was feel, and that was more than enough to sate you. In fact, you were already well past satisfaction, and you kept having to refind your focus so you could keep taking more. You inhaled deeply as you felt the soreness at your entrance and reminded yourself to relax your body, sighing away the tension in the muscles you didn’t mean to flex: your thighs, your back, your shoulders. But then you’d feel the friction of his tip dragging against the gummy walls of your g-spot, and your mind was clouded by pleasure all over again.
He wasn’t going nearly as fast as before, but it was obviously a choice, and not one made out of tiredness or necessity. It just felt too good for him to change the rhythm. With your knees together as you lay prone, your canal was tightened in a way that made you feel dense and so, so warm around his tender cock. You always felt incredible to him, but if sex always felt like this, he wouldn’t just fuck you all night, he’d stay buried in you so long he’d risk starving to death.
You were each lost in your own minds as the feeling went on and on. The air was heady and thick as you breathed against the blankets, and Leon was humping into you like waves rolling into shore– fluid motions that still crashed onto the shore or your center, followed by another and another, a constant ebb and flow that lulled you deeper into euphoria.
“Feels s’good, Leon, oh my god… d-don’t stop.” Your voice was laced in awe.
“Really fucking does… shit…”
The words were airy and held just as much wonderment as yours had. He traced a hand down the valley of your spine, revering the body that gave him such immeasurable bliss. Knowing that he was feeling the same seventh heaven you were made you feel even more connected to him, and your toes curled at the thought.
It kept going, and going, and going. You couldn’t tell how long it remained exactly like that, neither of you searching for your next orgasm, just totally and completely captured by the present. Time wasn’t something that existed in the room. It was a long time, but it’d never be enough.
He groaned as you felt his hips stutter involuntarily as the next thrust landed even deeper inside. The unexpectedness hit you both and turned it back into something needier. The next thrust snapped against your ass and you arched into the air to meet it. He shifted to hold you firmly as he set on a new wanton speed.
You mewled as you keened into him, legs parting slightly to make room for any spare length he had to give, and gripped the sheets as his balls began to slap against your clit. Each time he crashed against your walls, you felt them begin to bloom with electric want, and you braced against the bed to push yourself back into his thrusts as they became gritty, harsh pounds again.
He felt just the same as you, blood rushing to the parts of his brain that demanded another orgasm, and he felt every flutter of your walls around him that beckoned to milk him dry– exactly what he wanted you to do, to drain him until he had nothing left to give. He wanted to do whatever it took to make sure that fluttering didn’t stop.
He reached under you to rub your clit. You yelped as his fingers made contact, gliding easily against the cum-covered nub. His forearm was pressed against your navel, pinned between you and the mattress, and you could feel the size of his cock protrude against it from within you. Your legs spread even wider as you cried out, struggling to hold onto reality as he worked the thousands of nerve endings he’d already made oversensitive. Now, it bordered on torture.
The way you opened yourself only made it easier for him to find purchase to pound even harder, meeting the way you writhed and keened for more, his eyes rolling back as you bore down as if you were trying to squeeze him out. But all it did was drive him harder into all the right spots inside of you, and you were so overcome with sensitivity, you came before you even knew you were close.
And you came hard. Jolting and seizing as you cried his name, your eyes growing wet from the shock of it. He was loud as he reacted to the way you clenched and pulsed around him, your warm, slick cum covering his cock and making his movements sloppy and wet. And you were even louder as he kept going even harder.
He was surprised that he didn’t cum again right then and there, but it only galvanized him to pull your hips back and use you again. Your body was growing limp, you were shuddering and shaking, and his eyes widened with madness as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He was watching for signs that you’d say your safeword, too, but every moment that passed that you didn’t, he took as permission to fuck you even harsher.
Your head lolled and your lip quivered as you took it like a punishment, not a single coherent thought inside your head. You registered that he was close like white noise, simultaneously in the background and all around you. His hands seared in their grip on you as he hammered in once, twice, and then held himself deeply inside with broken rasps and moans. Your lips fell open as you felt his fresh load mingle with the first, pooling hot against your cervix.
He pulled out with a violent hiss, and you cried out as the fluid stung against your sore opening. Your legs trembled until they collapsed back onto the bed along with the rest of your body.
You were vibrating from the inside out, still reeling from how aggressive both of your orgasms were. You could hear him catching his breath, too. You twitched as you felt him touch the outside of your cunt, bracing yourself for more, relaxing when he only stroked the outside. He drew his fingers up and down the crease of your folds, languid and smooth, leisurely playing in his overflow. He pressed them in once just to watch you jolt, and then cleaned them off with his mouth.
He finally gave you a break and turned his focus to taking care of you. By the way you lay there limp, he knew you needed it. He peppered you with kisses as you floated in the afterglow, sprinkling them softly on your rear, up your spine, and onto your shoulder blades, until he placed one on your cheek.
He brushed your frazzled hair away from your face and the corner of his mouth pulled into a smile at the absolute state of you. But then the lamplight reflected off a tear and he furrowed his brow as he gently wiped it away.
“You with me, sweetheart?”
He chuckled at the small sound you made in acknowledgement, the only thing you had effort to respond with. He placed a kiss onto your head.
“Did so good for me, love. So perfect.”
He grunted as he laid down, pulling your back into his chest to spoon you. You weakly held onto his arm as it wrapped around your torso, shifting back into him to steal his body heat.
You closed your eyes with a sigh as you soaked in the way he took care of you after such a brutal display of lust. His thumbs circling against your sweat-damp skin, nose nuzzling against your hair, gravelly voice soothing you with praise.
“M’so glad to be home, baby. You always made me feel young again, but it’s almost like I am young again. Don’t want to take it for granted. Gonna take some time off, take you on vacation, let you see the world. Might fuck you on every continent.”
You giggled at his ambition, still high on happy chemicals and swimming in the dream he laid out. It’d be a significant change, him enjoying the fruits of his labor with things more permanent than gifts and fast cars. You always encouraged him to, but he said it’d be easier for him to cope with losing a material possession than a vacation being ruined by being called on a mission. You hoped it wasn’t just the endorphins talking.
“Yeah, you like that idea? Good, ‘cause I mean it.” He kissed under your ear and squeezed you in closer. “Wanna spend every day making you happier than ever, make up for how long I was sick. Can’t waste any of ‘em not fucking you the way you need me to.”
You gasped as you felt his half-hard cock twitch against your ass, instinctively arching back into it. A shiver ran over your skin as he pressed it against you in turn, and you realized he still wasn’t done, confirmed by the way his voice darkened against your ear and he started kneading your breast in his hand.
His kisses against your pulse turned open-mouthed and erotic, one hand pinching your hardening nipple as the other reached for his cock, slowly stroking himself with the tip resting against your sopping hole. You were so flush together that with each wave of bloodflow that grew him towards full-hardness, it breached your pulsing entrance without him even trying.
Your toes curled as he leisurely thrust into one centimeter at a time. It was just enough of a tease to eat away your apprehension. You really weren’t sure how much more you could take, but as he shallowly fucked his tip into you, you became increasingly desperate for more, until you were squirming and panting in his arms.
You gasped as he suddenly pushed halfway in, feeling your folds and your entrance smart in their soreness. Just a few minutes left empty and you needed time to accommodate him all over again. He wasn’t quite as big as before after two orgasms, but with his size, being slightly smaller was still pretty fucking huge. And now you needed to adjust to more than his size; you needed to adjust to your own overstimulation, too.
He thrust halfway in and stilled there, holding you tight to prevent you from backing into it, feeling your legs shake around him.
You already couldn’t walk, he was sure of it. But it must be well past midnight now. Did you need to use your legs tonight anyways? He decided that you didn’t. Might as well make them truly useless.
He bottomed out in one smooth, sharp thrust, aided by the lubricant of the two creampies inside. His eyes rolled back as he stayed there for a brief moment, just long enough to feel you throb around his cock, like your body was begging him to make it three.
He’d never cum that many times in a row before, not even in his prime. But now, he felt like he’d entered a new prime, and he wanted nothing more than to see just what his limit was. He wondered if he’d reach yours first. But you were a tough girl, he thought. You took him like you were made for it.
His navel thumped against your ass as he drove in with that goal in mind: find out how much cum he could stuff inside your cunt until one of you tapped out.
He started steadily, knowing it’d take him longer to find his finish a third time, and seeing how you were already a mess of moans, both from pleasure and physical overwhelm. It boosted his ego to know he was pacing himself for you much more than for himself.
You felt like an unraveled spool of thread. You couldn’t believe he had the stamina for another round, his age considered or not. You were shocked you could keep going yourself. But at the same time your swollen cunt ached around him, it sucked him in for more.
He twisted your head back to take you in a kiss, swallowing your moans as he beat fast inside again. You reached back to hold onto any part of him you could until your senses were once again flooded and you melted open to him.
“That’s it, relax for me. Just one more, baby, gonna fill you to the brim. Fucking take it.”
And take it you did, until the night sky turned light blue.
