puppy leon who lays his head on your lap and whines for you to pet him .. & looks up at u with big baby blues & nuzzles fluffy puppy ears against your tummy until you finally give him attention. his tail wags in a blur at the slightest touch, all whimpers as you give him the praise he oh-so deserves ^^
yan! ethan winters who wouldn’t stop at anything for you. he’d chase you to the ends of the earth before you could leave him. it’s only you, don’t you know? you’re the only one for him.
yan! ethan winters has so much love in his heart, it spills into everything he does. he leaves notes by your lunch (which you never make yourself, it’s always made by him) with cute drawings and an inspirational message.
yan! ethan winters who’d let the world burn before he lost you. and he has. he’s gone through hell and high water to keep you at his side.
yan! ethan winters who has to be near you at all times. always holding you, caressing your face, always some form of contact.
yan! ethan winters who’d never let anyone get close to you. he’d allow your friends, sure, but god forbid someone flirt with you. they’d piss their pants and run screaming when ethan’s done with them.
“Say dada,” Leon says, before filling up the baby’s face with kisses. It’s the sweetest sight, truly, especially since your baby girl bursts into laughter.
“You know she can barely hold her head up, right? She won’t fulfill your wishes,” you answer, smiling as you watch Leon play with your three-month-old. Your husband, who complains that his daughter is growing too fast, is desperate for her to say her first words.
“She’s a smart girl, isn’t she?” he asks before blowing a raspberry on her tummy, earning a giggle from his little girl. Leon can’t help himself before pinching her chubby cheeks. “She’ll be speaking in no time.”
“Say dada, sweetheart. Dada.” He drags out the word, hoping that it’ll incite her to speak. As if the refined motor skill just needs some motivation from dad for it to get going. You let out a low laugh before deciding that you’ll let your husband be.
You never pictured Leon as this type of father. While he made it clear that he was overjoyed, you didn’t expect him to be so loving with the baby. It’s only natural though. And you can say that you’re overjoyed as you discover this new side of Leon. A side only you and your daughter get to see.
“Look she’s about to–” Leon’s eyes widen as she opens her mouth. He’s filled with false hope until he remembers that she loves to put her hands in her mouth. He sighs before he lets out a chuckle. He kisses her cheeks before saying, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Honey, she won’t speak any time soon,” you remind him and he shakes his head.
“Don’t listen to mama, love. She doesn’t know just how smart you are,” he says, eyes engrossed with the baby. He looks at her adoringly up until she sneezes– And even then he’s completely enamored. She has the absolutely cutest sneezes.
omg wait you should do like breakup angst with subby leon where he’s like begging for u back heh
“Backfire.”
MDNI. Taking Leon back probably wasn’t a great idea, considering you didn’t seem to be good for one another. That didn’t matter to him—as you find a not so composed ex boyfriend at your door step, begging you to take him back.
tags: light angst, leon has mommy issues, makeup p in v, subby! re2r leon, creampie, elusions to toxic relationships. || note: thank you for the req! i love subby leon. especially when he’s pathetic.
Your relationship with Leon was perfect at first. Maybe that was the problem. It seemed you set yourself up for a dream, not reality. He was picture perfect after all. Handsome as they come with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Perfectly placed moles you kissed. A name that you found yourself cursing most nights.
Leon Kennedy. The cute officer that pulled you over one night. You ran into him by coincidence a few weeks later and he asked if you’d like to get dinner. A nervous, awkward wreck that had you head over heels in love. He was charismatic and sweet, a man right out a romance novel. He offered flowers and kisses. Long drawn apologies when he had to work late. It was smooth sailing until it wasn’t.
You were done with an off and on relationship. Sick and tired of arguing over small things and drifting apart. You weren’t good for eachother. But Leon didn’t care about any of that. He didn’t care if his friends told him to move on or to meet other people. It was you he wanted.
It was late, and you were taking time to collect everything your now ex-boyfriend left at your house. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the counter beside your cellphone. “Do Not Disturb” blocked the missed phone calls.
You’d only broken up with Leon the week before, and he tried playing it civil. Mature. “If that’s what you think is best.” Or so you thought. Your doorbell ringing repeatedly made you groan and set the box on the kitchen table.
You made your way over to the front door, unlocking it with a pit in your stomach. You had an inkling idea of who it could’ve been. The lock clicked once, and you swung it open, met with the far less composed Leon you knew. You met his eyes, his cheeks red as if he’d been crying. The way he shifted on his feet, squeezing a bouquet of flowers in his hands gave the impression he’d been drinking.
“I hope you didn’t drive here.” You scoffed, looking past him for his jeep. He frowned when you said that.
“It’s not a long drive.” He didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second, looking like a stray puppy on the street. Begging someone to take him home. “I just had to see you.” He cleared his throat and held out the flowers. “Your favorite.” He tried to smile. “Can we talk .. Please?” His lower lip trembled with those words, baby blues eyes pleading.
You looked away, fighting your inner morality. It was stupid to let him in. You’d do the same thing as always—fight and make up. His insistent whining to give him another chance had you stepping away to give him room. “Fine. You can take your things while you’re here.” You dismissively held the door open for him.
Leon clamored inside, practically throwing himself into your arms. “Thank you, thank you.” He nuzzled into your shoulder, squeezing you tight against his shivering body. You caught a whiff of his breath, confirming your suspicions. “I missed you so much.” He whimpered, pulling away to look at your face.
“I’m sure you did.” You tried to squirm away, but he held tighter. He had always been clingy. Expecting you to be there each time he needed someone. “I swear, it’s like you need a mother, not a girlfriend.” You tilted your head away from his sad eyes and pout.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. You were right, he looked for a maternal figure in you. Underlying mommy issues that he wasn’t about to unpack.
“Don’t you see? I need you.” His voice broke on the last word, shaking hands moved to cradle your face. “I don’t want anyone else, nobody understands me like you. Or treats me like you do.” He babbled, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t care if we bring eachother down. I couldn’t stand it if you hated me.” He sounded pathetic, devotion laced words that came out with passion. Not regret.
“Leon,” You sighed, wiping away the tears than began to run down his pretty face. “No, no. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” You tried to soften your tone, rubbing his cheeks. “Hate is a very strong word. Maybe I wish you’d listen once in a while. Or say things I don’t mean..” You trailed off, the sight of his tears had you breaking down. Falling for his charms. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want what’s best for you. If that means not being with me, then so be it.” You were honest, knowing it was better than stringing him along.
Leon stared back at you like you’d slapped him. A physical sting from those words had him finally letting you go. Only to walk over to the kitchen, spotting the box of his belongings. Upon closer look, it had gifts he’d given to you as well.
“Don’t say that.” He reached inside and pulled out a locket he’d given you. The date of your anniversary engraved on the back. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t mean anything to you.” He dangled it by the chain, then tossed it back on top of the stack of clothes and gifts. He rested his hands on either side of it, as if contemplating the past year together.
“Of course it does!” You were by his side immediately, hesitant to rest your hand on his shoulder. “Please, don’t think like that. Look at it this way.” You began while attempting to soothe him. It left you feeling like the mother he needed. “We had good times, and bad times.”
Before you could continue, Leon was cutting you off. “Good times.” He tilted his head up to look at you with a hopeful expression. “Weren’t the good times better than the rest? You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you weren’t happy with me.” He took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and squeezing tight.
“I wasn’t … unhappy. Not the whole time.” You met him half-way, failing to meet his gaze. It wasn’t a constant. Sure, he frustrated the hell out of you, but he was getting to you.
“I know.” He tugged you closer, fumbling to pull you into a clumsy embrace. You didn’t fight back, instead you reciprocated. You let him kiss at your throat and say he was sorry. You tangled your fingers in sandy blonde hair and said you were sorry too.
You were tipsy yourself, giving into Leon’s whims. There was no use giving up on something that was clearly in full force. He loved you, and there was nothing you could do about it. He stumbled you to the couch, draping himself on top of you with a groan.
“I missed you soooo much,” He drawled, kissing your chin to your lips. He groaned into it, licking into your mouth as he began to grind his hips against yours. “I love you, love you a lot.” He mumbled against your lips, scrambling to undress you beneath him.
“I love you too.” You panted out, tugging his shirt over his head. He glanced up at you with a pitiful pout. “Can we? Can I .. Please? I want you so bad. I wanna forget we ever broke up.” His words were a bit slurred from his emotional outburst.
You knew that it was a mistake. A no good, messy cycle to get caught up in. But with Leon, maybe you’d make it.
“Yes.” You gave in, letting him eagerly strip you down for his eyes only, peppering kisses over each inch of skin he exposed. When he sat up off of you, you lended a hand. You reached out to help unbuckle his belt, and he let out a breathy moan at your touch. He lifted his hands out the way to give you control.
“Please,” He whined, squirming as you tugged his jeans down his thighs. The creamy expanse of skin with darker blonde hair, and his aching cock twitched for attention. He let you switch your positions, hands on your hips as you straddled him instead.
The noise you heard was heavenly. “Please, please. I love you so much, I want us to be okay again.” Leon was babbling once more, eyes focusing on where your bare pussy hovered over his leaking tip. Precum blurted out, making his hips jerk up to graze your wet entrance.
“I know, I know.” You hushed him, guiding the head of his cock to where it craved to be. You slid down slowly, taking every thick inch of him until your thighs were on either side of his. His head tilted back with another whimper, twitching inside of you.
The prettiest whines spilled from his lips as he thrusted up. “You always feel s’ good.” He leaned in to kiss you once more, gasping with your downward motions. It was rough and frantic, the way Leon humped into you, going on and on about how badly he needed you. You grasped his shoulders each time you were bounced on his lap, each time he throbbed inside.
“Please, ‘m not gonna last long.” He whimpered, eyes glazed over with tears. His hands grasped your hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers.
It had you moaning his name, hooking your arms around the back of his neck as you grinded your hips down. He slid his fingers between your bodies, sloppily rubbing at your clit. You became much slicker around him, the wet noises filling the room.
Leon was noisy, sliding his free hand up to cup your breast. “You’re so pretty, I’m sorry I fucked up.” He panted, blinking up at you with puppy dog eyes. It was hard to resist an apology with his cock driving into you.
“You’re so stubborn.” You choked out, feeling your walls squeeze him tighter. “I-I can’t stand you sometimes.” You gripped his shoulders harder, unable to fight the pleasure of his rabbiting hips.
His whines became breathy grunts. “That’s when I want you the most.” He admitted, hips bucking up to meet your downward movements. “When you’re mad at me.” He smiled, a charming boyish look. You could’ve smacked the smile off his face if not for the sheer ecstasy he was giving you. It seemed you were proving his point by ignoring that.
His fingers were busy on your pulsing bud, slick from your arousal. “Shit, ‘m gonna cum.” You arched against him, bare chest pressed to his as he held you tighter. As your release washed over you, you felt him throb inside—no doubt close himself.
“Oh, oh, fuck.” Leon whined, bucking his hips up harder. “Inside, please..” He nuzzled into your neck. “Can I?” He mumbled, peppering kisses over your collarbones. You felt his spit on your skin, begging not to pull out.
“Yeah.” You nodded, squirming when his tongue ran over one of your nipples. It only speared him further into you, the overstimulation of him suckling at your sensitive bud. “Leon,” You whined, and he pulled off with a pop as he stared up at you.
“Mmm? s’ close. I love you so bad.” He was whining, fucking up into you with a few more rough bucks of his hips. He whimpered something breathy, as he stuffed you full of his load.
With a huff, he was wrapping his arms around your back to keep you close. “God, really .. I do love you that much.” He slurred, tilting his head back to press his lips to yours. A sloppy kiss, albeit sweet.
The words made you swoon.. and sleeping with Leon was amazing. You wanted to sarcastically thank him for making it worse. There was no way you could go through with leaving him .. again that is.
“I love you too.” You said it back, relaxing in his embrace. You just hoped falling back into his arms wasn’t a mistake. He was thick and warm inside of you, and the sweetest man you’d ever met. Making amends might not have been the worst idea after all.
MDNI. Puppy! Leon was driven by sheer instinct and hormones. Asking him to slow down was asking the ridiculous .. the near impossible. (or he didn’t want to.)
tags: knotting, rough p in v, puppy hybrid! leon, breeding kink, established relationship.
Your cheek was smushed into the pillows as Leon rutted into you from behind. “Oh, my pretty owner.” He grasped at your hips, licked a stripe up your neck to the back of your ear. It made you shiver. “I’m sorry.” He whined, ears flat on his head. “It can’t be that bad, feels so good.” He hummed, his hips never stopping their relentless pace. rough and needy.
“Leon! It’s too much.” You managed to choke out, nails digging into the sheets. “You need to slow down.” You panted, bare chest dragging against the mattress with each jerk of your body. You knew it was a stupid idea, giving into your puppy’s whining and begging. He knew how to persuade you, knew how to get exactly what he wanted. It started with wanting to sleep in your bed, and barging in on your bath time to join in. It seemed Leon lacked the concept of personal space. (or boundaries.) Yet you let him get away with it.
“Can’t.” He growled, fingers squishing into the fat of your hips. “S’ close already, gotta fill you up.” His breath was warm on your ear, his tongue running over it. You could only whimper, feeling his drool run down your cheek. “Give you my puppy knot.” He nuzzled into your shoulder, his hips snapping with increased intensity. It was frantic, chasing his high.
“Leon, please slow down. I-I’m serious,” Your words came out in slurred mumbles, the pleasure became hard to resist.
“Fuck, I-I can’t, gonna pop my knot s’ fast.” His chest was pressed to your back, humping you faster with every thrust. It was overstimulating to take him so deep and fast, over and over as his cock teased your cervix. “Gonna give you alll of it, make you a mommy.” He babbled, sliding his hands to grip your tummy.
“Leon,” You moaned, feeling his fluffy ears nudge your skin as he nuzzled close, as if he could rub his scent all over you. Claim you. If he wasn’t so needy, that is. He wasn’t typically the dominant one.
The metal name tag on his collar was cold when it brushed against your shoulder, reminding you of who owned who. Even if Leon acted spoiled and took what he wanted, he was yours. The very name you scolded and whimpered.
“Owner, my sweet owner.” He was drooling down your neck again, lapping at your skin and panting as he throbbed inside. Twitching and aching to knot your pussy. “Oh, F-Fuck.” A breathy whimper was spilled against your ear as he felt even thicker and bigger, grinding his hips as he stuffed you full. “Couldn’t help it.” Leon sounded a little embarrassed, panting as he kissed your cheek.
“You just wanted to.” You corrected, eyes fluttering shut. You were helplessly pinned beneath his sweaty body, not going anywhere for a good while.
“I did.” He admitted, fully content with laying top on your back. He was heavy, but didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Typical of your puppy—didn’t seem to have a lot going on in his dumb brain. He was all clingy, making the waiting period not so bad .. at least you were a fan of cockwarming.
Tags: RE2!Leon x Fem!Reader, no apocalypse AU, smut, loss of virginity (Leon), mentions of public sex (blowjobs), masturbation (male), fingering (f), cowgirl position, unprotected sex, creampie, and more!
Note: Hey!! It's me again, and I've finally brought y'all something from our beloved rookie Leon. I missed y'all so much, i hope u like it! >.<
Leon sometimes felt like a bit of a failure. I mean, he wasn't that bad. He'd managed to graduate from the academy, landed a job at the R.P.D. station, and his superiors were so kind to him that he finally felt like he belonged somewhere. Until those conversations came along.
He always felt that pang of jealousy when he heard his colleagues talking about celebrating their anniversaries or how their beautiful girlfriends welcomed them home with open arms after long days at work. And all he got was a secondhand bed in his tiny rented apartment.
The truth was, Leon Virgin Kennedy had never touched a woman. Not even in his teens. He'd never gotten beyond an awkward, tongue-tied kiss at some drive-in theater in his hometown because the girls quickly lost interest when they noticed Leon's shaky hands.
And now there wasn't much time for dates. His behavior was too clumsy for flirting, and he wasn't one of those tough guys who attracted girls easily. He just sucked. He sucked, until he met you. Ah, God had finally answered his prayers because you'd agreed to go out with him after his attempt at flirting in the station's copy room.
"Are you, uh—are you free Friday night?" The words had slipped out with a hint of confidence, despite his hand slipping on a stack of photocopies. You laughed, of course, but agreed. Leon was going to have his first date since arriving in Raccoon City (loser).
The night had passed easily with silly conversation and easy laughter, ending with both of you sitting in his Jeep eating ice cream after a cheesy horror movie. After that, you gave him a good, wet make-out session in the back of his truck. The date ended with a sweet wave from your door, and Leon went home with a painful erection, pink cheeks, and swollen lips.
But you didn't stop there; you were on a mission to ruin him. You'd steal glances at him whenever you crossed paths at work, shamelessly rub your ass against him as you walked past, and he'd fall for it every single time because he had to run to the station bathroom with an erection in his blue uniform pants.
You even gave him a blowjob in the station bathroom. His first blowjob, at his damn workplace. Poor Leon came too fast, one hand tangled in your hair and his free hand to his lips so as not to attract the attention of his coworkers. After that, he walked around with unfocused eyes, as if he'd been high for the rest of the day.
He felt like a horny teenager again, unable to control the thing inside his pants and desperately jacking off after every date, thinking about your lips around him. And finally, the day came when you decided to take pity on this man. After a date at his apartment, few glasses of wine, and a delicious dinner, you decided to pounce on him. He simply thanked heaven that you made the first move, because he could barely maintain eye contact. But there was no time to think when he had you on top of him, moaning softly against his mouth.
You both stumbled into Leon's room and collapsed onto the small bed, which creaked a little too loudly. Your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, arching your back beneath him in anticipation as you felt him settle between your legs. Your clothes quickly became just a pile on his bedroom floor. His sweaty hands didn't know where to begin, so he chose to touch your tits first, feeling his fingers tremble against the tender flesh as he timidly squeezed them.
Then you guided one of his hands to your pussy, letting him feel the wetness blossoming between your open legs. He looked at you in surprise, as if he couldn't believe you were like this for him. After showing him how to touch you properly with his fingers, how you liked it, and what rhythm, you pushed him down so he was lying back. You climbed on top of him, stifling a giggle at the sight of his eyes wide with anticipation and his eager hands exploring your sides.
"You're...woah—perfect." he whispered with devotion, reverently caressing your thighs. He gazed at you as if the stars hung before him, his eyes shining beneath those thick lashes. He swallowed loudly as he watched you take him in your hand and guide him to your entrance, rubbing the tip first between your wet folds. He could feel the tip becoming completely wet with your arousal.
The mere provocation made his eyes close and he let out a low, almost trembling moan as he reflexively lifted his hips. From this angle, you could see his Adam's apple swaying and his arms, large from workouts, tensing as he gripped your hips tighter. He had no idea how incredibly sexy he looked like this.
With a smooth motion, the tip of his cock slid easily inside your hot walls, which swallowed it with equal eagerness. "Oh, hooly shit—" He groaned, his mouth opening at the sensation, his gaze fixed on where his cock was slowly disappearing inside you. His body trembled slightly with pleasure as the thick head of his cock reached its deepness point inside you.
His fingers dug into your hips, unsure whether to pull you closer or further away for the hot sensation of your walls tightening around him, letting him feel how wet you were, practically dripping all around him. His lips moved, but no words came out. He was already fucked just by being inside you.
You started to move, rubbing against him and teasing him before giving him what he really wanted. Although he was already breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed pink and his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, as if he'd run a marathon. But he was just trying not to come too quickly.
"You feel like fucking heaven, I swear..." he whispered as his pretty face crinkled in a grimace of pure pleasure as he felt you begin to bounce on him. You leaned back, placing your hands on his thighs as you continued to ride him slowly, letting him see how his cock was buried to the last inch inside you and how your breasts swayed.
His thumb moved closer to gently lift the hood of your clit, beginning to make slow, careless circles as you rubbed against him, making you moan and throw your head back in pleasure.
When the friction wasn't enough, you leaned forward to place your hands on his chest and begin to ride him for real. You rode up and down every inch of his member, letting him see how wet you were getting him before he thrust deep inside you again. Having him inside felt so good that, combined with the way your clit was rubbing against his pelvis, you started to feel like you could come in record time.
"Wait, slower—" he whimpered, a real whimper, as his impotent hips lifted to chase your greedy pussy. "I'm gonna come, please…" He whined again, as if he were about to cry. His balls were full and tight, ready to empty at any moment. He was so adorable trying to hold on for a few more seconds, but the wet squelching of your pussy and your sweet moans weren't helping at all.
"it's okay, I want it inside—Give it to me." You murmured, your voice heavy with need and your face hot from bouncing on his cock as if you wanted to squeeze out every last drop of semen he had. All he could do was chase your lips, trying to kiss and hold you as he came completely, his hips contracting to push until every inch was inside, his balls buried deep. The sensation of his cock throbbing and shuddering inside you triggered your own orgasm, making you come around him with a small, muffled sob.
His moans were muffled in your mouth as he tried to hold you still, feeling you tremble from the aftershocks of your orgasm and catch your breath after filling you completely, feeling his hot load begin to overflow even with him still inside.
"I think I died and this is heaven." he whispered breathlessly, drenched in sweat, holding you tightly in his arms and inhaling your tousled hair, as if he needed you like he needed air. And maybe he did, because this man was already addicted and he wasn't going to let you go soon.
Let me know if you liked it and pleasee ignore any mistakes! 😚💕
☁︎⋅ telling rookie!leon he’s a pretty boy between kisses (inspired by this)
he was trying so hard to look serious and that was what made it impossible not to smile.
leon kneeled between your legs on the couch. fresh from a shower, his damp blonde hair fell over his forehead in soft, uneven pieces. no tactical gear, no gun holster. just an oversized gray shirt and pink ears because you had been kissing him for the last five minutes and he didn’t know what to do with himself.
his hands held your waist awkwardly, as if he hadn’t earned the right to touch you yet.
you kissed the corner of his mouth. then the other.
then right over his smile that he tried to hide.
“you’re so needy,” he teased, his voice quiet but playful.
“you’re cute.”
he scoffed.
you leaned in again, pressing another kiss to his lips. this time, it was slow, sweet, and lingered for a moment. when you pulled back, your noses brushed and you could see his pupils dilating.
“pretty boy.”
leon blinked. “what?”
you kissed him again before he could question it. soft and warm.
a kiss against the edge of his jaw.
“my pretty boy.”
his whole face flushed a bright red.
“c’mon,” he muttered, trying to look offended and failing miserably. “don’t call me that…”
“oh?” you kissed the tip of his nose. “then what should I call you?”
he opened his mouth to protest, but you caught it with another kiss. he smiled against your lips.
“pretty boy,” you whispered again.
it was almost unfair how easily you could make him melt. he looked at you with those wide rookie eyes. “you really think I’m…pretty?” he asked quietly.
you answered him by cradling his face in both hands and kissing him once, twice, three times in a row.
“pretty” kiss
“very pretty” kiss
“prettiest boy I’ve ever seen” kiss
leon let out a chuckle, leaning up to envelop you in his arms. he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, groaning playfully.
“you’re making fun of meee..”
“noo,” you pulled back to look at him. “I’m appreciating you.”
your thumb brushed over his cheek, tracing the constellations of scars and discolored skin. “look at you,” you murmured. “soft hair, big puppy eyes, your mouth-”
leon groaned, embarrassed and flushed by the compliments. he tried to hide his face again, but you caught him with a kiss before he could.
“my handsome rookie,” you giggled.
he was beaming at this point, a bright smile on his face. then, he unexpectedly gathered the courage to lean forward first.
he kissed you. it was clumsy and filled with nerves, but it was tender. it was his way of pouring out his emotions. when he pulled back, his cheeks were a soft pink.
Hii I saw your request were open and I would love to make one, you're my favorite writer on this app, you write re2r Leon so accurate and I love it
My request it's pretty stupid lol basically how would re2r Leon react when you reject him after him proposing over and over and over again? Maybe a little bit of non con and crying of his part 🥺
Just know he's a pathetic awkward weirdo about his feelings
❥ If you rejected Re2! Leon’s proposal ..
MDNI. DEADDOVE.
When you continuously rejected Leon’s marriage proposal, saying it was ‘too soon’ or you ‘weren’t ready.’ He decided to find another way to convince you. cw: coercion, dubcon elements.
tags: p in v, breeding kink, established relationship, emotional manipulation/guilt tripping, mentions of mommy issues, religious guilt, (leon is kinda a crybaby..)
note: thank you so much! :) i meant for this to be a short, but i got a little carried away .. I hope I understood your request ^^
If you rejected Leon after he proposed over and over, the answer always being no, he would be pretty torn up over it. Surely you didn’t mean that. If you gave the excuse you “weren’t ready” or it was “too soon.” He might take the route of convincing you instead. Deep down he felt a bit guilty for playing your emotions.
He’d give you those pitiful blue puppy eyes, maybe whine and shed a few crocodile tears against your neck when you turned him down again. He couldn’t understand why you didn’t want what he wanted. That’s what a relationship is about, isn’t it?
“I don’t understand.” Leon whimpered, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, clinging onto you with desperation. It was pathetic, you’d tell him to try and see it your way. You were both young, and marriage was something awfully serious.
“Don’t be like that.” You closed your eyes, trying to will away your doubt. Leon was good at making you feel bad. He knew it too. You tried squirming away, pushing at his firm shoulders so he’d stop crowding you on the couch. It was hard to put up a real fight after he’d got a few drinks in you. It wasn’t malicious (not intentionally.) He figured it might loosen you up a little.
“Like what?” His voice was whiny, leaning back enough to meet your weary gaze. Baby blues were full of tears, as if he’d been holding back his devotion. “I really do love you. I know what I want, and that’s a future with you.” He moved his hands from your waist to your shoulders, holding you there. It wasn’t a painful grasp, but you were no match.
Leon was like a lovesick puppy. Head over heels in love, expecting you to reciprocate his overbearing nature. Maybe he was naïve, or maybe his mother didn’t love him enough. It could’ve been his unresolved mommy issues. It made him cling onto any woman that gave him everything he lacked growing up. Either way, you weren’t easily persuaded.
“Please? Will you at least think about it?” He leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours in a clumsy kiss. “Please, I want you to stay with me, and love me, and tell me you’re not upset.” He mumbled between sloppy kisses, sounding as if he’d started to cry.
“Leon, come on.” You attempted to put some distance between your bodies, but he was already overpowering you. It was gentle, his condescending pleas and coaxing of you to give into him. In any other situation, you would’ve. You did love him, and you loved showing him it in intimate moments. Except when he was acting like a total insensitive pervert.
It could’ve been the wine, but you let him drape his body over yours on the cushions, knocking your glass off the coffee table in the process. The sound of shattering glass had you concerned. But when you tried sitting up, he was quick to push you back down.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up later.” He shifted his weight on top of you, and you felt the unmistakable bulge in his bottoms prodding against your tummy. You felt nauseas, in no mood for whatever he had in mind.
As if he noticed your reluctance, Leon pouted and kissed your cheek and then your lips. “Relax, I’m not gonna hurt you. You know I’d never do that.” He whispered, trying to convince you. You believed him—because he wouldn’t hurt you … on purpose.
Your sweet Leon who reminded you of kicked puppy, or maybe a pathetic freak under the blushing cheeks and awkward demeanor was still there. He was just needy and not willing to let go without a fight.
“No, Leon.” You muffled against his sloppy kisses, squirming when you felt his hands fumbling with the buttons of your top. “A-Another time, not when you’re all worked up like this.” You were trying to let him down easy. It was funny, that you were worried about taking advantage of him.
“I’m not. You just … Don’t you love me? Don’t you want this with me?” He stifled a sob, grinding his hips against your stomach as he spoke. You were appalled that he’d suggest you didn’t love him because you had turned down his proposal.
“It’s what we’d do if we were wed, you know.” He was mouthing at your throat again. “If you told me as a boy that I didn’t wait until then, I would’ve thought you were crazy.” He laughed against your skin, sliding his hands down your then exposed stomach.
“I guess we’re both spoiled then.” He went on as if you’d already ruined eachother by fucking out of wedlock. You knew Leon was raised religious. Not anymore. The guilt seemed to eat at him. You assumed that’s why he was so pushy on getting married.
You felt dizzy as his open mouth kisses peppered down your collarbones, trembling fingers unbuttoning your shorts as he went. “God, I love you. I’m only doing this because of that.” He slurred, blonde hair brushed over your breasts as he planted kisses to your tummy.
You felt the familiar slick of arousal as he tugged your bottoms off, although you didn’t exactly cooperate. Your mouth said “No” but your body said “Please.”
“Fuck,” Leon cursed, rubbing his fingers over your clothed folds. You closed your thighs around his wrist, which got a frustrated whine out of him. “Please don’t push me away, baby.” He lifted his head to look at you, pouty and bothered. It was hard to keep rejecting his advances with a face like that.
The words “baby” came naturally, begging for your permission even as he pushed your thighs apart. You reminisced digging your nails into his biceps, knowing he was stronger than he looked.
“Leon, I-"
He cut you off with more pleading, hooking his fingers into your panties. “I need to be inside you. Need to make you feel better.” He pulled your panties off, staring down at your drooling entrance. He was being gentle with your body, one hand on your thigh as he reached to struggle with his belt.
He looked a bit distressed, worried you were mad at him. Like his late mother often was. He couldn’t handle cruelty from you too. Your insolent refusal ached inside. It was strange and wrong to take you in such a state, but he couldn’t help himself. You looked away from him as he pushed his jeans down to free his cock. You caught a glimpse, stiff and leaky as is rubbed between your thighs.
“Please, I won’t be rough or anything.” His voice was breathy. Despite that desperate plea, you attempted to get him to stop. Your hands pushed against his chest, yet it was easy for him to pin your arms down.
“Hey, don’t fight me.” Leon sounded hurt by your actions. The thought of you not wanting him, not loving him was painful. There was a silence after that, his huffing hot on your face when close to you.
It seemed rejecting him was a bad idea. You felt worse at his tone, like you’d done something wrong. “I’m sorry.” You apologized, watching his expression soften.
“Thank you.” He let out a deep breath, glancing down to position himself. Your thighs squeezed his hips, but he had you fixed in place. You began to doubt your own body. If you really wanted him to stop, you could’ve scratched and screamed. Bit him and wailed. But you didn’t do any of that, because you still loved him.
He jerked his hips forward with a noisy whine when his sticky tip slipped between your wet folds. “Shit, shit—You’re s’ wet.” He smiled, relieved that your body wanted him.
“I knew you still wanted me.” He slid his throbbing cock to your entrance, grasping at your hips to pull you closer. He speared into with ease, filling you up with everything he had. You squirmed, unintentionally taking more of him inside. Leon was big, girthy and warm inside of you.
“I do.” You didn’t hesitate to reach out for him, in which he eagerly rolled his hips forward and let you hook your arms around his neck. “Don’t think I don’t, just because I’m not ready.” You stammered out, choking back whimpers as he began to frantically hump into you. You brought it up again, the awful truth that you weren’t going to rush into marriage because he wanted to.
Because you were hurt, and he was too.
“Don’t say anything else.” Leon panted, reaching between your bodies to play with your clit. If you didn’t say those things, he could pretend that wasn’t reality. In his fantasy, you said yes the first time. It had you moaning out his name, arching yourself into his clumsy touch.
“You feel so good, too good to save myself for.” He licked a stripe up your jaw, tasting your skin. “Too good to wait, or to hold back.” He grunted with that sentiment, grinding his hips harder with each thrust. He hit the spots you needed him to.
“Gonna cum inside.” He whimpered. “Wanna put a baby in you so bad.” He splayed his hand over your stomach as if he could imagine it. “Then we’d have to get married.” He tenderly kissed you, as if sweet kisses would make it better.
It seemed Leon was still set his old catholic ways. That a baby meant a wedding to spare shame. A wedding meant you’d stay with him like he wanted. Like he needed. Maybe then you’d stop rejecting him.
“A baby?“ You scrambled to claw your nails down his shoulders, opposed to the thought. You always took proper precautions, going on birth control so he could give you nice creampies every time. But him saying something like that out loud was daunting.
“Uh-huh, my baby.” He rubbed his cheek against yours, playing out that picture perfect ending in his mind. To him, it wasn’t deceiving or purposely wrong. It was a man far too caught up in something he called love.
“My babies, and you’ll be my pretty wife. You’ll be a pretty mommy.” His rabbiting hips slapped against yours in a sloppy manner, fingers rubbing your sensitive bud. His words made you feel funny, and it had your release reaching its peak. Your walls squeezed him tight, making him slide in and out of you even smoother.
“Fuck, yes, yes.” He babbled, the sheer sensation had him following your pleasure soon after.
When his release crashed over him, stuffing you full of his seed, he whined like a puppy. “Oh, god, Cumming, filling you up.” Leon keened, making sure he fucked every last drop of his spend into your womb. With a couple more lazy strokes, his stomach and chest was flush to yours as he let his arms give out on top of you.
He was heavy, warm as he nuzzled against your throat. “Mmm, thank you.” He said quietly, content and trusting that after that encounter .. surely you’d say yes.
Sub!Isagi, whenever he loses a match, just wants to be taken care of. No questions asked. He just wants to bury his face into your chest while you jerk him off.
Like right now, for example, your warm palm wrapped around the length of his cock, giving it gentle strokes while Isagi just buries his face in between the junction of your shoulder and neck.
"You'll do better next time, Isagi. You always do..." You murmur, comforting him to the best of your ability while your thumb plays around with his sensitive tip – enough for one of his pretty whines to come out.
"Next time isn't good – fuck – enough." His voice muffled against your skin, "Should've won to-today. S-Shit–"
"I know. I know. It's disappointing, but you still did amazing in that match even if you did lose!" You praise, running your thumb side to side on his slit, gooey, sticky pre-cum smothering it.
He doesn't say anything, but a little moan slips past his lips, his hands on your waist tightening their grip just a slight bit. "I like that little move you did near the end of the match, 'sagi. What did you call it again?"
"Hahhh– hat tr-trick. Would've s-scored it if the goal keeper didn't– ahhh– move last second." He whimpers, paying more attention to what your hand is doing between his legs.
You press a kiss against his temple, your hand slowly speeding up its movements, "Yeah? That looked so cool, baby. I would've never pulled it off if I was in your position. Promise."
He laughs, and it's shaky and airy, like he's out of breath already. "Could t-teach you some time."
You hum, kissing his forehead rather than his temple this time, "I'd like that."
Your other hand moves down to cup one of his balls, fondling it while your hand continues jerking him off, causing another thick stream of pre-cum to dribble down your hand and a groan – a lot louder than the other ones – to leave leave his lips, "Haaah– close. Do fuuuh–fucking close. Please, baby– please."
You laugh, "Yeah? You gonna cum? Look at me, 'ichi." When he does, you press your lips against his for a kiss, tongue pushing past his lips and into his mouth. That's what makes him cum along with the feeling of your hands. His orgasm rushing over him, drops and drops of cum shooting from his tip and all over his your hands as he moans into your mouth.
You pull back and stare at Isagi, who's breathless, pants after pants leaving his lips, "Feeling better?"
"Much better..."
author's note: pretty short but my love and affection make up for it
summary: making out in the car with re2!leon vs re9!leon. a continuation to "reporting back" if you squint
warnings: suggestive, allusions to car sex
re2:
leon was meant to be dropping you off, that was all. you had a girls date planned, and he had a night shift.
but you had kissed him goodbye and he leaned back in immediately after you pulled away. so you entertained his puppy eyes and kissed him again. and again when his lips chased yours. and again when he asked.
now, he’d asked for "one last one" thirteen kisses ago, but neither of you were in any rush to pull apart anymore. the small pecks were now forgotten for messy, half-coordinated, rushed kisses.
leon was leaned over you, his seatbelt half tangled into his torso as he ran his hands feverishly along any part he could. he'd been trying to do this since before you left.
his teeth were clattering into yours as you kissed, followed by immediate muttered apologies and a copious amount of puppy eyes in hopes of keeping you going.
"leon." you muttered into his lips, tugging his head away from yours with the hand tangled in the back of his hair. you'd done that at least four times now, his tongue stuck so far down your mouth you questioned if he was trying to reach your throat. again.
his nose bumped yours, not withdrawing from his kisses as he apologized, "sorry."
he gave you another look with wide eyes. you sighed at the biblical level of greed, kissing him back anyways.
⊱.˚── ⋅ .✧˚❀˚✧. ⋅ ──˚.⊰
re9:
leon was no one if not greedy with his kisses.
a lot of the man you once knew was gone, in differing ways. he learned patience, to take his time, he didn't hesitate, or hold back out of fear anymore. yet, the glimmer of that rookie still shone through his insatiable hunger.
pulled into a dark, secluded parking lot–because you and him both unanimously agreed the worst part of date night was the stretch of road between your reservations and your house–with one hand fixed on the back of your neck, the other cupped around your face. the location was less about fear–the risk of getting caught was part of the thrill–and more about the fact leon wanted zero chance at interruptions today.
his lips moved against yours with purpose rather than blind urgency, the hand previously on your neck now settled on the small of your back, pushing you deeper into him. you shifted into his lap, humming when leon's face winced at the movement.
"do you need help with that?" your hand lingered right atop his belt.
leon grunted in response, "later." he titled his head towards the backseats. "join me maybe?"
note: overtly freaked out on a friday tbh, i kinda wanna write a full part to both now 'cause this was so short
thinking about taking a nap with leon. all tangled in each other and warm on a huge couch. he wakes up before you because he can never stay asleep long enough, and when you begin to stir next to him he plants a kiss on your head. you sleepily adjust yourself, head on his big chest and his strong arms hugging you so, so close. you can hear his heart beat steady and strong underneath your ear. you finally look up at him after a moment, chin on his chest. he looks down at you, sleep still lingering in his eyes and his mop of hair no longer framing his face, but haphazardly pushed out of the way. a smile tugs his lips upwards and your heart begins to sing at his relaxed demeanor. a soft hey baby floats through the comfortable silence. you sigh and almost swoon at how perfect it all is. leon hums and begins to run his nails up and down your back in gentle scratches, just the way you like. good nap? he asks. indeed it was, but what you've woken up to is even better.
a mission goes awry when you're infected with a fever virus...and there's only one way to cure you.
warnings: smut, fem!reader, sometime after re4!leon, sex pollen (kind of), possible dubious consent 'cause it's fuck or die but really everyone here wants to be there and consents heartily, feelings realization, confessions, desperate sex turned tender sex, dry humping, fingering, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), leon kennedy one liners, canon-typical violence, a few sneaky references to other re games/movies, fake science i made up
a/n: picture your favorite leon for this. it was just sex pollen but became lots of plot with sex pollen and mush in the second half. what can i say, i'm a lover at heart. just like leon!
--
It starts with bad intel.
The facility is supposed to be abandoned. No bio signatures on the initial recon scan, no movement from hostiles after an extended stakeout, nothing. An abandoned underground lab for an experimental arm of Umbrella, potentially full of important documents on bioweapons research.
Your mission is to gather as much information as possible, should any of the viruses created there pop up on the black market or worse.
Easy, compared to the shit you're usually assigned.
Leon agrees.
Well, you think he agrees. He treats every mission as seriously as the last. You've grown to appreciate his consistency. It makes him easy to trust, which is essential in this line of work.
He's the best partner you've ever had. Thorough, direct, and smart. He never questions your abilities and relies on you just as much as you rely on him.
And, god. He's kind. Funny, too, when he wants to be. One time on a weeklong stakeout in the middle of nowhere, Argentina, he explained to you, in detail, the plot of The Count of Monte Cristo, all because you said you'd never read it. You hadn't even known he liked to read.
He's hard to crack, though. Professional to a fault, more dedicated to the cause than anyone you've ever met. And he's handsome.
How could you not fall in love with him?
You keep your ever-growing feelings to yourself. Asking him if he feels the same isn't worth ruining your partnership, isn't worth being someone else who wants something from him that he maybe can't give. Not when you can have him this way -- at your side with your life in his hands, his in yours.
In some ways, this is more intimate than any regular relationship you've ever had.
You'd spent the chopper ride here watching him as he looked out the window, even though you knew he felt your gaze. He's always doing that, always taking in everything around him with militant attention. You wonder what he sees that most people don't. Connections, patterns, maybe even beauty. You've never asked. Whatever it is has kept him alive this long. It's kept you alive, too.
And so, the mission.
You drop from a very long hatch into dark, stale air. The ladder leaves your hands aching and your shoulders tight, but there's no time for recovery.
Training takes over. Leon leads, with you at his right flank. Flashlights on, service weapon at the ready.
"Stay sharp," he says.
Sometimes you tease him about it, his constant readiness for a threat. But you feel it this time. Something's not right here, scans be damned.
Flecks of dust and grime float through your bright beams. The corridor ends maybe 15 meters in front of you in a set of metal doors, no windows. The security pad on the left side blinks a dull red.
"Emergency power," you say.
It was in the brief as a possibility but not a guarantee. Leon approaches, and you follow, digging into one of your belt pockets for the access card some other agent had to steal last week for this purpose.
"You want to do the honors?" you ask.
Leon shakes his head. "Be my guest."
The red light blinks green with a hover of your hand, and the unlocking mechanisms creak to life. The doors open slowly with a hiss. You're greeted with a dark lobby, dull yellowish lights lining the base of the walls.
"Must be on throughout," Leon says. Sometimes these places are zoned, or some other needlessly complicated system of power distribution. "Hopefully that means doors will keep opening."
He's still tense, arms outstretched to shine his light into the new space, shoulders taut. You feel it too, a prickle at the base of your neck.
"If not, I'm sure the power systems will be super easy to find with no issues," you say lightly.
He huffs, as close to a laugh as you can hope for at the start of a mission, but it's a win.
"Ready?" he asks.
You dip your chin. He glides into the room, clearing one side as you clear the other. There aren't any signs of disturbance, but that's how it goes with these places. The closer you get to the exit, the more normal it seems -- because all of the horrible things happen behind closed doors.
And no one makes it out.
"Clear," Leon calls. You echo it.
There are two single doors that reveal a bathroom hallway and the security office, as well as a set of double doors that resemble the locked entrance, another keypad glowing red at one side. Leon finds a map of the facility in the office and spreads it on the desk.
"That locked door will take us to an elevator that goes down to the labs," he says, tracing the path with a finger under the beam of his flashlight. "Three of them, all on different levels, connected by staircases instead of the elevator shaft, only accessible by keycard and on the other side of an anti-contamination corridor."
"Isolated," you observe. "In case of an outbreak?"
"It's bare bones compared to the other Umbrella stuff we've seen. This must be really out-there shit. Less resources, less of a footprint, less of an issue when it goes wrong."
You try to commit the map to memory. Leon will undoubtedly fold it into one of his pockets, but it's hard to consult a piece of paper when you're running from a B.O.W..
"Greek," Leon mutters. "More creative than T-virus, that's for sure."
This is just like him, surprising you after countless missions as your partner.
"Do you speak Greek, Leon?"
He shrugs.
"Not really." He tightens the strap on his glove, a cue that he's frustrated. You know most of his tells by now. "I don't know the last one. Fire, maybe?"
"Not really, he says," you tease. "What else are you hiding, Kennedy?"
He rolls his eyes at you, but if the lights were on, you're sure you'd see some pink in his cheeks. Battle-hardened agent he may be, Leon S. Kennedy still blushes for you.
If only...
No. You swallow the pang in your chest and roll your shoulders. "Start with B1 and go down, then loop back up?"
It wouldn't be out of the question to divide and conquer, but the slimy unease dripping down your spine prevents you from suggesting it.
He grunts his agreement, eyes still on the map, frowning.
As a pair, you work so well together because of your communication. It took practice, sure, but now you know each other across a crowded room, through the heat of a fight, in the dark. You don't let things go unsaid.
Well, most things, your traitorous heart says.
"Leon," you say. "It feels off, right? We're missing something."
Blue eyes meet yours. He sighs.
"Yeah," he says. "Guess we just have to find out what."
You can't help it -- you put your hand on his bicep and squeeze just a little, holding his gaze. His fringe hangs in his eyes. In another life, you'd push it back.
"Be careful, okay?" you ask him, faces so close you can feel his breath.
Leon got shot on your second ever mission together. It was a clean wound, through and through, except for the fact that he'd already been shot in that shoulder back in Raccoon City. The bullet fucked up the already fragile joint, so he needed surgery and was benched for six weeks (he was back at your side in four).
There was nothing you could have done. It was nobody's fault. But you felt responsible for waylaying your new partner, who was one of the most well-known agents in the whole damn place, so you went to see him in the hospital to alleviate your guilt.
"They have you with anyone while I'm out?" he asked you.
They did, actually, but hadn't told you who. Leon was troubled by it.
"Well, be careful," he said, as if he didn't trust anyone else to watch your back, even then.
"Only as careful as you," you replied, pointing at his shoulder.
That was the first time you made Leon Kennedy laugh.
Now, it's something you say to each other in the field. A mantra, a reminder, a promise.
Leon gives you a small smile.
"Only as careful as you," he replies, like he always does. We keep each other safe.
You release him and busy your hand at your belt immediately, god forbid you touch him more.
He rolls his shoulders back and checks the chamber of his sidearm.
"Into the depths, huh?"
"Into the depths."
--
Level B1: MENIS
The elevator opens to a dead contamination chamber. Nothing happens as you walk through the three zones where you'd expect to be scanned, doused, and dried. Another set of metal doors opens with a hiss when you tap the keycard. The smell of death hits your nose and makes your eyes water.
There are at least 10 bodies piled on the other side, most of them in pieces.
"Fuck," you curse, sidestepping a caved-in head.
"Looks like the party started without us," Leon says quietly.
"Great," you mutter. "God, that's nasty."
There aren't any claw marks or avid stains or other tell-tale signs of B.O.W.'s you see with this caliber of violence. One look at Leon and you know he's realized the same thing. You tilt your head down the hall. He nods, following your lead deeper into the floor.
Red emergency lights pulse along the base of the walls, illuminating the blood splattered pretty much everywhere. You pass the occasional corpse, most of them so horribly disfigured it's hard to tell if they were staff or test subjects or something else.
There are so many things you want to say, but you keep them to yourself until Leon leads you to the floor's main office. You slide in but don't relax.
"They look like they were torn apart," you say as soon as the door is closed. Leon frowns at you, since you didn't clear the room first, but it's a square office. You can see all the corners from where you're standing.
"I know," he replies. "But no sign of what did it."
You sigh. "So, are you going to tell Hunnigan the location survey was wrong, or should I?"
"I think I've run out of my 'bad news' calls for the year," he says. "That one's all yours once we get topside."
"How generous of you."
Leon smirks. "I'm a giver."
The office is small and the computers are dead. There are papers scattered around, so you divide and conquer.
You find an official logbook. Mostly in-the-weeds science stuff, but you skim until you find a change in handwriting.
LOG #57:
Development continues under new staff. Blood transmission remains the only method that carries enough sample to infect a host; airborne tests were unsuccessful. Vaccine/suppressant formulas abandoned for the time being after we were told that our subject supply would be steady. B2 wants to set one of theirs against one of ours, which seems pointless because any B1 subject will win that fight. B3 is a joke, but they're insistent that it'll work.
No vaccine...that's not good news. But what were they actually testing here? Infecting people with what?
You flip more pages until you find something that makes your blood run cold.
LOG #63:
We've finally gotten a host to survive. B2 and B3 are nowhere near this. We won't be sharing. Their subjects die within hours. B3 is practically useless, anyway. What use is controlling people if they die on you in an hour? But here, we've cracked it. I managed to figure out how to get the virus to work with the host's adrenaline production, stabilizing it into a constant state of fight or flight without short-circuiting the nervous system. If this batch survives the week, we'll ask permission to start on the suppressant. Once we have that, we'll be able to control the whole herd. The future of hostile takeover is here! Now, if only they'd let us out of this fucking dungeon more often…
Holy shit. They were making viruses to infect large populations, to control them. But using what? Changing their brain chemicals, making them reliant on suppressants? Leon told you about this kind of manipulation, how it infiltrated a military unit and even made its way to the White House a few years ago. Who knows how far they got this time?
"Leon," you call, turning with the folder in your hands. "You should look at this --"
You make eye contact and fall silent. He's got his finger over his lips and his gun at the ready.
You toss the papers aside and take your place on the other side of the door.
That's when you hear it.
Groans, grunts, screams. Footsteps -- a lot of them.
He holds your gaze.
Clear the chokepoint, get into the lab rooms down the hall around the corner, make for the stairwell on the other side of the floor.
That's what you'd do, so you know it's what he's thinking, too. No confirmation needed.
The door bursts open. You duck, missing the arms reaching for your neck. It's dark in here, but you rely on muscle memory and gravity to sweep the zombie's legs out from under it and stomp on its head while you fire at the next one.
The attackers are -- well, they look mostly human. But their eyes are wild, blood running down their faces like tears, pink foam and spit dripping from their mouths.
Leon's movements are sharp and decisive. Headshot, parry, twist. Uppercut, knee sweep, headshot. He occupies the air around you like he's magnetized to your movements, always filling the space where you aren't, ceding room when you need it. After hours upon hours of mat practice between the two of you and hundreds of field opportunities to master it, you work together like a well-oiled machine.
It's exhilarating.
You're forced back from the door, but you keep firing, slicing, covering each other. It's essential that you get into the hall sooner rather than later to avoid being trapped in this room.
A zombie rips the arm off another in its attempt to get to you. That's new.
"What the fuck were they doing with this shit?" Leon grunts. He's splattered with blood now. No doubt you are too.
"That's what I was going to tell you before our party of two got crashed," you say between shots.
"They wanted to control people."
"Yeah, this sure looks like control to me!"
"We have to clear it or we'll have to fight through on our way back up."
Leon grunts his agreement. "They're not biting." His aim is true, as always. He downs two, three, four infected. "They just want to rip us apart!"
"We need to go into the hall. Cover me," you say, dodging bloody fingers and sliding through the door. "Switching weapons!"
Your assault rifle is strapped to your back. You holster your pistol and reach around for it, but something catches your jacket and pulls.
The fabric tears. For a split second, you worry your flesh will be next, but then the tug disappears. Leon grunts and he breaks the neck of whatever had you.
You keep your gaze on the approaching pack, maybe 10 or 15 strong. Leon keeps taking them down while you holster your pistol and check the new cartridge.
"Gonna need to reload in a second here," he calls. "Six left. Five. Four --"
"Ready," you shout. Leon stabs a zombie in the neck and walks behind it, using it as a wall against reaching fingers until he's at your side again. He tears his knife free and slides beside you, solid, ready.
You open fire.
That's all it takes. The hallway is soon empty and bloodier than before. All you can hear is your combined panting.
Leon lowers his gun. "Nice job," he says.
You drop yours, too. "What was this floor called again? Menace?"
"Basically," he says, slamming in a new clip. "Divine wrath or anger."
"No shit." You look down at the tear in your jacket. "God damnit, this is my favorite."
Leon checks his chamber. "I'll get you a new one," he says.
You laugh. He almost smiles, like that was his goal all along.
The rest of the floor is mostly clear. A few stragglers here and there, but they're no match for the two of you. The containment chambers seem to be where the infected gathered in the months since this facility went dark -- the walls are covered in scratch marks.
"I can't believe they didn't kill each other," Leon says with mild disgust. "Not having control of yourself like that...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
You've read the report from Spain. He knows how it feels.
"Do you think they're aware?" you wonder aloud.
He looks so sad for a moment that you almost reach for him. "I hope not."
--
Level B2: KAMATOS
The stairwell is a mess. The door to B2 is barricaded, but you manage to get through after slamming your shoulders against it over and over.
This floor is quiet, but in a different way than upstairs. Years of field-trained instincts tell you there's nothing left alive on this floor. That, and it made a hell of a lot of noise getting the door open, and nothing popped out.
It's dustier down here, like things have been still for longer.
"What's this one mean?" you ask. "This virus."
"Extreme fatigue," Leon tells you.
"So if they controlled adrenaline levels on the first floor to make them angry, they're depriving people of sleep on this floor?"
He shrugs. "Maybe they found a way to keep the brain awake without killing it."
They did not.
The documents you find suggest the virus was a failure. The bodies you find confirm it. Hosts died from heart failure, self-inflicted wounds, a number of things, no matter what the scientists did to keep the mind from giving up. All by depriving them of sleep.
Being so tired that you see no other way out…
The horror of it all rises in your throat. You leave Leon with the corpses so you can press your forehead to the cool hallway wall.
This job asks a lot of you. Your time, your well-being. Your security, your personal relationships, your hobbies. It's overwhelming and can bury a person. The things you see, the things you do -- it gets to you. It’s easy to shove it down, to pretend like you're untouchable, but that's no way to live, either.
Sometimes you just have to feel it.
These poor people.
Leon's hand is light on your shoulder. Not patronizing, not rushing, just there. Warm, solid.
You take a deep breath, then stand up straight.
"Let's take a quick break before the last floor," Leon says.
"I'm fine."
You turn to face him, but he's already crouching, back against the wall.
He grins, a real smile this time. It makes him look younger. "Who said it was for you?"
It's like he's giving you permission to put it all down for a second. To forget where you are, why you're there, what you're doing. Leon's guard is rarely fully down, and right now he's telling you that he's got you. Rest for a second, I'll take care of us.
He's proven to you over and over that he will.
So you smile back, shaky but genuine. "Getting old, Kennedy?"
"Something like that." He looks up at you, grin softening into something fond. "Do you remember Greece?"
You slide down the wall to his level. "Do I remember Greece? Be serious. How could I forget --"
"All those stairs," Leon finishes. "Exactly."
It was last year in the height of summer. A small, sleepy cliffside town, except for the fact that a scummy billionaire moved into the monastery and started developing B.O.W.'s in the catacombs.
The town was evacuated. You were sent in to apprehend the guy and secure whatever virus he was using. It turned into three days of running up and down stone staircases away from bats with tentacles and lizards with thousands of teeth where you wouldn't expect teeth to be.
Over the course of your partnership, you've seen each other in all states, but you've never seen Leon as exhausted as he was after that mission.
"I thought I was going to have to carry you to the rendezvous point," you remind him. "You fell down so many stairs."
Leon rubs his knees as if remembering the way they smacked stone over and over.
"And you would have," he says.
He catches your gaze and holds it. He's reminding you that you're in this together. That he trusts you, something you do not take lightly. It's hard to know who you can trust in this job, even your very own employer, but he never doubts you. You never doubt him.
The familiar ache of everything you feel for him sits warm and heavy on your chest. He's the best man you've ever known.
"I would have," you say.
Leon dips his chin, his mouth curling into a smaller smile than before, but this one is just as fond.
"We should go back," you say without meaning to.
It surprises him, but he hides it well.
"That would be nice," he muses. "I don't know the last time I took a vacation."
"We could go to the beach," you continue. It's scarily easy to imagine -- Leon in swim trunks, cheeks pink from the sun. "Stay at the bottom of the stairs and not walk up a single one."
"But you liked the monastery," he reminds you. "We'd have to go back up to see the windows."
Of course he remembers how you'd looked up in awe at the stained glass, gun in your hand and blood on your face.
"I'll climb up by myself. You can relax."
Leon sighs. "Relax," he says. "I don't even know if I know how to do that."
"You're good at everything," you say. "You'll pick it up in no time."
Whatever game this is, you're having too much fun playing it. Leon doesn't lie to you, so while he might be indulging you, there's a part of him that means all of this. He has to know that you mean it, too.
He stands and offers you his hand.
"One more floor," he says. "Then we can go to Greece."
--
Level B3: PYRETOS
The hit comes out of nowhere.
Maybe you're distracted by talk of vacation, or your guard is down after the silence of B2, but you don't see it coming. One second you're rounding the corner, the next you're flying backwards through glass, back slamming against a cabinet. You land heavily on the ground, more glass and something wet raining down on you.
Leon yells your name.
You try to catch your breath, but it's stuck in your chest. He's still calling for you in between gunshots.
"Fuck," you croak, finally finding air. You roll onto your side. Glass crunches under your weight as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.
Everything hurts, but you try to shake it off and push up to standing. Leon hauls himself through the broken window. He begins to clear the room after he sees you on your feet.
"Clear. That was one ugly son of a bitch," he says. "Must have gotten down here from upstairs."
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.
Something isn't right.
Your skin feels tight, like you already went on vacation and got burned to a crisp. Your pulse won't slow. Deep breaths feel impossible. Strangest of all, it's almost like –
Well, your core is buzzing. You press your legs together and try not to panic.
In the early days, after Leon got shot but well before Greece, you hid an injury from him.
You took a knife to the ribs during a fight. It wasn't too deep, but it was wide and bleeding steadily. Adrenaline allowed you to get through it. You figured you could patch yourself up the next time you slowed. But Leon pushed on ahead, and you followed without saying anything.
That is, until you left a bloody handprint on a door. He stopped immediately.
"Is that yours?" he said. "Where are you hurt?"
"It's nothing," you protested. But Leon S. Kennedy does not give up easily.
"Show me," he said, pulling out bandages from his hip pouch. "When did this happen?"
"I'm not compromised," you said, even as you lifted your jacket to show him.
"I know you aren't," he said. "I want to know when you're hurt so I can make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine," you said weakly. He patched you up quickly and thoroughly.
"We're partners," he told you. "We have to help each other."
Here, now, you don’t hide from him.
"Leon," you croak. "Something's wrong. I think I --"
He's at your side in an instant, so close your breath hitches. Why are you so affected by him? Why are you so warm?
"The rip in your jacket," Leon says. "Your arm is bleeding."
"Liquid," you gasp. "It felt wet when I hit the cabinet."
The pieces come together. Shattered vials at your feet, an empty cabinet behind you. The dull red emergency lights make it hard to tell what color the puddle is, but you know it can't be good.
"They wouldn't keep a virus out in the open, would they?" you ask weakly. You're shaking now, shivering even though you don't feel cold.
"Fever," he breathes. "Pyretos. It means fever."
You've rarely seen Leon afraid. He's human, so it happens, but normally he faces things head-on without complaint.
Right now, he looks terrified. That scares you more than anything.
"Leon," you whisper. "What do we do?"
He snaps into action. He hands you a roll of bandages.
"Wrap it," he says. He presses a few buttons on his watch until it beeps. Setting a timer, no doubt. Just in case. "How do you feel? Describe it to me."
"Feverish," you say. "But not dizzy. I can think clearly."
Leon starts to dig around the lab, tearing open drawers and rifling through what he finds. The office on this floor wasn't in the same place as the other two, so any information must be in here, right?
"What else?"
You follow his lead, desperately searching for anything helpful. How do you explain the fact that your entire body is pulsing with a very specific kind of need? It scares you, feeling this out of control physically while also being in your right mind.
You land on achey. The buzzing under your skin gets worse every minute you spend looking and finding fuck all.
"There's nothing here," he says, frustrated. "Shit."
You're thinking the same thing: no vaccines. Any hope for you is in this lab.
But then -- your eye catches on a cabinet sitting on deep grooves in the floor.
"There's a door," you tell him, already heading for it. A wave of need hits you so suddenly that you have to brace yourself on the wall to catch your breath. Leon brushes by you. The slight contact has you swallowing a moan.
Jesus Christ.
He shoves the cabinet aside. Behind it is a door that opens into the lab office, as dark as the others.
You follow him in and start searching the shelves. Leon drags a table into the perfect place to effectively barricade you in.
"We don't have time to be interrupted right now," he says. He starts searching the desk.
You're sweating now. If this thing is going to turn you, Leon can't be here for it. You don't want him to see it. "Maybe you should go back to the surface --"
"I'm not leaving you," he interrupts. It's sharp, final.
"But if I turn--"
Leon whirls around. "I'm not leaving you," he says again.
Your nose stings. It's not the rational choice, but it's the Leon Kennedy choice. You can't help but be grateful for it.
He returns to the papers. Everywhere your clothing touches your skin feels heavy, almost painful. Your skin is sensitive, your throat dry, breath still fast.
You're so turned on, you think you might explode. It's all you can do to just stand there and try to keep it together.
"I found something," Leon says. He says nothing else. It's hard to see his expression in the dark without being close to him. You don't know if you can handle that right now.
"Bad news, doc?"
He swallows and begins to read.
"In an effort to bend the subject to commands, a fever is introduced via the bloodstream that increases testosterone and dopamine to near-unbearable levels of arousal. We have successfully altered the balance to allow the mind to be unaffected, making the reaction purely physical. The fever, if detected and combated within 1 hour, can be reduced by repeated bursts of oxytocin until the subject's internal temperature returns to normal. Required oxytocin levels seem to vary by subject; no pattern discernible at this time."
"What the fuck does that mean?" you pant. Your skin feels too tight. You still can't take a full breath. Control is becoming a missed opportunity. "Do I have a sex fever?"
No answer.
"Leon."
He exhales sharply.
"I think you need to be touched," he says. "To release the chemical that will help you fight this on your own."
Your responding laugh edges on hysterical.
"I do have a sex fever. So, what, you're going to hug me and hope I don't die?"
"I could," he says. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just don't think it'll be enough. This says bursts, and a lot of them. The best way to trigger that kind of response is --"
It clicks in your mind.
"Orgasm," you whisper. "Oh, god."
Leon closes his eyes for a second too long.
"I don't know what to do," he admits. He looks at his watch. "It's been 10 minutes. I don't know what--"
"I'm so sorry," you breathe. The gravity of your situation is like a bucket of cold water. If only it actually made you feel cold. You have to fuck your partner or die. What kind of sick joke is this? "Leon, I'm so sorry. You don't have to do anything, this is my fault --"
He tosses the file onto the table.
"I'm not going to let you die," he says with all his usual conviction. He really believes it, and it makes it easier for you to believe it, too. "Not when there's something I can do about it."
"But not like this," you croak. "This is --"
"I know."
God, you wish the lights were on. You want to see every detail of his face to discern what he's feeling. Can you ask him to do this? Will it ruin everything forever?
A tremor wracks through you. You have to brace yourself on the desk.
He yanks open drawers until he finds a thermometer. It beeps alive, somehow, and he holds it up to your forehead.
"Shit," he mutters.
"What?"
Leon flips the device to show you the screen. 103.2.
"Shit," you echo.
Your brain is going to cook in your skull sooner rather than later. You swallow frustrated tears along with your pride.
"I'm so wet," you whisper. It's the lewdest thing you've ever said to him. "I can feel it."
Leon inhales sharply, standing ever-so-still just next to you, just out of reach.
The pain radiates through you, molten lava in your veins. It's strange to be able to think so clearly. You want Leon as badly as you always do. That's bearable. But the pain. The heat. It's something else, something all-consuming.
You need him to touch you.
"Please don't make me beg," you whimper, turning towards him.
"Jesus," he mutters, filling the space you make for him. His hands find your face. You groan. The contact is like a balm, even through his gloves.
"Oh god."
You nuzzle into his palms. It's like you can feel the battle in your blood, the virus doing its best to cook you from the inside out, but Leon's touch is giving you a foothold, a reprieve.
If it wasn't so awful, you'd laugh at the idea that you're so horny you might die.
"Whatever you need, I'll do," he says. His voice is already hoarse. "But just -- you have to tell me if it's not okay. And I'll stop. We'll figure something else out."
You lean back on the desk and grab his elbows. You've touched plenty, but never like this. Never loaded with all of the unspoken things between you, never with such desperation.
"It's okay," you tell him. "Whatever it takes, it's okay. I trust you."
His thigh slides between your legs.
"Can you forgive me? If I do this?" he whispers, lips so close to yours. You lean forward on instinct, pulled to him by more than just the fire in your core.
"There's nothing to forgive," you say, and then you're kissing.
What you need is an orgasm, but this is something you've wondered about for a long time. Something you've wanted. It almost feels selfish to take it now.
But, fuck, it's good.
He's not shy. You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue. He opens for you immediately, licking into your mouth as he pulls you forward and onto his thigh.
His kisses are desperate, exposing his worry, but also tender, exposing his care. You're in good hands, hands you love.
Even through your pants, the pressure of your cunt on his thigh is enough to steal your breath.
"God," you gasp.
"Not quite," Leon says, kissing a path from your mouth down your neck. "Does that help?"
You grind down on him in reply. His palms have made their way to your hips, aiding you in your quest for pressure on your core.
It's too much. It's not enough. But still, the coil tightens. "Sorry, I just need --"
You chase it, grinding down on his thigh even harder, panting into his neck. You're close, you can feel it. You're chasing it, that snap, that reward. Leon just lets you take and take and take.
You thread your fingers through his hair, panting into his neck. When you tug just a little, he bounces his leg and you keen.
"More, please."
It only takes three more bounces before you're coming, shudders ripping through you, his name on your lips.
When you return to your body, Leon is dragging his palm up and down your back.
"Did you just--"
You're becoming very familiar with the fabric of his shoulder, his leather harness pressing into your cheek.
"Mhm," you manage.
There's a world where you're embarrassed. In that world, you asked Leon out for dinner and then up to your place after. In that world, you made out on the couch and ground down on his thigh until you came. In that world, he laughed with you, utterly charmed, and it was the beginning of something wonderful.
In this one, he gently tilts you back so he can check your temperature with the thermometer.
"Holy shit," he breathes. "102.1. It worked."
You don't feel that different, but the number doesn't lie.
Leon is panting, too. "More?"
You nod. Your cunt aches like you didn't have an orgasm at all.
He tugs off a glove with his teeth, dropping it god knows where.
"Don't know how clean my hands are," he says.
A laugh bursts out of you, but it sounds close to a sob.
Two fingers go in his mouth faster than you can open yours. He doesn't waste too much time wetting them, given how turned on you already are, but he gives them a good suck. A trail of spit hangs from his lip when he finishes.
You work at the buttons of your pants, unbuckling your tactical belt. It clangs onto the desk behind you. Leon slides his hand down under the waistband of your panties. You collapse into him with a guttural moan.
"Leon," you gasp. He holds you up, no problem, even as you go utterly boneless at just his fingers in your folds.
"You weren't kidding," he says, breathy. "You are wet."
"I'm sorry," you pant into his shoulder.
"Please don't say sorry again," he groans. "I can't take it."
"Can I say thank you?"
"That's worse," he says, sliding two fingers into you at the same time. "I just wish it wasn't like this, is all."
The absurdity of the whole thing makes it hard to keep your emotional walls high. What's the point? You're having sex with your partner to save your life in an underground Umbrella laboratory. You're way past keeping your emotions from him.
So you hear his words for what they are. For what he's not saying.
"Oh, yeah?" He curls his fingers and you groan, arching into him. "You have something you want to tell me, Kennedy?"
"Little late for that."
He presses his lips to your jaw, but you pull back so you can see his eyes. He's flushed, his pupils taking over almost all of the blue you love so dearly.
"I always want to know how you feel," you tell him. It's honest, raw, perhaps out of place when he's knuckle deep in your cunt.
"Fuck," he breathes, like eye contact is enough to undo him.
"I just want to help you," he says. "I always want to help you when you need it." He picks up the pace with his fingers. "I like being the guy who has your back."
His thumb circles your clit. It’s all you can do to hang onto his shoulders and ride it out as he keeps talking.
"I want to give you everything you've ever wanted," he says. "I miss you when you leave the room. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met."
"Oh, Leon," you gasp, grinding down onto his hand. "Me too. Me too."
He scrapes his teeth along your neck. "Yeah?"
"Yes, yes, yes --"
The orgasm washes over you. You clench around him over and over. He carefully pulls his hand from your panties and licks his fingers. Good god.
Something has shifted between you. It's still about the mission, about breaking your fever, but now it's more. It's more, because you both want it.
Leon leans in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, tasting yourself on his lips.
Beep.
"101.3," he says.
You push his hair back from his forehead. "Is that low enough?"
This time, you do feel a bit different. Maybe it's the confirmation that Leon has feelings for you, but your muscles feel more relaxed, your skin less taut. The need still burns, though.
"There's no way to say this without sounding like a creep," he says wryly. "But I think you should have a few more."
You drag your hands up and down his torso, but your gaze lands on his makeshift barricade.
"Do we think we have time?"
Even as you ask, you're toeing off your boots and shoving your pants down. Leon is quick to help you.
"If anything comes through that door," he says, fingers hooked in your underwear, "I can kill it with my eyes closed."
He hooks his hand under your thighs and helps you up onto the desk fully, sweeping everything onto the ground.
"So could you," he adds. You hum in agreement. Your hand returns to his torso, trailing it down to the front of his pants.
He's hard.
It's not entirely a surprise, but you're pleased.
"I know, I'm sorry, it's kind of fucked up --" he tries. You don't let it get very far.
"Don't you apologize," you say. "You're allowed to want, Leon. I promise you, whatever you want, you can have. You already do."
His answer to that is a kiss, not searing and heated like before, but soft and slow. Like he's memorizing you, learning every inch of your mouth just because he can.
A wave of heat rolls through you, so intense and unexpected that you have to close your eyes and grit your teeth against the pain.
Leon rubs your back and tells you to breathe, it's okay, you're going to be okay.
The heat dulls. "How long has it been?" you ask through gritted teeth, eyes still shut.
"26 minutes."
His thumbs stroke your cheeks, helping you come back to yourself.
"Are you okay to keep going?" he asks. "I'll do whatever you want."
You reach for his belt with shaking hands. Not because you don't want him, or because you're scared, but because you need him. You need him to survive. This was just as true before you got infected as it is now. And you have him.
He has you.
Leon lets you unbuckle his pants as he undoes his harness and his tactical pouches. They both fall to the ground.
You take him in hand and he hisses. His cock is warm, another layer of heat against your already burning skin. His hips jerk when you stroke him root to tip.
His fingers circle your wrist to stop you.
"Another time," he says. He kisses your chin. "Okay?"
There will be another time. Leon doesn't say things he doesn't mean, so you take it to heart. This will happen again.
It's not exactly romantic, the way you lean back on some long-dead bioterrorist's desk naked from the waist down, Leon's pants shoved down his thighs and his cock in his hand. But it's what you've got, and it's what you'll take.
You spread your legs for him. He sucks in air like a man just saved from drowning.
"Ready?" he asks. You feel his tip at your entrance and can't swallow the moan that rips from your throat in the shape of his name. He wastes no more time sinking into you in one stroke.
You come immediately, legs wrapped around his hips. You might scream, it's hard to tell. But you're so full and it finally feels right. Like you've been missing something all along and finally found it.
Leon says your name over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer.
"I wish I could see you properly," he says, voice breaking. "I wish –
His hips jerk forward even though he's bottomed out. He leans forward until he's bracing his forearms on either side of your head, brushing your nose with his. He's right. It's hard to see him fully in the red-washed office.
"You know what I look like," you tell him.
"Not like this," he shakes his head. "Not like this."
"You're doing so good," you say, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Leon, it feels so good --"
It's a strange sensation to feel your blood cooling while he's inside you, to regain control of your body just as you surrender your heart.
Leon starts to move his hips, a slow drag at first, but it quickly becomes a snap. You dig your fingers into his biceps and hold on. You can hear how wet you are as he fucks you.
The coil in your core tightens again. "Leon," you moan. "I'm gonna--"
He kisses you, hips slowing to a grind. He reaches between you with one hand to find your clit and give it some messy circles.
"Go ahead," he says against your mouth. "I can take it."
Your cunt clenches around him. Tears prick in your eyes not from overstimulation but from everything else -- the heat in your veins, the tenderness of his hold, the way he's kissing you as you fall apart, swallowing your gasps.
"So beautiful," he says. And god, it sounds like he means it. Half-dressed, sweaty and bandaged, he means it.
Leon goes back to shallow thrusts, but they're becoming more erratic.
"How many is that?"
"Four," Leon says.
"Are you..."
He nods. "I'm close."
His forehead is damp from the effort. You wipe it with the heel of your hand.
"It's okay," you tell him. "It's okay, Leon. You can --"
You tighten your legs around him to hold him inside.
His breath hitches, but he picks up the pace without argument.
The smack of your flesh fills the room. The only thing on your mind is Leon Leon Leon.
The noise he makes just before he comes inside you is a punched-out whine of your name. He stills above you entirely, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
"So beautiful," you echo. "So beautiful, Leon."
He keeps his weight off you but presses his face into your neck as he catches his breath.
"Fuck," he says. "How do you feel?"
You need to check your temperature, but remarkably better. The heat in your veins is an expected one. You can feel sweat cooling on your skin. The incessant need in your cunt has dulled to a satiated ache.
"Still alive." You kiss him chastely, considering he's still inside you.
"Let me check -- where the hell did that thing go?"
He pulls out. You both hiss just a bit, but he finds the thermometer on the ground.
Beep.
"98.3," Leon says. "That's normal."
You feel boneless and make no move to get up from the desk. If you did, you'd surely make a mess.
"Finally, something normal about today."
Leon tucks his cock back into his briefs, buttons his pants. He drags his hands up and down your thighs.
"Can I clean you up?" he asks.
Even though you now know how he feels, know that he wants you just as much as you want him, he's done so much for you today. Your temperature is back to normal. You still need to make it back to the surface.
"You don't need to," you say. "Just...give me a clean bandage, or something --"
"Let me do this for you," he interrupts. Begs, really, already getting on his knees between your legs. "One more. Just to be safe."
The heat that builds is nothing like the wild, uncontrollable fire of before. This is all you, all Leon.
The fact that he wants his mouth on you, wants to lick his own come from your cunt.
"Okay," you breathe. You thread your fingers through his hair. He preens.
He kisses the inside of your thigh and pushes your legs wider.
Maybe you should feel exposed, but you don't. You feel wanted. You feel safe.
Leon pulls your folds open with his thumbs. He starts with long licks with the flat of his tongue along your seam, flicking your clit when he reaches the top. But your entrance quickly becomes his focus, and suddenly he's a man possessed.
He laps up his own release as it drips from you, humming when you tug on his hair. He hardly comes up for air, but you know he's paying attention to your reactions based on the way he moves his mouth. He sucks on your clit. Your hips buck, so he does it again.
"Leon," you gasp. How is it possible that you're going to come again? But you feel it, the rising tide in your core. All it takes is a glance down to find him watching you, soaking in whatever he can see in the dim light.
He keeps his mouth on you through your final orgasm. This time, a few tears leak from your eyes. Your breath evens out and your heartbeat actually slows the way you expect it to. The fever is broken, you're certain of it.
"Just to be safe," you say to the ceiling. "You just wanted to show me how good you were at that."
Leon wipes his face with the back of his hand.
"I like to be thorough," he replies. He stands, drags your underwear and pants up with him.
"Are you okay? How are the symptoms?"
"I think so." You scoot forward on the table so he can pull your clothes over your hips. "It doesn't feel like a fever anymore."
"What does it feel like?"
Your legs are a little shaky, but you stand and wrap your arms around him. You've just had sex to save your life, but you don't know if you've ever hugged Leon before.
"It feels like you," you tell him, cheek pressed to his shoulder.
Leon stills, but you can hear his heartbeat pick up. He envelops you in his embrace, lips pressed against your temple, his inhale shaky.
"I'm glad," he whispers. "I'm so fucking glad."
He's hidden his fear from you so well this whole time, but you saw the look on his face when he realized you were infected. You hug him tighter, willing the fear to leave him. You're okay. You're here, in his arms. He saved you.
"What now?" you ask. You turn in his arms. He releases you so you can reach for your tactical belt.
"We get out of here in one piece," he says. "We get you to medical."
"Fucking medical," you mutter. You shove your foot back in your discarded boot.
"I won't leave you there," Leon says. They could keep you for days, but you know he means it. "Then I'll take you home. And we'll sleep for days."
You almost forget that you don't have to keep your feelings from him. You let the joy take over your face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says, a little sheepish. "If you want to."
"I want to," you assure him. "I want to."
You'll have to talk about this, surely. The way it changes your partnership, how to navigate field work. There is so much to learn about him. What he's like on a quiet morning at home instead of a stakeout. The noises you can pull from him in a real bedroom. His face when you tell him you love him.
The future is bright.
Leon buckles his harness. He laughs to himself, tearing you from your thoughts.
"What?"
He straightens your belt and grins crookedly, boyish and lovely.
"Are you writing this into the mission report, or am I?"
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