-> lucky you, you get to bounce on it. what would leon kennedy be like in bed?
notes: smut/nsfw, 18+ - interact at your own discretion
- Leon would be very vocal, but not very loud. You can easily coax a lot of grunts, cusses, and soft moans from him. When he’s close, he usually lets out a barely audible whimper too.
- Leon also talks dirty a fair bit, but it’s usually in short sentences, like “fuck, you look so pretty like this.” He’d definitely talk you through it too, with those little sentences that drive you insane, like “good girl, ride it out for me.”
- Favourite positions of his would be mating press, pro bone, and you riding him while he’s sat. Anything where your bodies are physically as close as possible will always be his favourite.
- Leon would be a switch. In a more dominant role, he’d still have tenderness and care, so he’d be a service dom. He’d want his partner to feel immense pleasure at all times, to the point where he’d push you with some overstimulation and praise. You’d hear something along the lines of “Keep going… You can cum for me one more time right?? …Yeah, that’s my girl.”
- In a more submissive role, Leon would be incredibly obedient and serve you in whatever way possible with total devotion. Again, he wouldn’t be incredibly loud, but you can easily earn a lot of stifled whimpers and rasped out pleas from him. He’d also be the type to blush furiously when he’s in a more submissive role in the bedroom. Post RE2 Leon wouldn’t be so easily flustered, so you can expect more of a shy demeanour with a beet-red face when he’s in a submissive role. You’d likely hear a lot of pleading, such as “please, oh, fuck, fuck, please don’t stop, please” in a breathy whimper.
- Leon is a selfless person, and it translates in the bedroom too. He prioritises your pleasure over his - he’ll slow down to pace himself if your orgasm is still far away.
- Leon Kennedy is a munch. This is said so much by so many fanfic authors that we could say it’s practically canon.
- Leon has a praise kink. He loves to hear it from your mouth - whether it’s telling him he’s doing a good job, how good he’s making you feel, and calling him a good boy… He wants all of it. He can’t get enough of it, in fact, he’d probably get drunk on it if he could.
- He also loves to give praise just as much as he loves to receive it. It usually comes in the form of a “fuck, you feel so good,” or “you’re taking me so well, baby.”
- As much as he’d love to sext you, especially when he’s away on a mission, there’s a big risk that his phone could be tapped or stolen. He has no choice but to remain pent up until a mission is over. Upon his return, the both of you fuck like rabbits for a good 2 days. You’ve probably had sex on every surface imaginable in his place by now.
- He’ll fuck you hard, but never rough - unless you ask. Even then, he’s not the biggest fan of inflicting marks (aside from a lovebite or two if he’s feeling possessive) or leaving you sore the next day. He’s very aware of his strength and he’s terrified of harming you.
- Leon prefers taking his time with you over a quickie; while he’s definitely not opposed to those, he prefers to appreciate you, and doesn’t like to rush.
- Leon’s job requires him to stay in peak physical condition, so you’d probably tag along with him to learn a thing or two. After a workout, Leon usually gets such a big burst of energy that he almost always ends up horny after working out. You’ve also asked him to teach you self defense manoeuvres, but it pretty much always starts with sparring and ends with him fucking you into the mat of his home gym.
- Every time without fail, he whispers an ‘I love you’ during or right after. :p
- Leon isn’t very big on public displays of affection, although he will hold your hand through a busy crowd, or place his hand on the small of your back if he’s guiding you somewhere.
- That being said… On the occasional subway ride, Leon refuses to let you touch the grimy grab handles. He insists you hold onto his bicep instead. Not like you’d complain.
- When he’s at home with you, Leon is practically your shadow - putting his head on top of your chin or in the crook of your neck while you’re attending to a task, such as a typing away at a report or cooking something. He also pulls you in super close whenever you’re sat on the couch or lying in bed, and he absolutely hates letting go.
- Leon also enjoys physical touch, but from you and only you, since he sees you as a safe space. He especially loves when you rake your fingers through his hair, lightly touching his scalp. It reminds you of a dog leaning in to nuzzle the hand petting it. He’s more touch starved than he lets on.
- Even after a long day at the office or returning from a mission, Leon is the one who will cook you both breakfast the following morning, or he’ll notice that oil leak from your car and fix it for you before you even spot it yourself. Leon would never let you lift a finger, unless you wanted to.
- He always gets a little surge of pride when he’s able to be the hero for you - especially if it involves brute strength, such as opening stubborn jars or moving a piece of heavy furniture. It’s a bit amusing watching him try to play it cool when you thank him for his help.
- Words and grand romantic gestures aren’t Leon’s strongest suit - but he doesn’t go a day without saying “I love you”.
- Leon is not really big on the gift giving and receiving front, but he always gathers information by asking your friends and paying attention to what you’re looking at in the mall so he can get you a nice gift. His preferred gifts from you are handmade, since he’s quite sentimental.
- When things became serious, Leon told you that he trusts you with his card, and you can buy whatever you want with it. For whatever reason, you still kind of hold back on using it… So sometimes Leon will just straight up ask you to visit a luxury store and put his card to use, because he has no clue how else he’s going to spend all that money otherwise.
- Making corny jokes is just a reflex for Leon at this point. If you say something that reminds him of a joke, he will add an awful one-liner after your sentence before you can even stop him. In response, you usually stare at him with a deadpan look, while he’s staring back at you looking pleased with himself.
- When you eventually move in together, it’s likely that a pet becomes an addition to the home some point. Actually it’s more like you found a stray dog/cat and you took it in, so Leon had no say. Leon would lean as a dog person, but he would be happy to own either a cat or dog. He loves animals, and animals love him.
- Leon is a very clean guy, he sometimes showers twice a day. He has a very strong soapy aldehydic scent, which is softened only by a fraction from his sandalwood aftershave and his natural skin musk. He smells a lot like freshly washed linen.
- Since beginning to work for the DSO, Leon became an extremely organised and tidy person; he’s meticulous in the way he arranges and stores his belongings at home. He doesn’t leave his inbox piled up with over 2,000 notifications. Hell, even his desktop computer is free from clutter, with dedicated files and subfiles with strict categorisation. He’s so organised that you’re usually the one asking him where something is.
- Leon would not give another person the time of day if they’re hitting on him. Since you began dating, Leon ignores any advances from other people to the point where he becomes visibly annoyed if they don’t take a hint the first time. He said it himself - he’s a one-woman type of guy.
- Leon runs hot at night. He also doesn’t have difficulty falling asleep, but he has trouble staying asleep because he often has nightmares. He instinctively reaches for you when he wakes up from a nightmare.
- Speaking of emotions… Leon used to cope with his trauma and emotions with alcohol before he met you. Leon wants to be present whenever he’s with you, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he were drunk in his free time. Being in a relationship with you also gave him the boost of motivation he needed to change his drinking habits, because he wants to be a dependable partner.
- Leon is a very jumpy person. He hates horror movies and jumpscares. Anything with zombies is totally off the table - for very good reason. You’ve developed a habit of announcing when you’re home, and purposely making a bit of noise before approaching him if he can’t see you. You hate seeing him jump out of his skin when he’s caught off guard - it makes your chest clench a little because of the reason behind it.
- Leon is a starer. He’ll often admire your face with a small smile.
- People who work with Leon have noticed that he’s gotten his spark back since he began dating you. Leon was previously known for being a brooding person, who always walked around the office with a furrowed brow. One time, Leon cracked a small smile at someone’s joke in the break room - his colleagues were so used to seeing him frown all the time that the room was momentarily stunned into silence.
- He’s the one who usually drives. Surprisingly, he’s actually a good driver in every day life, even though you’ve heard the vehicle auditors at the DSO chide him over the phone about the amount of vehicles he’s totalled on missions.
- When he doesn’t hear you the first time, he leans close to you and does a little “hm?”- it gets you flustered every time. He knows what he’s doing.
you just moved into a new neighbourhood, hoping to start anew. you had no idea you would end up developing feelings for the good looking older man living across the street. you had also no idea that he'd carve a spot into your soul that would leave you so incredibly hollow when you lost him.
(tags: leon kennedy x reader; 18+, oneshot, afab reader, smut, angst, mirror sex, re9 leon pre and post requiem - bad end, slight age gap, neighbour trope, major character death)
click for -> ao3 link
Summer:
"Shit!" You hissed as your hand touches on the searing hot steering wheel of your car. Smack dab in the summer heat, your tired car AC does little to wick away the thin layer of sweat that has formed on your skin, and it's not even midday yet. God, you need to get this fixed ASAP the moment you get settled. What an awful start to a new chapter of your life.
Your mind raced with all the 'would-haves' and 'maybes' as you continued to drive to your new home - a craftsman bungalow style house. It's nothing flash, but it's yours, and you have plenty of leftover money to spare to do it up the way you'd like after that huge severance pay. Ugh - just the thought of that payout made you sick. Only two months ago were you were a well-respected a senior manager, poised to take on a director role. Then suddenly at the final moment, it was handed to your far less competent male colleague who just happened to go golfing with the CEO every other Sunday. After that, things rapidly tumbled downhill, with the topmost management deciding a restructure was what was needed to save costs, and suddenly, you were called in for a meeting at 4:59pm to discuss your future (or rather, lack thereof) in the company.
It's humiliating - running away with your tail between your legs when you're still considered to have plenty of years left to continue climbing the career ladder, but for many years prior, you were praying to any god that was listening to give you a sign to finally quit your job and move out of the big city to follow your dreams. And so here you are, planting new roots in a suburb near a much smaller city. It's the far superior alternative to moving back to your hometown, especially considering you'll be seen as the one who fell from grace after choosing to prioritize your career, while everybody else you grew up with is now dropping their kids off to soccer practice or attending choir recitals.
Your car began to make a pathetic, churning noise as it struggled to drag itself to the base of a hill, before it came to a complete halt, despite your foot on the gas and your keys still in the ignition. "Fuck! You've got to be fucking kidding me!" You groaned. You're not all that far from your new home - maybe fifteen minutes tops, but it's blisteringly hot outside, so walking there is not an option. You held in your frustration and tears as you pulled over, stepping out of your car and pulling your already hot phone out. The sun was beating down on your phone screen, the glass reflecting into your eyes and causing you to wince as you fumble with the roadside assistance number.
"…Unfortunately since it is a weekend and there are many people ahead of you in the queue, we are estimating your wait will be around 3 hours." The woman's voice said into the line. You held back a groan of frustration as you thank her before hanging up. You felt the fabric of your fitted cotton shirt now stick to your lower back like a second skin, the sweat on your brow now plastering thick clumps of your hair against your forehead. You raised a forearm up to the sky, a poor attempt at shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays as you popped open the hood. You have no clue what you're meant to be looking at, it looks all the same to you. Lower lip trembling, you leaned on the front of your car, ignoring the lava-like sensation against the front of your thighs as you let a stray tear slip down your cheek. Before another tear escaped, you heard a car slow down to a stop beside you. A black Porsche Cayenne GT. Fancy.
"…Hey. You alright?" A man's voice called out to you. Propping yourself up from the hood of your car, you turned to the source of the voice. A blonde man, perhaps in his late 40's, was staring at you with pale blue eyes. Clearing your throat and blinking away the stray tears from your vision, you shook your head.
"No. But I will be. Just a shit day. My car decided to break down on me when I'm only 15 minutes away from my new home. My roadside insurance said I'll have to wait in this heat for about 3 hours, but that's three lost hours I could spend moving in." You sighed, shoving your hands into the pockets of your denim shorts.
"You have some rotten luck…" The blonde man empathized. "Listen, you don't have to take the offer, but you can leave the car for towing and I can take you to your new home - you live in the nearby neighbourhood, right? It's where I live too." The man asked, and you nodded. Under normal circumstances, you would never accept a ride from a stranger, especially not an older man, but you'd take being driven by a handsome older man in a black Porsche over sitting in the sweltering heat for up to 3 hours without water. Or perhaps you just had the survival instincts of a wet paper bag.
…
The man gave you his name - Leon. The cold blast of his car's air conditioning instantly evaporates your sweat, providing you instant relief. As you trade names, you can't help but feel a dull throb between your thighs at the way your name rolls off his tongue, your eyes covertly landing on his muscular forearms, gaze trailing up a vein from his forearm to his bicep, which is then hidden by his tight navy shirt. He's in impeccable shape for somebody who seems to be close to beekeeping age. Jesus, you need to snap out of it and get laid.
You noticed how Leon's broad shoulders momentarily relax as he lets out a short chuckle, the deep timbre of his voice made your clench your thighs together just a fraction more. You learnt that you are neighbours opposite each other - that your house is directly facing his.
Leon pulls into your street, you notice the stark contrast of your little craftsman bungalow, dwarfed by the clean modern lines of Leon's large home across the street. You become acutely aware that you've bought the smallest home on the street, maybe even this part of the suburb, because everybody here seems to drive impressive cars and have equally as impressive sized houses. You try to remind yourself that your place probably has more charm, and everyone on this street, including your neighbour Leon, likely has their big house to hold their big family, while you're just a woman in her early 30's who doesn't even have a cat. Not yet, anyway.
"I saw the under offer sign last month - it's a nice house, it's got a lot of character to it. I was worried it might be some asshole investor who wants to knock the whole place down and subdivide or something." Leon commented. Yes, 'character' is a perfect way of putting it, thank you Leon.
"Oh, no, just me in here… I needed a fresh start in a new place. This was the best I could afford, it's just such a nice neighbourhood." You replied, chuckling awkwardly as you reluctantly unbuckled your seatbelt, mentally bidding goodbye to the ice cold air blasting from his car. You're so stuck in your own world that you didn't even notice Leon's eyes darting to your thighs for a split second, before he opened his side of the car.
Hopping out of Leon's car, you noticed that your moving-in boxes had already been delivered. Every single beige cardboard box was meticulously taped and labeled by you, with layers of neatly folded newspaper padding the contents inside. Looks like the movers just dumped your boxes because you weren't there to let them in. How ridiculous - you were no more than half an hour late, but with nobody to let them in, the movers simply cancelled the other half of their job and have left you to bring in and unpack your boxes instead of ringing you to check in. Assholes.
"That's a lot of stuff you got there." Leon remarks, and you sigh, poking the nearest box with the toe of your sneaker.
"Yeah. I guess I got here a bit too late. The movers cancelled the other half of helping me move stuff in. Welp, I've got my work cut out for me." You barked a short, fed up chuckle. "Thank you for helping me, Leon. I think I've got it from here." You added with a small smile.
"It's no problem - but it is pretty damn hot and humid, are you sure you can manage all these boxes on your own?"
"I'm sure I can do it. I moved in and out of my last place alone. This time won't be much different." You shrugged, fishing for your house keys in your pocket before bending at the knees and gripping onto the edges of a cardboard box labeled 'bowls and plates'. You felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as Leon is staring at your teetering form, possibly a hair away from dropping that heavy box onto your wooden porch.
He found himself stepping in before his mind could even think, his large, calloused hands catching the heavy cardboard box beneath you just as it was about to slip out of your grasp. Leon was always like this; stepping in to help another person in need, as if it were his factory settings. He noticed your plush lips part into a pretty little 'O' shape as you let out a gasp. He'd be lying to himself if he said acting the hero for his pretty (and considerably younger) neighbour didn't have some kind of effect on him though.
"I'm sure you can. But it'll be much quicker and safer with an extra set of hands." Leon said , his biceps tensing as you held the door open for him. "Ah, no wonder this was heavy." Leon added, his eyes roaming over the label. He noted you're an organised and meticulous person, similar to him.
Towards the end of the day, when the blue haze draped over the orange glow of the sky, you offered Leon a refreshment as a token of thanks for helping you move in, but he declined and told you that helping others is payment enough. He seems to be a rather chivalrous older man - 'his wife is lucky' you couldn't help but think to yourself.
You found yourself sitting alone at your kitchen island, legs dangling from your kitchen stool as you dug your fork into a hastily-made bowl of pasta. Not even your TV was properly set up, and so you were listening to the noise of your own thoughts instead. Those thoughts continued to rotate between existential dread, and your attractive older neighbour across the street. The numerous scars across his forearms and biceps didn't go unmissed, with some scars looking like slashes across his pale skin, with others looking like pits that only a bullet could make. It made you wonder just how dangerous his job is. You shoved the thought aside, pivoting your thoughts on tomorrow's agenda.
For the following three weeks, you didn't see or hear much from Leon since the day he helped you move in. Part of you wondered if Leon was just a hallucination from heat stroke, but that myth was dispelled when you watched him through your kitchen blinds, walking towards his mailbox in his grey sweatpants and a white shirt. It reminded you that you found a bill addressed to him was incorrectly slipped in your mailbox - and so on an already sweltering morning, you shoved your feet in your slippers, waving to him as you walk across the street, with a white envelope in your hand addressed to him.
Leon tried his best to avert his gaze from the way your grey pajama shirt was made of such thin cotton that he could see the obvious outline of your chest. He was worried he would begin to look like an alien that snuck onto earth and learnt about eye contact for the first time, but you seemed oblivious to his straining efforts. Leon's eyes fell to the envelope - a thankful reprieve from the sight of the woman in front of him. Feeling heat rush to his lower half, he mutters another sentence of gratitude before you can spot the tent he's pitched in his sweatpants. He felt a sense of disgust within himself as he walks back to his front door - sickened by the crashing tide of lust that caught him off balance over his younger, very oblivious neighbour.
He should leave her alone. He really should.
…
You should just leave him alone. You really should.
You're sure there are plenty of nice people who are closer to your age and would be perfectly fine to get to know, but you found yourself gravitating towards the blonde older man across the road with the intense but tender pale blue gaze. Every time you opened your dating app, you found yourself unsuccessful in your endeavors. You don't want to say the quiet part out loud - that you're looking for Leon in every man you could possibly connect with, and none of them seem to hold a candle to the older man across the street.
Autumn:
"…Are you wearing orthopedic shoes, Leon?" You can't help but blurt out the question. Leon momentarily turns his head away from the task of repairing your leaking kitchen sink, giving you a sideways glance.
"They're hiking shoes. Jesus, I'm not that old, yet. This the thanks I get for giving my neighbour a free sink repair?" Leon asked with an amused tone, ignoring the dull ache in his knees as he knelt under your sink.
A part of you couldn't help but think about how he'd look kneeling for you, with his head between your thighs. You felt like a sick, perverted freak, yet you couldn't stop your mind from wandering there. "Sorry, sorry, you could probably run many more miles than me without getting huffed. I'll behave myself." You apologised with a small grin.
"Good girl. That's what I like to hear." Leon replied casually - you couldn't see his facial expression, and you're glad he also couldn't see yours in that moment.
After helping you with your sink, Leon was less averse to tokens of appreciation compared to the last time he helped you. You shared some donuts - just something simple and sweet that would wash down well with a coffee. The both of you exchanged information about your jobs, you divulged your biggest failure - climbing the career ladder so high only to be kicked off when you were about to reach the top. In turn, Leon mentioned his position as a DSO agent. The term 'DSO' rung a bell - you remember a global-scale catastrophic incident that occurred in 2013, when you were about to start your freshman year in college. When you mentioned that detail to Leon, he visibly grimaced, telling you to stop reminding him that he's an old man now.
"What about you and your family? Have you got any kids you've had to wave off to college recently?" You asked - it was an innocent question enough about family, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't fishing for information on his marital status.
"Hm? Ah, I've uh, never settled down." Leon admitted in response. He took a bite of the donut you gave him; something you bought earlier this morning from the nearby bakery while the catastrophe in your kitchen sink was unfolding, unbeknownst to you. Your eyes lingered where he bit into the donut, teeth marks indented to create a perfect crescent. A depraved thought of what that those indents would look against your own skin passes through your mind. You raise your mug to your mouth to take a sip of hot black coffee, concealing the ghost of a grin that danced across your lips.
"Really? Never? You're joking, right? But you're so nice." And handsome. But you wouldn't admit that last part to him, you know better than to flirt with your visibly older neighbour.
"Being nice doesn't offset the baggage that my work brings. I can disappear for up to a month, and get called in at any moment's notice. Not to mention the danger aspect. My work consumes most of my time." Leon shrugged.
"But is it something you wanted?" You couldn't help but pry a little further.
"It is." Leon said with a solemn nod. He wanted all of it - to pick the kids up from school, to stand up and clap like a madman watching his child shoot a goal at their first basketball game, to be that one fuckass annoying parent holding their phone up into the crowd recording their kid's first school play, covering everyone else's view. Not only that, but Leon wanted someone to come home to, and to be someone's home as well. After grueling missions that can last up to weeks on end, Leon just wished that he could walk through the front door and somebody would smile at him, hug him, and bring him back to a sense of normalcy. He pictured himself being an anchor for a partner, a patient, gentle, and protective force that somebody can rely on. Leon Kennedy wanted it all, but he never allowed himself to have it. After all, his life isn't so simple that he could just choose to settle down when he felt like it. Not when the weight of the world would constantly crush his shoulders, the pressure grinding against him so often that even he's surprised he's not reduced to only sinew and bone yet.
You're far removed from the life of a DSO agent, so you remained optimistic in your response. "I see… Well, I don't think it's too late if that's something you still want." You told him. Leon gave you an appreciative look in return, but you knew your words didn't change his viewpoint. Despite it all, you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror that night, wondering what Leon would look like standing next to you.
…
You thought the humiliation rituals ended when you moved out of the big city. And it's been nice - you've set up a good life for yourself here as a writer, sustaining on payments that let you work at your own pace, no negotiation for pay rises or promotions required. But it was going on a date so shitty that you vowed to never go on another date again, that was what made you feel small once again. And you hated it.
You stumbled to your front porch in your heels, mascara running down your cheeks as you kept your arms folded in an effort to protect yourself from the biting air from the night. As your security lights shone brightly on your porch and out onto the street, your defeated figure could be spotted from Leon's living room window, fumbling in your purse.
"God fucking dammit!" You sniveled, a total drunken mess. You kicked your doormat up, only to find no spare key; although you knew you placed one somewhere around here! You lifted up the potted plants, checked under the rock near the stairs, but nothing. All you could do was sit in your tight black dress and pretty heels, and sob.
Your sobbing was cut short as you notice a familiar figure walking across the road. Leon. "Hi." You forced your greeting out to sound as normal as possible, as Leon crouched down opposite you.
"Hey. Sorry for being nosy, but your security lights are pretty bright and I noticed you've been sitting out here for almost half an hour in the cold. Figured I'd check in on you." Leon spoke in a very tender and low voice. You peered at him through tear-stained lashes, giving him a small shake of the head in response.
"I'll be okay. Just need to find my house keys." You almost choked on your sentence from the dryness of your throat.
"Why don't I help you look for them? And you can put this on in the meantime." Leon handed a brown leather aviator jacket to you. The moment you shrugged it on, you noticed how it dwarfed you in size, but also how soft and warm the shearling lining was, much like a hug. You were still in too much of a drunken haze to notice the flicker of a smile across Leon's lips at the sight of you in one of his old jackets. "Found it." Leon announced after only five minutes of searching. "You placed it on on top your switchboard." Leon added, knocking his knuckles twice against the hollow metal box with a dull thud.
"T-Thank you, Leon." You stammered, gratefully taking the key from his hand as you tried to slide your key into the door, but you were so fucking tired and your mind was as dull as a butter knife that you couldn't properly align your key into the lock. "Fuck." You whispered, still aware enough that Leon was watching you fuck up something as simple as getting into your own damn home.
"Here." His voice was barely above a whisper. You dropped your house key into his palm and he unlocked your door in a matter of seconds. Collapsing onto your couch, you looked up at the ceiling that was still slightly spinning. Leon knew now was the perfectly appropriate time to head back into his own home, but he was telling himself that he only wanted to make sure you were safe and you had everything you needed before he left you alone. He was just being a nice, caring neighbour. "Was the date that bad?" Leon asked, walking towards you with a glass of water.
"Abysmal. I'm never going on another fucking date ever again." You grumbled, taking a healthy gulp of the water. A thin trickle of water dribbled from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, until it disappeared at the neckline of your dress. Leon shifted in his place, his shoes suddenly feeling like the soles had turned to glue.
"What happened?" Leon couldn't help but prod at the matter, keeping himself perched on the arm of your beige loveseat couch.
"Men these days are just complete and utter fucking weirdos. They want a woman who will work - but she can't be more successful than him, and they want her to be beautiful, but she has to be insecure, otherwise she's a stuck-up slut. Oh- and don't get me started on this bullshit about women being past thirty and being 'used and now expired goods'. He said it like he was a saint for even giving me a chance, yet he's balding and living with his parents! My god… It's no longer a dating pool, it's a festering swamp." You rambled, before staring up at him with mascara-ridden doe eyes. "Sorry. Got too worked up." You added before taking another big gulp, unaware of his eyes settling on the curve of your bare neck.
"No, I don't mind. So what, you're just gonna throw the towel in, kid?" Leon asked you. The nickname 'kid' weirdly felt like a punch in the gut to you.
"Yes." You huffed in defiance, crossing your arms once more.
"Hey, that's not a winner's attitude. I'm sure the next date won't be so bad."
"The last four dates have been like this. I've lost hope." You sighed, turning towards him. "I don't know why men aren't nice. Like you." You added with a pout, your glossy lips catching the light. Your statement took Leon aback; he didn't expect a compliment from his significantly younger and pretty neighbour. He felt his weight shift underneath him as he watched you stretch a little. His mind wandered off to thoughts of how smooth your skin looks, how he could see every curve of your body underneath that dress, how beautiful you looked even when your makeup was ruined; hell, he might even like it more seeing your makeup ruined like that.
"Just trying to do the right thing is all." Leon replied, averting his gaze.
Winter:
You've spent enough time with your neighbour across the road by now to know that he doesn't have a true family - how both of his parents were tied up in crime and killed, leaving Leon with little to survive on as he stepped into adulthood. He also mentioned one woman - Sherry, someone he rescued when he was a rookie cop, surviving a bioterrorism incident in 1998. He also mentioned a woman named Claire, and her brother, Chris, how he keeps in contact with them, but they all have lives of their own, so meeting up every Christmas isn't very realistic for their schedules.
And so you found yourself at home on Christmas Eve, pacing back and forth by your ticking oven, the smell of roast turkey and buttery crisp potatoes wafting in the air. You glanced over at his home - the lights are on and the car is in the driveway. Should you invite him over? Would you come off weird? Maybe you should leave him a portion in a container on his doorstep. That would be best. Definitely the most appropriate approach. Loading up a large container full of food, you asked yourself why on earth you cared so much and why you found yourself looking out the damn window so much when his car would go missing, feeling like you're balancing on a razor's edge until you see it back in his driveway after a week or two.
Yet you knocked on his door after you left a container full of freshly cooked turkey roast, with a fluorescent yellow sticky note with 'Merry Christmas Leon :)' in your precise handwriting. Before you even made it down the street, you heard him call your name. "You gonna leave me something this nice without even saying hello?" He asked you, a warmth in the timbre of his voice. The tip of your nose and cheeks were flushed - although you weren't sure if it was from the cold, or Leon's presence.
Shortly after, you found yourself sitting in his kitchen. You ended up bringing the entire tray of turkey and potatoes sitting in his oven, whilst he cut up some oranges for the mulled wine. You realised you made a lot of assumptions about Leon - one being that the outside of his house was a reflection of what was within; only cold, clean edges and minimalism. But you learnt that Leon doesn't keep a garden because he's worried that it's too much work when he goes for long work trips, and he renovated his entire home just for efficiency. Everything he did was out of convenience so that coming back from his grueling work trips would be easier. You realised that his line of work was less of a calling and more of a command, but his work was a cruel mistress; Leon had no choice but to come at every beck and call, like a trained hound. You recall Leon was talking about some kind of upcoming weather phenomenon, but you were much too distracted with the way he plucked a stray orange wedge that almost rolled off the counter, watching the pale orange droplet run from the corner of his mouth down his hand, trailing down his forearm.
The sun settles far too quick in the winter, but despite the bitter cold outside, it felt warm and bright inside Leon's home, as you were nursing your hot mug of mulled wine. You were sitting on opposite ends of his couch, laughing about how Mrs. Rodriguez was watering her snowy lawn just to watch the Millward couple's shouting match on their front porch two doors down. You were unsure how the topic came up, but Leon casually dropped how he saved the president's daughter in 2004. Wide-eyed, you told him you don't believe him, that he was pulling your leg. And so Leon brought out a small old shoebox, containing various medals, certificates, and photos.
You pluck a glossy printed photo - you instantly recognise Leon, although you can tell he withstood far less cuts, bruises, punctures, and beatings in this image. He had that stern gaze, intense yet gentle, his brows knitted in a furrow even at twenty-seven. And he was in that same brown leather jacket he lent you that one time. Holding up the image to the Leon in front of you now, you smiled as your gaze flickered between him and the photograph.
You carded through the box once more until you found a more delicate photograph - it was a headshot of Leon; he explained that it was the photo he was made to take before he started his first day on the job as a rookie cop. His eyes were wide-eyed, almost puppy-like and full of optimism. His brows were bushier and didn't have a furrow to them. His face wasn't hollowed out and sharp; the Leon in 1998 was a glimpse into what he could've been if not for the Raccoon City incident, and for some reason, you couldn't help but inwardly mourn for the man he would've been if his life wasn't tipped upside down by trauma. But even if he's not so soft-looking on the outside, you've felt that same softness and kindness from within him since day one. "…You don't look all that different, to be honest." You place the photo back down into the box.
"I find that hard to believe." Leon chuckled, as your delicate fingers continued to card through the contents of the shoebox. Leon had no real clue why he was showing his much younger neighbour the accomplishments he made in his youth, or why she was even sitting across from him and entertaining conversation with him. He felt selfish in the way he relished the close proximity between you both on the couch, and how the warmth of your body near his made his nerves buzz like a live wire.
"No, really. You're too hard on yourself, you're still very handsome." Your words seemed to tumble out of your mouth before you could think - a sign of one too many mulled wines. But you didn't feel like taking it back.
Leon's eyes widened, lips momentarily parting before sealing into a thin line. It's what he wanted to hear - he wanted to know if he thought his younger neighbour felt the mutual attraction, but upon this confirmation, Leon felt like someone had tipped a bucket of ice cold water down the back of his shirt. He felt like he was being perverse, some sick creep pining after his neighbour who is just a little over half his age. She'd have so much of her life ahead of her, and involving himself would only saddle her with government-issued emotional baggage and a shorter lifespan. No… You deserve somebody who could give you the world and more. "…Just flattering me so you can get another free sink repair, huh kid?" Leon chuckled, downplaying the compliment. He could tell the nickname 'kid' affected you, but that's what he wanted. Distance. To highlight the gap between you both, even though you wanted to close it.
Spring:
You mentioned to him that you wanted to try planting some flowers in your front yard - Leon didn't think you were actually committed to it. He watched through his living room blinds as your knees sunk into where the dirt and grass met, meticulously planning out where each seedling would go, except you were struggling with, well, everything. Leon sighed. Even though he tried his best to wrangle with the mental yellow tape he was constantly putting up, he still found himself pulling his boots on to walk across the street.
"I thought you were all talk about doing up your garden." Leon teased, folding his arms. You noticed his biceps contract through his tight quarter-sleeve shirt, but you turn your attention back to the shovel and spade in front of you.
"What? Didn't think I'd stick to my word?" You scoffed a laugh, as you plotted the next spot for the seedlings with your spade.
"Nah, I'm just nosy. How's it going, Miss Green Thumb?" He asked. Before you could answer, you felt your spade hit something very hard. Like a metal pipe. Water spurts and gushes out everywhere, soaking your clothes in a matter of seconds, as the water propels stray clumps of dirt that flings itself onto you like a magnet.
"FUCK!" You shrieked, hair already fully saturated and clinging to the sides of your face as you managed to back away from the calamity unraveling in your front garden. For a moment, you felt a sense of dread at what just happened, before you started doubling over in laughter. Leon's shoulders relaxed as he watched the stress evaporate from you. "This morning I was asking whoever is up there listening to give me a sign to not garden." You chuckled, turning to Leon. You were oblivious to the fact that you chose to wear a white shirt and a black bra today, and he felt like an utter bastard for having such debased thoughts about you when you were smiling and laughing with such naivete. Leon's eyes traced down your shoulder to the globules of water that were sliding down the skin of your arm.
"Well, there's the sign." He shook his head while he let out a slight chuckle. "How about you take your clothes and shower the mud off at mine? I'll have to cut your water off while I repair this pipe." Leon suggested - you know it's either standing in muddy clothes for about an hour or getting clean; and you know which one you'd rather pick. You retrieved your clothes and walked across the street, stepping into his guest room en suite. You're not sure when you both became so comfortable stepping into each others' homes without so much as a raised fist to knock, but it's not something that bothered you at all. You liked it - actually, you liked it a lot. The humid steam of the shower quickly filled the cubicle as you lathered the body wash between your hands - it was pleasant, the scent of grapefruit rind and bergamont, but it didn't smell like Leon. You've leaned in close to him enough times to know that his body wash is heavy on sandalwood and ambroxan; he smelled so clean it was almost astringent, as if he's scrubbed his skin raw with a bar of soap, trying to scrape away an invisible layer of grime that only he could see.
Your eyes scanned the towel rack as the plush cotton towel soaks up the stray droplets from your shower - shit, you must've dropped your spare pair of shorts on the way to the bathroom. You took the gamble, that Leon wouldn't be in his house since he would be so focused on fixing your burst water pipe. The dice didn't roll in your favour (or maybe it did), as you freeze like a deer in headlights. Unable to move or say anything as Leon's gaze is locked onto your face, every neuron was firing in his brain to tell him not to look any further than the neck below, but he already saw a glimpse as he was going back in to retrieve an emery cloth from his other toolbox, the cloth now contorted under his white-knuckled fist.
"Shit! I'm so sorry, I accidentally dropped my shorts in the way in." You were the first one to break the silence, scrambling back into your denim shorts. But Leon already saw the black lace and the contour of your upper thighs; he already saw far too much. He angled his body a little further away as he muttered an apology of his own, something about him he assuming you were going to shower in the guest room upstairs, and that he was only walking in to grab a tool he needed urgently.
Your eyes fixed on the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down, as you smooth it over with an "it's okay, I'm not bothered", but deep down, you were bothered. You were bothered that he refused to stare, that his mind seemed to be anywhere else except what was in front of him. You were bothered that your very attractive, older neighbour, was a man built on moral code and integrity, when all you longed for in that moment was to contaminate his mind with thoughts as filthy and as depraved as yours. You wanted to watch him crumble to his knees just for you, like a follower kneeling at an altar before the rapture, desperate for salvation. But you should know better by now.
Leon stared at your retreating figure, before he looked down at his hands. Translucent scars that all have their own story, whether it be from blades, bullets, or shrapnel. Leon's hands have caused more destruction than salvation. He doesn't deserve to touch you, to feel the softness of your skin against his own calloused grasp. Leon felt like one sick scoundrel, letting an innocent & lovable lamb walk right into his home. You were trusting - far too trusting, and Leon is unsure of whether he is the shepherd or the wolf. His mind replayed the vision of your body, clad in black lace panties and a white tank top, and it played over and over in his brain until the tape broke, and he found himself panting your name with his cock in his fist, pearlescent beads of cum dripping from his weeping tip. Leon is a man who killed hundreds - no, thousands of people, yet somehow this sole act made his stomach lurch with revulsion more than anything else.
…
Despite the seed of guilt digging into his gut like a thorn in his side, Leon couldn't truly keep himself away from you. You're sat across him on the couch, bare knees hugged to your chest as you both watch a movie.
"…Why are we here?" Leon asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. You watched his muscles tense underneath that skin-tight navy quarter zip.
"To watch a movie?" You replied, as if he was asking a ridiculous question.
"No, I mean… You, here. In my living room." Leon runs a hand over his face, his hand momentarily pausing at his jaw. Since when did he become so comfortable slipping into such a domestic routine with his much younger neighbour? "You're basically half my age, kid. There's plenty of people on this street who are even more friendly, and could probably still keep up with whatever jokes are trending on the internet." Leon added with a sardonic chuckle.
"But they're not you. And I like spending time with you." You shrugged, the skin of knees shone underneath the overhead lights. "And I'm not a kid. I'm nowhere near one. A lot of people would even consider me expired, you know?" You added with a slight sulk.
"I know, I know… But I'm just… A lot older than you. If you're expired, I'm fossilized at this point."
"That's not something that bothers me. I'm an adult, have been for quite some time, and I get to choose my company. And I like your company." You replied, skin suddenly feeling a little itchy for no good reason.
"Don't get me wrong - I enjoy your company too. But I've been an adult for a lot longer…" Leon began.
"No- don't even finish whatever sentence you're going to start. I like spending my time with you." You sat up straight, as if the back of the couch suddenly grew sharp quills. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, it held so many unsaid words to the point where the windows and doors were bursting at the seams, begging for the last thread barely holding everything together to be pulled.
"You shouldn't care this much about me. You have your whole life ahead of you, there's no point in wasting any more time on me." Leon muttered.
"I'm not wasting my time - god, why are you suddenly saying all of these things Leon?"
"Because I can't stop myself from wanting to spend time with you, okay? And it's- I'm… I'm disgusting for it. You're near Sherry's age." You could tell Leon was trying to hold his words back.
"But why is that such an issue?" Your expression was curious, but inwardly you were much like a cat pawing at a vase that was teetering at the edge of a shelf, waiting for it to topple and shatter.
"Because I don't- Fuck, I think about you in a completely different way! And I know I shouldn't, it's not fair to you." Leon sighed tiredly.
"I'm still confused." You tilted your head in such an endearing manner, it made his stomach flip.
"Sherry is like a daughter to me. And you… You're a similar age. Yet I think of you as anything but a daughter."
"Then how do you exactly think of me?"
"…No. No, I can't say it, I won't entertain that." Leon shakes his head, worried that speaking it out loud would cement all those disgusting things he already believed he was.
"Leon."
"No. You have so much to experience, you deserve to live a life where you're not waiting in anxiety, wondering if or when I'll return. It gets tiring fast, y'know? When the worry fades away, only discontempt remains. I know how it goes, and I'm not about to do that to you." You could hear the hurt in his voice; he was speaking from past experience.
You carefully propped yourself on your knees, leaning forward to close the gap a little more, as if approaching a skittish animal. "I want to make that decision for myself."
"It's a bad decision." Leon's eyes refused to meet yours. There was a silent but obvious acknowledgement - that he was running out of time. Perhaps if he were twenty years younger - his features wouldn't be as worn, his knees wouldn't start to ache when the morning frost hits, and he would be able to give you so much more of his time. And not only that, but he knew what it would look like, and the kinds of assumptions nasty people could make. But it didn't matter to you - sure, you were noticeably younger than him, but at your core, you're a woman who has already spent a good number of years climbing the career ladder and ticking off personal achievements. You were just unsure if you could get him to see it that way too.
"Not in my eyes." Your fingertips brushed along his knuckles, yet he didn't pull back, his eyes remained locked on yours.
Your stare flickered between Leon's eyes and lips as you inched closer and closer, until you could feel the soft warmth of his body heat near yours. Leon stayed rooted in his spot; he didn't dare to move out of fear that he would break all restraints. So, so close - you were so close to finding out exactly how his tongue would taste against yours, but at the last second, he turned his head away.
"…I'm sorry." You whispered, sinking back down onto your heels.
God, the sight of saying no to you was almost too much for Leon to bear. "No, no. I'm sorry. I just… I know I can't give you what you'd want in life." His gaze was fixed to his herringbone flooring, for if he stared at your crestfallen face one more time, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from lunging across the gap he just created.
"It's okay. I should… Probably go then." You were being diplomatic and fair, despite wanting to grab Leon by the shoulders and shake him, telling him that it's not a crime to go after what he wants; to be selfish, even if it's just for a moment with you. But that's what made it all the more difficult. Leon was not a man that would do casual sex. Leon just couldn't be selfish in that way, even if for a moment, because his heart was stitched on his sleeve. As you kicked your shoes off at your front door, you realised maybe you're better off respecting his wishes.
Second Summer:
The local bar & bistro had a sticky humidity that clung to the air, despite several fans blowing at maximum speed. Stray strands of hair escaped your bun, only to become trapped by the sweat on the back of your neck.
Your date was going… Okay. Maybe "okay" is a generous statement. This was your second date with the guy - he asked for your number at the coffee shop and you decided to give him a chance. You both sat at the counter nursing a cocktail each, as you listened to him aimlessly about his day at work and something about a Lego set coming in the mail, without ever asking you a single question in return. The low-level lighting did very little to obscure that familiar figure that walked into the bar and sat only a stool's distance away from you. You stared at Leon through the mirror backsplash of the bar, your eyes meeting his as you took a long sip of your drink.
"Hey… Are you feeling okay?" Your date paused, grabbing your upper arm and giving it a slight squeeze. Leon's eyes stared at the man's hand, the taste of beer on his tongue suddenly becoming sour. Not like the beer tasted that great to begin with anyway. He hated that brand.
"U-um… Actually I just slept really poorly last night and I have a headache that just won't quit." You reluctantly tore your gaze from the reflective surface, turning towards your date. "I'm so sorry, I guess we'll just have to wrap up soon…" You grab your glass, drinking the remnants in one go.
"Okay, well, I hope you feel better. I'm on the other side of town so I should probably get going. Hope to see you again soon." Your date smiled politely, as he drank the rest of his drink in turn, before hopping out of his seat and walking off to the parking lot.
"That's it? He's not gonna drive you home? What a prick." Leon murmured beneath the lip of his beer bottle.
"Why are you here?" You asked him, crossing your arms. Leon turned away to cough for a moment, before turning back to you.
"I wanted a drink. Just a coincidence." Leon explained plainly, but you narrow your eyes in suspicion, a wordless way of telling him you weren't buying it. He folded almost immediately. "Okay. I also saw you walk out of the door last week looking all dolled up. Then I saw you do it again tonight. Dunno… it's like my body went on autopilot." Leon added with a sheepish glance.
You tried your best to play it cool, although you couldn't help but grin a little at his admission. "You told me once you don't even like the taste of this brand…" You said, eyes settled on the beer bottle in his hand, before plucking it from his grasp and taking a gulp.
"Was all they had left." Leon explained as you set his beer bottle back down on the counter. Your lip gloss left tiny meteor tracks of fine glitter on the mouth of the bottle, glinting under the amber-hued bar lights. Leon raised his lips to the rim of the beer bottle, ever so slightly brushing his lips against where your lip gloss had smudged to savour the taste. Vanilla. He took one last long gulp to finish majority of the liquid. "Sticking around for one more, or are you ready to go home?" He asked.
…
Your heels clicked against the pavement - Leon purposely kept his pace slow, out of concern that you would faceplant into the concrete with one wrong step. You were initially thrilled to spend time with him once more, but you were less thrilled that Leon seemed unsure in whether to push you away or pull you in close.
"So… We're talking again now?" You asked, still unable to suppress how miffed you were since your last interaction in his living room in the spring.
"…I'm sorry I pushed you away earlier. I became scared of my own feelings, and I didn't know how to act." His apology was direct and sincere. It made it hard for you to get and stay angry with him. Any fight left in your gut had instantly dissipated, especially when you caught sight of the dark circles under his eyes seem a little more prominent than usual.
"It's fine… I realise I was coming off a bit strong without considering your feelings." You responded. A lapse in comfortable silence followed your conversation, before Leon broke it once more.
"Aren't you in pain walking in those heels? Our homes are still about a mile away." He asked you.
"Yeah, but I've had a few drinks in me, so I'll just regret it tomorrow morning instead." You shrugged.
"Horrible idea. You'll be the one in orthopedic sneakers before me." Leon teased, and you playfully thwacked his arm in response. "Let me carry you instead." Leon added - he knew it was a bad idea, he only just created the distance, but in one of his rare acts of selfishness, he wanted to close that distance too.
Both of your footsteps paused. "Really? You won't send me your insurance bill in the mail if you need a hip replacement after this?" You joked.
"Just get on." Leon chuckled, lowering himself as you hopped on his back. The warmth of his arms encased your legs, your arms looped around his neck loosely as your body pressed against his back. There's that scent again; the almost acrid tone of soap, soothed by the milky note of sandalwood and the musk of his own skin. You had half a mind to bury your nose in his neck, but you had enough self restraint to behave.
"…If you keep this up, I'm never going to get over you." Your voice was barely above a whisper.
"I know. And I'm sorry. It's selfish of me." Leon apologised once more.
"No. It's okay. Everybody should be selfish, at least once in a while." God you were so forgiving, even when you didn't need to be. Even when you shouldn't be. Leon's steps slowed as he trudged up the stairs to your front porch, before setting you down on your feet. As you stuck your keys in the door, you noticed his form already turning away from you. "Leon." Your voice called out, hand already instinctively grabbing at his wrist. "Please don't go. Just stay with me, just a little longer. Please." You've never been one for pleading, but for him you made the exception.
…
You made it only four steps through your entryway before feeling Leon's arms circle around your waist. "Fuck… What am I doing?" Leon exhaled. "Tell me to stop, please. Tell me how awful I'm being right now. How bad of an idea this is." He added, but his arms remained encasing you against his much larger and stronger frame. He was about to let go of his final shred of self-doubt.
"I don't want to do that. Just kiss me already. Please." Your lips were millimetres away from touching, and you decided to close the gap before either of you had a second thought. Upon contact, your nerves felt like red phosphorus once a match had finally struck against it, every single cell within your body igniting in response to his touch. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be, and despite so much passion, there's still an underlying tenderness and care in his kiss. As you broke the kiss for air, Leon realised that he was holding onto an ache ever since he first met you. It astounded him; how holding himself back for so long could cause so much anguish to the point where your kiss felt like a physical alleviation. "I've wanted to do that for so long. Wanted you for so long." You whispered as you caught your breath.
"I'm yours. I'm yours in every single sense of the word, if you'll have me." He breathes out his own reply, fingertips grazing the skin where your neck and jawline meet. Oh how sweet he was without even realising it - you found yourself wondering if you'd wake up with a jaw full of rotting teeth the next morning if you indulge in this man too much. Fuck, at this point you couldn't care less if you actually did. A grin spread across your lips as his words echoed in your ear, and you swear you were getting high off his affection.
"Of course I'll have you, as if you need to ask." You chuckled in response, pulling him in once more before he hoists you by the thighs, carrying you to your bedroom. Leon's fingertips traced little patterns on the underside of your calf, his body caged between your legs as you both shed the upper layer of your clothes.
"Let me take my time with you." Leon whispered, his stubble lightly scratching against the inside of your thighs as he hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, letting out the softest groan of pleasure as the sticky string of your own arousal snapped as he pulled the fabric off your body. Leon noticed that your panties weren't made of black lace this time, they were plain black cotton. Unlike that day you were gardening in the springtime and used his shower to change. A sense of smugness bloomed in his gut, the realisation that you had no plans for that date of yours, but you were wearing something like that for him.
"What's that look for?" You asked him, your brow raised but breath struggling to remain.
"Hm? Nothing." His answer was plain, but there was an indiscernible look of complacency on his face. "You're just so beautiful." Leon's mouth found its way to your neck, peppering small kisses in the crook, as his fingers barely brush against the spot you want him to touch the most.
"You're messing with me." You pouted, thighs clenching as he applied a fraction more pressure against you.
"Am I?" He whispered against your neck, slowly sliding two fingers in, as his mouth traveled further down to your chest. "I wouldn't mess with such a pretty girl." His tone is one of mock sympathy, your chest rising and falling beneath his tongue.
"W-want you…" You stammered, body already shuddering and buzzing with anticipation.
"Just a little longer. I haven't tasted you yet. You can be a little more patient, right baby?" That low and warm tone he took with you left your knees wobbly like jello. You nodded as he lowered his head between your thighs, staring up at you with those pale blue eyes, his gaze as intense but tender as ever. Leon wanted to take it slow, to go easy on you, but after the first three slow strokes of his tongue, all the way from your sopping wet hole right up to your clit, he couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped against the flesh of your thighs, his hunger turned carnal, and he was consuming you. The way he held you, the way he took such good care of you, you could've sworn for a moment his ravenousness was going to take your soul next. Leon was exactly where he wanted to be; on his knees between your legs, worshiping you as if you were his one and only god. Yet you were the one echoing his name, over and over, as if reciting a prayer.
"Fuck, fuck… Jesus christ…" You moaned as you were on the verge of your orgasm, eyes fluttering shut as you felt a white hot sensation in your gut. Leon held back a joke about you saying the wrong name, but his tongue was too busy fucking against your cunt anyway. That familiar feeling of a tense chord snapping hit you, and it sent you reeling so hard that you wondered if you were about to pass out. Your back hit the mattress once more, and you watched in wordless awe as Leon stood up and licked his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "Your turn." You exhaled.
"Not sure I'd have enough gas in the tank to go the extra mile. Just let me be inside of you." Leon chuckled, eyeing your mirror that faced opposite your bed. "Interesting placement for a mirror." He teased.
"It's near my closet so I can quickly check my outfits." You explained, your breathing now evened out.
"Is that all it's for?" You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he gently pulled your hips towards his. You gave him a silent nod of permission, as he sunk his cock into you inch by inch, as you accommodated to the stretch.
"Holy fuck." Your eyes rolled so far back at the sensation, you could practically see the inside of your skull.
"Fuck- you're so tight." He groaned. Leon's hips began to move at a faster pace, the obscene sounds of your arousal and skin slapping echoed through your room. You could only mewl and pant as you felt the tip of his cock collide into that sweet spot that made you tense up, over and over again.
"W-wanted you so badly for so long. N-needed this." Was all you could stutter out.
"Shh, shh baby. You don't need to use your words. Just watch." Leon whispers in the crook of your neck before angling your jaw so you could see yourself getting fucked by him in the mirror. The reflection was depicting something so perverted, so vulgar, but you found yourself enjoying every second of it. You could see the way his sinewy, broad shoulders tensed, with the dips and peaks of his muscular abdomen now glistening with a thin layer of sweat, but most importantly, you were seeing your bodies so wonderfully tangled and intertwined, as if your spirits were about cleave to each other for eternity.
"S-so good, faster… Please." You pleaded, and Leon obliged. God, you were so perfect for him - all of you, body, mind, and soul. He was a man who was diligently obedient, even if they were orders he didn't want to take. But for you? He'd do anything at your beck and call, like a dog called by a whistle, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Especially when you ask him so nicely. At this rate, neither of you were going to last much longer.
"Fuck, I… I don't know how much longer I can hold it." Leon's voice was raspy at this point, strained groans of pleasure rumbling in his throat.
"Don't… G-Gonna cum again. Don't pull out. It's safe." You whimpered as his hips snapped against yours, the rhythm and force getting faster and stronger. It was too much for both of you, with your orgasm tumbling forward first, and Leon's immediately after, with hot, white sticky ropes of cum dripping out of you. You both collapsed on the bed that night, falling asleep shortly after. For once in his life, Leon allowed himself to be selfish, and be with you.
Leon wondered if his act of selfishness tipped the karmic scale in ways he wouldn't know. Just after celebrating his third anniversary with you, he found his answer.
…
"It's blood… Leon, that's blood." You gasped, rushing over to his kitchen sink as you fetched him a glass of water and a rag. His vision blurred and snapped back into focus, the few droplets of blood shimmered under the soft yellow glow of his lamp.
"Shit." Leon sighed, gratefully taking the rag in his hand and wiping it clean, the cold rush of water in his mouth doing little to wash away the metallic tang of his own blood. He fiddled with the silver band on his ring finger as he heard your footsteps retreat into the kitchen. It was silent, save for the sound of the running faucet. You felt the bile rise up in your throat, but you swallowed the acidic, bitter taste back down. You wanted to be strong for him, you didn't want to make it harder on him than whatever it is that he's fighting. But it didn't help that you had only just exchanged yours vows a few months ago, and you were planning your future with him in mind. That future began to look very uncertain.
You both left the doctor's clinic with no answers the following day - and it was a terrifying thought that something that couldn't be diagnosed was beginning to actively kill him. After that, Leon left for two nights and came back the following day, telling you that his workplace confirmed it was a delayed onset virus, due to his exposure in Raccoon City all the way back in 1998. The news seemed a little hopeful at first - perhaps the government were working on antivirals or even rushing a cure. But as the weeks passed, there were no news of any efforts for a cure. It made you curl your upper lip in disgust whenever you thought about it - Leon was working for an entity that wrung and squeezed him dry, ready to throw him out like a used rag. It wasn't fair.
As time went on, you could see the virus digging its claws into him day by day. He had dark circles that were lingering, even when he was sleeping for twelve hours, including the two hours he'd spend collapsed on the couch after getting home from work. You began to feel helpless, flailing in a riptide that pushed and pulled you in several directions. The worst part about it was that no matter how hard you tried to conceal your sadness and anxiety, Leon could see right through you like cellophane. He was unwavering, even in the face of a death sentence. It frustrated you that you couldn't be as steadfast and unflinching as him. You wanted to scream, but you knew that being the man he was, Leon would be the one to reassure you that everything would be okay, shushing and lulling you to sleep once your tears dried - so instead you just endured it.
It wouldn't go unnoticed - the way Leon began to hold you extra tight at night, stare at your face just a little more so he could commit it to his memory, for if he were laying out on the floor bleeding, he would want to see your face one last time before closing his eyes forever. But the most painful part of it was your guilt. Leon could see the flicker of concern every time your gaze settled on those spindly black veins, a sign of active necrosis. You told him it didn't scare you, that you were just monitoring them, but Leon began to bandage his hand up, or wear gloves unnecessarily, despite your protests. God, you felt so damn guilty that even when he's losing strength every day, he was still doing everything he could to shield you from preemptively grieving.
You recalled the feel of gauze wound tightly around his palm as his hand gently stroked the underside of your calf, his eyes locked with yours as he spoke over the phone with his friend, Claire. It wasn't a serious conversation for the most part - you could hear them talk about each other's symptoms, followed by some stupid joke Leon made, and it was all laughter and reminiscing from there. You let out a giggle as his fingertips tickled your ankle before you sank further into the couch, accidentally falling asleep before their phone conversation was over. Leon didn't mind though, he just carried you into bed and held you.
You didn't realise that was the final night you'd have with him. The following day, he was told to have his bags packed by 7am. At the crack of dawn, his kiss left a searing imprint on your lips, and you found your fingertips brushing against them as if you were trying to cling onto that warmth.
…
"…And how did you feel after hearing that news?"
The DSO were kind enough to give your husband a proper funeral, they even extended their generosity so far that they covered your therapy appointments in the wake of Leon's death. The psychologist placed her pen down, fingers interlocking as her expression remained soft. You parted your lips to speak, but your throat seized up, unable to utter a word. "I'm sorry, please, take your time." Her voice remained gentle and soft, as if her words were trying to cushion the raw, fraying emotions within you. You appreciated her efforts, but it did little to soothe you, for you could only rub your fingertips against your mouth as your vision became blurred by tears. Sometimes if you rubbed your fingertips hard enough, the friction would create that same feeling of warmth that you felt when he kissed you goodbye for the final time.
"I… I…" You managed to rasp out, but then the rest of your words died in your throat. The vision of a black armored car pulled into the driveway of yours and Leon's home, and your body instantly crumpled before you could hold onto something. You didn't even make it to the swinging chair of his front porch, the one that both of you spent many nights chatting on. You knew Leon was gone before a foot could even step out of that car.
You knew they were telling you things, but the ringing in your ears was a relentless assault. "Tried to recover the body", "managed to save an innocent FBI agent who was roped into the situation", and "honourable sacrifice" were all you could decipher. It only made your blood boil. You wanted him back - you wanted your fucking husband back, but there was nothing in this world that would be able to resurrect him from the dead.
You never knew pain like this before. You didn't know how much it would hurt to roll over in what was once your shared bed and reach out for Leon, only for your hands to be met with thin air. It's the type of pain that lingers in several ways - a constantly tense jaw, stinging eyes from crying the night before, and tender, red skin from sitting under the scalding hot shower for too long.
"I'm sorry. I thought I could, but I can't." Was all you could get out before choking on tears.
"I understand, it's okay. Let's try again next session." The psychologist said, before you hastily walked out and drove home.
…
You pulled into the driveway as usual - a part of you always got your hopes up, that maybe one day you'll pull into the driveway and see Leon's car there, but it never happened. The house felt much too big in Leon's absence, but you tried your best to drown the silence with the sound of the TV. As you rolled up your sleeves and began to wash your hands, you noticed that specific soapy smell from your new hand wash. As you brought your hands close to your face, you realised exactly what it was. It smelt similar to Leon. How fucking stupid. How fucking stupid that a hand wash could set you off like this. And yet you stood still, inhaling the scent of your hands before tears slipped from your eyes. Those tears morphed into sobs, and those sobs became howls of loss and anguish.
…Yet the following morning, you continued to keep pushing forward. And the day after. And the day after that. And those days turned into months, which turned into years. Leon always talked about how you had so much of your life ahead of you, and so you decided that it would be ungracious to end your life when he sacrificed his own to save everybody else's. Despite taking it day by day, you never fully got rid of the numbness after losing him - because you're certain that when Leon died, a part of your soul died with him. Your love was replaced by grief. It filled all the empty spaces - it laid on his side of the bed, it walked on the sidepath with you, and it even filled the creases where he sat on the couch.
You knew Leon was gone, but you waited for him anyway, leaving the porch light on just in case he would return.
He never did.
apologies for poor formatting, posting from mobile lol. also i never write angst but the re9 bad end was calling me
