Feat. Solomon "Sully" Keats, OC by @loveiscosmicsin.
I could've gone angstier with this story but I do want Leon to meet Sully again as much as the people who kept telling me to make them have a reunion lol.
This AU story is set months before RE:Vendetta. Not sure if Leon being an alcoholic is fanon or canon or just a one time thing in Vendetta, but he sure showed some signs in other media and lore stuff so I adopted it in my AU and just gave him that rougher image to imply more of that. But in this story, I went with my headcanon that, before Vendetta and during the reunion with Sully again, he's been working on his sobriety, and then he relapsed during the events of Vendetta.
Drew his remake face for consistency sake for all my comics and made his hair a little more unkempt. The Vendetta jacket was fun to draw. I was worried that this story might be a bit sappy to my liking but my friends convinced me keep Leon's tears. I guess it makes sense because I can imagine he feels like he's a kid again seeing Sully for the first time in a long time and Sully sees him as that same kid that he raised. And of course, Leon feeling the guilt - he felt that he didn't make effort to reconnect with him, seeing him old and alone and he's supposed to take care of his old man, felt like Sully won't be proud of him, etc.
Also featuring a dandelion keychain from my discussion with @loveiscosmicsin - Dani made the keychain for him. :)
As always, special thanks to @loveiscosmicsin and @theycallmedarling for the helping me in this as usual.
pwp (what plot) x reader where she finds the jet ski key in Leon's bag, fresh from spain. rough, reassuring make-up sex ensues. i love the way you write smut, ugh, so toe-curling, and the dirty talk 😩
thank youuu!! rough + reassuring is such a perfect combo to me >:) been wanting an excuse to write something that utilizes the fact that Leon is canonically strong enough to pick up reader no matter what size you are, so wall sex it is. hate to have thrown my gf Ada under the bus a lil bit here but I’ll do what I gotta do for the smut hehe
Tags: RE4!Leon x afab!reader, smut, rough wall sex, he tears ur underwear off, lots of dirty talk, creampie, established relationship, jealousy, hurt/comfort, pillow talk
Leon was in the shower while you unpacked his duffel bag like you always did when he came home from a mission, taking out his sweaty clothes and putting them directly into the washing machine, emptying his pockets of sand and loose shell casings. That’s when you found it. A little key for some kind of automotive with a teddy bear keychain. Certainly not something he’d buy for himself. Certainly not something he had before he left. So who the fuck gave it to him?
You threw it down on the kitchen island as you hightailed it for your bedroom, your thoughts beginning to avalanche. Your vision blurred as you nearly slammed the door shut behind you with your mindless speed. You could still hear the shower running from the hall as you sat down on the bed. It sounded far too loud as your head spinned and you wished it would go away, that everything would go away, trying and failing to convince yourself you were overreacting as your pulse raced and your breathing sped up until you were well and truly hyperventilating.
You were aware of the shower shutting off, but you hardly had space to think about it. Your thoughts were at capacity. Who gave it to him? Why did he keep it? Leon doesn’t bring back keepsakes to remember missions by, he hated remembering them period. Was he on a mission at all? Did he use it as an excuse to meet up with someone? Was he having an affair? How long had it been going on?
You didn’t acknowledge him slowly entering the room. You felt his eyes on you as he closed the door as quietly as possible behind him, like if he made a sound you’d attack. And maybe you would, especially when you heard the key jingle in his hand and tears welled up in your eyes.
“I… can explain.” He started. You were still too frozen in your mind to respond. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s not? And what do I think?” You were surprised by the harshness of your own tone. It was a miracle the lump in your throat didn’t shake your voice. Maybe it was just easier to function being angry instead of gutted.
“I- I didn’t even realize I kept it, I promise.” He took a cautious step towards you, putting the key down on the foot of the bed. You hated being on the same surface as it.
“So you meant to get rid of it before I could see it. That’s so much better.”
“No, that’s not what I meant, that’s not what I meant at all,” he rushed out, shaking his head, trying not to fuck up his next sentence like he did the first two.
He kneeled in front of you, a hand on the comforter beside you, wanting so badly to hold you, knowing you probably didn’t want him to yet.
He continued. “You know I can’t tell you much. But it’s a key for a jetski. I got it when— I found the jetski there, and someone gave me the key.” He gulped, realizing each detail only left more for him to explain, much of which is classified. ”I knew her from Raccoon City, but she— fuck, I wish I could tell you all the ways you don’t have to worry about her, she’s bad news, a bad person really, she gave me the key to help me escape, and that’s it.”
You’d gone totally numb the moment he said she. Everything after was white noise.
“So I was right,” you said blankly. “There is another woman.”
You couldn’t look at him. He was so perfect up until now. Always so caring, incredibly doting and selfless. And now he was just another man whose promises were empty, whose love was too good to be true. You didn’t dare look at the fresh scars littering his shirtless body, didn’t want to see how guilty he looked, anything about him that would crush you even more and convince you to give in. So you stood up to leave.
He was following you to the door, pleading, “no, no, no, don’t leave me, you’ve got it all wrong.” You paid it no mind until he grabbed your wrist to stop you, swinging you around and pinning you against it, demanding, “baby, listen to me.”
You finally looked him in the eyes, taken aback. His face looked just as desperate as his actions. It was the face of the man you loved, his long hair still damp from the shower, a sparkle in his blue eyes despite the dimness of the room and the heavy brows above them, beautiful as ever. And he looked so hellbent on making you believe him, it reminded you how badly you wanted to be convinced.
There was something else you could see in his eyes, too. A glint of something darker. Like the determinate mindset of the mission was still rolling in the undercurrent as he found a new fight to win, whatever it took. It brought you out of your head and back into your body. His hand still held onto your wrist, fixing it beside your head, keeping you in place. You know he’d let you go in a second if you ripped it away. The tremor in his grip begged you not to.
He steadied himself, much more confident using action along with words. “You think I’m off fucking other people when I’m gone? You don’t know how wrong you are,” he emphasized it by seizing your other wrist to match. His face was inches away from yours now as he continued, quieter, more intently. “You have no idea how much I keep myself saved up for you. I think about you every single second I can spare. I don’t even touch myself when I’m gone, you know that? I save everything for you.”
He leaned in to kiss you but you turned your head, not willing to give in quite that easily, so his lips fixed on your neck instead.
You couldn’t help the shiver that went up your spine as his tongue traced all the way up your jaw to the bottom of your ear. And you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips as his hard cock pressed against your hip, making you feel him through his sweats while he whispered through his teeth.
“Didn’t even touch myself in the shower. Nearly hurt, I wanted to so bad. So goddamn hard not to cum just thinking about you sometimes. But I ignore it so you can have it all. And you think I’m fucking someone else? I just can’t allow that.”
He was being so bold, even for him. Maybe because he had nothing to hide, and everything to lose. You couldn’t deny how convincing it was.
He grinded against you slowly, shuddering at the contact. No wonder he was so hard even though you’d been arguing, you thought. He was ready to get out of the shower to be greeted by your open arms and legs as usual, and instead was greeted by the total opposite. It made you feel a little bad.
He bit your throat and you squirmed in his grasp, moving your head further away with one last protest that came out as a whimper. He knew exactly what his voice did to you, and was reassured by the way you keened into him as his hands tightened around your wrists.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he responded to your pouting, removing his face from your neck to look down at you darkly. “Why don’t you see for yourself then? You take it and try telling me my cock's been in anyone else.” He moved a hand to yank his sweats down for emphasis, revealing how hard he truly was. “See how much cum I pump you full of, then try to say it isn’t all for you.”
Before you could react to the sight of him, you were hoisted into the air and pushed against the door, held up by your thighs. His swollen cock was fixed between your legs, rubbing your cunt through the thin fabric of your underwear. He was making a mess of you, precum leaking from his tip and mixing with your own wetness that was starting to seep through. The friction made your head spin in a completely different way than it had minutes earlier, and all you could do was hold onto him as he moved maddeningly slow, still holding himself back for you.
“I’ve waited so long for these beautiful tits,” he pulled your shirt over your head in one brash motion, “this sweet pussy,” he grabbed the hem of your underwear and grunted as he literally tore them apart, his eyes never leaving yours, sure to see the way they widened as he made a display of how utterly ravenous he was for you.
“Leon, holy sh—“ you were cut off by your own moan as he lined himself up with you, skin to skin now, feeling the heavy warmth of his cock as it gathered your wetness each time he rubbed the tip against you, until it notched into your entrance and pushed inside.
The feeling made both of you cry out, him being harder than ever adding to his already large size, and you even tighter than usual from his absence. His head fell forward against the door with a string of expletives as he fucked you, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in awe, completely lost to the world around him except for the feeling of you. Your nails dug into his broad shoulders, the hinges shook loudly with each thrust, but he didn’t care. Not when your pussy felt so good and you were crying out his name, telling him he was so big, that it felt so good for you, too. Not when he so urgently needed to show you where he belongs.
It didn’t hurt that his body looked so incredible like this, muscles flexing more than usual from simultaneously supporting your weight and delivering a punishing force through his hips, every inch of brawn more defined by the dew of sweat that covered him now. You would never be able to get over the fact that the sight was all for you.
He started thinking out loud between heavy breathes, saying it to you or the wall, it didn’t matter. “I don’t know how, hhha, you think anyone, could ever be better than you… fuck, you grip me so good, look so cute when you take it, don’t know… what I did… to deserve you.”
He shifted your weight so he could hold you with one arm, needing his other hand to be able to feel you, starting with his calloused fingertips on your nipples, then wedging them between your bodies to work your clit. He watched your face, smirking as you curled your hips into his touch, whining for him.
“Leon, Leon, Leon, don’t stop, I’m— I’m—”
He groaned as you tightened around him, his fingertips holding you impossibly hard to keep you from falling as the force of your orgasm sent you pushing away from the door as you arched and spasmed in his grasp. His hand shot up from your clit and to your neck, not to be forceful, just to stop you from falling forward altogether, and then to hold you by the jaw.
“Look at me, that’s right, look at me when you cum.”
And you did, until his hips became erratic as you finally came down and he had to lean against the wall again to support you both. Your walls still fluttered around him with every stroke and he knew he’d soon come undone. “Gonna fill this cunt, make you mine, show you I’m yours… gonna make you wonder— fuck— wonder how you ever doubted me. Gonna cum, oh god—“
He pressed in to the hilt with mangled breathy groans leaving his throat as he did, and you felt every ounce just as promised. All hot and wet and seeping out with each shallow shove forward to bury it as deep as it would go.
He finally pulled out after he caught his breath, moaning at the sight of it spilling out and into a puddle on the floor. He looked at you with a proud smile. And this time when he kissed you, your mouth accepted him fully, lips hard and soft against each other all at once. Passionate. Loving. Yours.
He twirled you around and lowered you onto the bed, and you heard the keychain bounce and fall off the edge as you landed. He picked it up and threw it into the little trash bin in the corner, nothing more than a fleeting thought given to it; it was nothing but a task in the way of him joining you in bed.
He wrapped a warm arm around you, skin damp now with sweat, not the shower. You could tell he was falling asleep on you, but you couldn’t blame him. Not when he held you so dearly after fucking you so hard.
“I love you,” he whispered, looking into your eyes while he could still keep them open.
“I love you, too. And… I’m sorry.”
He grunted dismissively, like it was already a thing of the past. It felt like it was. Especially as he mumbled into the mattress until he fell asleep.
“Just you wait. Gonna spend all week making it up to you. Gonna take you out to dinner, rub your feet while I draw you a bath… ‘be a princess, my princess. M’never let you doubt me again…”
You kissed his arm, smiling as he succumbed to exhaustion. You felt a little bad since you usually took care of him all week when he returned, but you couldn’t lie, you were excited for the roles to be reversed just this once.
Gently, you moved his heavy arm off of you, hearing the laundry chime as it finished, ready to get back to the day as it was before. When you sat up, you gasped as you felt another pool of cum leak out of you and onto the blankets. There really was so much of it. Oh well, you thought, it’s laundry day anyways.
Every affair starts more or less in the same way, and this one was no different.
Leon never thought he'd be so weak, but he never thought Ada would betray him either, so he sent that late night text.
You never thought you had it in you to be the other woman, but you’d never say no to him.
ao3 ⚭ wc: 11.1k ⚭ based on this request
tags: re9!Leon Kennedy/cisfem!reader, smut, porn w plot, cheating/infidelity, creampie, stripping, riding, blowjobs, alcohol consumption, coworkers, unspecified age gap, the ring stays on, sry for the ada bashing that's my wife fr
a/n: I'm so beyond blown away by the notes on my last fic I decided not to sit on this draft for a week like I usually do hah. tysm :,) no words truly
All affairs happen more or less in the same way:
A moment of weakness. A cry for help. A bad decision or three, and a failure to turn it around.
Tonight would be no different.
A marital spat. A late-night text. Inviting Leon into your home when you knew what might go down.
It began with his name popping up in your notifications as you scrolled mindlessly before bed.
Leon: Don’t ever get married.
You blinked and paused for a moment, then sat up as your fingers hovered over the keys. It was just shy of eleven at night. Quite a time to start a conversation like that.
Sure, you’d become more than acquainted with each other at work over the past couple of years since you joined the DSO as a personnel support admin. Your job was mostly behind a desk, but it led you to meet many of the agents high up on the chain. And since you were tasked with coordinating their needs on missions, you often got to know them deeper than surface level. Agents had a lot to vent about, and you were apt to lend an ear. It was a running joke in your office that your job title should be spelled personal support instead.
Leon was no different, except that he was far more subtle. The things that weighed on his mind were always obscured under a thick layer of sarcasm and quips. Always hinted at. Never overtly stated. The discretion in what went unspoken was out of respect for the other party; he would never openly disparage someone unless he truly hated them, he was too much of a gentleman for that.
But that meant he carried more burdens than he really had to, and the weight of it showed in his growing dark circles and the slowly diminishing spark in his eyes.
You recognized it in him because you did the very same thing. Maybe in a different way, since he had far different things on his plate than you, but you could easily recognize when someone was taking on too much to their own detriment.
So you started talking to him. Met his veiled complaints with your own sarcastic comebacks, a raising of your eyebrow and a smirk that let him know it was safe to laugh, that you didn’t take his words more seriously than you should. Made him feel safe to say a little more until you became something like friends.
You eventually felt comfortable enough to ask if he was okay when you caught him grumbling over the coffee pot in the break room. That was when you first learned the secret he kept tucked away. It was nothing spectacular. In fact, it was incredibly mundane. A common situation, really.
He’d leaned back against the break room countertop, rubbing his hands over his face. He sighed away his tension and watched the coffee drip as if he was deciding whether or not to open up to you. He must have decided he could trust you.
“The misses and I got into it last night. And the night before that… and the night before that.” He crossed his arms as he drifted into thought, undoubtedly re-running the arguments in his head. “Just can’t seem to make the woman happy.”
The corners of his eyes creased as he smiled thinly at you, like he meant the last part to be more light-hearted than it came across. You breathed a minuscule laugh just to match his tone, and then the break room was a little too quiet.
You gulped as you gazed at the silver ring adorning his third digit. Its dull shine in the fluorescent lights contrasted with his dark blue shirt where it rested on the brawny muscle of his bicep.
This is when you heard the first warning shot in the recesses of your mind. He looked way too good in that moment, and the ring glimmered like gunmetal.
You knew you were attracted to Leon, you’d realized it long ago. Since then you’d made a deliberate effort to get close to him. Now, he was somewhat reciprocating. It was innocent enough, certainly on his part— but the sweet churning of your gut clued you in to your own temptations.
You shouldn’t press much further. His relationship wasn’t your responsibility and it’d be unwise to get involved. You shouldn’t position yourself as a woman who’d comfort him. A place to commiserate safely away from his wife. But then again, you already had.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You tried to keep your tone easy. “Is it a ball-and-chain situation?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”
You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him check the coffee and pour himself a cup. Steam rose from the mug as he walked slowly to the table you sat at, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside you. Not too close, but you still tightened your thighs to avoid him brushing against you.
The way he leaned back, legs spread open, halfway turned to face you— it nearly made your face get as hot as his cup of joe.
You should’ve left it there, but you didn’t. The tension in your stomach didn’t win the fight to let caution prevail. The silence was comfortable enough to sit in, but you chose not to.
“I know you keep things pretty close to your chest, but… if you need someone to talk to, I don’t mind. I can keep things classified. Obviously, hah.”
He nodded slowly, and you watched with trepidation. Unsure if he’d accept your offer, knowing a good man like him wouldn’t. Knowing you wanted him to let you in a lot more than you should.
He brought his mug to his lips and you saw him smile behind it. A real smile. He wasn’t looking at you, but there was warmth in his expression that you knew was just for you.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He took a sip and you looked down at your hands on the table. You kept your smile soft on purpose, as if showing the way your chest squeezed at the private, genuine exchange would scare him off.
That was the snowball that started the avalanche, in retrospect. Not once did you try to stop it.
You subconsciously sought out private moments in the workplace. You never led with further questions about his marriage or anything else, you just gave him opportunities to speak freely. Many times he didn’t, but many times he did.
That led you to learning a lot about each other. Where you went to school, his favorite restaurants in town, funny anecdotes about missions gone wrong and the absurdities of government work. He was interested in your perspective as the one who organized support, and you were interested in his tales of bravery on the field.
And every now and then, he talked about his home life.
You learned his wife’s name. Ada. At first he danced around the topic of their issues, telling you about the good times as if to cover his bases. Vacations they’ve been on, a sweater she bought for him. Little facts sprinkled into casual conversation, never saying too much. Still, you understood that it was far more than he talked about her to anybody else.
Then, something must have happened. Things must have taken a turn for the worse. He looked a lot more tired for a number of weeks, and whenever you spoke, it felt like he didn’t have the energy for conversation. You thought it was probably work-related until he knocked on your office door.
“Come in,” you called, not knowing who it was. You were surprised to see Leon shuffle in, closing the door behind him and collapsing onto a chair with a long, gravelly sigh. “Is… everything okay?”
“Far from it,” he started, shifting in his seat to sit slightly more upright. He propped his head up with a fist on his temple, elbow on the armrest, his dark grey button-up cuffed around his biceps. His face was half scrunched up as he massaged his head with his knuckles. “Does your offer to talk still stand?”
You clicked your pen closed and shut the manila folder in front of you to give him your full attention.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You sat there and watched him, blinking a little as he didn’t say anything else. You pursed your lips as you waited, and then you decided to wager a guess. “Is that ring on your finger feeling heavy?”
His teeth showed in a weary smile, the only change to his features. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah. Weighs a fucking ton.”
You waited a little longer as he seemed to be deep in thought, eyes dancing behind their lids. You relaxed a little bit, giving him time to figure out what he needed to say.
Eventually he sighed again, this time more airy and weak. He deflated forward against the front of your desk, threading his hands through the crown of his hair, pulling it out of his face and his eyes open, too. They were somewhere off in the distance, but he seemed more in the room.
“Confidential, right?”
“You have my word.” You pantomimed a zipper across your lips and threw the key behind you. He looked from his periphery and then went back to watching the baseboards. You tensed a bit at his lack of response, realizing that for the first time, the conversation didn’t warrant a light-hearted facade.
A beat passed, and then he got into it.
“Mine and Ada’s jobs don’t exactly… go well together. The agency was pissed when I married her, actually.”
You nodded even though you didn’t fully understand. “What does she do?”
“Basically what I do, but she’s a free agent. She takes contracts. Used to be from terrible fucking people, now they’re a little better. She’s been offered a contract that’s totally out of line, and she really wants to do it.”
This is where he started ranting, speaking sharply through a hushed tone, emphasizing his words with a finger on your desk.
“It’s dangerous, it’s risky, it’s morally wrong and she knows that. She knows the hell I’ll pay if word gets back to my command, and she’s set on doing it anyway. I don’t know what to fucking do.”
Both of his hands were pulling at his scalp now. As you took in the information, your eyes widened in concern. Their issues were much greater than the commonplace gripes between everyday married couples, that was clear.
You tried to make your voice as kind and non-judgmental as possible as you confirmed what he was saying.
“So… she used to work at odds with the DSO?”
“Yeah.”
“And she’s doing it again?”
“Apparently.”
No wonder he was always so stressed about their relationship, and no wonder he seemed to carry it on his own. This was absolutely confidential.
At least command is aware of her past, but something like that happening in the present would be devastating for him. For his career, his good name, and his overall well-being. Hell, it was already crushing the latter, that was written all over his face.
“It’s like she doesn’t care about me at all,” he continued, his voice breaking just a touch. “She promised she left that behind her. I don’t know why I believed her. I don’t know why she wants a job more than she wants me.”
The torment he felt was evident as his cool facade fell away. He was breathing heavier, his eyes were dilated, and he was seconds away from a thousand-yard stare.
You understood now that his eyes were fixed on the wall because all he could see was his whole life crashing down. You were lucky your desk was in the way, or you’d be apt to reach out to hold him. There was a line between comfort and being in his arms, and it was one you shouldn’t cross.
Although it was ultimately about his job, this was a personal conversation, not a professional one. Many agents had knocked on your door to complain about their personal lives before, but this was different. It was different because it was Leon. The unattainable man you yearned for despite his off-limits status, who you kept safely in your daydreams until now, as it suddenly became apparent that you no longer held the reins on your little office crush.
That was the second warning shot. You cared too much about him.
You should heed the alarm bells that went off that told you to direct him to a higher-up. That you should advise him to do the proper paperwork to get ahead of it, come what may. That you should focus on real solutions instead of the skin under his dress collar.
But that’d still cause him a great deal of anguish, and you didn’t want that for him. You selfishly thought that he could get through it if you were just there for him enough. An irrational thought brought on by the fact that you wanted to be there for him. To be his trusted confidante, his shelter from the storm— his shelter from his wife.
A thick lump formed in your throat as you felt yourself lower into hot water. You could easily swim to shore before Leon ever became aware of it, and you’d be safe from entangling yourself in the consequences. But you didn’t want to run. You wanted desperately to be involved with him, come hell or high water. Your next words promised both.
“Why are you still with her?” The hesitation in your voice was clear as you trekked through uncertain terrain, equal parts worried about offending him and knowing the treacherous door you were opening. “I mean, you could easily do better. Half the office is waiting for that ring to come off so they can jump your bones.”
“That’s the big money question, isn’t it?” He chuckled a little, and then the sound fell flat as he began to explain.
“I love her,” he shrugged as if he confessed to a mortal weakness, one that wasn’t recent news. A fact and not a feeling. “I’m not sure if anyone reaches ten years of marriage totally unscathed. I’m far from perfect myself. Guess I’m convinced that makes her my match.”
His expression softened into melancholy, his icy eyes resembling a gloomy overcast sky. You softened for him in return.
“Still… I’m sure you could find someone who cares about you. You deserve someone who does.”
He looked up and met your eyes for the first time that day. His face didn’t change much, but you felt them searching you for something.
You knew what you’d said, and you fully meant what simmered in the subtext, but you hadn’t meant to be so see-through. Your heart skipped and you kept talking as if to obscure his sight.
“If you even want to leave her, that is. I get it if you don’t, I’m sure it’s not that simple. Why does she want to do it so bad in the first place?”
He blinked and his thoughts were successfully diverted away from you. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw, took a long inhale, and then explained the best he could.
The conversation continued for half an hour or so, and talking seemed to take the weight off. You both steadily relaxed until you weren’t talking about Ada at all anymore.
It branched off into casual conversation. The kind you’d have in the break room or passing each other in the halls, the kind that felt warm and easy, that left you both smiling and feeling light.
In the pause after a laugh, Leon looked at his watch.
“I better get ready to go home,” he said, standing up with a slight groan.
You glanced at the clock. Shit. You clocked out in less than an hour.
You looked back to see that he’d rounded your desk and was standing beside it with a tired and tender smile on his face.
“Thanks for letting me talk. I know it’s not your problem, but I really do appreciate it. It’s not like there’s many people I can trust with something like that.”
You nodded quickly, not knowing what to do with how his sincerity made you feel on top of everything else.
“Anytime, seriously. I don’t mind. I’m glad you seem like you feel a bit better.”
“I do.” He gazed dully at the door. “At least until I get home.”
He patted the desk and started to leave. You didn’t need to stand up, but you did, slowly following him out. Before he opened it, he turned back towards you with one last slight smile. He clasped his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it ever so lightly, and then he turned and walked away.
It felt like he’d hesitated somewhat. Like he wanted to hug you but didn’t.You stood alone in your office with your heart fluttering in your chest, feeling the faint traces of warmth that remained in the fabric of your sleeve.
Then a chill went down your spine and you rushed back to your desk in poorly-contained panic. You reopened the manila folder and tried to make quick work of the case file. The deadline was due today. You resigned yourself to a late night at work filled with paperwork and thoughts of him.
You spent the next month feeling the water rise as you wondered if you were insane.
You thought he stood a little closer to you in group conversations now, but you could’ve been making that up. You could be reading too much into the smiles he’d shoot you from afar, too. When his visits to your office became more regular for complaining and chatting alike, you told yourself you were the only one who thought the air was suspiciously hard to breathe.
There were things you were pretty sure you weren’t misinterpreting, though. The way he started hiding his left hand in his pocket when you came up to him. That he asked for your number and regularly texted you across the room— always during work hours, never after them. Another coworker commented on you becoming close and you politely said ‘I guess so!’, and you heard through the grapevine that he once sung your praises in a conversation you weren’t present for.
All of these things could merely be friendly, and a kind rumor was still just a rumor. Either way, it stoked the flames until your little office crush bloomed into full-on desire.
It was becoming a problem for you. You felt like a schoolgirl the way you had to try so hard not to blush every time he talked to you or he said something nice, and you had to put way too much effort into not staring at the way business slacks and button-ups hugged his rippling musculature.
The way you thought of him at night was a problem, too. With your hand between your thighs, you thought of him. Tried to summon the memories of his voice saying your name, the rumble of his laugh, how he groaned when he stood and how it’d sound in a different context.
Then your thoughts were interrupted by the stone-cold reality: he was married.
Even if he wasn’t, you were coworkers which would be inconvenient on its own. He was a touch too old for it to be completely unproblematic, too, even if the only problem would be the way people might whisper.
But that wasn’t the only problem. He was married. He was sleeping next to his wife right now. Or he was sleeping on the couch, who knows, it wouldn’t make your thoughts less wrong.
You wanted him desperately. Wanted to tug your fingers through his hair and inhale his cologne. Wanted to know what was hidden within the bulge that was ever-present in his tight slacks, making you pretty sure he was still sizable when he was soft. You wanted— needed— to find out what those muscles could do if he put them to work on you.
You resigned yourself to never making the first move, but it was fucking torture. Even if there was a chance he was attracted to you, the probability of him acting on it was slim to none. He was a good man. The very best there was. That was what made him so desirable in the first place.
But if he ever did make a move..? You knew you’d never say no.
The worst part was that you didn’t even hate Ada. Maybe it was because he didn’t either in spite of everything; his resolve to see the good in people was incredibly infectious. He married her after all, so she must be something special. From the stories Leon told and pictures of her you saw, by all accounts, she was. Skilled and gorgeous and sharp, the kind of woman any man would remain miserable for.
It wasn’t her fault Leon thought he could change her, and it wasn’t his fault for being fooled. And it wasn’t your fault he was married. His relationship wasn’t your responsibility. At least that’s what you told yourself.
You were starting to catch on to the fact that you might be a bad person, but none of you three were saints, so the avalanche kept on falling. As time went on you fell deeper into immorality until it felt halfway normal. It perfectly set the scene for his late-night text to find you all too eager and willing.
Leon: Don’t ever get married.
Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen as you deliberated your response. It was quite a weighted opener for 10:49pm. You kept it short, not knowing what else to say.
You: That bad?
You sat staring at the text thread for minutes after you sent it with your knees hugged to your chest. The screen dimmed from inactivity and you touched it to keep it awake. Every minute that went by, you got a little more concerned.
It’d been less than ten minutes, but you double texted anyway.
You: Are you okay?
Two more minutes went by and you set your phone face down beside you, rubbing your eyes to ease the strain from the bright blue light. Then, you heard it buzz. You grabbed it in an instant.
Leon: I’ve been worse. Been a whole lot better too. You staying up late?
Your heart raced as you fumbled over the keys. It took multiple tries to spell everything right and you spent way too long deciding what order to put the words in, finding the perfect balance between open and casual.
You: Guess so, I’m still up. Just hanging out at home. You?
A lie, of course. You’d be asleep by now if his text hadn’t made you wide awake. He responded almost immediately.
Leon: Looking to be anywhere but mine. You strike me as someone who’d let a stray cat in.
You smiled at your phone and typed in your address. You held your breath, and before your better judgment could get through, you quickly pressed send. That was your first bad decision that night.
For a second you just stared at it and internalized what you’d done. He was actually coming over. Leon would be in your home. You’d be staying up late alone with a married man. One you just so happened to want to rail you through your mattress.
You scrambled out from under your covers as the ‘oh shit’ of it all set in. You flipped on the lights and scanned your room. You grabbed a handful of laundry on the floor and shoved it into your hamper, rummaging through your dresser for a pair of lounge pants that weren’t too wrinkled or too nice. You changed your shirt and put on a bra, combing your hair with your fingers as you rushed to the living room, turning on the lamps and collecting stray dishes and coffee cups.
When all the important tidying was done you paced around anxiously, nothing else to do but think. You didn’t know when he’d arrive or how worse for wear he’d be. You didn’t even know what you’d do when he got there. You assumed he was not in fact coming over for a warm body despite how you used your spare time to fuss over your appearance ‘just in case’.
That led you to taking a good long look at yourself in the mirror. Were you really going to do something like that if he was? Is that the kind of person you are?
A knocking on your door tabled the thought.
You opened it slowly, then all at once, hiding the nerves behind the sweet smile you faked. The charade dropped to real concern when you saw the state he was in.
He walked into your apartment looking well beyond defeated. He was still in his white dress shirt though he would’ve left the office hours ago. It was damp on the shoulders from the drizzle outside, not enough to turn the white fabric translucent, but enough to wrinkle it. His tie hung loosely on his neck, dangling like a necklace that framed his undone buttons. Too many undone buttons.
“Hey, um, come in.”
You stepped aside as he entered before you’d invited him in. It threw you off, but it’s not like you sent him your address to not welcome him inside. You closed the door behind you, face scrunching in puzzlement as you watched him drag his feet until he stood aimlessly in your home. Facing away from you, you heard him let out a deep sigh as he raked a hand through the rain that clung to his darkened hair.
“You look like you’ve had a long day,” you said, hoping a gentle rib would get him to say something.
“You have no idea,” he grumbled. He pushed up his cuffed sleeves and turned to face you, perhaps feeling a fraction as restless and awkward as you did.
It shouldn’t be awkward, really. Co-workers were allowed to go to each other’s homes on a Friday night, right? But it was your first time seeing each other off the clock, and it was here in your personal domain. That and the context was all too weighted.
Something just felt… off. You’d seen him tired, and this wasn’t that. Well, he was tired— exhausted, clearly. But it wasn’t just that.
“Can I get you something to drink? Water, maybe something stronger?”
“No, I’ve had enough tonight already. Water is good.”
Oh. He wasn’t sober. That explains it. You laughed under your breath at the fact that he’d shown up here half drunk. Never in a million years would you have anticipated that on top of it all.
If inviting him over was your first bad decision of the night, your next move was the second.
“Maybe I’ll catch up while you get sober,” you said, pulling a bottle of wine from the pantry before reaching in the cabinet for two glasses. “If that’s alright with you.”
“Yeah,” he replied from behind you, watching your hands as they poured. “It’s your home, do what you like.”
You handed him his water and led him to your couch where he kicked off his loafers and sank in. You swirled the wine in the glass as you sat with your feet tucked under you, thankful you had something to keep your hands busy with as you watched him lounge on your furniture.
“You wanna talk about it?” you started. Better to talk than keep staring, because your thoughts weren’t anywhere pure with how he wore dishevelment like sin.
“She left.”
He said it so matter of factly, no tone within it at all. Like he’d said it was raining outside or he had paperwork to do. You blinked.
“What? As in, she left you?”
“No,” he said, half-laugh, half-scoff. “She went on the mission. She left about an hour ago, maybe two. ”
“Oh,” you mouthed, but no sound came out. As you wrapped your mind around it, your whole apartment seemed to fill with the weight of his perilous future. You swallowed thickly.
“So… what does that mean for you now?”
He sipped his water and shrugged, setting the glass down on your coffee table, careful to find a coaster.
“Not much I can do but wait. If she slips in and out without a trace, I’ll be fine. Anything less than perfect and I’m probably fucked. Unless she gets herself killed, and then… fuck, this is so awful.”
You felt a pang of guilt as he rubbed his hands over his face, clearly wiping away the image of her dying. You bit your lip and tried to figure out how to reassure him.
“You said she’s good at her job. If the Leon Kennedy thinks that, I’m sure she’ll come back in one piece.”
“I’m sure she will, too. That’s kind of what scares me. It’s not gonna be pretty... I’m gonna wish I was dead, I just know it.”
He sunk further into the cushions, posture to the wind as he closed his eyes. With his head tilted back, every curve of his neck was on display, tendons and stubble aglow in the amber lamp light, leading up to his set jaw and down to his bare collarbones. He crossed his arms weakly over his stomach, the veins in his forearms protruding against his muscles, his thin blond arm hair glowing like a soft aura in the dim. His legs were parted, lap open, the cotton blend of his pants straining against his strong thighs. His hair fell off of his face, a sight you’d never quite seen, and you were close enough to take in every crease and pore.
Good. He looked good. Way too good for the circumstances.
You nearly jumped as he continued, snapped out of your thoughts. You took a slow sip of wine as he talked, his eyes still shut.
“You marry the wrong girl and one day she ruins your whole life. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I built. And I did it all for her. All to keep her happy and on the right side of the war. All up in smoke because she chose her ambitions over her husband.”
Your eyes fell on his ring. It should’ve instilled some sense of shame, but it didn’t. Or maybe it did and that just turned you on, too.
You had to get a grip. You had a bleeding heart on your couch and you were way more focused on his arm veins than being a good friend.
You took another sip of your wine, this one being much longer; the way your heart was thumping, you felt violently sober. You tongued the dry tannins on your teeth, and then you set it down next to his.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered in earnest. “You really don’t deserve that.”
His head lolled to the side and he looked you in the eyes.
“What do I deserve in your eyes?”
You sputtered at the question, feeling caught for no good reason. You averted from his gaze, instead looking at your reflections in the blank TV screen. He was much easier to look at through a darkened mirror, you realized. But you also realized you didn’t look half bad sitting together.
You muddled over his question in your spinning head and settled on the plain truth of it.
“You deserve someone who cares about you, obviously. Someone who doesn’t take you for granted, who cares about your happiness at least as much as you care about theirs. Not someone who makes you so upset you crawl on my doorstep like a kicked puppy.”
You untucked a foot to kick playfully at his thigh, and you finally coaxed out his smile.
“Kicked puppy?” He grinned and swiped your foot away, hand lingering around your ankle just a touch too long. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m an old dog, babe.”
You scoffed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks at the pet name. That’s all you let yourself believe it was, though it still felt good to hear the word roll off his tongue.
“You’re not that old,” you countered, then immediately smacked your hands against your face as you heard it leave your lips.
“Wowww,” he said, letting the vowel drag to tease you, smiling because he truly didn’t take it to heart. It was obvious that you didn’t mean it like that, but he had more fun making you squirm.
“Jesus, I’m an asshole, I’m so sorry, god.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll take not being ‘that’ old any day.”
You relaxed as you saw no offense taken in his face. If anything, he seemed to be doing better than he arrived, laughter being the best medicine and all that. You felt warm to know you provided it even at the cost of embarrassing yourself.
“Is middle-aged mutt a good compromise?”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re too hot to be a mutt.”
His eyes shined at the slip of the tongue that revealed your subconscious thoughts. He grinned wider as you didn’t deny it. Your own eyes widened in shock as your tongue failed you yet again, mouth opening and closing again, entirely useless to help you recover.
“Good to know,” he simply said.
He seemed content on reveling in the knowledge without rubbing it in, but that only made you squirm. He didn’t do anything to help it.
His hand was still laying gently over your ankle and his thumb began to circle softly around the bone. Both of your eyes rested there, taking in the touch and the fact that neither of you moved away.
“You know, I really do appreciate you. You don’t have to be so nice to me, but you always are.”
You hummed as he massaged the soft skin with more confidence. You felt the small amount of wine start to warm you from within.
“You were right, I have a soft spot for stray cats.”
“Just stray cats? Or are you into old dogs, too?”
Your eyes locked, and you saw that his had darkened. You may have finished sipping on your second bad decision, but Leon was already on his third that night alone.
The first was the whiskey he drank when Ada left, and the second was texting you. The third was driving tipsy to your house and actually going inside.
He could have gone anywhere tonight, could’ve stopped at any given parking lot and sobered up there instead, enough to turn around and remain safely separated from the feeling he’d fought for months. But he hadn’t. He was here. All that was left was sealing the deal.
You’d spent months cultivating the perfect environment for him to get too comfortable with you. Your charms worked on him too well, as subtle as they were. Paired with liquor and the wife away, it was all too easy to be impulsive.
In one smooth motion Leon pulled you by the ankle, and you were suddenly lying flat down on the couch, his broad arms caging you underneath him.
You were both breathing quickly as you froze there in shock; him at his own hubris, and you at what he’d done. You could feel how close he was, saw the gleam of madness in his eyes, and you knew that you weren’t dreaming.
In the pause, Leon told himself he could still go home, and then a moment of weakness is all tonight would ever be. He could stop himself now and nothing regrettable would transpire. But this was a moment of weakness. And tonight, he was weaker than ever.
Sure, he could find the strength to pry himself away if he really wanted to, but the fact was that he didn’t. He wasn’t under any illusions about that. He drove here with one thing in mind and now it was laying underneath him, ripe and ready for the taking.
In the stillness, your feet got cold. The talk with yourself that you tabled in the mirror had to be confronted now.
In the beginning, all you wanted was to make Leon’s life easy, to offer a shoulder to cry on as a makeshift storm shelter. But now you were inches away from engaging in something dangerous. Something that would only add to his problems and give him more consequences to face. Another workplace secret that’d destroy him if word got around, another thing to fight with his wife about, something that’d obliterate his tarnished vows.
Maybe that just made it sweeter. That you’d share something with him that must be kept from all prying eyes, something only you two would know. A shared secret that’d only further implode his life, and the idea that he’d risk it all for you.
His relationship wasn’t your responsibility. That’s what you still told yourself. You were a willing participant, but the choice was ultimately his.
“Leon, wait…”
You wrapped your hands around his biceps so he wouldn’t shy away. You didn’t want him to stop, you just needed reassurance. The only guilt you couldn’t handle was feeling guilty towards him.
From the way you kept him there he knew just the thought on your mind.
“My life is over anyway, baby. I just want you before it ends.”
You looked at his lips, and the choice was made. He leaned down and sealed you in a kiss.
You melted into it, too wanton to be embarrassed at the fact that a kiss had made you moan high in the back of your throat. He settled down into your softness, lowering himself onto his forearms to glide his palm over your hair, and then to cup your jaw. Your nails dug into the fabric covering his arms and his loose tie dangled between your collarbones as your lips pressed together.
With lips as soft and tender as his heart, he moved into you with no rush, savoring the kiss as his lips parted lightly. No tongue at first, just a touch more indecent than a peck as they trepidatiously searched for more. You gave him permission with the slightest touch of your tongue against his lower lip, and then your mouths opened enough for the kiss to deepen into heady desire.
The taste of his lips and the smell of his skin melded together in one musky cloud, the only sensation around you as your eyes were closed in the kiss. The peppery traces of liquor and the steady balm of his skin, savory notes of earth and wood, a comforting masculine scent you hoped would linger in your home and in your mouth.
You ran your hand up his shoulder and noticed he was shaking. You tilted your chin down to pull away from the kiss and looked down as your bodies. He was still only hovering over you and you caught his hips twitch forward in the air, and then retract again in an effort to hold back. He was trying not to touch you, you realized, and it took him a great deal of effort. Especially when you considered the size of his bulge as it strained against his zipper.
You looked back up at him to see the need in his eyes, a desperate boyish look, like he’d spent his whole life deprived. You smiled cooly and wrapped your legs around his hips to pull him in.
He hissed as his groin met yours and you felt how tight his whole body was, every muscle tensed to hold himself back. You dug your heels into his backside and curled your hips to urge him to move against you, rewarded by the way he shuddered at the friction, eyes rolling back before he screwed his eyes shut in concentration.
You kissed the corner of his mouth and mumbled against it, feeling his scratchy stubble against your pillowy lips. “It’s okay, Leon.”
“I know, I just don’t– fuck–” he was interrupted by his own firm grind against your center, “don’t want you to regret it tomorrow.”
You gulped as you considered the unspoken thoughts behind that. For a second, your awareness rested on the wedding band that was currently tangled in your hair.
He was married. Whatever tonight was, it was certainly all you’d get. He couldn’t be yours. The silver ring advertised that he was already spoken for. Already claimed. You couldn’t have him, not really.
But did you really need to have him in a way that was more than this? Or could you be content to have him in just one night of burning passion?
You could, you decided. Because right now you’d rather die than not experience the full breadth of the man before you.
You pulled him down by his tie in a needy, messy kiss, and your bad decisions became etched in stone.
He found the confidence to grind against you with purpose, though he was still jittery and jerky as if he was tearing at the seams. Your tongues danced together until he focused his on the underside of your jaw, sucking the skin into his wet lips and nipping at your jugular. You sighed into it as your hands ran across his torso, usddenly all too aware of the stiff clothing in the way of his hot skin underneath.
You keened into his hips as you worked at his tie, yanking the knot loose until it fell down to the floor. And then, you worked on his buttons, thankful so many were already undone. You watched with half-lidded eyes as more and more of his chest was revealed until you pulled to untuck it, reveling in the sight of his shirt billowing around him as it hung open.
You glided your hands up the expanse of his torso, mouth parted at the feeling of his firm abs and pectorals, his aged skin softer than you’d expect. But then he sat back on his haunches and was just out of arms reach.
You saw him begin to undress, but you stopped him.
“Wait,” you said, lifting yourself up to sit. His hands rested on his collar as he looked to you in wait. You pushed him back until he was leaned back against the sofa. He looked confused until you got off of the couch and sank down to your knees. “Sit back, lemme take care of you.”
Bliss covered his expression as he did, parting his thighs as you settled in between them. His arms rested heavily at his sides as he let you take your time running your hands up his covered legs until your fingers worked at his belt.
When you pulled down his zipper, your mouth watered at the mere sight of his bulge beneath his black boxer briefs. The shape of his cock was clearly visible, jumping as you ran your fingers along the length. You could even feel the long vein that ran up his shaft and his tip protruded against the silky fabric, a wet spot of pre-cum pooling at the peak.
You hooked your fingers under the waistband and he lifted his hips to help you tug his briefs and dress pants down to his mid-thighs. You let out a shaky sigh as his cock sprang against his belly, intimidated by the size and salivating for it just the same.
You took it in your hand and started pumping it slowly, smearing the clear and sticky pre around the head with a circling thumb. He caressed the side of your head with a hand, gently holding back your hair as he coaxed you towards it.
“Always take such good care of me,” Leon muttered, gasping as you ran an introductory lick up his entire length. “Let me feel that pretty mouth of yours.”
You set to work, his desire for it fueling your eagerness to please. You took the tip into your mouth, lips puckered around it as you swirled your tongue around, humming at the sweet taste of his pre. You pulled off with a pop and licked your lips before diving back with purpose.
His hand tightened in your hair as you moved– not to force you down, just for something to hold on to. He choked as you began to bob your head, lips dragging as they took more and more each time, creating a beautiful friction in each inch your spit hadn’t yet coated.
You braced your palms against his thighs as he reached the back of your throat, holding onto the waistband of his bottoms as you struggled to take more. He was thick and your mouth smarted at the edges as it struggled to stretch around him, a promise of how your cunt would feel soon after. You created a vacuum on the way up and flattened your tongue on the way down, letting him press harder into your throat as the blond hairs on his pelvis tickled the tip of your nose.
He added his second hand to your head, his palms firmly on either side of your temples, his fingertips pressing into your scalp as he groaned and tried not to thrust. What a gentleman he was, trying not to gag you despite his instinct to fuck your face.
Every gravelly, desperate rasp of his felt like a reward, a sign you were doing a good job. You opened your watery eyes and peeked up to see his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths from under his open dress shirt, and caught his lust-filled face as it looked down at you in awe, eyebrows drawing upwards as you caught him in filthy eye contact. If your mouth wasn’t toally occupied, you surely would’ve smiled.
You squeezed your eyes shut as you pressed all the way down on him, trying to relax your throat to take him into it. But there was no shot of that, certainly not at this angle, and not with his generous girth. Instead, what happened was miles more obscene. Wet crackles escaped from your throat and saliva pooled out the sides of your mouth as you struggled not to gag, the very back of your throat clenching and fluttering around him instead.
His breath hitched over and over again as if he was the one who desperately needed air right now. He moaned thickly and tipped his head back, subconsciously pushing your head down firmly to keep it there. You stayed as long as you could, face bunched up impossibly tight as you fought to remain one second more, until you suddenly pulled off with a sharp gasp and sputtering coughs.
His hands shook as they lingered around your face while you leaned back to wipe the excess spit from your chin, blinking away the tears that’d pricked in your eyes.
“Holy shit,” he said, “where the hell did you learn to suck cock like that?”
You laughed breathlessly at the flattery. You were no pro, at least you didn’t think so. You just wanted to make him feel good, and his praise was worth the effort it took to earn. You bit your lip and smiled at him as you recollected yourself, and then you rose to your feet.
You thumbed shyly at the waist of your pants. “Do you want to undress me, or would you rather watch me strip?”
He swallowed thickly as he watched you, evidently weighing his options in earnest. “Watch.”
You conjured every ounce of your confidence as you pushed your pants down, letting them fall to your ankles once they were past your knees and kicking them aside. Then you set on your top, finding the bravery to look him in the eyes before lifting it over your head. The sight made you blush and instantly look away, although it was seared into your mind, making you so turned on that it hurt.
He lounged cooly in front of you, raking you up and down with a slightly slack jaw as his fingertips swept up and down his shaft that lay heavy and erect in his lap. Disheveled and askew. The sight was hot enough to make every square inch of your skin burn where you stood.
You weren’t able to think straight and your hands shook as they fumbled behind you at the clasp of your bra. You bit your lip in concentration until it gave way and let the straps fall down your arms until your breasts were exposed to him. And then, the final piece; you lowered your underwear until they joined the rest of your discarded clothes.
You didn’t give him long to stare; you simply couldn’t bear to. Instead, you approached and perched yourself upon his lap, hands on his chest to brace him.
He ran his hands up your thighs, to your hips, around the small of your waist, and settled on your breasts. His hands were calloused but gentle and reverent as they rubbed around them. His thumbs flicked across your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine that went straight to your wetting cunt.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he marveled at your form.
Your hands flexed and your thighs trembled as you endured the teasing touches. You wanted to let him take his fill, have his way, however fast or slow. But god, it was killing you.
What killed you even more was the way his metal ring dragged across your skin with every touch. It was cool in contrast to the warm flush that flooded your body, impossible to ignore. You looked down to watch his hands and there it was, your distorted reflection staring back at you through the smooth polished finish.
Before you even meant to, the sight of it made you whine.
He followed your gaze down to his hands and stilled for a brief second. “I can take it off,” he said with a guilty pursing of his lips.
You grabbed his wrists before they could move off of you, holding his hands on your breasts. You closed your eyes with shame at what you felt compelled to say.
“It’s okay… keep it on.”
You didn’t need to see him to sense the dangerous flash in his eyes.
“Oh yeah?” He kneaded your breasts firmly in his hands, the ring pressing into the pliant flesh. “You like knowing I’m taken? That turns you on?”
You squeezed your eyes shut and shuddered as he pinched your nipples tight, pussy fluttering around nothing. You nodded fast and shy. He hummed a low and husky laugh and his left hand traveled south.
You gasped as he dragged the digit up and down the crease of your folds, parting them to feel your wetness. You twitched sharply as he flattened his fingers to glide flat against your core, the ring passing over your clit with every retraction. You watched it in shock at the true depth of your immoral desires. Every leaden glide coaxed you deeper into sin, and he led you there with amusement.
He plunged his middle and ring finger inside and you were back to gripping his chest. Now it was you who had to try so hard not to buck into the movements. He plunged them slowly in and out, curling each time he got knuckle deep, studying your reactions to know when he found that perfect spot.
“Look at you,” he purred. His own hips twitched up from the sight as he kept you straddled over him, not yet letting his hard cock meet your core. “Didn’t know you were so dirty, babe. Woulda done this a long time ago if I had.”
You whined at the thought of it, walls clenching around his fingers, his ring cool at your entrance. Imagining yourself as his mistress, his dirty little secret, his person to unload his own perversions on. How unforgivable it’d be, and how hot it would be, too.
He pulled his fingers out. You watched them leave covered in a layer of cream that clung to the edges of his ring. You followed them until they entered his mouth, sucking off the taste, and then they entered yours.
You felt dizzy as they pressed inside, all the way to the knuckle, silver locked between your teeth. Your tart juices and his silky spit, the saltiness of his skin— all of it comingled sweetly on your tongue.
“See how good you taste?”
You nodded around his fingers and panted through parted lips as he slowly pulled them out, moving instead to grab the base of his cock, smattering his pre around as he rubbed the tip between your folds.
He notched against your entrance, but he didn’t push in. He held your hips with his free hand with a firm hold that told you not to sink down onto it. If the anticipation killed you, his words buried your needy body.
“You want my cock, sweetheart? Want to be fucked by a married man right here on the couch?”
You nodded and he lowered you ever so slightly, barely enough to even feel. “Yes,” you choked out as he kept you sitting there, so desperate to finally feel it you’d admit anything right now.
“You think you can?”
He lowered you an inch, watching your soft cries as you felt his girth stretched you open for the very first time. He was struggling not to fuck you, that was plain, but he was nowhere near as undone as you were. You felt hardly in control of your own body anymore, driven by pure lust, and the way he gripped your hips to control your movements made you want to relinquish any and all control to him.
“Yes, Leon, please,” you whined, trying in vain to swivel your hips and feel something more, but he wasn’t deep enough inside to feel him where you needed.
“Oh, do you want to beg?”
He was goading you on now, finding too much cruel enjoyment in your display.
“No, I just, fuck—”
He’d put you in a double bind. You didn’t want to beg because that meant time spent talking instead of being fucked by him. And although you said no, the next words would be begging him anyways; begging him to move or begging not to beg, all roads led to how desperate you were for his cock. You buckled in your frustration and said what he wanted to hear, rushing them out in a slur.
“I need you, wanted you for so long. Please fuck me, Leon, just wanna make you feel good, want you to use me ‘til you’re done.”
His mocking smile dropped as he heard the words. They were debauched beyond what he’d ever expect from you. Knowing just how bad you wanted him, he had no reason to hold back.
You cried out as he slammed you down, thrusting his hips at the same time to make sure you felt every inch all at once. You fell forward onto him, your head in the crook of his neck, fists bunching up his dress shirt to hold it open and hold on. He wrapped his arms around you to keep you where you were as he hammered his cock into you with a punishing speed.
It felt better than anything you could’ve ever imagined. The dull ache where your tight hole stretched around him, his veins dragging along your velvet walls, his fat head nudging bluntly into your sweet spots over and over again. You felt the sticky cream that built up on the base of his cock as it smattered against your ass with every upthrust, caking beautifully in the short hairs where you connected, filthy and absurd in both sight and sound.
You had front row seats to the melody of his grunts with your ear pressed against his neck. Your toes curled as he said your name like lyrics to the beat of each pound.
“So fucking tight,” he grit through his teeth. He landed a smack on your ass as it bounced. “Haven’t had a pussy this good in ages, you’re just made for me to ruin.”
You whined as he slowed down when he spoke, taking in the praise and the slick drag of his cock in and out of you. In the simmering speed you curled your hips to match his movements, and then he unwrapped his arms around you, holding onto your thighs instead.
You took the opportunity to upright yourself, shaking your hair from your face as you sat up, then held onto his shoulders as you rocked up and down. He groaned as he let you set the pace this time, eyes barely open to watch you ride him slow and steady.
You shoved away his dress shirt and he took the hint to shrug his arms out of it, letting it fall behind his back. Seeing his whole chest bare urged you to go faster and faster until you were bouncing at a quick and continuous pace. Just fast enough not to need more, but not so fast that it was rough. Simply ardent and impure.
“How’s my cock feel, baby?”
Your pace momentarily faltered as you struggled to find the words.
“Feels s’good, Leon. You’re so big, feels even better than I thought.”
“You think about it a lot?”
You had no idea how he was able to string along a conversation at a time like this. He looked nearly as far-gone as you felt, and he was still somehow able to speak clearly despite his labored breaths.
“All the time,” you airily confessed.
He drew you in by the nape of your neck until your foreheads rested together. He bucked up into you again, one hand on your hip to keep you bouncing and ensure you moved in tandem.
“I thought about you every goddamn day,” he rasped. “In the shower… in the car… even jerked off in my office a few times.”
You whined as he laid out the scene, and he had to take over the pace as you increasingly clenched around him.
“Wanted to bend you over your desk so many times... fuck you so hard they’d hear it all the way in the east wing..."
His hand tightened in your hair and he kissed you wet and quick, thrusts quickening as his lips moved towards your neck.
“Thought the ring would scare you off, you're such a sweet young thing. Look at you now, such a whore for me... I never woulda known...”
You squealed as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking the whole of the peak into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. He let go with a soft pop, and then he fixed himself on the other, giving it the same attention.
Your breasts bounced towards his face in response to each barreling thrust. He rested his head on your sternum to press flat-tongued licks against your nipples with every other ebb and flow, easily accessible as he spoke between hot laps.
"You were just so eager to let me take out my frustrations on you, huh? That what you wanted this whole time? For me to use your tight cunt to feel good?”
He held you tight and wedged his left hand in between you, keeping you somewhat still so he could rub at your clit again. The faintest glint of silver from your peripheries sent your thighs tensing and heart racing. The smell of his hair clouded you in his intoxicating musk. Every inch of his taut musculature was a feast for your eyes as they flexed with his hammering hips, shining under a sheen of his sweat. His voice was becoming nothing but a strained string of conscience, and you knew that he was close.
“Wanted you so badly, too, I thought about it, ahh, all the damn time…”
Your muscles went rigid as the rough pads of his fingers flicked firmly against your clit. Your pleasure was quickly mounting and building in your gut, a tense spark in your center every time he landed deep inside. You clung to every word as you waited to fall apart in any second.
“Thought about it— shit— I even thought about you while I fucked her.”
The confession was just as devastating as the blinding force of your orgasm. You cried his name as the words scrambled in your mind, just as filthy and shocking as the way his cock became covered in slick, your own cum lubricating him to slam upwards with abandon. You bucked and wailed and curled against his body as he kept fucking you through it, his cock still lashing against your throbbing insides as they pulsed with the waves of pleasure.
Every sound of his escaped between violently clenched teeth as he held onto your hips, using your weakening body like a toy to reach his end.
“Fuck, fuck, let me cum inside you baby, let me stuff this tight cunt full, I’m gonna—”
“Do it, please,” you whined as you held onto him, now come down from your own high and wrapped in a buzzing euphoria as he kept going on and on.
You weren’t thinking about the consequences. You were mostly sure it’d be fine, but still, the act was risky. Downright irresponsible. Impossibly erotic and reeling you towards consecutive orgasms.
He grunted loud as he thrust deep and heavy, pressing you so far down onto him you saw stars in your wide eyes. He jerked roughly with each rope of his cum that pooled warmly against your cervix, and you felt every twitch of his emptying shaft against your walls. The way he held you on him, your cunt was flush against his navel and he was totally bottomed out, keeping you impossibly full of his cock and his cum.
You grinded down against the feeling and felt your clit rub against his body. You did it again to seek the friction, body shaking as your nerves were filled beyond capacity. His hold on your hips turned bruising as he rocked you back and forth in encouragement, despite the way he was struggling to keep it together as his cock grew sensitive inside you.
“That’s it, get off on my fucking cock. You like being pumped full of my cum that much? Should I start driving you to work, let you sit in your office with it dripping out of you every day?”
Bright electric sparks cracked and bloomed in your center as you came shaking around him. He winced as your walls gripped impossibly tight around his sensitive half-hard cock, milking it dry of every last drop like your cunt needed it to survive. Your voice trembled around your moans until you finally relaxed with a huff. He raised you off his lap with overstimulated hisses, and you moaned at the amount of cum that leaked out as you were emptied.
The stain it’d leave on your couch and rug was a problem for later. Leon pulled you to lie on top of him and you let your weight fall on his chest, your breasts against his pecs, feeling the rise and fall of them as you both caught your breath. He rubbed your back soothingly and peppered your shoulder with kisses as you rested in the afterglow.
This feeling was too good to let go of. He was so warm and sweet after fucking you with such raw passion, you felt encompassed by him completely, lost inside his soul. You’d become something new, something not totally separate from him.
But then you felt his silver band drag cooly across your back, a cruel reminder of reality. He wasn’t yours. He probably never could be.
You groaned and sat up, fixing your hair and rolling off of him to sit beside him instead. He looked over and rubbed your arm as you looked off in the distance.
Steamy stolen nights might be all that you could have. A part of it broke your heart, and another part felt dirty, forever marred. But you still ached for the man beside you, and even through all these thoughts, you still wore a blissful smile.
You smiled at the soreness as you sat up to grab your clothes, tossing his briefs back at him with a smile.
He stood to put them on and reached down for his pants, putting the clothing that was out of your reach in front of you while he was at it. He looked for his shirt for a moment before realizing it was wedged inside the couch. He grabbed it and shrugged it on.
“You kicking me out?”
You looked up at your reflections in the TV, watching his silhouette stand over you as you put on your t-shirt and underwear, nothing more. You thought about it for a second.
“Does that mean you’ll stay if I don’t?”
He was about to fix his buttons, but he dropped his hands instead. You looked at him over your shoulder with the question in your eyes.
“Yeah,” he sighed, realizing he still had nowhere better to be. No wife at home waiting up for him, no obligations in the morning. ”I can stay. Might be the only chance I get.”
Your eyes downcast as you realized it, too. But then they landed on the puddle of cum that had soaked into your rug, and you couldn’t help but smile again.
He spent the night and stayed for breakfast. You washed his clothes while you ate and chatted while they dried. It felt normal, but it felt new, like the air was alive with the secret you shared.
Before long, he had to go. Then came the inevitable awkward goodbyes.
“So… when does she get back?”
The words felt odd in your dry mouth. He sighed as he put his shoes on by the door.
“A few days, give or take. I’m not exactly sure. Depends on how it goes.”
You nodded shallowly. There were a million questions on your mind, but that conversation would crack open too much truth about what you’d done. And there was really only one question you were desperate to hear answered.
“Would you mind picking me up for work on Monday?”
You saw the gears turn in his head until he blinked as he remembered.
“When do you usually leave in the morning?”
“Right around eight o’clock.”
His hand paused on the doorknob, and he smirked as he replied.
Newly single, you decide to fly solo to the Maldives, because why not enjoy a non-refundable trip your ex already booked? Unfortunately, as you discovered on board the airplane, he had the same idea.
ao3 ☼ wc: 9,892 ☼ based on this request!
tags: Leon Kennedy/cisfem!reader, any era Leon, smut, angst, hate sex, leon is an eater, dry humping, arguing!!, teasing, dirty talk, one bed trope, creampie, p in v, nipple play (f receiving), semi-public sex (reader gets eaten out in a sauna), mentions of cheating (no one actually cheated tho), reader protests a lot but doesn't mean it
“Group one, welcome aboard.”
You picked up your carry-on and fished your boarding pass from your purse as you shuffled into line, clutching it tightly until you held it over the scanner with a beep. “Enjoy your trip,” the attendant said with a smile. You returned it with a thank-you and trekked through the boarding bridge until you were breathing the sweet, stale air of the cabin, thanking yourself for packing a hoodie as the conditioned air nipped your arms. After all, you didn’t need cold-weather clothes where you were going.
You settled into your window seat and set your bag in the empty one next to you, kicking your feet in the ample leg room. First class seats. Your ex-boyfriend’s job really had really some perks. If only he’d shown you more upsides to being with him while you were together.
You tried not to be sad that the middle seat was occupied by luggage instead of him. You should be nestling in arm-to-arm right now, flipping through travel brochures and deciding what movie to watch on the way, but instead, you were alone.
Hard to complain about a solo trip to the Maldives, though. You’re just glad he couldn’t refund the tickets. You’d get the last laugh, after all.
“Excuse me, miss, you’re in my–”
Your heart stopped beating and dread filled your body as you looked up to find Leon with the same slack-jawed expression. He was thinking the same thought as you: no fucking way.
You could see his eyes turn red and his jaw clench as he threw his duffel bag in the overhead compartment, and then he returned to you, who was still watching in disbelief.
He gestured to your luggage in the seat that was supposed to remain empty. “Can you at least move your shit?”
All you could do was stare and guffaw. He rolled his eyes and grabbed it himself with a heavy pinch of attitude, throwing it alongside his own.
“Hey, be careful with that, my laptop’s in there,” you snapped, his harsh treatment willing you to speak. He ignored you and plopped down to sit.
Both of your eyes were set on the headrest in front of you as the painfully awkward situation set in, but he was too close not to notice every little thing. His hands were clasped together to squeeze his biceps in, very clearly not wanting to brush arms with you. His breathing was heavy and you were sure he was irate. Just the slightest sound of his breath through his nose pissed you off.
Oh my god, I’m gonna be stuck here with him for hours, you realized, and then a whole five days on a remote island.
You hadn’t even left the boarding gate, and your vacation was already ruined. Not only that, but you were caught red-handed trying to go yourself.
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” you squeaked out.
“No shit,” he whispered harshly. “Non-refundable, remember?”
“Yeah.”
It was excruciatingly awkward. Your hopes of dozing off until you landed were dashed by the palpable tension in the pressurized air, and each minute felt like an hour. He radiated so much anger and annoyance that you were surprised it didn’t set off the smoke detectors. You felt bad for the other first class passengers, because surely you were shattering the feeling of luxury for the whole section.
You tried to think of a way out of it, but then you lifted off and the wheels retracted, and you were totally and completely stuck. You cursed the Wright brothers for inventing what was now your cruel enclosure.
You rested your head against the window, looking out at the clouds below and succumbing to your fate. Five days with him, and then a flight home, too. It was supposed to be your anniversary. He’d booked a romantic cabin. You didn’t know if you’d survive.
When you landed, he didn’t even take your bags down for you. He slung his over his shoulder and walked away. You stared daggers at his back as you yanked yours down.
There was no reason not to be beside him, although you kept a minimum buffer of six feet between as you waited for your checked bags and the shuttle to the resort. It should’ve looked beautiful as you approached, the sun setting on the horizon and the palm trees in the wind, but it looked more like a prison. And then, you got to your cabin.
One bed, of course. This was a couple’s cabin after all.
“Looks like you’re taking the couch,” Leon taunted and entered the room. You left your things by the door and quickly tailed him to argue.
“Absolutely not, are you kidding me?”
“Who paid for this again?” he retorted with raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head.
Your face was scrunching and burning with anger. Every ounce of chivalry he showed when you were together was clearly dead and gone. You couldn’t argue with his point, though.
“You’re a real asshole, Leon. You were planning on soaking this trip up on your own, same as me.”
“Now neither of us can, since you decided to take advantage of it.”
“Oh, take advantage? Like you took advantage of your missions to oggle at other girls?”
That shut him up. It was the reason you broke up. It cut through the tension and hung in the air like Damocles’ sword. He grumbled and picked his bag up again, leaving the room in a storm, not missing the chance to bump roughly against your shoulder on the way out.
“Fine. You take it tonight, and then we’ll switch. Fair?”
“Fine.” You smirked with satisfaction as you moved into the room. We’ll see about that.
You closed the door and collapsed into the plush king-sized bed, letting yourself sink inside the fluffy comforters. You got up to unpack into the dresser, moving in with no intention of trading with him tomorrow, sighing as dusk took over the view outside the window. It really was beautiful here.
You made a decision: you were here, and the only thing that wasn’t perfect was your company. You’d do your absolute best to enjoy this trip in spite of him. Might even feel good to have him watch you being perfectly happy and blissful without him.
You itched to wash the airplane germs off of your skin. That’s when you realized the first obstacle to your relaxation: you’d marked the bedroom as your territory, making the rest of the place effectively his. You flinched as you turned the doorknob and put on a smug expression as soon as you opened it.
“I’m showering,” you announced as you beelined for the bathroom, not stopping to hear any response or even look at where he was.
Your second mistake was not bringing your nightclothes along with you, which you only realized when you turned the water off. You pulled the towel tightly around you and did your best to hold your head high as you beelined back to the bedroom. You groaned after closing the door behind you. Relaxing was gonna be harder than you thought.
Even more so when you got ready the next morning and remembered you’d exclusively packed your hottest, most flattering, boner-inducing bikinis in the hopes of having a steamy vacation rendezvous with a well-off stranger that’d make even the best romance authors bow before you. Maybe you still could, but Leon would be the primary individual who saw you wearing them. But you certainly weren’t bringing any bachelors back to your place. Leon’s bad attitude in the living room would scare them off if you even found the balls to try.
Whatever. This was your vacation, not his. Might feel good to know he sees all the heads you turn. Rub it in his face that you’re available to every man but him.
You wrap a skirt around you— not that it covers much, it’s more of an accessory— and leave your room.
Breakfast is on the stove, and Leon isn’t around. You shrug and grab a plate, filling it with room temperature eggs as you wait for bread to crisp in the toaster.
You lean back on the counter and take in the place you’re staying at. Tall windows with plenty of natural light shining onto the luxurious furniture and reflecting off the glass frames that house tasteful artwork on the walls. A fully stocked kitchen and hardwood floors that are begging to be covered in sand as evidence of your enjoyment. Everything so clean it practically sparkles. It’s not huge, but it’s nice. Really, really nice.
It would’ve been so much nicer if you were here for the intended purpose, if you weren’t newly single, if your ex wasn’t lurking around and was wrapping his arms around you instead, before your breakup transformed him into a raging dick.
The toaster pops and you take your plate to the table. You look at the sofa in the living room and see the tousled throw pillows and the lingering shape of his body still inlayed in the upholstery.
You look up at the sound of him entering from the bathroom wearing nothing but swim shorts. You quickly mind your business and look down to your next bite of food. You know what his body looks like, you don’t need to stare. You definitely don’t want a reason to add his rippling pecs and washboard abs to the things you should’ve been enjoying here.
Leon gazes at the stove as he passes through the kitchen on his way to his makeshift bed. “I see you helped yourself.”
“Yup. Went cold, though.” A hidden double meaning.
He raised a brow as he sat down on the couch, picking up the pamphlet on the coffee table. “You’re welcome for making enough for you.”
You sighed and leaned back in the dining chair as you swallowed. “I think we’d both appreciate not spending the week fighting. Can you do that?”
“Easy, we’re sure off to a great start.” Dripping with sarcasm.
He was really getting under your skin now. You rubbed your palms into your eyes and picked up your empty plate to throw it in the kitchen before grabbing your totebag of beachside essentials.
“Whatever, Leon. I’m going to enjoy myself regardless. See you around.”
He was very much distracted by your ass moving under your very small bikini as you walked out the door. He blinked to snap back to reality.
“Don’t charge your drinks to the room,” he called after you. You were far enough away that you could pretend not to hear. A drink was a great idea. Who cares that it’s still morning? You’re on vacation.
You really did enjoy yourself. You spent a good while walking around and exploring the resort, and you had absolutely zero complaints. The ocean glittered all around you, an inviting clear blue, you even saw some cute little fishes swimming under the piered walkway. You took a menu from the day spa and decided you’d absolutely book the sauna at some point. The main bar was empty of people, but you couldn’t wait to see it at night. It was kinda fun to roam around and pretend you could afford to be here on your own.
You’d killed an hour and a half and decided to head for the beach. The sun was rising towards noon and was starting to draw sweat from your skin, which made a cocktail sound better than ever. You hummed as your toes met the cool white sand and sauntered over to the beachside bar, all smiles as you relaxed onto the stool and ordered whatever sounded the most refreshing. The tender stopped you before you left with it to ask if you reserved a beach chair.
“Oh, I didn’t know they had to be reserved.”
“They’re all booked up for today. What’s your room number? I can double check if you have one?”
“Sure, thank you.” You sipped through the straw as they clicked on a tablet, until they shared the good news. It’d been reserved in advance as part of the package. “Amazing, thank you!”
You giddy stride as your day got off to a good start was cut short as you approached the chairs. It was just like the airplane, but now Leon had beaten you there. You had half a mind to turn heel until you remembered your goal not to let him rain on your sunny day.
You sat down with a huff, ignoring the way he looked over from under his sunglasses. You pulled out your book and settled in, cocktail still in hand, nestled under the shade of the wide umbrella above.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah, I am,” he replied.
You wanted to keep it civil, and the tense small talk was a start, but you just couldn’t bite your tongue, could you?
“I figured, plenty of girls in bikinis to keep you entertained.”
He looked up as he started ranting, waving his hands towards the sky like he was talking to god and not you sitting next to him. You closed the book you hadn’t even began as you watched him.
“I told you it wasn’t like that, jesus christ. I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t cheat on you, I don’t know how you expect me to prove a negative.”
You nodded slowly. “Sure fooled me. Guess you’re not even sorry anymore.”
He sighed and covered his hands with his face. He wasn’t lying, but explaining himself was just as impossible now as it’d been in the days-long argument before he threw in the towel, which in your eyes just confirmed that he’d exchanged you for another and used the argument as an excuse to drop the burden of being taken. He regretted the decision after, knowing it was driven by emotional impulse in the heat of an argument, and was ultimately the cowardly way out. The way you accepted it and left in a string of insults solidified it as a lasting choice. It made you certain that he’d actually done something wrong, and that frustrated him worst of all, especially as it was thrown back in his face.
But what was he to do? Try to get you back? He was the one who broke up with you, and the door back in was barricaded shut.
When you stood up and took off your skirt before announcing you’d go for a swim, unwrapping your body so close to him that he could smack your ass if he wanted, he decided he had to try. God bless polarized shades for assuring him you wouldn’t be able to see him watch you strut all the way into the water if you’d looked back.
He grumbled as you plunged below the surface, wetting your hair and reemerging like a siren. He reclined back and closed his eyes, pulling his knees up a bit to hide the tent that was forming in his shorts.
When you got out of the water, his chair was empty, and it remained so for the rest of the many hours you spent cozied up with your book and the melting ice in your cocktail. It was hard to focus on reading, though, as your thoughts always went back to the words he’d said.
There was still a part of you that ached to believe him, that wished it never happened and you could pick back up where you were. But he was the one who broke up with you. He didn’t want you. It wouldn’t be any closure to believe him because then you’d have to mourn a relationship that ended over nothing.
The sun on the outside and the alcohol on the inside pulled you into drowsiness, and the breeze lulled you to sleep.
You woke up with a start and rummaged through your tote bag for your phone. It was four in the afternoon. You’d totally slept through lunch, and now you were starving.
You rubbed the sleep off your face and decided to take another dip, letting the water wake you up, giving you enough energy to walk back to your abode. You thought Leon might be out until you saw the back patio doors were left open and you poked your head through to see him sitting on the edge, kicking his feet in the water as he looked out in the distance.
He hadn’t noticed you were there yet, and you couldn’t help but watch him. God, his back muscles were so hot. You walked back in to avert yourself.
“I’m back,” you called from the living room. He turned his head to see you. You sat on the carpet and stretched a little bit, enjoying the fresh air pooling inside.
“Hey,” he said, and gazed back ahead.
You furrowed your brow. He sounded kinda sad. Dejected maybe? Gloomy. It made you feel bad, because if he was, you definitely caused it. You just couldn’t help yourself. You paused and pursed your lips.
“I’m sorry for–”
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “It’s fine. I’m an asshole, I know.”
You inhaled to say something sharp, but he cut you off again. “No, I mean it. I’m not just saying it ‘cause that’s how you see me.”
You rocked on the ground, a puzzled expression on your face. It was the closest thing to an apology that you’d gotten so far, and remorse was the last thing you expected to come back here and find. You thought he had more to say, but he must have decided against it, because he stood and walked past you to the bathroom, leaving you alone and kinda confused.
Whatever. You didn’t have to help him with his emotions anymore. He’d relieved you of the job. You leaned forward and grabbed the pamphlet from the coffee table, looking for your restaurant options.
You felt a little weird as you sat alone at your table for two. You’d idly scanned around for wealthy benefactors, but they all had a well-dressed lady on their arm or a gold band on their finger. And none looked anywhere near as good as the man who was back in your room.
You rested your chin in your hand as you stared out at the amber sunset on the ebbing expanse of the ocean. The candle on your table flickered and birds chirped as they flew towards their nests for the night. Your food arrived and you dug in, then left cash on the table so you didn’t spend more time waiting around in silence.
You returned to find Leon kicked back on your bed, scrolling on his phone with his legs crossed. There goes your calm mood.
“Oh, hey. Food any good?”
“Are you seriously gonna make me sleep on the couch?”
He shrugged and didn’t look up. “You agreed. I swapped the blankets for you.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered as you swiped up your necessities from the dresser and the bedside.
“If you really want to sleep here, we can share.”
“You wish, asshole.”
You closed the door behind you and fell into the couch. It felt like concrete compared to the bed.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of clinking dishes and pressed the pillow over your ears with a groan.
“Morning sunshine,” you heard him mock through the pillow feathers. That was enough to ensure you woke up on the wrong side of the sofa.
It was all grumbles and slammed doors as you got yourself ready. You dragged your blanket back to the bed and returned his to the couch dramatically. And then, the daunting task of getting dressed.
Your hands hovered over a cherry red bikini with a smirk. That was one way to get under his skin.
You sauntered out of the room like you were unaffected by the sour start to the day. Sure, you could’ve put clothes on over your bikini for now, but where was the fun in that?
Leon, however, was made of glass. It was all too obvious the way his neck craned as he watched and his mouth ever-so-slightly parted.
You grabbed the sunscreen from the entryway and stepped onto the back patio, keeping the doors open as you covered your body in the sheer, glossy mist. You took your sweet time rubbing it in, literally and definitely figuratively. It was important to get in every nook and cranny, wasn’t it? You made sure you didn’t miss a spot, gliding your fingers an inch under the fabric in case it moved around.
You suddenly looked back up to catch Leon staring. He was caught red-handed and stuttered in a thin attempt to act like he wasn’t looking. You shook the canister in your hand.
“You need some?”
“Um, uh, yeah.”
He walked over to you all too quickly, acting like a desperate schoolboy. You smirked as he stood in front of you with visible nervousness, waiting.
“Here ya go.”
You shoved the sunscreen into his chest and walked away, leaving him there to die.
As you pulled orange juice from the fridge, you heard him scoff, and then the quiet sound of the spray. You didn’t watch. No way you’d make the same mistake he just did.
He set it firmly down on the kitchen counter as you sipped from your glass.
“That was cruel.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You flashed a smile so sweet it could’ve rot his teeth. He shook his head and gathered his things from the entryway. Sunglasses, sandals, other things in already in his tote (one you definitely bought for him).
“I’m hitting the beach. You coming?”
You grabbed the sunscreen and followed. “Sure.”
The tension was better now that you felt like you had the upper hand. You were actually able to read your book as the waves and bristling palm fronds sang a sweet white noise around you. Leon reclined his seat back to lay down, hands resting behind his head as he soaked up the shade, his earphones acting as a room divider between you. It really wasn’t half bad.
Before long it was time for lunch. You decided to avoid another unplanned nap and led the way back, being certain to put your hips into your walk as he followed slowly behind. The minute the door closed behind you, the easy vibes were over.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Is it working?”
But instead of Leon walking away in a huff of frustration or returning a sarcastic jab, something in his gaze darkened in a way that made you feel almost scared. He took measured steps towards you until he was close enough that you stepped back to keep the distance, like he was closing in on his prey.
“You’ve been nothing but a bitch to me this whole trip, acting like you hate me,” he said, voice low and husky, looking at you from under his brow.
“I do hate you.”
You wished it sounded more confident as you tried to match his serious expression. The back of your thighs hit the sofa’s armrest and you gripped it to keep balance, trying to appear as if you were half-sitting on it casually, as if you weren’t just there because he’d cornered you.
“Then why are you acting like you want something?”
You inhaled sharply as he leaned over you, his hands on either side of the armrest, caging you in, so close you had to lean back.
Shit, maybe you’d gone too far. You looked back and forth between his eyes as you tried to get a grip on the situation and where it was going. You should’ve thought your teasing through.
He cocked his head mockingly. “Where’s all that venom now, babe?” He raised an index finger to curl under the string of your bikini that rested between your breasts, pulling it away from your skin and letting it go with a snap that stole your breath. “Y’don’t seem to be talking back now, huh?”
The air went thick as you held his eye contact. A smirk bloomed on his face. And then you were flying backwards onto the couch, and he crawled right over with you.
He was fervent and hungry, devouring your lips with wet, open mouthed kisses that were all tongue and spit. If you had ownership over your mouth you would’ve gasped, but you were struggling for air. You held onto his arms and felt the warm, stiff muscles of his biceps flexing in your grip, making you squeeze them tighter without even meaning to.
You also didn’t mean to arch your back, sending your hips curling against his hard dick in his boxers. You took in the much-needed oxygen as he unlatched from your lips, instead nipping and sucking the skin under your jaw, making him chuckle before he pressed his body closer into you, grinding against your bikini-clad center.
“Your mouth is much better used for this than all that smart talk,” he said as he put two fingers into your open mouth. You knit your brows as your tongue instinctively met the salty pads of his fingertips, and he pushed them further in response. The meat of his palm lightly pushed up from under your chin as he made a blunt command. “Suck.”
You held back from moaning around his digits as he grinded into you with more precision, feeling the wetness begin to seep out under the friction of your bikini as he rubbed himself against your clothed clit. Your head was spinning and you were lost in a daze as he slowly drew his fingers in and out of the vacuum of your mouth. Your eyes flitted open as he rolled his hips with intoxicatingly slow intention, and you found him staring down at you with cruel amusement.
You turned your head and all but spat his fingers out, pushing your hands against his pecs to get him off, but you didn’t try all that hard, really. You looked away from him in embarrassment.
“Get off of me, Leon.”
He pressed his cock against you firmly, keeping it there, ceasing his movements. Your body betrayed you as your hips twitched in search of movement.
“You sure that’s what you want?” He pressed in a little further and you swore you felt him throb against you. Or maybe it was your own sex that was throbbing. You weren’t gonna think about it enough to find out. You couldn’t think about anything when he leaned in and toyed with the hem of your top and took your legs tensing around him as permission to pull it down and latch onto your nipple.
“Oh,” you moaned in surprise at the sensation. It felt like ages since you’d been touched like this, or at all. His tongue slipped around your nipple in crude, soft circles. When he sucked it up into his mouth, he moaned around it, and the vibration sent an electric currents straight to your pulsing cunt. When he pulled off with a wet pop and started flicking up and down over it, you had to put all your effort into not writhing needily under him.
“Could do this somewhere else on you,” he mumbled before sucking and twirling his tongue again.
You felt like you were losing your mind. You needed to get a grip before you completely lost sight of your resolve. This was already miles beyond a bad idea; letting him go further would be insane. You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, even as his hand brushed your stomach and traveled downward towards your navel. Especially then.
You pushed against his chest with a lot more purpose. “I said get off of me.”
He did, leaning back on his haunches, one knee in between your legs and another on the ground, arms up in a mock surrender.
“Whatever you say, babe.”
You scrambled to rise, yanking your bikini back in place and running your fingers sharply through your hair before you hightailed it towards the bedroom, face red and still out of breath.
“You’re a fucking pervert, Leon. Stay the hell away from me.” You knew he was smiling as you slammed the door behind you.
You felt gross. You could still feel his saliva coating your hard nipple under your top, could still feel his body heat on you. Worse, you were so turned on you felt dizzy. You changed out of your bikini to get the evidence off of you. You paused in horror as your bottoms were mid-thigh, heart hammering as you saw the thick, creamy evidence of your arousal. You bunched them up and threw them in the corner to get them as far away from you as possible, as if that’d separate you from the feelings in your body.
You shouldn’t have let him get that far, not even close to it. And you’d let him get so close to giving you more. Thank god you stopped him so he wouldn’t discover how wet a little dry humping had made you.
You threw on a fresh pair of underwear, the least sexy ones you’d packed, and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. You threw your hair up in a clip and stormed out, kicking your sandals on while you were halfway out the door.
“Where ya going?”
“Out,” you barked as you fumbled to step into your stupid non-cooperative shoes.
“Where to?”
“Away from you,” you turned to nearly shout as you finally got them on, and then you were off, hands in fists at your side as you walked towards you-didn’t-know-where.
You walked past the guest services building and past the bars and restaurants. You thought about stopping for food, but you’d lost your appetite now, and you didn’t want to sit out in the open where he might find you. A sign pointed towards a different shore than you’d been going to, so you followed it. A five-minute walk and your sandals met sand, and you just kept walking, putting as much distance between you and Leon as possible.
The effort of walking through soft sand in the beating afternoon sunshine forced you to finally slow down. The rigidity of your body from your wired nervous system was replaced by the soreness of your calves and the sweat you wiped from your forehead, forcing you to relax to conserve your energy, or at least focus on your body and not your racing thoughts. You should’ve brought the sunscreen, and you stepped under the shade of the palms that line the far side of the shore. Eventually, you reached the end of the beach where it curved into a small peninsula and sat down under a tree.
You were physically more relaxed, but as you gazed out at the water, your head was filled with the angry white noise of cement crushers and destructive heavy machinery loudly whirring and clanking. Your mind was a demolition zone as you grappled with frustration and confusion and the stupid, undeniable want that still throbbed between your legs.
You wished you brought your phone, but you’d left it in your beach bag. You could really benefit from phoning a friend right now. But what did you hope to hear? That you should kick him out somehow, or you should give him another shot, even if it’s just for hot vacation sex? You wished you could do both, and it made you want to rip your hair out.
You stayed there for a long while, until you calmed down enough to enjoy the scenery again, and decided it was best to avoid him altogether. Then you’d have less opportunities to speak and wouldn’t risk seeing the results of your provocations again, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything happening or not.
When you got back, he made that hard. He had takeout sitting on the counter next to an unopened bottle of wine. The very kind you liked.
“What is this, an apology?” you muttered to yourself as you inspected the label. You grabbed a fork and a glass, took it all to your room, and ate cross-legged on the bed with your laptop open playing your comfort show. You were glad for the large windows, because even holed up inside, you didn’t miss out on the tropic amber sunset.
The wine didn’t help your thoughts, though. You were a touch dehydrated from your long walk, and one glass hit harder than it should’ve. You set the container of food down on the bedside table and curled into the sheets, arms wrapped around yourself. You weren’t trying to sleep, just waiting to be less tipsy.
Unfortunately, the sheets now smelled of him. Faint enough not to be overpowering, apparent enough to be constant. Pine and balmy musk, with a small hint of sharp spice. Distinctive and comfortingly familiar. The scent you used to savor on all his stolen hoodies, and steal the shampoo in his shower to take a part of him home in your hair.
The image of what happened earlier that day flashed behind your eyelids. You groaned in ire and pressed your thighs together. You flicked off the lamp, kicked your shorts to the floor, and ignored it until you slept.
You woke up. Day three. Two more days and you’d be on a flight home and could forget this ever happened.
But now your problems had doubled. Leon made himself impossible to escape. He stood in your way intentionally, forcing you to stand way closer to him than you wanted to before he moved, acting like he just wasn’t paying attention. He beat you to lunch plans, ordering food to the room, but of course he didn’t tell you that until you were just about to get ready to find a meal on your own, so you were stuck waiting in the room with him because for half an hour it’d be there “any minute”. And the bastard booked you both the sauna that night. Son of a bitch found the spa menu you took and knew you well enough to guess what you most wanted.
“I’ll pass.”
“Oh come on, I already paid for you. You didn’t pass up wasting my money to go on this trip, don’t start wasting it now.”
“Eat a dick,” you replied, but you were already moving to get changed.
The sauna was woefully small. You sat across from him but had to keep your legs in so they wouldn’t touch his. You had a full view of his cut figure as he rested his arms across the top of the seat and his jawline as it tipped back in relaxation. You closed your eyes and breathed in the steam as it filled the bamboo room, trying to relax and not regret agreeing to be here. But your worst mistake this trip, and maybe your entire life, was picking a brand new white bikini to wear.
“You really aren’t subtle,” he said, making your eyes slowly open in question.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought the red bikini was hot, but this one takes the cake.”
You followed his eyes to look down at yourself.
Oh no. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to me right now, you thought as you saw the dampened fabric that was once opaque cling like a second skin, clearly showing the outline and hue of your nipples on the top, and creasing along your folds on the bottom. Your knees banged together as you closed them and you crossed your arms against your chest, embarrassed beyond saving. He giggled as he watched, like it was the cutest joke he’d ever heard.
“How long were you staring before you told me?!” You cursed yourself for shopping online and not reading the reviews.
Leon shrugged. “C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I saw them just yesterday.”
You reached out a foot to kick him as your face grew hot. He’d seen your body in grotesque displays of nakedness, yeah, but you hadn’t planned on this. In fact, you were planning on never showing your naked body to him ever again.
With sympathy, he looked around at the sauna and listened for anyone outside.
“There’s no cameras in here, you’re fine. I’m right by the door, I won’t let anyone come in.”
You relaxed just a touch, but not enough to expose yourself. He scoffed disbelievingly at your shyness.
“Would it make you feel better if I took my shorts off? Then you’d be the most modest one in–”
“Shut up.”
“It’s a sauna, you’re allowed to be naked.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” you sneered.
He looked you up and down and you noticed he definitely had a bulge growing. “So what if I did?”
“‘So what?’ ‘So,’ you broke up with me, Leon. ‘So,’ you don’t get to paw at me like a horny teenage boy anymore.”
“You sure liked it yesterday.”
You turned in an attempt to face away from the truth in his statement, which only egged him on.
“My offer still stands.”
“What offer?”
“To do the thing you like with my tongue somewhere better than your tits.”
He leaned forward and the humidity billowed around him like smoke. From the corner of your eye you could see the moisture sticking to him, dampening his hair into a darker shade of brown, every crevice of muscle shining like he was oil slick in the low light.
You breathed out your thoughts. “You are so vulgar.”
You inhaled shakily as he sank down to his knees. “You didn’t say no.”
“I’m not gonna fuck you, Leon, and definitely not here,” you pleaded. But it fell on deaf ears as his big hands took hold of your knees and slowly pulled them apart. His eyes were blown as he looked up at you between kisses up your inner thighs.
“You don’t gotta fuck me,” he cooed between each soft peck, “just let me eat you out. Don’t gotta return the favor.”
He bit softly at the crease at the fork of your thigh and your cunt, making you gasp and twitch towards him, your legs spreading on their own and giving him just enough room to thumb under the hem.
“Hey,” he said lowly, interrupting your focus on squeezing your eyes shut. He looked up at you through the mist, his face inches away from you. “Lift your hips for me.”
You uncovered your chest and lifted yourself up, turning a blind eye to the way he hummed at the sight of your breasts before pulling your bottoms down to dangle around one ankle. You sat yourself back down closer to the edge so he could access you, and leaned back to accept your decision. He was already spreading you apart in his hands like he was marvelling at the sight.
There was no use in protesting now. You’d given in to him. The promise of an orgasm was too enticing to resist, because you knew how skillfully he’d get you there.
He slowly dragged his velvety tongue up your folds, letting it flatten on your clit before he flicked it back into his mouth with a bite of his lower lip and a furrow in his brow, like he just got a taste of the finest thing on earth and he was ready to dig in. Then he did it again, saliva pooling in his wake, adding to the sap that was escaping from your entrance.
It was getting hard to breathe through the steam, and you felt hot and dizzy all over. Each time he passed over your clit, your thigh twitched in his hands and left you desperate for more as he started all over again, excruciatingly slow.
“Stop teasing.”
“M’not,” he licked again, “just enjoying myself.”
“Thought this was for me, not you.”
“Hmm-mm,” he hummed the negative into you, “just said you didn’t have to get me off. Can get myself off just from this.”
Your jaw went slack at the sight of him pushing down his swim trunks to pull his cock free. He was already rock hard and leaking just from this. He pumped himself slowly, hands twisting to gather the leaking pre-cum at the tip, and rubbing it all the way back down.
He could be such a perv sometimes, needing it everywhere and anywhere. You wished it wasn’t so hot of him so you could close your eyes and imagine it was anyone else, but he looked way too good not to watch.
You arched your back, pushing your hips into his puffy mouth. He moaned just from that, gruff and unashamed of what he was doing and where. His arm flexed as he stroked himself faster as he pushed his face into your cunt, his tongue burying itself and fucking into you crudely. He shook his head from side to side and his nose rubbing against your clit made you moan a little louder than you should’ve.
He planted a kiss onto the sensitive bud. “Maybe I should stop, ‘know you can’t be quiet to save your life.”
You grabbed his hair and pulled those smiling lips back in. “I can be quiet, ahhh… you just, make it hard.”
“Oh yeah?”
He and his goddamn tactical precision, tongue finding your clit like a heat seaking missle. He caught your eye contact as he moved it back and forth until you were ready to combust.
Your breath hitched and you whispered a string of swears as he returned with purpose. “Leon, fuck… gonna make me cum, please.”
He went even faster, head all but thrashing to add to his speed. He pushed a finger inside with no precursor or warning. He curled it against your walls and that was all it took for stars to explode in your vision.
You whined and ground into his face as you came, nerves sparking and sizzling with electricity as your muscles seized and jittered towards his thirsty mouth that slurped every drop with wet and embarrassing sounds. He never showed any mercy when you came; his eagerness to taste you only ever drove him to a faster, deliciously sloppy speed, regardless of how it sent you reeling towards overstimulation.
Your thighs clamped down around his face and you tried to push him away by the forehead, but by the looks of his heaving back and arm pumping at breakneck speed, it wouldn’t be over until he was done.
But then he suddenly stopped, grunting and shaking as he lay his head on your thigh and squeezed the base of his cock. “I can’t cum here...” Clearly he was overheating, too. “Let me give you another, baby.”
“M’not your baby,” you huffed.
You winced as he stuck his tongue out to lick your sensitive folds once more. “I could cum here.”
The idea stole your breath away. Getting eaten out in a sauna was one thing (and was already pushing it, frankly), so there was no way in hell you’d let him creampie you here.
“That’s such a bad idea, Leon. It’d still be way too messy.”
He kissed up your body– taking special pause over your boobs, of course– until he was sucking at your neck. Slowly, his hand moved up and down his shaft again, the tip pressed into your inner thigh, which you had full view of as a bead of precum leaked out and smeared against the point of contact.
He spoke directly into your ear. “Could just eat you out again to clean it up. I’ll make it real good for you, promise. Just the tip?”
You held onto his shoulders as you quivered, and you looked down to see him not-so-subtly inching his dick closer to your entrance. Right now, you wanted it, you really did. To feel his girth fill you up, his length hammer against your g-spot, watch him fuck into you like he didn’t care who saw.
“J-just the tip. Only the tip.” He lined himself up, both of you looking down to see his head slip up and down your sopping hole. “Promise me.” He didn’t respond as he pressed it inside. “Leon, I’m so serious, don’t ahh, go any further, and don’t you dare cum in me.”
It drove you crazy the way he whined in a pitch too high to believe that he produced it. And that was his only reply.
He shallowly fucked you, holding your legs up around his waist as it glided in and out. You were surely leaving fingernail marks on his shoulders with how you held onto him, but it was the only way you could keep yourself from obeying your desperate pussy that fluttered in its desire to draw him further in.
“Feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking tight for me.” His tip was fully disappearing inside of you now, and maybe a centimeter more. “You fuck anyone since we broke up? Or you kept it just for me?”
You trembled as you watched him test his limits, seeing just how much more he could add before you stopped him, whispering such filthy things in the hope of obliterating your composure.
And the truth of it was that you hadn’t slept with anyone new. Leon was pretty blessed down there, and you highly doubted you’d win the luck of a draw if you had a one-night stand. It was an objective reality, not a matter of yearning, that you thought a random guy wouldn’t come close to comparing. So you didn’t even try.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “Tell me, I wanna know. How many guys have you fucked since you’ve been gone?”
Your chest burned, but you answered in a squeak. “N-none.”
The truth was a bad answer. You should’ve said a hundred, or said that you met a guy with a giant penis who made Leon’s look like a marble. But you told the truth and his eyes lit up with that wicked, smug-faced smile. He thrust a little further in.
“Leon stop, you’re going too deep, you said–”
“That was before I knew how much she missed me. Fuck, can’t believe you saved it for me… I didn’t fuck anyone else either, never want another pussy. Look at her grip me, baby, look how wet you’re making my cock.”
You looked and really shouldn’t have because it was a filthy sight, and the blame was spread equally between you. You huffed as your body opened up, and he drove his hips forward harder, distracting you from how he abandoned his initial proposition by yanking your top down to grope at your tits. Your eyes rolled back as he twisted your nipples and he captured your mouth with his own, knowing you were on the brink of being way too loud again, muffling your sounds with his tongue as he sped up and bottomed out.
He couldn’t go too fast or else the sound of slapping skin would give away what you were doing, and it kept you right on the edge, teetering towards another orgasm like a tight rope walk.
“C’mon, give me another, fuck I can feel how close you are.”
His words made the knot tighten and tighten until it was nearly about to snap.
Then, the timer went off.
“Shit, shit,” he muttered as he clamored to pull out and bring his shorts up. He watched the door and blindly tugged your bottoms up to your knee to help you in your own flurry to recover yourself.
The minute you both stood, the door opened and a woman in black scrubs greeted you with a smile. You both froze like you were at attention, flashing your most convincing grins as she chimed, “time’s up! Did you enjoy yourselves?”
Leon rushed to speak and if your heart wasn’t pounding against your ribcage so bad it hurt, you would’ve laughed at his hands clasped in front of him to hold down his hard on.
“Absolutely! Could we get some towels?”
As soon as she turned around, Leon yanked the door closed again and turned around to tie his drawstrings. You gave yourself another once over as you scolded him as sharply as you possibly could in a whisper.
“I told you that was a bad idea, I fucking told you, are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled as he palmed his cock like it’d deflate.
“Don’t tell me to–”
The door opened again and you both snapped back to niceties. Leon thanked her and grabbed them, tossing one to you as he rushed to pull his around his waist.
“I’ll give you two a minute. I’ll wait in the hall,” the woman said, leaving the sauna door open as she left.
You bumped into Leon rudely as you stepped out of the steam and into the air conditioning, rubbing your face with the towel and pressing it into your swimsuit to absorb the excess moisture in hopes it’d return to its dry opacity. He walked out a moment later looking criminally unphased.
“It’s fine, she doesn’t know, I’m sure they see that all the time.”
You clutched the towel to your chest as you turned to him. “That doesn’t mean we should risk getting caught. What if she does know? What if they kick us out?”
He rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Then they would’ve kicked us out. They didn’t, so relax.”
You bit your cheeks as your face twisted up, wanting to snap again. He probably thought you had nothing to come back with, but you had plenty. What made it hard to talk was how good he looked flushed and wet, chest still rising and falling with the remaining breathlessness, skin glossy with steam and sweat, muscles pumped and defined from his labors. You gumbled and looked for your clothes. “You’re so stupid, seriously.”
“Keep yelling at me, it’s helping me go soft.”
You threw your towel right in his face and tugged your shorts on with difficulty as your own damp skin clung to the cotton.
You stormed ahead with heavy steps pounding on the boardwalk as you rushed to get back to privacy. You let the door close behind you and heard him stop it from slamming in his face.
“Don’t be like that, you liked it.”
You were in a full on rage, pacing around aimlessly, arms waving in vexation. “Fuck you, Leon, seriously. I cannot believe how reckless you are, you have no consideration for anything but getting your rocks off.”
“You calling me a selfish lover? I remember it starting by getting you off.”
“Because you started it. You got on your knees and begged for it. It was your idea.”
He wasn’t put off by your little stormcloud at all. In fact, he was smoothly approaching you. You scoffed and pushed him away, but he followed at your heel to the bedroom.
“What are you even doing?” he said as he watched you enter.
You held the door and tried to close it, but he was standing in the way.
“Oh,” you laughed, “don’t even think I’m taking the couch tonight. If anyone’s ever deserved to sleep on the couch, it’s you.”
“You can take the bed tonight,” he shrugged cooly.
You blinked and rolled your eyes, leaving him standing in the doorway as you tried to find something in the room to act like you came in there for. You settled on pulling your hair and sitting on the bed, and you sighed in relief as he left.
But it wasn’t for long, because he returned with his blanket and tossed it on the foot.
“What are you doing?” you asked, only slightly simmered down after a moment to collect yourself.
“You can sleep in the bed, but it’s still my night, so I’m sleeping here too.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I don’t know why you’re so resistant,” he started as he walked around to be in front of you. “Clearly you want me, too. I mean, come on, letting me put the tip in?”
You shut your eyes as he stood over you, shaking your head in frustration at yourself as much as him, because he was ultimately correct. You felt his shadow cover you as he closed in. A shiver went down your core as his voice deepened close to you.
“We both know you want it, so let me finish what I started.” His hands trepidatiously swept up and down your thighs, and you hated how turned on you still were. You got so close to release before it ended so abruptly. “I’ll make it up to you, promise. I’ll be nice, I won’t bother you. I’ll make you cum until you’ve had your fill and then I’ll leave you be.”
Your eyes fluttered open and you watched your legs part again. You’d gone this far. He’d already fucked you, and despite your hot temper, he wanted to again. No use in not getting yours now.
You yanked him by the nape of the neck and connected in a searing kiss. He groaned as your hands tightened painfully in his hair and crawled on top of you, pushing you back onto the bed as he started fumbling with your shorts.
You opened your tongue to him as you raised your hips, letting him remove your shorts and bikini bottom in one fell swoop. He threw them somewhere behind him and returned to your top, reaching behind you to untie the strings and letting it fall out of place to expose you. You didn’t hide this time, and he relished in it even more, moaning at the sight of you coming undone before he pushed it all aside to grab and suck on your tits again.
You arched in search of his body heat and he eagerly provided it, grinding his hips into you once before deciding he couldn’t take feeling you through clothing a second longer. His mouth trailed down until he landed sloppy kisses against your cunt, sucking and lapping only a few times before he crawled over you again with a groan.
He smacked your still-sensitive clit as he stared down at you, lining himself up with a taunt.
“This what you need to feel better? Need my cock to stop your bitching?”
He thrust inside to cut off the possibility of further balk talk. You gasped at the feeling, already gone tight again in the time between the sauna and here, the friction of your walls grabbing at him as he entered. He hardly drew back before pushing in again, settling onto his forearms while he stayed flush to the hilt. Only then did he start a steady rock of his hips, bluntly coming down with force that made you cry out.
“You love taking this dick, don’t you? Just look at you, baby, already a fucking mess. You hear how wet you are? ‘Cause I can feel it.”
“Stop talking,” you whined, wrapping an arm around his back and threading your fingers through his hair.
“Mmm, you love my dirty mouth. You think I forgot what my girl likes? Think I don’t jerk off to the thought of giving it to you every night?”
He was right; you did love it. Every knock against your cervix was a thought-terminating cliché, and the filth paired with graphic confessions and the words ‘my girl’ made your head swim even more. And the the confession that made the earth tilt on its axis:
“Think I don’t still love you? Because I do.”
You felt it bloom and burst in your chest, though you couldn’t form words to reciprocate. He was everywhere: his warmth all around you, solid muscles and smooth flesh, the woodsy scent of his skin peppered with the tart musk of sauna sweat. The soft edges of his hair brushed against your face as they swayed with his hammering pace. All the little things you’d tried to get over and fought so hard not to miss, all the reasons you’d treated him poorly to push the yearning away.
“You should be thanking me after what a pain you’ve been,” he muttered the taunts against your neck and traced your pulse point with his tongue. “Shouldn’t be fucking you at all, but you just needed it so bad.”
“You’re such an asshole,” you breathed, not a trace of conviction in it.
He held you by the pit of your knee to drive in at a deeper angle, building momentum to go faster and faster.
“You love it.”
“I– oh– hate you…”
“Keep telling yourself that, babe. You love this dick a whole lot more.”
Your eyes rolled back as he gritted his teeth and hammered in, firmly holding you in his bulky arms as his navel slapped against you, and his cock smacked against your sweet spot. Pornographic sounds echoed in the room and the sheets were undoubtedly earning a wet spot, you could tell by the way he looked down at where you connected. You chanted ah, ah, ah, like a prayer and he folded you in half until each thrust pushed the sounds out of your lungs whether you wanted to be loud or not.
“Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, say my fucking name when you cum.”
Two sharp up tilted snaps of his hips and you fell apart under him, unable to see anything but heaven as your eyelids flickered. You moaned his name so loud you knew you’d feel ashamed later, but right now all you felt was ecstasy as he kept going while you writhed.
You barely started coming down to earth when you noticed him losing his grip, a smile twitching faintly before his face scrunched up in concentration.
“Let me fill you, please, let me cum in your pussy,” he begged.
“Do it, fuck,” you moaned at the mere thought.
He grunted and then his body seized in unsteady shakes and sputters, and your mouth fell open in a gasp as you felt it spill inside.
With every weak thrust he sank further and further down onto you, until he stilled and you were pressed firmly under his weight. You rubbed his back as your teeth buzzed and soaked in the sensation of his cock twitching inside.
You laid there in the afterglow and watched the dimming sunlight dance on the ceiling, wrapping your head around what happened today and the fact that you didn’t feel angry right now.
You patted him as his breathing evened so he didn’t fall asleep on you. He rolled off, both of you hissing as he pulled out, and then collapsed beside you with his arms above his head.
Damn him for being stretched out like a greek god. Damn you for loving it.
He caught your eye as you stared and neither of you could help but huff out a smile. It lingered there until he looked at your lips and then back to your eyes.
“Want me to make dinner reservations?” he asked in a rasp.
sum; rookie!leon asking his girlfriend to cum inside for the first time
content; unprotected sex, creampies, multiple rounds, whiney!leon, leon cries a little :3
wc; 1.2k
a/n; I just want rookie!leon so bad.
You two didn't use protection often. It was stupid and dangerous, especially considering you and Leon were barely making ends meet as you two had just moved to Raccoon City for his new position at RPD. But you two had it in your head that birth control and the pull-out method would solve all the problems. Leon just couldn't help himself with you. You were so perfect, and somehow, your perfection increased when you were beneath him, rubbing your clit and moaning his name as he rutted his hips messily. Poor boy was still a bit uncoordinated with his hips, but he made up for it in other ways.
"F-fu—uuck," you moaned, head falling back. Leon pushed your thighs wider, giving him a deeper angle. "Ah! Fuck, that's good—really fucking good." You gasped, brows knitting together as he sped up, the bed creaking as the headboard hit against the wall. Another noise complaint in the making.
"Oh, God, you feel s-so good.. so warm 'n tight 'n fucking perfect." Leon choked out, a whimper falling from him as he looked down at you. "So pretty. Love—love you so much." He panted, his own legs shaking slightly.
"Yeah? You feel good, too, baby. Feel so fucking big inside me." You prodded at his ego, and he clearly felt it as he grinned faintly, your praise pushing him to hold back a while longer for you.
"Can I.. oh, god! Can I cum? Please, 'm gonna cum s-soon!" He warned, whimpering loudly.
"Fuck, just pull—pull out, it's okay, baby." You panted. He shook his head, a whimper coming along with it. "Wh-why not? 'S okay, you can cum,"
"No. No. Wanna cum inside. Need to f-fill you. Fill you 'n watch it spill out of you. Please? I'll do anything. P-pinky promise, baby." He pleaded, begging like his life depended on it.
You couldn't say no. You knew it was risky, but hey, you were in your 20s, and things weren't... horrible. You groaned, nodding quickly. The thought of him cumming inside ignited something in you. "Yeah, go on, baby, cum for me. Fuck me 'n fill me up, Lee." You encouraged, both hands coming to grab onto him. He wrapped his arms around you, tight as he slammed his hips faster.
His whimpers and moans got louder, and within a few thrusts, he was biting at your shoulder and rolling his eyes, heaving as he finally spilled his load into you, the warmth filling you. You, unluckily, needed a bit more effort, but you weren't going to ruin this moment for him. He was just so cute, gasping and nearly crying just from cumming once. Maybe it really did feel that much better. You definitely felt a difference, the warm gush inside of you making you shiver and cling onto him, holding his head in place as you let him rut into you until he came down slowly.
Unlike your regular routine, he didn't pull out this time. He just stayed there, letting you twitch around his length. Within a minute or two, he was already getting hard again. You felt it as he pushed in deeper, a choked whimper leaving him.
"Hey, you don't have to—"
"I want to. Please. I just wanna.. make you feel good." He pleaded gently, hips grinding slowly to get himself back to his full hardness.
"Leon," you gently pushed his head up, cupping his cheeks. He looked wrecked already, and you could tell he was sensitive. "Don't hurt yourself just because I didn't finish. We both know it takes a little more for me. It's common for—mmh.." your words melted off into a quiet moan, muffled slightly as he kissed you, sloppy and deep.
"Shut up 'n lemme have you." He huffed into the kiss.
And that's what got you here—Leon's spend spilling out and onto the bed sheets, your core pulsing and twitching around him for the fourth time as he approached his sixth time. He got a taste of it, and now he's losing it. You'd gone multiple times before, but usually only twice, given that neither of you were usually able to keep the energy for more after long days of work.
Leon was a babbling mess at this point as his hips rutted shakily into you, like he was trying to fuck his cum deeper than humanly possible. His thumb focused on drawing tight, rough circles against your clit, encouraging you to work through your fourth orgasm, only for him to push for more. Neither of you had even babbled the safe word, so neither of you tried to stop. You shook underneath him, and he was barely holding himself up at this point, fueled solely by your praise and your allowance to keep letting him finish inside of you, creating the biggest mess yet for you two.
Leon sobbed, choking on whimpers and moans as his cock throbbed, spilling his sixth load into you. It wasn't as thick as the first one, subtle proof that he was definitely damn near milking himself inside of you.
"Fuck—Leon, 'm t-too sensitive, you're gonna—.." you panted, brows knitting tight together as you felt him slow down, but his hips rutted lazily to squeeze out the last bit of pleasure from both of you.
"I love you." He practically heaved, gasping for air as he let his cock soften inside of you, finally relaxing and letting you both breathe for the night.
It took you a minute to respond, your body limp, eyes heavy, hearing a little fuzzy from the intense, repeated pleasure. Once you processed his words, you muttered a soft response, lifting his head to kiss him. You paused, looking up at him. Tears stained his cheeks, and you hadn't even noticed because his face had been buried in your neck or chest for the last—...you couldn't remember how long.
"'M sorry," he exhaled shakily, sniffling faintly as he looked down at you. He reached up to wipe his cheeks, but you did it for him, gently brushing the tears from beneath his eyes.
"I had fun. Did you?" You asked simply, leaning upward to kiss his neck softly, lips meeting his mole that rested between his collarbone and his adams apple.
"Too much." He admitted, pulling a small laugh from both of you.
"Then there's nothing to be sorry about. You've never gone that long, have you?" You looked back up at him, and he shook his head as he finally pulled out, wincing with you at the loss of warmth, cold air hitting his soaked cock.
He barely made it to your side before he collapsed next to you, eyes falling shut as he pulled you closer to him.
"I think we should start using protection." He muttered, half jokingly.
"Probably, if you're gonna react that way every time I say yes." You snickered, and he groaned, audibly and visibly embarrassed.
"Not my fault. It feels good." He whined in protest.
"Oh, sure." You scoffed. "Just rest fast. I don't think we should leave our mess too long. Well.. mostly your mess." You said, lifting a leg to lay over his, a subtle claim to keep him close.
He didn't try to disagree or shift away. If anything, he tried to get impossibly closer. Even after cumming inside of you six times, leaving the nastiest mess he'd ever made, he still couldn't get close enough to you to satisfy his loud love for you. But of course, every second was a blessing, and he'd take the slightest attention from you and be happy with it.
short request for re4 or re6 leon finding out he’s infertile so he becomes obsessed with giving his gf creampies because he knows there’s no problem with it 🤭
a/n; I'd love to write it for re6 leon, but I felt compelled for re4 leon because it sounded easier to explain in my head 😓 ill get re6 leon eventually, I swear !!
sum; leon finding out he's infertile becomes both a blessing and a curse. mostly a blessing. he just can't keep his hands off of you!
content; creampie, unprotected sex, lots of cum, leon says one slightly degrading thing (reader not shutting up kind of thing)
wc; 1.7k
a/n pt2; I restarted this 3 times. something was so off about everything I did, but I really hope this was alright 😭
After finding out that Leon couldn't have kids after being infected in Spain, you swore you haven't had a night to rest where you didn't fall asleep with his cum seeping out of you. He'd found out right after his mission in Spain that he was totally unable to have kids, and because of that, condoms were unnecessary since STDs had never been a concern for you two because you were each other's only sexual partners and you'd ensured you were both clean a long time ago.
It's been three fucking months since the news of his infertility. He tried not to let himself become obsessive, but he really couldn't help it. The thought of you being full of his cum, even when he was unaware of his infertility, had always riled him up. When you were unavailable or unwilling, he'd go and deal with himself, often with the fleshlight that you'd bought him for when he had long, far away missions that weren't as occupying. Every time he used it, he'd picture it was your cunt when he finally came, the cum spilling out around the edges of the squishy toy. He'd groan when his eyes opened back up, disappointment deep in his body as he came back from his fantasy.
Fantasy wasn't needed anymore. He got to fulfill everything he wanted. Sure, he couldn't have his own kid, but he'd settle for adoption if you ever wanted a kid. Or some other solution if you truly wanted to carry your own baby. He didn't care as long as you were happy.
Oh, boy, were you happy. For the last three months, basically every other night or every two days, you were getting absolutely dragged to pound town. Multiple rounds, cum pooling beneath you on the bed that Leon had started to put down thick towels as a barrier for not only your mess but his now that it was an issue, and oh boy, the newfound energy from Leon was insane. It came in handy when you were at the point in your cycle when all you wanted was sex. Ovulation had always driven you crazy, but recently, it was so much better.
Tonight was a prime example. Leon had you thoroughly prepared with his tongue and fingers, having pulled two orgasms from you with just the prep, and then he'd already pulled another with his cock. You were face down, grabbing onto the pillow like your life depended on it, the plush of the pillow muffling your cries and moans as he pounded from behind, holding your hips up since your knees had kept slipping out of place.
He groaned, grip tightening on the fat of your hips as he felt his peak approaching. "Shit—oh, fuck." He hissed, thighs tensing as he leaned forward, one hand coming to support himself by grasping at the blanket, knuckles turning white.
"Fuck, y're always so loud." He panted. "Like a goddamn animal." His words sounded harsh, but in reality, they only fed into your pleasure. You bit into the fabric of the pillow, drool forming a wet spot quickly as one hand reached out and planted firmly against the headboard, nails scratching at the polished wood.
It didn't take much longer for your hips to be jolting away, the pleasure becoming too much as you approached your high. You swore he was going to ruin you soon enough. You wondered if that was his goal. To ruin you beyond comprehension, to keep you nice and addicted to his cock, make sure that anyone after him wouldn't be able to do you the way he could.
Your moans and groans and cries became guttural and desperate, face pushing deeper into the pillow. Leon took his hand from the sheets and grabbed your neck from behind, grabbing firmly to pull your head upward so you couldn't hide. That action alone had you going absolutely dumb.
"Don't hide from me. Nothing I haven't already seen. You act so—" He choked momentarily, thrusts becoming uneven. "so fucking shy and bashful until I've got you fucking impaled on my dick like you were made for it. Can't quiet down. Bet you wouldn't even be able to shut up if we were in public."
"No, fuck! Nooo!" You whined, your hand leaving the pillow to grab at his wrist. "'S t-too good." You whimpered. "God, don't stop," you pleaded shakily, eyes rolling back.
"Yeah," he grunted. "I know it's good. Poor baby, gettin' fucked so good you lose all your shame. What is it you want? Go on, tell me." He pushed, hand grasping tighter at the nape of your neck. You cried out.
"Fuck! Please, Lee," you gasped, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck me full, make me yours, ruin me." You panted, the words slurred and bumpy with each deep, angry thrust of his cock into of your cunt.
"Good girl. So good f'me, usin' your manners all sweet like." He hissed, letting go of your neck and letting your head fall. You bit the pillow again, almost screaming into it as you finally gave up, your body twitching against his hold as you finally gushed around his girth, a creamy ring forming around the base of his cock, your arousal dripping down your thighs.
Leon followed, fucking you through it until he was unable to handle it, bottoming out and letting his cum fill every bit of your cunt until it was leaking out around his girth. Leon slowly pulled out, sitting back on his haunches as he grabbed your ass with both hands, thumbs pulling your pussy open so he could watch the mess come out, spilling down your core in thick globs until the liquid dripped down and landed on the towel beneath your hips.
That sight alone had him already riled up by the time you were ready to speak. You squeaked when he flipped you onto your back, pushing your legs open and letting his cock slide between your folds, making you whimper as his cock filled out again with another erection. You looked up at him, brows knitted together. He already had your knees pushed up to your chest, putting your worn out cunt on full display for him to see the impact of his animalistic behavior.
"Lee, c'mon!" You whined, one foot kicking lightly at his bicep.
"Be patient." He huffed, smacking the back of your thigh with only enough power to mimic the sensation of a flick. He didn't actually want to spank or hurt you.
"No—fuck, gimme a minute, would you!?" You complained, hips trying to squirm away.
"Can't." He muttered, cock twitching against your entrance as his hips drew back, tip falling in place against your hole. You whimpered, thighs tensing. You reached down, hand shaking slightly as you helped position his cock better, ensuring it didn't slip around due to the mess. He gave you a knowing, smug look, making you look away, trying to hide in the pillow again. Your efforts at hiding were useless, and you couldn't help but mewl at the sensation of his cock pushing back in. He moaned, shaky and pitchy as his cock throbbed with sensitivity. Your walls felt raw, used and abused from just a couple rounds.
"Oh, god," you gasped, back arching as he fell into that same brutal pace from before, making your walls flutter around him. Your hand shook as it came down to your clit, fingers rubbing back and forth against the throbbing nub of nerves.
Leon leaned forward and made you cry out as he pushed you into a tighter press, his pace never faltering as he let his lips find yours. The connection of lips was sloppy, desperate, and almost as messy as he was making your pussy. Your head fell back, and he followed, his dominant hand coming to replace yours at your clit. You squealed, the sound swallowed up by the kiss as his fingers strummed your clit like it was his whole purpose on earth. Your entire body trembled, moans increasing in volume and consistency as your hands came to grab desperately at his shoulders, feeling another orgasm build up.
"Oh, fuck, Lee, 'm c-close!" You whimpered, brows furrowing as you looked up at him. He huffed, looking down at you and taking in your expression. Kiss swollen lips shiny with spit, eyes glossy from building tears of pleasure, cheeks reddened prettily.
"Take it, baby. Take what you want." He panted, a low grunt leaving him as he began to struggle to maintain his pace. His eyes rolled back, lips parting in a heavy moan.
And take it you did. It wasn't long before you were crying out, body completely tense, head fallen back and body arched up into his. Your cry of pleasure fell into a cry of overstimulation, hands smacking at his shoulders. He hissed, trying to speed up his release with a faster pace until he finally bottomed out again, balls drawn tight and twitching with every rope of cum that spilled inside of you. You whimpered, your resistance falling short as you fell limp, muscles still trembling with an occasional twitch of your hips or legs due to the aftershocks.
It was slow as Leon pulled out, his hands dropping both legs as he came to watch the mess of his cum once more. It spilled out in globs, and he groaned at the way your walls contracted and pushed it out. You whined, legs closing as you rolled onto your side.
"No more." Your voice became quiet, too tired as you could barely hold a hand up to keep him from getting back onto you. He didn't try to, though. He chuckled, crawling behind you and spooning you from behind, lips littering soft kisses along your neck and shoulders.
"No more, baby." He agreed. "I've got my fill for the night. Do you?" He quipped, making you groan at his dumb joke. "Mmh, yeah, I know you do." He purred, arms wrapping around your waist to tug you in tight.
"Ugh, we need a shower." You muttered.
"Yeah." He breathed, body slowly relaxing with you recovering in his arms. "In a sec, yeah?" He kissed gently at your nape. You nodded, exhaling heavily to ease the shaking of your muscles.
summary: leon needs you no matter the circumstance..photographed or not.
tags: m! masturbation, old man cxmshots (yum), homemade tape, he’s sort of obsessed but who wouldn’t be, semi public (he’s in the porsche so car sex also??), nude photos, creampie, brief smut, he just loves u soo much, good girl/ sweetheart/baby nicknames, no use of y/n, this is lowk very filthy..
mmmm.. thinking about leon who keeps a hidden folder of you split open on his cock in his phone ❤︎.
whenever he’s about to go on a mission, leon doesn’t hesitate to give you immense loving on before he’s gone for who knows how long. rough, large hands that grip at your hips, leaving bruises on your soft skin while you sob for more.
pistoning his cock in and out of you like a damn jackrabbit despite being damn near fifty years old. all while grunting the nastiest shit ever in your ear as you completely cream all over his dick. such thick veins rubbing all inside the ridges of your pussy, you couldn’t do anything but scratch at his back in pure pleasure.
that was almost a week ago.
leon has since left you to go on yet another dso mission. and this time it was even harder for him.
maybe it was the fact that even after such a intense night like that he still wanted to stay curled up under you and live in your warmth. in your soft hold where he knew nothing fearful would happen.
now he finds himself here. in the driver seat of his cold black porsche, staring at the numerous pictures of you stored on his phone. all from beautiful moments shared between you two.
some from when you two went to visit the local animal shelter and you couldn’t help but cuddle any cute dog that went straight to you. that picture of you in santorini wearing the skimpy bikini he practically begged you not to wear due to the already rising tent in his trunks before you both left the hotel room. another of you asleep on his chest, drool escaping the corner of your mouth and pooling on his chest (though you’ll deny it a million times).
they were all so precious to him. you are so precious to him and any thought of someone trying to tear you two apart would practically send him on murder spree (hypothetically..maybe).
but leon would be a liar if he didn’t also enjoy all the pictures of you completely bare and completely sprawled out for him.
his fingers instinctively move to open the hidden folder in his phone, holding all your most intimate memories. one picture of you bent over, bruises covered all over your ass as well as cum painted over your soft skin. another of you on your back with your mouth slacked open as drool trailed down your sweaty neck, bite marks all over your breasts as leon continued to fuck you senseless.
leon clenched his jaw as he felt himself start to throb in his jeans. twitching against his thigh as he reached down to palm at himself, earning a deep grunt from him. his thumb scrolls to a video somewhere deep within the folder. him pounding you into the mattress, skin slapping against skin echoing into the car.
“fuckk..yeah you like this baby?” leon grunts, holding your thigh even closer to your head. “m-mhm! yr’ so deep lee, f-fuck..!” you moan out, your slick and cum from prior orgasms completely drenching his dick.
leon unzips himself and shoves his boxers just under his balls, hissing at the cold air nipping at his skin. his rough hand wraps around his length, twisting in an up and down motion. his body shudders as he jerks his cock in such a motion. his eyes glossed over as watches the video.
“yeaah..that’s it sweetheart..take it all like good girl..” leon grunts behind the screen. his deep thrusts not stopping for a second as he continues to pummel inside of you. his hand travels up your torso, roughly grasping at your bouncing breasts. “h-hah..i’m gonna cum again lee!” you sob, grabbing at the sheets.
“yeah baby? go ahead and cum for me sweet girl.” he rasps.
leon’s hand moves even faster, pre leaking from his flared tip. so sensitive and hard even as he’s about to cum. the slick sounds of him pumping his cock fills the car beside the audio playing from his phone.
leon’s thumb finds your swollen clit, lightly spitting on it as he rubs figure eights on the sensitive nerves. your thighs spread even wider as you finally cum, sobbing at the relief yet leon doesn’t stop thrusting into you as he chases his own climax. “did so good baby..so so good fr’ me baby..fuckk..” he grunts, finally cumming balls deep in you, just barely thrusting to push his heavy load further into you.
leon finally comes undone in his seat, cum spurting from his flushed tip and landing all over himself and a bit of the seat. he grunts as loads still continue to spurt all over, leaving him flushed and overstimulated. the video abruptly ends and leon slumps back into the driver seat panting.
all he can think about is how much he needs you and exactly how he’s gonna greet you when he’s finally home.
a/n: i’ve actually had such crazy writers block so im actually surprised i managed to write this and semi proofread it. anyway TYSM for 100+ notes on my last toji work. i honestly never thought it would’ve gotten that much attention and i appreciate all of you ^^ i promise to try my best to write more! :))
When you venture to Leon's office to bring him a cup of coffee as a 'thank you' for saving your life during a mission, you hear him make an interesting confession over the phone (suggestive fluff)
based on this request
I am finally back! Please bear with me as I learn the ropes of my new schedule, and figure out when I have free time to write. At the very least, I will try to publish once a week, whether that is a request or another chapter to the three series I am currently writing!
I wrote this in a flurry and was too impatient to waste another moment editing, so I hope it is readable and you all enjoy! I'm trying to get back into the groove of things <3
The hallways of the DSO were nearly empty, the scratchy carpet basking in the dim flicker of the fluorescent sheets above. Gray threads catch fragments of white light as you walk down to Leon’s office, your footsteps muffled, your gait softened. It doesn’t pay to work after hours, but there’s only twenty-four hours in the day, and when most of those are spent in the field, there’s not much time left for the reports that must come after.
You should be at your desk, ingesting whatever form of manufactured energy is stored away in a drawer, clacking at your keyboard until your eyes cross and words no longer have meaning. But Leon saved your life today, going against orders from above to do so, and you figure a warm cup of coffee, made just the way he takes it, could show your appreciation.
As you round the corner and approach your partner’s office, you notice the door is cracked just slightly, letting a sliver of light and sound through the break in the wood.
“I did what I had to do, Ingrid,” his voice appears, melting into the silence of the hallway. You stop in your tracks, brain split down the middle in deciding what to do next. Maybe you leave. You should. He’s having a private conversation, and you’d hate to either interrupt or eavesdrop.
You definitely should leave. Microwaves exist for a reason.
“I wasn’t going to let her get hurt.”
There’s a sickening sensation simmering low in your belly, the same feeling that would settle in your bones if your mother called you by your full name, or if you were summoned to the principal’s office.
Instead of sending a signal to your feet to move, you stand still, digging your heels into the ground, pressing yourself up against the wall, your ear to the door.
“I know, I know,” he continues with a sigh. You hear the hinges of his rolling chair creak, his feet shuffling beneath his desk. “But I’d rather get reprimanded than go to her funeral because I chose to follow orders instead of trusting my gut. We both know all they’ll give me is a slap on the wrist anyway. She’s worth it.”
She? Is he talking about you? Perhaps in your dreams when you’re fast asleep and he comes to visit you in your subconscious–a figment of the real man, one that cares for you as more than just a partner. Who else would he be talking about? Your rational brain tells you there’s no chance it’s anyone else, but another part of you sows doubt, promising that you’re neither important enough or interesting enough to have caught his attention in that way.
Leon takes in a deep breath, and without thought, you mirror him, inhaling the stagnant hallway air as you ready your ear for the return of his voice.
“They can take me to court, for all I care.” And then, a low, rumbling chuckle followed by a beat of silence. “Yeah, I do.” He clears his throat. “Whether or not she loves me back…that’s another story.”
Your chest tightens, your ears ringing as the rest of his words attempt to break past the cotton in your ears.
“Only time will tell, I guess.” The wheels of his desk chair squeak as they roll across the carpet, and as he continues talking about the report he’s working on, his voice draws nearer.
You should move, make a break for the hallway, walk down a few feet and turn around to make it seem like you were on your way to his office…which you were…five minutes ago.
“I’ll get you that report to review in the morning. Goodnight, Ingrid.”
As he nears his office door, your feet refuse to move, as though you’re sinking in quicksand, and right as you command your heel to lift, Leon emerges from his office, stopping in his tracks when his eyes lock with yours.
“Oh.”
“Hi,” you squeak, handing him the cup of coffee, now lukewarm. Your fingers brush against his during the exchange, such a slight touch sending a pitter-patter of butterfly wings down your spine. “Just wanted to bring you this.”
He nods slowly, taking in the scene, his cheeks immediately flushing rose. “How long have you been waiting out here?”
Your gaze faults to the floor between your feet and his, the toes of your pointed heels nearly kissing the rounded sole of his dress shoes. He’s standing so close, you can feel the heat radiating off the patch of skin revealed by his lack of tie, and the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.
“Not long,” you lie, voice ascending an octave, immediately betraying your dishonesty.
“Right,” he mutters.
When you glance back up at him, there’s a storm brewing in his eyes, the blue-greens and grays wracked with something altogether foreign to you. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’m sorry.”
A smile–faint and toothless–appears at the corner of his mouth, and his hands slide casually into the pockets of his slacks. “So, you heard all of that?”
“Some of it,” you say with a shrug, stepping back until your spine kisses the wall once more. The cool plaster meets your shoulder blades, sending a chill across your middle.
“Just talking with Hunnigan about the mission,” is all he offers. His gaze is directly pointed at you, sharp pupils drilling holes into the features of your face like he’s desperate for you to respond, quickly searching your face for an unspoken answer.
“Mmm,” you hum.
Maybe you should stay curious, letting the conversation dwindle into nothing but dust, seeping from your ears into the ether until you can no longer remember the details or the tone of his voice. It might be easier that way, instead of letting your hopes soar sky-high, only for them to be dashed and scattered like rubble.
“Well, I hope you enjoy your coffee,” you start, each word weaker than the last. “I should probably head back to work on…something.” As you step aside to leave, a warm hand comes to your wrist, gently pulling you back. You land, once again, against the wall, caged by an arm Leon has extended upward near your head, palm pressed to the plaster, and another near your waist, his hand still holding the cup of coffee you’re sure has now turned frigid.
“So what do you think?” He swallows, the ball in his throat bobbing up and down. His skin smells like soap and aftershave.
You gulp, nerves aflame as he steps closer, one foot between yours. “About?”
“About what I said. What you heard,” he adds for clarification, though none is needed. The hand that was flush to the wall now comes down, his knuckle brushing the length of your jaw, stopping just beneath your chin to tilt your face up an inch. “What do you think?”
Sucking down a deep, cleansing breath, you part your lips to respond, the words pouring out before you can stop them. “I think she’s a very lucky girl, whoever she is.”
He nods once, eyes fluttering to a close as he dips his head down to plant a chase kiss on your mouth. You melt into his touch, fingers grappling for his waist, desperate to pull him closer. The marriage of your mouths doesn’t last long enough to sate the simmer in your belly the need coursing through your limbs, and when he pulls away, your body revolts against his absence.
this one was really fun to write with a mix of nora wleon pov uwu also last time i forgot to post a commissioned art because i'm a dummy, but i hope you guys still enjoy it now 🫶 i'll probably add it to chapter 15 later on
shoutout to @sammimi19 & @theebladestar for proofreading ✨
as usual i edited the art to add bruises and rain and sadness (always with artist permission) because or else it wouldn't be a misty commission
~.~.~.~.~
The first thing Leon feels when he wakes up is his pounding headache. The second thing he feels is the rough fabric of the jeans pressed to his face. For the past few blurry days, all he’s been able to do is watch through the window, drink himself to a stupor, then sleep nuzzling the crotch of his pants she had tainted that no longer even smells like her.
Everyday, he goes through the same spiral. At first the hangover hurts and makes him want to board the first flight back to D.C. to end this all, but then the window calls out to him and he finds himself watching at his usual spot again. Any movement from the two occupants of the apartment across—whether the opening of a window by the girl or the appearance of the Spaniard downstairs—prompts him to start drinking as guilt settles in his gut. He hates that she's too scared to leave the apartment, but he also doesn't know what he would do if she did.
By the end of the day, all he can do to appease the ache in his heart, and his pants, is to get off in the shower before passing out as soon as his body hits the bed. The self-destructive routine is the reason the agent cannot tell his days apart anymore, all of them twisting and swirling into a bitter cocktail of torment. Only when he finds a voicemail from the American Embassy does he get jolted back into the reality of being a government asset.
“Mr. Kennedy, your appointment with Dr. Goldberg has been approved for tomorrow at 2 p.m. local time.”
He’d missed an important call by sleeping through the buzzing next to his pillow, and now he has to contact HQ to make up an excuse then book a flight to Madrid. He’s already dreading the therapy session like a plague, but he knows it's what he needs to do if he wants to keep Booth off his back.
By the next morning, he’s landing in the capital with a clean shaven face and dry cleaned clothes. A forest green turtleneck and dark jeans should make him look put together enough. The alarmingly dark under eyes and lingering hangover, not so much.
The appointment is set to take place at the embassy after meeting two CIA officers. They greet him with firm handshakes, the man and the woman familiar with him and his accomplishments before he even gets their names. They sit in a demure office and drink coffee while discussing the Spanish weather. No mention of the mission or even his exact job title is ever made explicit. After all, the existence of the ‘Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team’ is entirely classified, and the operation involving rescuing Ashley Graham remains top secret.
It’s another reason the way Nora happened to casually know about it broke his brain, and fuck—he’s thinking about her again when she should be completely out of his mind the moment he sets foot inside this building.
Focus, he berates himself.
Leon blinks away any thoughts of dark silky locks and aquiline noses to focus back on the mundane conversation at hand. Although, he’s too smart to let himself believe it to be mundane. It’s a subtle game of four dimensional chess to pick up on any hints of instability within him that could prove Booth’s worries. Thankfully, Leon holds out, or at least he likes to think he did by the time he must attend his appointment.
He’s led to a different room, an evil smaller office that feels suffocatingly confined when he knows this is where the true test begins. The man sitting behind the desk stands to greet him, his gray eyes that match his silver hair boring into the agent with curious intensity.
“Mr. Kennedy, I’m Dr. Harry Goldberg. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.”
“This isn’t my usual place of work, so please excuse the minimal set up.”
Leon nods with a tight lipped smile then sits as relaxed as he can muster on the padded metal chair, placing his hands on his lap. He can feel the unspoken tension brought by the man who was instructed to evaluate him like a piece of potentially faulty merchandise. There is nothing human about the conversation they're about to have.
The doctor slides a pair of dainty glasses low on his nose, the thin golden chain connected to each temple hanging loose around his nape.
“I am told you’re here on vacation. I hope you're enjoying yourself,” he offers a small smile.
“So far it's been fine.” The lie rolls off so smoothly, the blond surprises himself.
“Good to hear… I believe you have just finished a classified mission in the general area, but chose to recover here rather than the U.S. Is there a particular reason why?”
Leon registers the words with calculating efficiency. Most of his work-ordained therapists are not briefed on the top secret operations he partakes in, but the ones at HQ eventually become more familiar with the common aspects of his job—battling BOWs for the most part. The middle aged man in front of him, however, appears to be the embassy's part-time psychologist. Someone the government assigned here to show they prioritize the mental well being of their employees. As if.
“I like Spanish weather,” he answers simply.
Dr. Goldberg raises an eyebrow before crossing his legs with a notepad propped on his thigh. “Mr. Kennedy, we do not have to keep this conversation strictly implicit. I may not know the details, but I can safely assume your mission took place here in Spain. Am I correct?”
The accusation catches Leon somewhat off guard, and he begins to wonder if this isn't some kind of test.
Booth, you son of a bitch.
He remains quiet, not speaking a word of the Tier 1 operation that must remain strictly under wraps as per the president’s orders. Actually, this is perfect. He doesn't have to say anything at all.
“This room is secure, I can assure you,” the doctor tries again to no avail.
All he receives in response is the same stoic face with the same bland statement.
“I like Spanish weather.”
With a sigh, Goldberg gives up. “I see. And what is it about this weather that you like, specifically?”
“It’s warmer.”
“Well, it's not currently warm.”
“No… It’s colder than usual. Drier too. Or at least that's what the news reports are saying, if my Spanish serves me right.” The agent puts on a purposely bored expression as he sinks further in his seat.
“And yet, you're here,” the other points out with a ghost of a knowing smirk. “Vacationing in cold, dry Spain.”
“Well, I guess I’m used to harsh temperatures anyways. Doesn't make a difference to me,” Leon shrugs.
Goldberg eyes him with assessing eyes for a moment, then writes something down on his notepad before deciding to change topics.
“How is your sleep?”
The agent’s gaze flickers to the pen in the other’s hand, trying to keep his fraying nerves outwardly calm. The moment the man figures out just how unstable he actually is, it's over for him.
“It’s okay. It takes me a while to get pulled under, but I can stay out for five hours on most nights if I take a Vistaril.”
He omits the fact he's been drinking himself to dreamland everyday.
“How often do you take it?”
“Usually a pill once or twice a week when I don't have a mission the next morning.”
“Only one?”
“Yep,” he pops the ‘p.’
Another reflective look from the doctor before he carries on. “Alright. What about appetite?”
“I’ve always eaten just fine.”
“Great,” Goldberg nods, jotting down some more, then pointedly eyeing the blond through his thin glasses. “Would you mind if I ask about your physical condition—libido. Do you notice any difference post-mission?”
God, the way they want to know every single detail down to the activity of his dick—it appalls him. But at least it's not as bad as his training days... He suppresses those thoughts as soon as they come forward.
He tilts his head, feigning contemplation with a look around the room. “Maybe a bit higher.”
“Anything that might impede your quality of life?”
“No. I just take longer showers.”
The graying man huffs out a low chuckle, nodding in approval before his expression turns serious again. “Any nightmares since the operation?”
Leon actually takes a moment to think this time. Since the mission, he has slept so little he can hardly recall a specific nightmare. With drinking, he's mostly out cold. But on sober nights, he experiences cold sweats if not for the hydroxyzine that helps calm his mind.
“I get nonsensical dreams sometimes and wake up with palpitations. But nothing specific.”
More scribbling, more scrutinizing stares, more questioning.
“Hm… Have you noticed yourself becoming more irritable or on edge?”
Abso-fucking-lutely.
“I can't say I have.”
“Are you still taking daily Zoloft?”
It's entirely useless.
“First thing in the morning.”
“Good, good… Now onto more serious matters.” Dr. Goldberg uncrosses his legs, straightening in his seat as if preparing himself for potentially dangerous answers. “Any thoughts of self-harm or suicidal ideation?”
If only Sherry wouldn't suffer the consequences.
“No.”
“Any thoughts of harming others?”
Luis…
“No, sir.”
“Any drug use or excess drinking?”
Until I see double.
“Nope.”
“Anything you would like to report before we conclude this session?”
I’ve become abnormally obsessed with a woman after I hurt her because she broke the very fabric of my reality, and now I don't know how to move on with my life without being near her.
“None that I can think of.”
The therapist finishes writing his notes, and with an exhale he lowers his frames to let them hang off the chain around his nape. Then, with a courteous smile, he offers a single nod.
“Alright, Mr. Kennedy. I will be seeing you next week. I hope the weather is warmer and more to your liking by then.”
~.~.~.~
“So do we ever actually win the World Cup?”
“Luis… I already told you, I don't think it's good for me to keep telling you about the future. What if I create a massive butterfly effect and accidentally cause the apocalypse?”
The Spaniard rolls his eyes from his reclined spot on the sofa, scratching the itchiness under his cast with a wooden spoon. “I think that ship has already sailed by the fact I’m still alive, cariño.”
Nora huffs as she pushes his pyjama clad legs out of the way to make room for herself on the couch. As she sits, she contemplates his words and begrudgingly agrees. She indeed already meddled with the events that were supposed to take place, and although she will never regret saving Luis, it still makes her nervous to think the universe might punish her for interfering.
“If I tell you who wins the next one it’ll ruin the entire fun from watching it,” she protests futilely against the hard set man.
“No it won't. I’ll just know who to bet on to win big bucks! Do you know the final score at least? The more specific the better.”
“Papi, I was literally five during summer 2006…”
“Hey, don't call me that to make me go easy on you. Come on. Spill it.”
“For God’s sake…” she groans, letting the fight drain out of her. “Fine. Spain wins, but not in 2006, in 2010. And no, I don’t remember who scored, or how many goals, or who they were up against. You're lucky I even know this information at all.”
Luis stares at her with an awestruck face for so long she wonders if he went frozen, before he finally murmurs. “Oh, cariño… Good God, I could kiss you.” And then, he's sitting up abruptly, “Ven aquí.”
With his single functioning arm, he pulls her tight against his chest just to place a loud kiss on her head, making her scrunch her face into a petulant grimace.
“Ow!” she whines exaggeratedly, but all she gets is a wide grin in return.
“We actually win it! ¡No lo puedo creer! You’re not lying to me, right? You better not be lying to me… It would break my heart!”
“I wish I was if it meant I could breathe,” Nora responds muffled from her squished position.
“Ah, lo siento.” Luis finally releases her with a chuckle.
She gives him a mock glare that lacks any true contempt as she scratches the area he kissed on her scalp. She won’t admit it at the moment, but she finds it incredibly endearing that he asked her so many questions about the future, ranging from things about the game, to politics, to culture. The young woman truly got to have a taste of the scientist’s insatiable curiosity once the shock around his reality subsided.
Nora has also noticed the way he has grown even more affectionate, as if the fact she helped to save his life has made him cherish her more. It makes her day to day routine that much more bearable when he throws in a hug or a kind compliment to make her smile. Because the second he's not filling the void inside her, she's flooded with something else instead. Something scary and shameful that plagues her with blue eyes and sandy hair.
Since that fateful day where she quite literally held his life in her hands, it has been impossible not to spend every waking hour thinking of Leon. Of his pleading voice, his teary face, and his readiness to die at her command as if his life meant nothing so long as she was the one in charge of it. At first, his sin was so grave she found it easy to hold onto her grudges, but now she's not sure what to make of the situation anymore.
Whenever Luis is away, she holds onto the black cap the agent had forgotten on the kitchen counter and uses it as a placeholder for the unstable man. She talks to it, asks it why he hurt her, why he let her hurt him, and why he couldn't just leave and not come back. But the hat always remains silent, and her sanity frays a little bit more. Maybe she's just as unstable as him.
In the end, she knows she wishes she actually could talk to him, but the idea is so terrifying, she likes to pretend the number he left behind has been incinerated rather than meticulously hidden on a shelf. Specifically in Luis’s copy of Don Quixote, just to drive in the irony.
“Disculpa, cariño, I’m getting a call,” the Spaniard mutters beside her when his cellphone buzzes under him. He recognizes the number as one of his professional contacts and quickly moves to answer it.
Nora watches from her spot as he effortlessly switches into a business voice, the smooth sounds of Spanish rolling off his tongue a bit too fast for her untrained ears. She can only make out about half of what he’s saying—something about a laboratory—before the expression on his face turns into one of excitement. He keeps his tone calm even as his body thrums with barely contained energy, nodding fervently into his phone about whatever he's being told, until he ends a call with a cheerful ‘¡Venga!’
As soon as he puts the device down, he turns to Nora with the widest grin she has seen on his face yet. “I got it… I got a job offer, guapa!”
This time, she’s the one who hugs him so tight he makes an ‘oomph’ sound, her smile mirroring his. “Oh, my God, Luis! Congratulations! That was… surprisingly fast!”
He laughs, loud and bright as he pats her back. “I thought you said I was a prodigy. Don't tell me you doubted my skills?”
“Never. I’m just reminded once again that I’m indeed in 2004.”
Luis pulls back with another chuckle, giving her a sheepish look. “To be fair, I got luckier than most. Finding a job usually takes a bit longer than a couple weeks.”
She grins, then folds her legs against her chest and offers him her full attention. “So, what is it? Tell me everything!”
“Ah, it's nothing major… It's at this new environmental consulting lab in Maliaño. Basically they do tests for water quality, soil contamination, pathology analysis and all that super fun, not boring at all stuff.”
“So you’ll be one of the scientists doing these tests?”
He scratches the back of his head before answering, an abashed expression on his stubbled face. “Actually, I’ll sort of be a supervisor. Overseeing the other lab workers.”
“Oh, I see,” she drawls with a teasing lilt. “You’re the big bad boss scientist overseeing the teenie tiny worker scientists. Nice. When are you starting?”
“Tomorrow I need to go over there to sign the contract and get introduced to the team. I need to be there at 10.”
Nora nods, already planning to wake up early to make him breakfast for his first day. Cooking has always been her love language of choice.
“Is it a long commute to… what was it again? Malano?”
“Maliaño. And no, it's very close, like fifteen minutes by bus. So if you ever need me, I can be home in a jiffy.”
Her smile widens, relief evident on her features at his reassuring promise. There's a special kind of joy that floods her senses whenever in the company of the brunette before her, no matter what this cruel life seems to throw at her.
“I’m so proud of you, Luis,” she murmurs sincerely.
“I wouldn't be here without you, cariño,” he replies just as genuinely.
~.~.~.~
The following day, Nora finds herself sitting in contemplation at the small kitchen table after her roommate’s departure. Her gaze is unfocused, her thoughts already adrift as they always tend to be the moment she's alone. But this time, her brain isn't replaying the same memories that keep her awake at night. Instead, it's whispering ideas in her ear she knows she should not be having.
It's been nearly two weeks since the American has stepped outside, and her legs—including her now healed ankle—are itching her to go out. She's not usually the type to mind staying home. In fact she has had many instances where she would remain a whole month cooped up inside, especially during the period of her unemployment. But this is different. She has a specific reason to want out.
With Luis doing so much for her everyday, Nora can't help but feel like a burden no matter his reassurances otherwise. He’s sharing his home, his food, and his kindness with someone who has only brought chaos into his life since the moment she's stepped into it.
So, due to her guilty conscience, the need to give back, if even a little bit, is a constant one in the girl’s mind. And, as pathetic as the idea may be, she settles on wanting to bake him a cake. Something small, but just special enough it brings a smile on his face and puts her degree into use for once.
That is the reason her eyes keep drifting to the front door, making a thousand calculations on whether or not this is a good idea. Luis would certainly not approve, but it's on him for not buying eggs the last time he was out, so he'll have to understand. It's a short trip to the Lupa store two blocks away, it shouldn't take her longer than twenty minutes to complete the entire ordeal and return home as if she never left.
All she has to do is put on her sneakers, grab the €20 bill off the counter he leaves her in case she wants takeout, then head outside straight for the store. Easy, fast, and simple. So long as someone doesn't show up. The man of her nightmares—and dreams—and the one person causing this entire unnecessarily complicated situation.
Nora buries her face in her hands, exhaling sharply into her palms as that familiar dread settles in her guts. Although, this time, there is an odd sense of anticipation creeping alongside it. She freezes as soon as she feels it—the inner, covert desire to encounter him out there, but she chastises the thought as soon as it comes. Seeing him again would bring her nothing but turmoil and danger, no matter how much her mind has been Pavloved through hours of fangirling into thinking he's safe.
An entire hour of debating with herself passes before she finally decides to go for it. Worst case scenario, he shows up and she screams at the top of her lungs in the frozen aisle. There is not much he can do in public anyway. Or at least that's what she hopes.
~.~.~.~
With dragging feet and slumped shoulders from a long day in Madrid, Leon returns to Santander as soon as he's able to and enters his motel room with a weary sigh. Having to pretend to be okay is more exhausting than he remembers. But then again, he had never felt quite this bad about himself before, not even after Raccoon City where he was simply left hollowed. At least he had tried to be good back then. Now, he doesn't even fight himself before settling on the chair facing the window while he tears open a Snickers bar like it's a regular Tuesday.
He mindlessly takes a sticky bite of the sweet treat as he brings his binoculars to his eyes. Any more of this and he will grow a permanent ridge on his brow bone where the spyglasses indent his face. Not that he cares anyways.
The streets and the shallow park running between them are mildly busy, nothing out of the ordinary at noon on a weekday. It's drizzling, a fine rain filling the air with the faintest pitter patter on the pavement, and the gray sky makes the port city gloomier than usual—looks like the therapist’s wishes will remain unfulfilled.
From his seat, the agent can't tell if Luis is home or not because the bastard refuses to buy a car. So all he can do is wait until the Spaniard eventually comes out for a smoke, like the nicotine addict he is. It's ridiculous, really. Only morons still smoke in 2004.
Another large bite and he can feel the caramel stick to his teeth, the overly sweet chocolate making his cheeks fill out as he chews slowly, his focus still entirely on the life carrying on outside. Specifically on the gray building opposite him that looks even grayer with the current weather.
By this point Leon has come to know every occupant living inside. There's an old couple that always holds hands when walking, a single mother constantly struggling with her stroller, a business man forever talking on his Blackberry… None of them seem dangerous or suspicious enough for him to warrant his attention. So he doesn't even blink when they make their appearances, coming and going out of the building with umbrellas and trenchcoats.
He expects another one of them when the reflective glass doors open again, except this time it's a brunette in a ponytail and warm skin that comes out. His breathing stops for a full five seconds before he exhales, his cobalt eyes widening at the sight of Nora casually walking out onto the sidewalk in a wine red parka. He watches with a completely still body as she pulls the hood over her head, looks left and right, before beginning to stroll down the street.
What the fuck?
Where is she going? Why is she out alone? Where is that dumbass Luis? Why isn't he keeping her safe?
A flurry of questions floods through him as his grip trembles around the binoculars. He knew he couldn't trust that lying bastard with doing a good job, now she's walking out there to God knows where, outside, where anything could happen to her.
Fuck. He should go after her, watch over her and keep her safe. Someone could approach her and try to trick her, and she probably doesn't even speak Spanish to defend herself. Plus, the country has a severe lack of diversity up north, and with the terrorist attack that happened in March, some asshole could say some bigoted bullshit to her. He can't let that happen. He needs to keep an eye on her, and she doesn't even have to know it. He won't interfere unless strictly necessary. It's fine. There's nothing wrong with protecting the girl he l—
Leon doesn’t finish the thought. The word sitting at the back of his mind sends a wave of fire that spreads from his nape in a hot and cold sweat, covering his back in goosebumps that travel down skin all the way to his toes. It feels like an ice bucket was thrown in his face while he's simultaneously being doused with a flamethrower.
It's not real. Whatever that thought is, whatever his mind was about to conjure—it simply cannot be true. That's not how this works. He has felt affection and feelings for people before, strongly at times, and none of those instances happened within two weeks of a first meeting. Let alone a belting.
“Christ…” he mutters to himself in a broken whisper as he lowers the onlooking device shakily. He can see his own faint reflection in the window glass, the dullness of the overcast sky making him look even paler than he's already grown.
This is bad. This is so irrevocably bad. He needs to go back to D.C. and leave it all behind before he does something worse. But he doesn't even entertain the thought for a minute before he knows it's futile—he's not going anywhere.
With all of the training the agent was subjected to, all of the methods he learned to control his body into becoming a lethal weapon, he has never felt more powerless in his life. He has reached a point where he fears his own hands and he doesn't know what to do about it anymore, like a shackled man whose restraints are of his own making.
It's debilitating. Especially that void in his chest that eats at him every passing minute he isn't by her side. It calls to him, screams at him, and even begs him to move while he watches her figure get smaller and smaller down the San Fernando street. Until he feels a crack in his entrails, and he knows that staying put is the thing that will truly make him dangerous as his desperation consumes him alive.
With a shaky breath, Leon lets the spyglasses clatter to the floor before he darts towards the exit with a determined step.
Next chapter coming soon.
another mobile upload so please excuse ugly formatting and lack of dividers, will add those later!
everyone's talking about how that good christian boy, leon kennedy, has been acting a little strange. is it something to do with that woman he keeps hanging around with like a lost little puppy? oh goodness, they hope he doesn't get carried away. it would be a shame if he lost his virginity... but he wouldn't do that, right?
tags: 18+, smut, f!pov, church boy!leon - religious themes/religious guilt, phone sex, mutual masturbation, loss of virginity, virgin!leon, SUBMISSIVE WHIMPERING SOBBING PATHETIC MESS LEON KENNEDY ONCE AGAIN, praise kink, oral f!receiving, devotion/worshipping, re2!leon, no zombies!au. || wc - 9.6k (part 4 coming soon, otherwise this was gonna be genuinely 20k words and RIP mobile users lol)
taglist - (thanks again for all the love and support! <3): @loveleonsblog @noctaleon @aloudice @hunniet0ria @vixenousminx @flutteringwingss @spaxejam @maisondeuxspt @grumpypunkrocker @elizebethyoo @dimitresqqq @a-jillsandwich @thelonewolfdreamer @tothelions @miszki @n8mareee
-> ao3 link here
-> pt 2 here
The honey oak dining chair creaks under Leon as he shifts his weight uncomfortably. For the last three weeks, Leon and his father have been hosting weekly Bible group studies in their family home, with an intimate gathering of ten other members within their congregation. The presence of two particular members of the Bible group cause Leon extreme unease: Mrs. Jones and her daughter, Oakleigh. Mrs. Jones is one of the mothers of the church who Leon vividly recalls being one of the ladies huddled in a group during the annual barbecue, whispering insults and rumours about you in a hushed tone. Mrs. Jones' daughter, Oakleigh, is the church's poster child for a young Christian woman; she constantly wears pastel-coloured dresses with heels or wedges no matter the occasion, her hair is always in perfectly uniform butter-blonde dyed curls, and she has a blinding white smile. And she is sitting much too close to Leon for his own liking. He subtly shifts away further, closer to the empty space on his other side.
"Now we shall turn to Genesis 2:23-24. Would anybody like to read?" Leon's father, Paul, asks the room. Paul's hazel eyes roam across the room, when suddenly Oakleigh's hand shoots up.
"I can read it, Mr. Kennedy." Oakleigh smiles, straightening her posture.
"Of course, you go ahead Oakleigh! And please, call me Paul." Paul returns her grin, giving Leon an approving look. His father's gaze only makes Leon's stomach turn, like a stuttering washing machine.
"Okay, thank you… Paul," Oakleigh softly giggles, before holding her Bible up. "The man said, 'this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man.' That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh." Oakleigh reads out, before looking up at everybody in the room slowly, a coquettish grin slowly blooming across her features, her eyes landing on Leon for a few seconds as she moves a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Amen." The room resounds, though Leon could only move his lips to mimic the word in this moment, for only two thoughts were running around in Leon's head. The first being that you would absolutely disapprove of being thought of as part of a man - the way you would loathe your entire identity being a tool to prop up a man. The second thought being that the overwhelming, almost bone-crushing expectation of scripture was being placed on Leon's chest like a weight; he's hyper-aware of what several others think about him in the congregation; that he's a promising young Christian man who should soon start thinking about settling down and getting married to start a family - getting married to somebody like Oakleigh. Before getting to know you, the latter thought seemed like the default - a perfect blueprint to lead the most perfect, holy life. But now whenever that picture-perfect vision is held up to his face, the thought of this life path - especially one without you, fills his entire being with dread.
"Isn't it just such a beautiful foundation for marriage? To be a part of building something so holy with somebody who shares those Christian values?" Mrs. Jones speaks up to the room, her tone filled with awe.
Oakleigh leans in, the screeching white floral of her perfume invading Leon's nostrils. "It's a beautiful promise, don't you think, Leon? Having someone to truly belong to in a holy union." She whispers, before shifting back with a small grin. Leon can't bring himself to say anything. He can't even open his mouth to give a small 'yep' out of fear that he would scream, or even worse - confess. So instead Leon stills himself, finding a particular grain of wood on the dining table very interesting. He doesn't want to think about scripture or the perfectly laid-out path, he wants to think about you. And so he does.
Leon's mind wanders to thoughts of your smile, the way the corners of your mouth quirk into a sharp edge when you grin, the way your soft lips pout a little when you're lost in thought, those same soft lips that have been all over his mouth and neck, those same soft lips that have wrapped themselves around his cock and- shit. His breath hitches in his throat, the sound of the ongoing Bible group suddenly being drowned out to a muffle. The thought of you isn't just a simple memory, it's a visual assault, as if he's replaying the memory of you on a giant screen, the vision almost so vivid that he's reliving that friction from your hot, wet mouth all over him. The flush in Leon's cheeks is nothing compared to the treasonous arousal that is rapidly pooling in his lower stomach, burgeoning to his dick. Leon feels it - his cock stirring against the fabric of his jeans, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He begins to silently pray to every saint, deity, and god that is willing to listen to him. Though it seems no higher being is willing to pick up the phone right now.
"Leon?" Oakleigh's voice calls out to him, her voice dragging Leon out from the fog of his daydreaming. "Are you alright? You've gone completely red." Oakleigh leans in, her hand reaching out to touch Leon's forearm, her brows furrowed in concern.
"I'm-! I'm okay." Leon flinches away before her hand can even touch him. He becomes acutely perceptive of how he appears - a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, his neck and cheeks flushing a beet red, and the crack of his voice.
"Oh no, poor dearie. You don't seem okay, perhaps you need to step outside for a moment and get some fresh air?" Mrs. Jones recommends.
"No!" Leon replies, perhaps a little too hastily and loudly. He clears his throat as the room falls silent for a heartbeat. "No, I'm fine, really. Please, continue." He adds, his rigid posture doing him no favours as the group continue to discuss scripture. Despite their concern and addressing him directly, there was absolutely nothing Leon could do to make it go down. Every time he would try to re-focus, his mind runs off-leash, dragging him back to the memory of his tongue stuffed in your puffy, sopping wet folds, the taste almost present on his tongue, even as he tightly grips onto his Bible.
"Son… You really do look unwell. I know you don't want to miss this, but there's always next week. I think you should lie down for the rest of the night." Leon's father says after a few minutes have passed.
"O-okay. My apologies, everyone." Leon stammers, rising from his chair in one snappy movement and subtly angling his Bible over his crotch area as he shuffles out of the dining room. He awkwardly waves everyone and bids them goodnight as they give him their best wishes that he feels better the next day. The moment Leon reaches the top of the stairs, he pushes down on his bedroom door handle with clammy hands, placing his Bible on the dresser and quietly locking his bedroom door shut. He can only think of one person who he would be able to talk to this stuff about.
'My dad is hosting Bible group tonight and… I don't know what's wrong with me, but I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm so hard. And it's just not going away. Help' Leon types and hits send before he overthinks it and deletes his message. The moment Leon hit send, the tiniest broken whimper escapes his mouth. Pulling his forehead to his knees, Leon attempts to breathe deeply - he feels lost and confused, unsure of what this situation means for his faith, but most of all, the hunger that is gnawing at his gut is downright terrifying. Leon stares at his phone, waiting for your text back, the sound of his father's Bible group discussing purity and salvation downstairs, while he was sat upstairs in his bedroom with his knees pulled to his chest trying not to give in to the temptation of lust and arousal.
His phone dings in less than a minute. He frantically switches it to silent before holding up the screen.
'omg leon, this is starting to become a habit of urs haha'
'why dont u just start jacking off?' You send the second message immediately after the first.
"God help me." Leon whispers desperately, but he's unsure if he's asking God for strength, or mercy.
The idea of touching himself while thinking about you sent a shudder down his spine. Leon's body unfurls, his hand moving before his brain can protest. Leon slid his zipper down with shaky, careful hands, fearing that somebody downstairs could somehow sense his impure thoughts and actions. Once the zipper was finally down, the relief of his straining cock slipping out of his underwear was so intense that he had to bite back a shaky, broken moan. He doesn't even bother pulling his pants all the way down, his hand already closed around his length, slowly pumping at his cock with his precum glistening under the orange glow of his bedside lamp.
'no reply so i'm guessing u took my suggestion lol. did u need some source material?' You text him. As Leon glances at his phone screen, his phone loads an attached picture of you from the neck down, your black tank top rolled up with your tits in full view. "Holy shit…" He whispers, his heart racing at the image, hand automatically tightening and moving faster.
'actually better yet, wanna call?' Another message pops up from you. He pauses - the concept of calling him while he's getting off to the thought of you is hair-raising, not because of the act, but because of the intimacy of the act. But the thought of hearing your voice in his ear entirely nullified any feelings of mortification. Before Leon can even type his reply, you're ringing him, and his hand trembles violently as he accepts your call.
"H-Hey…" Leon greets you, his voice a shaky whisper. He mentally facepalms at how pathetic he sounds already. "Please… I-I think 'm gonna lose it…" You hear him quietly whimper your name over the phone, your hands snaking beneath the waistband of your pajama pants.
"Ohhh, already? What had my good boy so riled up when he's meant to be reading Bible verses and praising the Lord?" You coo. Your voice feels so close to his ear, he can practically imagine the sensation of your warm breath fanning against his ear.
"I couldn't- Ah, I couldn't help it." Leon confesses, squeezing his eyes shut. "They were reading about… Becoming one flesh. And Oakleigh… She tried to touch my arm, and I could only think about how much I didn't want her touching me. And then all I could think about was you. How much I wanted to touch you." Leon explains himself quietly, hearing the shift of your breathing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be doing this right now and it's wrong, I know I'm- Ah!" Leon lets out a stifled whimper as his thumb accidentally grazes against the underside of his cock.
"Oh… You poor thing." You sigh, but it sounds more adjacent to a moan.
"A-are you… Touching yourself?" Leon asks in a shameless, needy whisper. "Are you touching yourself when you think about me?"
"Mmhmm. I have my hands underneath my panties, and I'm slowly rubbing my clit thinking about how cute you looked while you were eating my pussy." You respond, a soft, wet squishing sound barely audible, but Leon could hear it. He lets out another quiet moan, bucking his hips into his hands. "Oh… You heard that, right? You can hear how wet I am for you?" You ask.
"O-oh, god-" Leon whispers, choking on a sob. "Yeah. I heard it- Fuck- I'm imagining you, your legs spread for me and- Ah… I wanna be there. Between your legs." He gasps, his breathing becoming short, desperate pants as he works his cock faster and harder.
"Your moans are so cute, Leon. I'm already close… I can't stop thinking about how pretty your eyes are when your mouth is stuffed full of my pussy. I just wanna feel your cock against my tongue now…" You moan, the small of your back feeling damp as your limbs writhe in pleasure. Leon can only imagine how you look right now, thinking about him. And that's more than enough for him.
"O-oh, fuck- Please don't stop. Cum for me, please cum for me, cum while I think about you, please-" You can hear him sob from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure. "I-I'm so close, please, I'm so close, I'm gonna-" Leon lets out a needy, strangled moan to the sound of your own orgasm, your moans filling his ears as he shoots hot, sticky, white ropes of cum all into his hand. His head falls back into his pillow, but before he can say anything else to you, he hears a knock at the door. "Shit! I'll text you." He whispers in a frantic hiss, as the line goes dead instantly.
Leon zips up his jeans, before grabbing a worn shirt out of his laundry basket and wipes his hand clean to hide the evidence of his debauchery. "H-Hi! Sorry, about taking a while. I'm still feeling faint, must just be the heat…" Leon speaks, forcing a shaky strained smile as he looks up at the person knocking. Oakleigh.
"Oh! That's okay. Your dad said to check up on you, he said you looked quite ill so he was worried, so… Here's a glass of water. We're about to head home so… Yeah. Just wanted to check in." Oakleigh says, offering the glass to Leon with a sweet smile. Leon actively shoves his freshly-wiped hand into his back pocket, taking it with his other hand as he grabs the glass from Oakleigh awkwardly, avoiding touching her at all.
"Th-Thanks, Oakleigh. I'm sorry for troubling everyone. I think I just need to sleep it off, I'll be okay." Leon takes a sip from the cup, averting his gaze. Before Oakleigh can get another word in, Leon gives his regards with a performative smile that doesn't reach his eyes and shuts the door immediately.
That was close. Way too close. Leon pulls his phone out after he hears the rest of his father's Bible group leaving.
'By the way, you called me your good boy…'
'yeah. i did'
'I liked it. Does that mean I'm yours?'
'yep. just as much as i'm yours, if you'll have me :)'
'Of course I'll have you.'
That night, Leon fell asleep with a huge grin on his face.
…Since that text conversation after the Bible group had ended, you and Leon have managed to keep your relationship under wraps for almost two months now. Leon always felt that sinking feeling in his gut when it came to lying about his whereabouts with his father, but the sinking feeling was nothing compared to the fact that he's been wanting to incorporate you further into his life even though the weighted expectations and growing labyrinth of his own lies have been preventing him from doing so. But you've been patient with him - as always, and for that, Leon cannot be more simultaneously grateful and apologetic towards you and the situation.
Which is exactly why Leon is knocking on your door, like he's done almost every weekend for the last six or so weeks now. And the worst part is that his father believes it every time, especially since Leon's grades have surprisingly only shot up even higher. His teacher told Leon it's something about him having a little more confidence and trusting his intuition a little more; Leon doesn't say it out loud, but he feels as if you're the one to thank for this newfound confidence.
"Hey there, handsome. How was your week?" You smile, welcoming him in. Leon immediately blushes at the word 'handsome'. Although you've been taking it slow, the both of you are no strangers to each others' bodies anymore, however every time you opened the door, you were wearing a bra and your clothes usually had a higher cut. But today you're only in a thin black tank top, with the cotton tightly clinging to the contour of your chest and the outline of your nipples. To add even more disaster to the mix, you're just in a pair of small grey shorts and a pair of white knee high socks. And you just called him handsome.
"G-good. I aced my practical exam, so that's the biggest hurdle out of the way. I'll soon be graduating from the police academy." Leon can't help but stammer, forcing his eyes to fixate on any spot that is above the neck.
"Really? Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!! You're so close to getting the badge!" You grin as he walks in.
"…I've missed you. I know it's only been five days and we've texting been every day, but I've really missed you. And dad's Bible group thing is almost finished, so I'll soon be free from that too. I can't focus on more than half the stuff they say anymore, I keep thinking about you too much." Leon admits sheepishly.
"I've missed you too. A lot." You smile, as Leon shuts the door behind him and settling his bag down. "I've already set the movie up, popcorn's already on the table." You note, heading towards your TV. Leon doesn't follow behind you, he's simply staring.
"Hey, is everything okay?" You tilt your head as you ask - a habit of yours he finds impossibly endearing.
"Y-yeah… Just… Your shirt. And the rest of the outfit." Leon notes, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and looking away with a reddened complexion.
"Oh, right. I got up a little late, needed to do some cleaning so I didn't change out of my pyjamas." You explain, perching on the back of the couch. Leon's eyes follow from the curve of your waist down to your thighs, approaching you slowly as if you were a skittish animal that might run off if he moves too fast.
"I… I like seeing you like this. And it's getting to a point where you're on my mind constantly," Leon stands with his legs almost touching yours, looking at you with impossibly soft, reverent blue eyes. "…What are you doing to me?" His question is a soft accusation, one filled with no conviction whatsoever.
"I'm not doing anything to you. Yet." Your legs move to cage him between your thighs.
"I feel like I'm losing my mind right now, watching you sit there like that in those clothes," Leon murmurs, his large, calloused hands settling on the outside of your thighs, "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I can barely focus to the point where it feels almost physically painful to stop thinking about you and actually concentrate on my studies and my prayers." Leon leans forward a little, resting his forehead against yours. "Are you trying to make me confess something? Because I swear I've already confessed everything to you." He murmurs.
"I… I'm not doing anything, Leon, I swear. I just forgot to change out of my pyjamas. And I'm just really happy to see you. Unless… You're saying this because you really do have more to confess?" You ask him in a whisper.
Leon's throat suddenly seizes for a heartbeat. You were playing coy, and you both know it, but your deception is intoxicating. His eyes roam across your face, the midday sun shining bright through your window, casting a bright, halo-like glow upon the outline of your hair. Leon's been contemplating the existence of God for a while now, but in this moment, he has no doubt that angels are real. "You're killing me here." He whispers back, his hands roaming upwards from the flesh of your outer thighs to settle on the sides of your waist. "I do have more to confess." Leon mumbles.
"I'm listening." You hum lowly in response, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down once as he thickly swallows. In this moment, Leon realised that he wanted to give in to temptation entirely. To sink to his knees and kneel at you, to press his face against your stomach and beg for your attention and affection to the point where it feels overwhelming. But the teasing tone in your voice feels like a challenge, and it's just the impetus he needs.
"I was thinking about how you sound when I'm making you feel good. How much I love hearing my name when you moan. And I can't get the vision out of my head when you touch yourself - when I'm not there. I was thinking about your hands on yourself and how badly I want to replace them. I just want to hear you moan my name until you lose your voice." Leon admits in a low, hoarse tone. You shudder at his words, and the feeling of his thumbs now rubbing small little circles against your waist. "Is that enough of a confession for you? Or do you want me to be really, truly be honest right now?" Leon asks.
"Well now you've intrigued me. I think I do want you to be really, truly honest with me right now." You bite your lip, watching Leon's pupils dilate a little more as his gaze flickers to your lips.
Leon leans in, his lips against the skin of your neck, right underneath your earlobe. "I want to stop talking. I want to put my hands all over you and taste you. And I want to feel your hands all over me when I do it," he pauses to plant a soft kiss on your neck, "I want to worship you. I want to be inside of you." He adds, before pulling away a little. "Is that honest enough for you?"
"You're a very honest man, Leon Kennedy. And I really like that about you." You grin, pulling him in gently by the front of his shirt to kiss him. As your lips meet, an unexpected, guttural raw groan of pleasure escapes from somewhere deep in Leon's throat. For his entire life, Leon has lived by the rules and teachings that say desire and passion are meant to be contained; something to be boxed up, chained with a giant padlock, and channelled into prayer and discipline. But feeling your lips upon his completely eviscerated that notion. Leon's kisses fast evolve from an initial shyness to a clumsy hunger. His hands that have been so tentatively resting on your waist have made their way to your hips, the warmth of his hands seeping into the fabric of your shorts as he pulls you in closer, moving his lips against yours with urgency. The kisses become deep, wet, almost demanding, as his tongue skims against yours. He wants to erase every little gap between to both of your bodies, and as his body presses against yours, he feels only a thin layer of fabric between himself and your breasts, which causes him to whimper in your mouth.
Breaking the kiss for a second, he leans his forehead against yours once more. Both of you are panting heavily, lips swollen and glistening. "I can't think straight when you do that." His hands on your hips slightly trembling with need. "Please… Don't stop. Don't ever stop." He whispers.
"Okay. I won't stop." You grin, kissing him briefly once more. "…Bedroom?" You ask him quietly.
"Yes, please." He exhales heavily. You don't even need to lift a finger - Leon simply hoists you by the underside of your upper thighs with ease as he carries you to your bedroom, placing you down on the bed softly and kissing you once more. "I don't want to control anything anymore. I don't want to put a lid on my feelings. I want to be yours, all of me." He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes misty from the tears forming.
Your heart feels like it might just lurch out of your chest at the sight of him. You want to see Leon smiling and happy for the rest of his life. The thought of his bright laughter alone feels like warm sunshine on your skin. And that's when you realise you can't hold your own feelings back anymore either. "Leon?" You whisper to him quietly.
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"I love you too." He smiles - and his smile is so gentle and ingenuous you can't help but smile back. "Gee, you beat me to it… I've been wanting to say that for a while." Leon chuckles, the atmosphere turning into something even more affectionate and warm.
"And that means I also want you to be entirely comfortable. I know your faith is in a place it wasn't before, but I need to know that you want this just as much as I do."
Leon's frame stiffens for a moment. Throughout his life, he's been told what to say, what to do, and how to act, no matter what he thinks or feels. He realises that until being with you, he's rarely been asked if he's comfortable, if he's okay with something. You - somebody who is deemed an outsider, has been more considerate and caring towards his autonomy than most people in the church have for his entire life. It solidifies his decision entirely. "Yeah. I do. I… I've never been more certain of something in my life."
His hands slide from your waist to your hips, warm and encompassing. The Leon before meeting you may have found this type of vulnerability and willingness to be so intimate downright terrifying. But the Leon in front of you now is different; he's no longer terrified of this vulnerability and openness to desire. He feels completely seen and safe. His fingertips gently hook into the waistband of your shorts. "I want to make you feel everything," He whispers as he pulls your shorts down. "I'll be so good to you, I promise." He adds, before leaning in and pressing his face against the thin, damp fabric of your underwear, placing an open-mouthed kiss against the only remaining barrier of cloth against your pussy.
"I know. I know you'll be good to me. I love you." You whisper, stroking the side of his cheek, and for a moment, he leans into your palm, kissing it before he returns his gaze to your sopping wet cunt.
Leon could say it a million times and never tire of it. "I love you too." He whispers back. His breath catches in his throat after pulling the waistband of your underwear down, a long glossy string of your slick attaching your skin and the flimsy fabric together before it finally snaps apart. He doesn't hesitate further, he presses his face forward, his tongue darting out to taste you. A low, needy whimper escapes his lips as you buck your hips forward under his touch. "You're so wet for me already… God. You're so perfect." He murmurs against the heat of your skin as his tongue languidly swipes along your clit, his index finger and middle finger slowly entering inside of you.
"Fuck! Oh my-" You gasp, your thighs already trembling as he curls his fingers upwards and continues to work at your clit with his tongue. You've taught him well, it seems.
"That's it… Yeah, please give it to me… I wanna hear you… I want every last drop of you." He mumbles, redoubling his efforts as he sustains the pressure and speed of both his tongue and his fingers, his tongue switching from broad, flat strokes to sharp, precise flicks at your clit. You can see it - the way he's underneath you, watching and studying your reactions and adjusting to them in real time. You can only whimper and moan some more as he works at you with an intensity so feverish it's almost desperate. He's practically consuming your very soul.
He can feel the way your hips are stuttering and your body beginning to pull taut, fingers tangling in his blonde hair as you pull him impossibly closer into you. He can sense it. You moan his name over and over again like a prayer; hearing you whine and moan his name like this sounds better than any hymn he's ever heard. And it's all he needs to fuck you with his fingers and tongue at a relentless pace to get you to the place you want to go. "Ah- Fuck, I'm gonna-" Is all you can manage before you snap, coming undone on Leon's tongue and fingers. Staying true to his word, he really does lap up every last drop, letting you ride your high out until you're completely finished. Only until the last of your body's tremors subsided did he lift his head - his blue eyes dazed, his lips and chin glossy with your slick, and his blonde hair now all mussy due to the several directions your fingers had pulled his hair in. "You have such pretty eyes." You whisper to him, committing the image in front of you to your memory.
There is a crease in Leon's mind, where shame sits. It doesn't like to be ironed out. He was bracing himself to feel that familiar stab of guilt in his gut, but it never arrived. Rising up from his knees, he kisses you once more, letting you taste yourself. Breaking away from the kiss, Leon is the first one to speak. "It'll be my first time." He murmurs, that familiar bashfulness of his floating back to the surface.
"That's okay. We go slow. At your pace. No need to worry about a condom, I'm on the pill."
"O-oh. Are you sure? Because if you would prefer me to wear one, I can, I watched a YouTube video on how to put on a condom like ten times now, since school gave pretty bad sex-ed and nobody else ever- Um, actually, I'm going to stop talking." He chuckles, momentarily breaking the incredibly thick and charged atmosphere with that charming awkwardness. You can't help but laugh in return.
"I think you're incredibly sweet and considerate for that. But don't worry about it. I just wanna feel you inside of me." Leon's face reddens at your words, but the shyness was overridden by the fact that you trust him with something like this. And he takes the weight of that responsibility very seriously.
"Okay, I'll be gentle," he kisses your forehead, his cock lining up against your entrance. You look up at him, nodding with a needy expression in your eyes. He nods back at you, before slowly sinking his cock inside of you. The sensation of your body - the impossibly tight and wet heat, is so staggering that for a moment Leon thought he might just pass out right then and there. He lets out a strangled groan at the sensation of you stretching around him, the feeling of your bodies being so intimately close together that he can't help but let out a loud, strangled moan. "O-oh fuck, you feel so perfect." He gasps.
You let out a hiss of pleasure as he drags his cock almost all the way out, and all the way back in. The sound makes his eyes dart up to yours. "Oh no - I hurt you, I'm so sorry, I-" Leon begins, but you shake your head, cupping his cheek and briefly kissing him.
"I'm okay. Just still kind of adjusting to you… Just start slow." Your voice is calm and soothing.
"Okay, yeah, I can do slow." Leon nods, before leaning down once more and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead - a wordless apology and pledge to you. He takes a deep inhale, before rolling his hips slowly. Leon intently monitors your reactions, searching for any signs of discomfort until your body has fully relaxed. He then begins to buck his hips just a little faster. "I-is this good?" He shudders, the tactile sensation of being inside of you was overwhelming, like hot, wet silk. Despite this, Leon was placing his own pleasure secondary in his mind - he is completely at your mercy.
"Mmhmm. You're doing so good for me… You can go faster now. I can take it." You coo, and you can see the last shred of his resistance utterly collapsing. He lets out an audible whimper in response to your praise. The movement of Leon's hips becomes harder and faster - although the rhythm starts off clumsy, he quickly readjusts and finds that perfect pace and angle. It makes his name tumble from your lips with a loud moan, and it simply intensifies his efforts.
"Y-you're so tight…" He needily groans out, the slick slap of skin and your creaking bedframe echoing in your ears. "You feel so… oh fuck- I can't-" He gasps, an uncharacteristically high pitched whine leaving his mouth as he looks at you with complete adoration and devotion in his eyes. He's completely pussydrunk, and it's all because of you.
"Fuck- oh god, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- Please, Leon…" You gasp, your entire body beginning to shudder and shake as you feel your second climax approaching. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum…" You moan, your walls clenching implausibly harder. Your words are more than enough to spur him forward.
"Yes, please, please… Cum for me. Please. I wanna feel you… Please." Leon is begging, his movements even more frantic as he makes it his entire life's mission to make you feel good. His own orgasm is simmering in his gut, his own cord about to snap. "Please, I wanna cum with you, please…" He begs some more, his voice incredibly raspy with desperation at this point.
"Fuuuuuck… I'm gonna-" Is all you can manage. And that's all it takes for Leon. The walls of your cunt clenching around him as you cum. Leon completely loses himself in your pleasure. He cries out your name as he shoots hot, white, sticky ropes of his cum inside of you. And you milk him for all he's worth, as you ride out your high on his dick. Leon collapses forward, slowly pulling himself out of you with a short whimper. His entire body feels sluggish, as if every bone in his body suddenly turned to lead. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, your hands roaming across his muscular back to hold him as you realise something - his body is slightly shaking.
It's not the type of post-orgasm shaking, but the type of trembling in one's body when they're completely swamped by the very foundation of their beliefs and teachings crumbling like a poorly-built sandcastle - not out of sorrow, but out of relief. Gently tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him close. "Hey… You okay?" You ask him gently, giving him a moment to compose himself.
A short and quiet chuckle of disbelief leaves Leon's lips. "I've never… I've never been so close to somebody like this. Not just physically, but emotionally too." He whispers. Looking up at you with his pale blue eyes, his expression is honest and earnest. "I thought I'd feel the guilt hit me by now, but it hasn't. I don't think it ever will because this was perfect, and you are perfect." He adds, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Thank you." He murmurs against your skin. You pull him a little closer.
"Thank you as well - for trusting me. I know things like this can turn your world upside down. If you feel anxious about it later on, you can talk to me, okay?" You whisper to him in response.
Leon stiffens for a fraction of a second before looking at you once more. "It does feel like my entire world just got flipped upside down. I'm still processing it - the fear and guilt." Leon sits up, but his thumb is lovingly stroking little circles against your hip; a silent refusal to separate himself from the warmth of your skin. "But for the first time in my life, everything feels like is actually the right way up." Leon adds.
"I'm glad." You respond softly, sitting up with him, "now as much as I'd like to cuddle you for the rest of the day, we desperately need a shower and maybe a coffee. You can head on in first."
"Wait," Leon says, gently grabbing your hand. "Is it okay if I come with you? I've just been tossing and turning with feelings of guilt and betrayal - it feels lonely. I don't want to be alone, I don't want any privacy. I just want to be with you. Is… Is that okay?"
"Yeah, of course. It's more than okay, Leon."
The hot steam curls upwards to the ceiling in translucent little white ribbons. Stepping into the shower, you pull him into the small cubicle, the water planing down both of your skin as the heat seeps into your muscles and bones. You squeeze the shampoo bottle in your hands. "Here. Turn around." You instruct him quietly, and he complies. Your fingers gently press and rake across his scalp as the soapy scent fills both of your nostrils, and he instantly relaxes into your touch.
"…Nobody's done this for me before. Not since I was a little kid." Leon murmurs.
"Same." You hum, lathering the suds into his dark blonde hair. Leon still seems a little out of it. "Everything okay up there, space cadet?" You tease him gently, but your concern and sincerity is evident. Leon flinches slightly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, just processing things…" He pauses. "I was brought up being told that everything we just did was sinful. That wanting somebody in this way is a sin. But that couldn't be further from the truth - the best part of me, the part that feels good and wants you, and learns from you, that's the part they told me was the devil's temptation." Leon slowly exhales, looking at you through the fog of the steam. "And now I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to reconcile the person I was moulded to be, with the person that I want to be when I'm with you. Is that okay? That I'm feeling a little broken right now?" Leon asks.
"I don't think you're broken at all, but I can completely understand why you would feel broken. I think you're just Leon. The Leon who's exploring more and more about himself and his beliefs. My Leon." You respond softly.
'My Leon.' Your words linger in his head. His breath hitches in his throat. He replays your words in his head once more. He feels claimed by you. Your words weren't possessive or controlling, nor did they have the intent to be. He simply feels claimed by you in a way that makes him feel safe.
"Come on, turn around, I'll wash your hair now." Leon murmurs as you pass him the shampoo bottle. Only the sound of the shower running fills the air for a moment in time, but the silence between you both is comfortable. "It feels safe… Being taken care of by you." He's the first one to break that silence.
"I like taking care of you," you softly chuckle to him, "I know you'd do the same for me in a heartbeat."
"I would," he responds, his voice thick with the tone of devotion, "I really, really would." Leon's hands are so large and calloused, but the way he handles you is so delicate, as if you were made of glass and could shatter if he pressed a little too hard. He's capable of many physical feats, but despite his muscular build, he is still so gentle, capable, and attentive. It makes something warm bloom within your chest, branching into your lungs. "…I like this. I think I was made for this." He adds with a whisper.
"I think so too." You whisper, turning around and letting the water rinse the shampoo from your hair. You look at him - really look at him. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes filled with an expression that could only be described as reverence when you look at him. You can't help but grin at the sight of him.
"What is it?" He blinks owlishly, oblivious to the expression he's making when he looks at you.
"Nothing. I just… I wanna attack you with kisses." You smile.
"Attack me with kisses?" He repeats, blinking again, before letting out a startled, breathless laugh as he registered what you meant. Your request was so left-field but so tender, it was exactly the kind of levity he needed to pull him out of his ruminations. The remaining tension in his shoulders relaxed.
"Yes! Please." He softly gasps out a short laugh, already closing his eyes in anticipation. Your grin becomes wider as you gently pull his face towards yours, away from the downwards stream of the shower water, as you begin your assault. Leon fully surrenders himself to your ministrations, his smile bright and airy as you litter kisses all over his face. The sensation of being kissed by you feels as if he's being showered in adoration, a feeling he's never felt before until you came into his life. As you kiss the corner of his mouth and the tip of his nose, you hear him make an imperceptible noise in the back of his throat, a small, happy sound. Each kiss feels like a tiny little electric spark going off deep within his nervous system in the best way possible. He cages your frame in his arms, holding you so tight to point where it feels as if he's trying to erase any gaps between you both. You both stay that way for a couple more minutes until the water in your shower runs cold.
The crisp autumn air has more bite to it than you prepared for, but luckily the hot cup of takeaway coffee in your hand provided that much needed warmth.
"Ah man, I donated a bunch of clothes when I was still living on campus. I need to get a new jacket for the changing seasons soon." You comment as you both sit on a bench underneath the reddening leaves in town.
"Oh no… If I knew you run cold I should've given you my jacket before we left your place." Leon replies, taking a sip of his coffee. "Oof, I think they burnt the beans on my order just a tiny bit." He adds, a slight scrunch of his nose but he continues to drink it anyway. Before you can open your mouth to offer to trade your coffee with his, you see a pair of camel suede knee-high boots step into your field of vision.
"Oh, hey Leon!" Oakleigh beams, completely ignoring your presence. You don't say anything, you just stare at your coffee cup lid, trying not to draw attention. You're already aware that Leon's got a lot of pressure coming from him at all angles - his father, the church, the expectations of the police academy, and the expectations he places on himself. He doesn't need more on his plate.
"Ah, hey Oakleigh…" Leon rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, subconsciously making himself smaller as if he's afraid that she'd be able to smell the traces of premarital sex on him like some kind of hound.
"Haven't seen you around in a while. How's things at the police academy? Your dad won't stop talking about how proud he is that your grades have shot up exceptionally. You must be working really hard." She compliments him, turning her body completely away from you.
"Yeah, um, just been putting in the extra hours to study and stuff. Actually, can we talk another time? I'm kinda in the middle of something here." Leon says, clearly becoming uncomfortable with the way Oakleigh is shunning you.
"Hm? Oh. Right. Hey, how are you? Love your shoes by the way." Oakleigh gives you a faux smile before turning her back towards you once more. "That's really charitable of you Leon, you're really walking in the spirit of the Lord. My parents say to never talk to outsiders, especially…" She flicks a glance over her shoulder at you before turning back to him. "Never mind." She giggles.
"…Can you please stop that? You shouldn't say those kinds of things." Leon shuffles himself closer to you.
"What? Leon. I'm just saying… Don't be like that. You know how it is." She folds her arms, giving you a brief, pointed glare.
"No, I don't know how it is. You're being unnecessarily rude and unkind." Leon's jaw ticks - you've never seen him this confrontational before.
"Um, it's fine. I think it's better that I leave, to be honest." You nod, beginning to move and rise from your seat.
"Bye bye." Oakleigh gives you a smug grin as she turns her attention back to Leon.
"No, no- I don't want you to leave." Leon shakes his head, instinctively reaching for your hand and gently pulling you back towards him, your thighs now touching as you find yourself sitting next to him again, but this time much closer. He doesn't pull his hand away from yours after you're sat.
"…What?" Oakleigh's eyes narrow as she fixates on your held hands. You don't give anyway any reaction or emotion, you stare at her with a neutral face before your gaze shifts to Leon. "Leon, there's no way - you're actually going out with her? She's an outsider… She's a slu-."
"Don't call her that. Don't even finish that sentence." Leon's voice drops to a tone that would even be considered a snarl, a register that he himself had no clue he could ever use. "You call yourself a Christian, walking around with that cross on your neck, yet you're here judging a woman who is simply existing, someone who hasn't even provoked you once and you're still going," Leon pauses, turning to you. "I think we should just get out of here." He adds.
"Gladly." You sigh with pronounced exasperation, as you both begin to walk away from Oakleigh. You hear the click of her heeled boots behind you both, practically chasing after you.
"Leon, does your dad even know about her? Does he know you're hanging out with a non-believer, willingly letting her corrupt you? Hey! This is Satan tempting you!" Oakleigh calls out. You feel Leon stiffen as your pace slows to a brief halt.
"I don't care." He says plainly, before you both turn and walk away from her.
Leon had half a feeling he knew what would be coming when he slowly trudged up to his street. Despite telling Oakleigh that he didn't care, he actually did care. A lot. Every lie to his father was like a brick swallowed, his stomach weighing down with immense guilt. Leon didn't care so much about the expectations of his church, but what he did care about was his father's expectations - after all, the man adopted him after the traumatic death of both Leon's parents, and took him in as if he were his own. To go against his father's teachings and upbringings feels like the ultimate betrayal against his father.
The front porch lights are on, the yellow glow casting downwards on his father's standing form. Leon feels his throat and jaw clench up. "Dad, I-" Leon begins, but the look on Paul's face immediately silenced him.
"Inside. Now."
"Sit down." His father says in that impossibly quiet but angry tone. The home that Leon once felt safe in suddenly became charged with a thick, oppressive atmosphere. "I got a call from Oakleigh Jones. She said she saw you with… That girl. The one that left the church. Holding hands." His father begins, before tapping on his phone and holding the screen up to show the message Oakleigh had sent. Leon doesn't read it, he barely skims over it, unable to stomach whatever message the girl had sent, but he could see the word 'girlfriend' in the text and your name in Oakleigh's message. "Tell me this is a misunderstanding, Leon." His father says - and for the first time in his father's life, his voice cracks. "Tell me you haven't been lying to me, that this is all a misunderstanding and she's not leading you astray. That you haven't been sinning behind my back." His father grits out, slamming the phone face down on the table.
Leon opens his mouth - his mind runs a neat little script; that it really is all a misunderstanding, that he was just trying to save your soul and help you return to the church, that he's just being a good Christian. But then the thought of you crosses his mind immediately after - the thought of you letting another person talk badly about you so blatantly right in front of his face, purposely attempting to humiliate you, yet you didn't say a word so that you could protect him. The thought of you telling him that you love him, that you peppered his face in kisses even when he felt like he didn't deserve to be loved in that moment. Leon has already betrayed his father and the guilt is already weighing him down, but he would be in total agony if he betrayed the woman he loves too. "No." Leon's voice was quiet, but firm. "No, it's not a misunderstanding."
The sentence held in the air like an anvil strung to the ceiling with a weak rope. Leon took a deep, shaky breath, looking his father in the eye properly for the first time tonight. "I'm not being led astray by her, Dad. I'm not a victim. I'm with her because I want to be - because I love her." He adds.
Leon's father runs a hand down his jaw. "…I can't believe my ears right now. I don't know where I went wrong. You know, her parents are good people - but I pity them. We always pray for them, that she'll find her way back to the church, but it seems she doesn't want that. But Leon, I raised you as a Christian with Christian values, son. And now you're going off with some… Temptress. A non-believer." Leon's father sighs disappointingly.
Despite Paul meaning well, every single word felt like a complete insult and a jab. Leon feels a surge of hot, protective anger over you, but it's quickly dampened by the cold, crushing weight of his father's disappointment. "You didn't go wrong, dad. You taught me to be a kind, honest person who stands up for the right thing." Leon stands up, his posture going from small and hunched to tall and rigid. "And that's exactly what I'm doing. She's not a temptress, she's one of the most compassionate and thoughtful people I've ever known. So don't pity her parents. They love her without conditions and terms - they love her enough to let her go from the church and keep the bridge between them. But you… You can't even love me enough to let me be happy." Leon grits out. "I'm not losing my way, I'm just not going on the path you carved out for me. And if you can't accept that that I love her then… I don't know what to tell you. Because I'm not going to let you make me choose between you and her. Because I will choose her, and I will choose to be happy." Leon's fists briefly clench and unclench at his sides.
"Wow… She must've really sunk her claws into you." Paul pauses. "Did you have sex with her? Is that it?" He asks - the question being thrown down like a sledgehammer into the centre of the dining table. "Leon. Did you have premarital sex with her?" He repeats himself for emphasis. Leon can't bring himself to reply to his father's question, but the silence already spoke for him anyway. "You did." Paul breathes out, his words a horrified whisper. "After everything I taught you, after everything we believe, you gave yourself to a… To a…"
"Don't." Leon warned, a deep growl coming from the back of his throat that he thought he'd never use against the man who raised him. "Don't finish that sentence." Leon's voice was steady but his hands were shaking. "She's not a temptress or a sin - she's a person. She's the person who taught me that love isn't meant to come with conditions, she's the one who taught me that I don't have to be afraid of myself." Hot, bleary tears form in his eyes, but he doesn't wipe them away or try to hold them back; he wants his father to understand the raw, bleeding truth of what this confrontation was doing to him. "So yes, I did it. And I don't regret it, and I don't regret her."
Paul's chair legs scrape against the tiles as he springs up from his chair. "I can't believe this… YOU HAD SEX WITH HER. SHE TOOK AWAY YOUR PURITY, AND YOU'RE GETTING CARRIED AWAY BY LUST!" He bellows.
"I'm not a victim, I wanted this! She showed me that purity is just a cage - that loving and wanting someone isn't a sin!" Leon's voice isn't filled with anger, but rather pain and defiance. "It's not lust, it's love! I love her, and you're supposed to be happy for me- you're supposed to love me no matter what!" Leon stares at his father - the man he spent majority of his life trying to please, realising that if he doesn't fit into that perfect cookie cutter shape of an upstanding man, then he'll never experience that love. "I feel like you're shaming me for simply being happy. And I won't let you. I won't." Leon pauses, turning around. "I'm going to pack a bag."
Leon could hear his father's yelling and slamming various objects from downstairs, but his words were drowned out by Leon's own thoughts. As Leon descends the stairs, he takes one last look at his father. His face is red with anger, sending Leon a stone-cold glare. Leon turns away, reaching for the doorknob. "This is exactly what the devil wants! SHE'S TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME!" Paul bellows.
"You have God," Leon's voice is broken, "you have your church, your Bible study. You don't need me, you need a version of me that doesn't exist anymore." Leon doesn't look back as he shuts the door. He can't bring himself to.
Only an hour later, Leon turned up at your doorstep. You immediately register what happened, letting him in and bringing him in for a long, comforting hug, before letting him take a brief shower. He settled into bed with you that night, and you could feel his body trembling, even as he fell asleep in your arms.
The following morning, you step outside to make a call before Leon could wake up. The sight of him alone was making your heart break - you can spot the deep, hollow purple crescents under his closed eyes, and the small patches of tears that dried on his face during the night. You press your phone to your ear, the line ringing twice before you hear his father's tired, hoarse voice.
"Kennedy household."
"Hi… Mr. Kennedy." You begin.
"Who is this?" He asks - a lack of sleep evident in his own voice, and you identify yourself. There's a long pause filled with tension. "You." He finally says - the single word dripping with ice cold fury. "You have a lot of nerve calling this house." He spits out, but he doesn't hang up on you.
"I know what you think of me," you begin, your voice calm and steady. "And I'm not calling to argue, I'm calling you to let you know your son is safe." Another beat of silence, but the line still doesn't go dead. "Leon showed up at my door last night, crying. He told me everything-"
"You mean he told you how he threw away EVERYTHING I raised him to believe in, how he chose some godless-"
"-He chose to be honest with you." You interrupt, your voice firm but not unkind. "He chose to tell you the truth instead of continuing to lie to your face. That sounds like something you raised him to do." Another pause of silence from Paul's end. "He told me he left his Bible behind, you know. He told me he looked at it and he couldn't pack it. Not because he doesn't believe in God, but because of what it has become in your house - a weapon." You add.
Only a long, gravelly sigh leaves Paul's end.
"He's sleeping right now. He's okay. And just so it's clear: I'm not trying to take your son away from you. I never was and I never will."
"…I lost him last night." Paul rasps.
"You didn't lose him. He wants to be a part of your life so badly that it's hurting him" You respond.
"If he wanted to be a part of my life, he wouldn't have gotten carried away with somebody like you."
"…Those are harsh words sir. Well, he's safe and you know where to find him if you change your mind. Goodbye." You press the red button, deciding that the interaction is not going to lead anywhere productive if it continues.
You lean forward on the balcony of your apartment, staring at the bright morning sun. Leon has about a month left until he graduates, and you know it's going to absolutely break him if his father decides not to attend.
pt 4/final is in the oven! also sorry for errors i never proofread my shid sry
-k🐈⬛
(You get sent to infiltrate an exclusive underground auction. So does Leon, apparently.)
Part 1 | Part 2 (to come)
Word Count: ~ 4.5k
Rating: M - heavier topics like human trafficking/auction, kidnapping, canon-typical bioterror talk; undercover mission; the cia credit card fears You and Dave; Dave said slay and unfortunately you did; established relationship; mutual yearning; man sees you, his girlfriend, in a black dress and forgets the objective; Hunnigan cameo but it's just her reminding Leon one more time that he is still on duty
Related Entries: Part of Milli's Missionverse, can be read as a standalone no problem, there's just Dave, he don't bite (usually).
Author's Note: YAY! Not gonna lie people I'm so happy I can upload something again for you, hiii 😭💕 It took me a long while, always busy never home, but I'm just aaah so happy I sat down and wrote this whenever I could (train, car, before bed) cause I had this idea when I wrote and published Home Protocol. I was like "Maybe I should name this one Miss Undercover like the movie" but then I was "OR I write ANOTHER Missionverse entry with this title" and HERE WE ARE. Got out of hand and too long of course, so I'm gonna split this into two parts. This first part is all about the mission, brought back Dave as usual I love him and Leon getting distracted by you, his government agent gf hehe he is just down bad like that 🤭 I sooo hope you like it. The Missionverse is really my favorite thing to write atm but I'm aware it's getting specific atp. I hope it's alright tough and I will try to throw in a drabble outside of this again. All the love 💕
If anyone had told your younger self that one day you'd be shopping during work hours, you wouldn't have believed them. Apparently, it was just another facet of your multifaceted job that hadn't quite made it into the job description.
You'd fought hard to preserve your sense of fashion over the years, somewhere between blood and considerably less glamorous undercover missions. You knew your way around clothes – but you were still glad to have possibly the best shopping companion imaginable for this particular assignment.
Dave, your loyal dispatcher of many years – not least because you'd long since decided you weren't giving him back – stood beside you in front of a mannequin displayed on a raised platform, beautifully dressed in the signature pieces of Dior's latest collection. Complimentary champagne glasses filled with the pleasantly sparkling beverage in hand, the two of you studied the fashion spread throughout the boutique before you.
“Found anything you like, Madame, Monsieur?”
A sales associate had been lurking politely in the background, unobtrusive but clearly sales-motivated, and now stood ready to pounce on Dave's interested expression like a tiger on the hunt.
He took a few strategically chosen seconds before answering, swirling the champagne in his hand. On brand. He did love the drama.
The dress on the mannequin in front of you was exactly what both of you had envisioned when you'd left the office for this little excursion. Simple, black, floor-length, strapless and fitted, with a high slit along one side to add some movement to the otherwise classic design.
Your gaze was already wandering toward the exclusive jewelry display. Add some expensive silver jewelry, and the whole thing would make you look like a humble millionaire – exactly the style you were going for.
“Yes, yes!” Dave suddenly exclaimed with an enthusiastic eureka, making both the sales associate and you jump.
Champagne glass in hand, he pointed at the dress in front of you, then at the jewelry display, and finally toward a selection of shoes on the other side of the boutique.
“This is the perfect dress. My friend is attending a very exclusive event, you should know. She deserves to look expensive. We'll take the dress, silver jewelry, and the matching shoes. I'm thinking those classic stilettos over there. Not too high, not too low.”
“Excellent choice,” the sales associate said with a smile before setting off to assemble the ensemble and bring everything to the fitting room.
Dave leaned conspiratorially toward you. “And we're paying for all of it with the CIA's golden credit card,” he murmured contentedly before draining the champagne in his hand. “I love day drinking,” he sighed, somehow even more content. “By the way, I know the perfect stylist for hair and makeup. A friend of mine.”
“A friend, huh?” you whispered back mischievously.
Dave merely snorted a laugh and wiggled his eyebrows.
It felt like one of those montages from the movies – the two of you leaving the boutique with Dior bags in hands, chatting happily, your thoughts revolving around nothing but the outfit. The job had to be worth it somehow. Even if it was only for outrageously expensive eveningwear.
The trip to the stylist revealed a fabulous hair studio that was somehow also... quirky. Much like Dave himself. He greeted a man with long, silky, impeccably maintained hair at the front desk with a kiss to either cheek, exchanged a few pleasantries, then gestured toward you and the task at hand.
“This is my friend from the CIA,” he introduced you. “She's got a mission tonight. Top secret, obviously, but it involves eveningwear of the highest caliber.”
“Ooooh.” The stylist made a sound of recognition. “So that's the beautiful woman who bagged that snack Leon, right?”
It took a few seconds for the words to reach your brain. You paused, and before you could even react, Dave swooped in.
“That's her! Lucky girl.” He nudged you with his elbow, grinning.
A surprised laugh escaped you before you nodded, their enthusiasm proving infectious.
The stylist himself smacked his lips and applauded you with nothing but the tips of his fingers. A newer gesture among the younger crowd, as Dave had taught you – even if neither he nor the stylist necessarily qualified as that young anymore.
“You wanna see him working out?” you asked, amused. “I snapped some pictures.”
“Girl, I did too,” Dave admitted shamelessly. “Last time I visited the DSO.”
“When the hell were you at the DSO?” you asked, surprised, distantly remembering that you were currently discussing highly classified government divisions. His stylist ‘friend’ probably knew all about them anyway.
Dave shrugged. “All I'm saying is, workout pictures of Leon Kennedy aren't exactly exclusive material. Got anything spicier?”
“You wish,” you replied with a laugh, ending the subject and steering the conversation back into less classified territory as you began explaining the hairstyle you wanted.
“Slay, queen!”
Back at the office, you'd changed into your new outfit. Your reflection revealed a version of yourself you rarely got to see. Somewhere between missions that lasted days or even weeks, dull debriefs, and even duller paperwork, you at least managed to maintain your office-chic style. Outside of that, your life contained far more tactical gear and loungewear than anything resembling this.
The dress looked – in your humble opinion – better on your body than it had on the mannequin. Your trained physique somehow filled it out more naturally. It hugged your curves tightly in all the right places while leaving you enough room to breathe everywhere else.
Fitted securely across your chest, there wasn't the slightest chance of it slipping out of place. It might have drawn an obscene amount of attention to your breasts, if not for the expensive silver necklace around your neck – or so you preferred to tell yourself. Even the smallest movement caught the light in the three-carat diamond pendant, making it sparkle with quiet elegance.
With the expensive cars you drove, the exorbitant weapons and field gear budget, and the suite apartment you lived in, you'd think casually buying a piece of jewelry like this would come perfectly naturally to you. In a way, it did. You could afford it yourself, but the luxury price tag of purchases like these always loomed somewhere over your head. Better when your employer was paying for it.
Still, you'd insisted on the simpler necklace instead of the lavishly embellished collar Dave had suggested first.
A crystal bracelet complemented the necklace, while a black clutch and elegant black pumps finished the look. The clutch might have been a little bigger than the ones the other ladies would be carrying – you needed somewhere to put your gun. There would almost certainly be bag checks. Better take the thing down to props and have them sew in a hidden compartment real quick.
While you were still admiring yourself, careful not to experiment with your hairstyle or touch your face in any way – even when it itched – you caught sight of Dave standing behind you, phone held at eye level.
“Turn around!” He made an enthusiastic motion with his hand, telling you to do a little twirl.
You turned to face him. “What are you doing?”
“Immortalizing your transformation into the Black Swan,” Dave replied as though it were obvious.
You huffed out an amused breath. “I like to think of myself as the real deal.”
“Darling, you're both! Like Natalie Portman, only more sane.”
That pulled a hearty laugh from you. “Thanks, I feel so sane going into the lion's den, as usual.” You gave yourself another once-over in the mirror. “Still, somehow you're right. Here to fool them all.”
“And I'll be with you every step of the way,” Dave grinned. “Now spin, Pinocchio. I'm Jiminy Cricket in your ear, and your conscience demands you show off those guns!” He paused. “Don't even think about grabbing your guns.”
Laughing, you humored him and turned as elegantly as you could on the spot.
“I swear, ever since you started dating Mr. Bad Jokes, one has to watch what one says around you.”
Dave muttered to himself as he edited the video on the phone.
“What are you doing now?” you asked curiously, watching Dave rearrange the sequence of the video with eerie precision – a task that would easily have taken you thirty minutes.
“Sending it to your sweetheart so he gets something out of this too.”
“Oh.” Only now did you realize it wasn't even his phone he was holding, but your personal one. “I don't usually send him stuff like that.”
“There's a first time for everything.” Dave winked and started hammering away at the digital keyboard. “I bet you two only ever talk about boring everyday stuff. I can see it now – ‘I made a really good curry today.’ ‘We should go see that new movie.’ Then a few corny jokes, with the occasional outdated emoji thrown in.”
Spot on. What Dave failed to consider was that you genuinely enjoyed every single one of those things he was shaming you for. Talking – or rather, texting – about everyday life had become something almost sacred, especially to Leon. You only ever texted about work to say that you were okay and when you'd be back so you could see each other again – for a movie night, for example.
Dave understood a lot. More than most. And yet he'd managed to hold on to a lightness you admired just as much as, on rare occasions, you condemned it. Your dispatcher – the guy who heard everything about your missions, from drug trafficking and human trafficking to the occasional act of bioterrorism – somehow managed to set that reality aside.
“Sent,” he announced with a self-satisfied sparkle in his eyes.
Somehow, he had a point. You had to have a little fun.
“Where's your DSO knight right now, anyway?” Dave made no move to give your phone back, instead staring at the screen – presumably waiting for a reaction. “His last message was, ‘Mission nearby. Dinner Friday?’ and you didn't answer. Bad girlfriend.”
You rolled your eyes in amusement and stepped up beside the phone-snatcher. “That's because we went shopping.”
Dave pondered your statement theatrically before saying, “I'll allow it.”
On the screen of your phone, in your open Messages app, Dave had sent Leon the edited video along with the message, New mission attire. Wish me luck – completed with a kiss emoji.
“Yeah, he's gonna see right through you,” you remarked with a dry smirk.
“What? But I used the boomer emoji!”
“I don't wish for luck,” you explained. “Also! I am no boomer, sir.”
“You literally saved him as ‘Leon Kennedy.’”
“Uh, because that's his name?”
What was wrong with saving someone under their actual name?
“Boomer mentality,” Dave replied, holding up a flat palm in front of you.
The audacity.
The phone in his hand buzzed, drawing both your attention back to the device.
Nice try, Dave. She doesn't wish for luck. Give her her phone back.
“Ha!” you exclaimed triumphantly, snatching your phone away. Dave pouted, surely only pretending to be offended, and muttered something along the lines of, “Fine, don't be spicy then.”
You grinned in victory. Another glance at the screen made that grin melt into a blissful smile.
You look gorgeous. My beautiful girl. Hope the mission he mentioned is our dinner on Friday?
You quickly typed your reply, ignoring Dave's curious stare.
It really is for a mission. Nearby too. I'll tell you all about it Friday. Love you, stay sharp and let me know when you're safe.
Yes, ma'am. You too.
“You look, like, highkey happy.” This time, Dave's smile was genuinely supportive. “I'm glad it worked out for you two that way, too. Even if I still don't wanna know what you did after that plant lab.”
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You really don't. Come on, let's get into mission mode.”
“I bought my own little bow tie at the Dior store to match with you.”
“Lovely.”
With your professionally forged invitation and excellent undercover acting skills, you slipped effortlessly into the opulent villa on the hill.
Set in the middle of an upscale residential neighborhood, it looked as though you were on your way to an exceptionally expensive champagne house party hosted by one of the wealthiest entrepreneurs in the country. The kind of party where everyone threw on thousands of dollars’ worth of couture just to partake in one of the most decadent evenings known to mankind.
The fact that the place was overflowing with illegal substances and luxury escorts of every gender was hardly surprising – and not what you were looking for.
“Remember, objective is to find that congressman’s son and ideally get the fuck outta there before the auction even starts,” you heard Dave say through the tiny earpiece tucked securely into your ear canal and hidden behind a few strands of hair. “Don’t start any heroics like your boyfriend always does.”
Naturally, you didn’t react. You were already among the rich and beautiful – here tonight to attend an illegal human auction. Ideally, you would have liked to bring the entire ring down tonight, but the kidnapped son took priority.
It reminded you a little of a story from before you and Leon – when he’d rescued Ashley Graham from a cult in Spain. At least this time there were no parasites or viruses involved. Silver linings.
A member of the house staff dressed in black and white greeted you just beyond the grand double doors of the opulent estate, carrying a tray filled with champagne flutes. With a smile on your lips and a glass of the sparkling drink in hand, you looked around without giving away that you had never seen the inside of this place before.
Marble everywhere, golden embellishments adorning stair railings and columns. Everything shimmered, gleamed and sparkled as though someone had laid a filter over the entire room. Around you came that particular kind of wealthy laughter that could only belong to people with no worries and far too much money.
An expensive room fragrance hung in the air of the main hall – a stimulating blend of fruity and earthy notes, hopefully not imbued with any kind of stimulant or mood enhancer. You had unwillingly inhaled enough mind-altering substances for one lifetime.
The main hall was enormous, almost like a ballroom. Between glamorous evening gowns and expensive designer suits, the host’s staff slipped through the crowd with refreshments and delicate little hors d’oeuvres. You returned your untouched glass of champagne to the tray of a passing server. No alcohol on the job.
With the comfortable, unobtrusive tones of a string quartet playing in the background, the guests conversed through perfectly rehearsed nods, smiles, and little laughs placed exactly where appropriate. A flawlessly orchestrated evening – if it weren’t for the human trafficking taking place beneath it all.
As far as you could see, you had two options: You could wait in front of the enormous stage beneath an excessive chandelier hanging from a damn frescoed ceiling and buy your target at auction – or you could start looking for information on where they were keeping the captives.
Either way, you would draw attention if you didn’t start mingling.
“Don’t react,” Dave said into your ear. To keep from standing out any further, you slipped into a larger group of people. “Just got word you’re not the only government agent on site. Looks like there’s another lead connected to tonight’s auction.” Dave made an incredulous sound that you had to suppress the urge to react to. “Apparently there’s a good chance a BOW broker is auctioning off a few pieces tonight, too.”
Your mouth twitched. You knew it did. Again. It was happening again. The only upside… You snatched a napkin from a passing tray, pretending to dab something from your mouth.
“Is Leon here?” you asked quietly. Maybe this was his mission. Maybe the two of you should occasionally throw the top-secret aspect of your respective agencies overboard if you wanted to avoid surprises like this in the future. At least between yourselves.
Dave snickered. “You’re so thirsty.”
“They only serve champagne here,” you replied, confused.
“Girl, no –” Dave sighed. “I need to write you a dictionary. You need to download a few apps, because we seriously cannot keep going like this.”
He paused briefly. Were you supposed to be offended now?
“Whatever,” Dave finally said. “And the answer is yes. He should be somewhere nearby.”
Although Leon spent a large portion of his time at the office in a suit – sometimes even without the jacket on casual Fridays – he much preferred field gear to the inflexible, expensive fabrics. Somewhere far in the back of his mind, in a small wistful corner of his consciousness, he had already loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt to make the whole thing a little more bearable.
Instead, he stood at the edge of the villa’s grand main hall in the wealthy neighborhood, sipping from a glass of water that could easily pass for vodka on the rocks as he surveyed the room.
Expensive people in even more expensive clothes, gathered in an expensive room for expensive bidding. So far, Leon hadn’t managed to identify his target – the BOW broker who had to be somewhere among the guests before eventually opening the auction. There were a lot of people here. A lot of corrupt, obscenely wealthy people. Among them, as one might expect, more than a few genuinely recognizable faces.
Leon’s gaze moved from one side of the room to the other, entirely uninterested in making polite conversation. If anyone took notice of him, he would simply grab one of those floating hors d’oeuvres and disguise himself by pretending to be busy eating.
A few people in front of Leon shifted aside – and there he was. A man dressed in a royal-blue suit, looking every bit as refined as everyone else in the room, standing in a cheerful circle with what were undoubtedly investors in the merchandise he would be auctioning off tonight.
“Got eyes on the target,” Leon murmured into the air, the words meant for Hunnigan on the other end of the line.
“Very good. Remember, this is about apprehending him without causing a scene. Be discreet. With his information, we can blow up the ring.”
Leon listened to Hunnigan typing away diligently at her computer. A moment later, she repeated the target’s details while Leon compared the picture on his phone to the man standing across the room. Normally, Leon wasn’t much of a guy for covert operations like this, but sometimes they were unavoidable. As long as nothing broke out, he would try to lure the target out of the ballroom and take him into custody somewhere quiet.
Deliberately, Leon began making his way over. From the corner of his eye, a silhouette caught his attention, its shape somehow magnetic to his senses. Only on very few, very rare occasions had Leon ever allowed himself a double take at a woman’s body – but this one stood out among everyone else dressed in evening wear, enough that he had to look again, accompanied by a pang of guilt. He was, after all, a taken man.
He couldn’t suppress the amused sound forming in his throat when he saw you. No reason to feel guilty – just a man recognizing his beautiful girlfriend in any crowd.
There you stood, a glass of water in your own hand. You held it elegantly between your long, slender fingers, the crystal bracelet around your wrist glittering softly beneath the chandelier above you.
The stunning outfit Dave had sent him a few hours earlier did its digital counterpart more than justice. A perfect, elegant black dress wrapped around your perfect body. Whenever you shifted your weight, the floor-length fabric swayed gracefully with you, the high slit revealing your leg and the black pumps you somehow stood in with effortless elegance.
Even more beautiful than the outfit was the smile you gave the man in front of you during what was undoubtedly the simplest conversation imaginable. You were, after all, a very good conversationalist – even better when you wanted to charm someone, though words were probably less effective right now than that weapon of a body.
You had really put the CIA credit card to good use with that dress.
Almost a little too good, Leon thought as he watched the way the other man’s gaze remained fixed on you. The guy barely blinked – and Leon couldn’t even hold it against him.
“Leon?” Hunnigan’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Yeah?”
“You stopped moving.”
“I know.”
“Problem?”
Leon could have sworn he heard your melodic laughter all the way from where he stood across the ballroom.
“No,” he said after the brief pause it took to pull himself out of your orbit. Like he was a rookie all over again. “Unexpected variable.”
“Oh, right, you got eyes on the CIA representative? Sorry, should’ve told you,” Hunnigan informed him far too late. “They sent someone because it looks like we’ve got human trafficking on our hands, too.”
“Uh-huh,” was all Leon managed, his eyes lingering on you for too long, then on the expensive-looking necklace around your neck with its small, sparkling pendant. Maybe he should buy you more jewelry. Then again, you weren’t really the type for expensive jewelry in everyday life.
“Oh, is it…?” Hunnigan connected the dots. “Do not approach her.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Leon replied, well aware that neither of you could afford to blow your cover. Not here, where probably half the people in the room had weapons hidden somewhere beneath all that silk.
“Leon.” Hunnigan’s voice was stern and pointed.
“Hunnigan,” Leon deadpanned.
“You changed direction.”
“…Target moved.”
“Your target is on the other side of the room at this point. I have him on my radar.”
“I have multiple targets.” Leon’s body seemed to move toward you entirely of its own accord. “Besides, he’s not gonna go anywhere before the auction starts.”
You had been looking for your boyfriend from the moment Dave told you he was here. Unfortunately, before your search could bear any fruit, this man had drawn you into a conversation.
Knowing the mission still took priority, you had put on a smile, offered friendly words and the occasional well-timed laugh, all while trying to coax whatever useful information you could out of him.
As it turned out, you were in luck: the man was one of the organizers. Not THE organizer – not the owner of the house – but someone involved in putting the event together. He had to know where they were keeping the captives.
“I heard there’s even a little VIP going up for auction tonight,” you said boldly, openly, as though you belonged here.
The man in front of you – such an incredibly friendly-looking guy that truly nothing in this world surprised you anymore – smirked. “Word travels whether you want it to or not. You’ll have to be patient. But I can assure you, the merchandise won’t disappoint.”
“I’m highly interested in rare acquisitions.” Speaking the words aloud repulsed you, but it had to be done. “Surely there’s some way to… inspect them beforehand?”
You took a small sip from your glass for dramatic effect, maintaining eye contact with the man across from you. A woman’s weapons – you hated and loved that you knew how to use them.
An unpleasant snicker followed. “I’m really at no liberty to show you beforehand.”
You were already about to protest when he cut you off. “But I could offer you a little photo sneak peek. If”, he reached into his trouser pocket, “you’re seriously interested in bidding high. Assuming we do have this VIP in our custody, what are you willing to open with?”
Your eyebrows twitched upward, your gaze dropping to the phone in his hand for a second.
“I would be willing to begin at a hundred thousand dollars,” you replied, having done your homework. If BOWs really were being sold here too, that price was tame by comparison… hopefully your target hadn’t become one.
“Double it and I show you.” A tough negotiator.
“Deal,” you replied, your credibility apparently exceptionally high tonight. Surely it had nothing to do with your accentuated cleavage.
With a satisfied nod, he unlocked his phone, tapped around for a moment, then discreetly held it out for you to see.
For a moment, you held your breath. The image on the smartphone was horrific and morbid. A basement, cold and made of stone, the camera pointed from outside a literal cell toward a figure huddled on the hard floor, body pressed tightly into the corner, fear-blown eyes fixed not on the camera, but on something just barely visible at the edge of the frame: a bared snout, saliva dripping from its jaws, teeth razor-sharp.
Either a very aggressive dog… or a Cerberus, as you knew them. Genetically modified dogs. BOWs.
As quickly as the picture had been shown to you, it disappeared back into the pocket of the man in front of you. It was the boy, there was no doubt about that. But…
“Can you guarantee he won’t be infected by the time he goes up for auction?” you asked with the irritated look of a customer who had just discovered her merchandise was being improperly stored.
“Already familiar with our other offerings, I see,” the man observed, visibly impressed. “Rest assured, he’s being well taken care of. The cell beside the dogs was chosen purely to keep him compliant.”
“I see…” The practiced smile found its way back onto your face. “Thank you for showing me.”
“My pleasure, for such a good – and beautiful – customer. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you at one of our events before.”
If the man standing in front of you hadn’t been a corrupt human trafficker, he might actually have made for a pleasant and respectful conversational partner. He took a sip from his champagne.
“What brings you to us?”
You opened your mouth to deliver a few rehearsed lines about your fictional background when a familiar hairstyle caught your attention from the corner of your eye.
A brief glance revealed Leon, keeping a small distance between you, watching with a glass of what was undoubtedly the same alibi drink as your own in his hand. You had only a split second to admire his trained frame wrapped in an expensive suit before you had to turn your attention forward again to avoid suspicion. Better if two strangers at this event didn’t suddenly acknowledge one another.
Still, now that you had spotted your boyfriend, you had lost all interest in continuing the conversation. You needed to tell Leon what you had learned and start looking for that prison.
So you deliberately placed your glass onto a passing tray and replied, “I just moved here. Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to use the powder room and freshen up for what promises to be an exciting auction.”
“Of course,” the organizer replied, thankfully polite without hesitation, and you were fairly certain you had played your part well.
“Next Oscar nominee,” Dave praised into your ear as you were already making your way toward the powder room, Leon undoubtedly somewhere behind you.
End Note: Yeah, sorry for the massive cliffhanger, couldn't split the parts otherwise. Surely this will remain a classy sophisticated undercover operation (whispers not) 😏
leon shoving up your shirt and tugging the waistband of your bottoms down just enough to expose your tummy and give it a kiss. right above your navel. then pressing his warm cheek to it and closing his eyes and dozing off there while your fingers are rubbing at his scalp. his hands resting on your waist and his thumbs rubbing so gently at your soft skin.
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