(RE9 Leon Kennedy x Female Reader)
Summary: Leon Kennedy just moved in next door to your parents, and you're only home for the week. It's the Fourth Of July. There's a barbecue, a dog that doesn't have a name yet, and the man next door who says he moved to the suburbs because he wanted normal, for once. You've got just one night. Might as well spend it wisely.
Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, protected sex, P in V, consent, older man/younger woman, fluff, age gap, oral (female receiving), soft Leon
Notes: RE9 Leon, set the week of the Fourth. My first fic ever! Hope you enjoy!
Playlist I made for this fic
Your mom had a way of filling the house with sound. There was a radio going in the kitchen, the news was murmuring from the living room and her voice echoed through the house as she was making a phone call. After two days of this you’d started inventing reasons to get outside. Today you decided would be the perfect day to go get the mail.
You slid your sandals on and opened the front door. The air outside was arid and hot. It was the kind of heat that sat on your skin instead of soaking into it. The neighborhood baked quietly, sprinklers ticking somewhere down the block, the mountains cut out past the rooftops.
Right as you opened the front of the mailbox a blur of tan and white came barreling around the hedge and then sixty pounds of enthusiasm planted both front paws on your stomach. It knocked the breath out of you. You staggered and caught yourself on the mailbox post. The dog’s whole back half was wagging with its tongue licking across your jaw before you could turn your face.
You laughed. “Okay, okay, hi!” You went down to a crouch, partly to greet it and partly in self-defense. The dog took the opportunity to try and climb into your lap. It was some kind of shepherd mix with one ear that flopped and one that stood up. “Where’d you come from, huh? Where’s your — you got a collar?”
You were feeling for the tag, the dog squirming with delight, when a voice came from the direction of the hedge.
“Sorry. Sorry, he does that.”
The man coming across the neighboring lawn was wiping his hands on a rag, he looked like he was maybe working. There was drywall dust ghosting the front of his t-shirt, a smear of something pale along one forearm, and his hair was dark blonde with streaks of silver that was falling into his eyes. It looked almost flattened like he had been pushing it back all day with the back of his wrist. He was tall and moved like the heat didn’t bother him. He crouched a few feet away and snapped his fingers once.
“Hey. Come here. Leave the —” He glanced at you. “Leave the poor girl alone.”
“Aw, he’s fine.” You scratched behind the flopped ear, and the dog leaned its whole weight into your hand. “He’s so cute. This is the best welcome I’ve gotten all week.”
“He’s supposed to be learning boundaries,” he said. “It’s going great, as you can see.”
You smiled. “Who needs boundaries, when you’re this cute.” You gave the dog one more scratch and then stood up. You brushed the paw-prints off your shorts. Up close the man looked several years older than you but his face was easy to look at in a way that made you not want to be caught looking. His eyes were a very pale blue and he had some stubble across his jaw. He looked at you, then the street behind you before settling back on your face.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you said.
“Yeah. I just moved in a couple weeks ago.” He gestured vaguely at the house behind him. It was a nice two story suburban home with gray siding and a black metal roof. “Still—” He glances behind him. “Still renovating the kitchen.”
“Looks like you’re renovating more than just a kitchen.” You nodded at the drywall dust. “You gutting the place?”
“Well the bathroom had some water damage too and the owners before had a real commitment to wood paneling.” He said dryly and you laughed. He seemed a little surprised that you did laugh.
“Y/N” you said, and you put out your hand.
"Leon." He took your hand, his grip was warm and careful, the kind that could be firmer but he was deliberately choosing not to be. "My name's Leon—" A beat, like there was a final part he was going to say.
“Nice to meet you, Leon.” You smiled and let go of his hand. You knelt down at the dog between you. “And nice to meet you too…” You give him a pet on the head and smooshed his face between your hands. He licked your hand in response and panted heavily from the summer heat. “What’s his name?”
“Still working on it. He came from a shelter with the name ‘Biscuit.’ and I refuse to yell ‘Biscuit’ across the yard for the next ten years or so,” He shrugged. “He’s temporarily nameless but he doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Well, he surely doesn’t look like a Biscuit to me either.” You scratched under the dog’s chin and he leaned into it with his tail wagging. “You’ll figure it out.”
You grinned. There was a beat where neither of you said anything and the sprinklers ticked and the sun sat warm on the back of your neck. You realized you should have gone back inside with your parents but you enjoyed Leon’s company. Something about him was mysterious and unspeakably handsome that made you want to know more about him.
“Hey,” you knew what you were about to say might have been a little bold. “My family is having a whole fourth of July party. It might be a little overboard but we’re gonna have a barbeque and light up fireworks later in the night. If you don’t have plans, we got enough food to feed the whole neighborhood.”
Leon looked at you for a second. Like he was maybe shocked that someone as young as you would want to invite over an older guy like him. Or maybe it was something else entirely that was weighing on him, maybe some old habit of not committing to things.
“I might have plans,” he said.
“Sure, yeah, that’s totally fine.” you said.
“Also fine.” You bent down again and gave the dog a last scratch, straightening before it could climb into your lap again. Not that you would have minded. “Offer stands either way. We’re right next to you with the big ass flag in the front yard that’s impossible to miss.” You laughed.
That got a smile from him, finally. “That flag is pretty hard to miss,” he agreed.
“My Dad would be thrilled to hear you say that.” You started backing toward the mailbox that you still hadn’t actually opened. “Oh.. Hey. Good luck with the remodeling!”
“Thanks.” He whistled low, and the dog reluctantly peeled itself off the driveway and trotted to his side. Leon lifted a hand, partially waving with the rag still hooked in his fingers and turned back to his house. You watched him walk back a little longer than you needed to before you opened the mailbox.
It was only filled with grocery flyers and a water bill. You figured it would be and you took it back inside anyways. You decided to not tell your mom about the neighbor, though you weren’t sure why.
The Fourth arrived the way it always had at your parents’ house, it was always way too loud and earlier than it needed to be.
By noon your dad had claimed the grill as sovereign territory and would not be taken over by anybody else. Your aunts had taken over the kitchen. Somewhere in the last twenty-four hours the backyard had sprouted a folding-table archipelago draped in plastic cloths and a small cooler that sat on the patio. It was packed to the brim with ice, cans and glass bottles. Your little cousins, nephews and nieces with two kids you were pretty sure belonged to a neighbor were running around with something that looked like a bubble blower of some sorts. They were shrieking and definitely high on sugar and freedom.
You were mostly useful all morning. You hauled ice, wrangled kids, argued with your uncle about the correct way to arrange a cooler. And around two, standing at the edge of the patio with a sweating glass bottle in your hand, you thought about the guy next door. You looked over the top of his fence and thought about him staring at his drywall. You set the bottle down and told your mom you’d be right back.
“Where are you going?” she called.
“Neighbor,” you said, which was true and explained nothing, and you were out the side gate before she could ask more questions.
You made your way up his driveway and you could hear something from inside the house, a radio and a saw. You knocked on the frame of the screen door and stepped back, suddenly aware that showing up at a near-stranger’s door was probably way too forward than you intended.
The inner door opened. Leon had a pencil behind his ear and a look on his face that shifted from wary to something calmer when he saw it was you. The wariness didn’t fully leave and you noticed.
“Hi,” you said. “So. It’s the Fourth.”
“It is.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “I noticed your dad’s flag has a friend now.”
“Oh. God. Yeah he’s really uh.. Patriotic.” You let out a soft laugh almost wincing. “Hey uhm, the offer from the other day. It still stands if you know.. If you still don't have any plans.”
Leon looked at you. The dog appeared behind his legs and saw you. He lost his entire mind and Leon put a hand down absently to keep him from bolting out the door.
“I don’t have plans,” he admitted.
“Okay, good.” You grinned. “Come on. There’s food and a cooler full of all kinds of beer if you want. Buddy here can come too, the kids will love him.”
“Buddy.” He hesitated and looked down at the dog like he was pondering on the new found name.
He then pushed off the door frame. “Let me grab a shirt that doesn’t have plaster on it,” he said. “Leave him here. He’ll eat somebody’s hot dog and start an incident.”
You laughed. “Okay.” You waited on the step while he disappeared inside and when he came back out he’d changed into a clean black t-shirt exposing the lean muscle of his arms. He pulled the door shut behind him and checked it was locked in a way that was more thorough than a suburban door really required.
You walked down his driveway and up your parents lawn. You opened the gate to the backyard where everyone was. You could sense some uneasiness in him with the way his jaw tensed.
Your dad clocked the stranger immediately, abandoned the grill for the first time all day, and shook Leon’s hand with the fervor of a man delighted to have a new audience for his flag. Your mom materialized with a plate before Leon had said ten words. Somewhere in the introductions you handed him a cold one from the cooler. You cracked another one for yourself, and by the time you’d steered him to a quieter corner of the patio he’d already been claimed, fed, and interrogated about his home renovations by three separate relatives.
“That’s my mom and dad who you just met,” nodding to your parents’ general direction. “Grill’s my dad’s whole personality this weekend. My mom is always making sure you have a full plate before you can refuse. The loud one by the cooler is my uncle, he’ll tell you he was almost a professional bowler. He was not. The kids are—” you scanned the shrieking pack currently orbiting the swing set. “Honestly I’ve lost track. Some of them are actually my family and some just showed up. We don’t ask questions.” You chuckled.
Leon took a pull of his beer and watched the chaos with an expression you couldn’t put a finger on.
“It’s a lot,” he said but it didn’t sound like a complaint.
“Yeah, it’s a lot, for sure.” you agreed. “You get used to it, though.”
“I like it.” He said it simply, and then seemed a little caught out by having said it and tried to cover it up by drinking again.
You leaned against the patio rail beside him, close enough that your shoulders were almost touching. You were both slightly apart from the crowd and the barbecue smoke drifted.
“So what’s the story,” you said. “You just moved out west. From where?”
“East, originally. Around, mostly. Work moved me a lot.” He said flatly. “I wanted to come out here. Always wanted to, honestly. For a long time.” He looked out at the mountains past the fence. “Never had the chance to.”
“Okay, but why the suburbs?” You said it lightly in a teasing way. “You could’ve gone anywhere out here. Mountains, the coast, a cabin in the middle of nowhere. And you picked a random suburb with an HOA.”
The corner of his mouth lifted up but when he answered, the humor had gone somewhere underneath it.
“I wanted normal,” he said. “For once.”
It was two words that sat there between the both of you. You took another drink. You wondered what he meant by that. Like normal was a thing he’d been priced out of for a long time. Like a boring street, with nosy neighbors and an HOA were a luxury other people took for granted and he was going into it deliberately, with intent, the way you’d buy something you’d wanted since you were a kid. You thought about the locked door he’d checked twice, and you decided it was better to not ask the question those things raised, because it was personal and you’d only known him for a few days.
Instead you said, “Well. You picked a good street for normal. Nothing ever happens here. The most exciting thing all year is whether my uncle is going to blow off a finger with the mortars.”
That surprised a real laugh out of him, short and warm, and you noticed the crinkle in his eyes that made your heart melt.
“I’ll manage my expectations," he said.
“Probably wise.” You knocked your glass bottle lightly against his. “Speaking of which, full disclosure, so you don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t actually live here.”
“I’m just home for the week. Visiting. So. I’m not your new neighbor. I’m just the neighbor’s kid who ambushed you and dragged you to a party. I go home tomorrow.” You shrugged, keeping it easy, though you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to tell him.
Something flickered across his face, you couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or something else but whatever it was he tucked it away fast.
“Good to know.” He looked at you a beat longer than the words needed, his pale blue gaze was steady, and then he tipped his beer back and looked away.
The afternoon continued on with the kids throwing pop its nearby and lighting whatever daytime monstrosities that were allowed. You ate way too much barbeque and so many desserts that you lost count. Poor Leon was roped into a conversation about grill temperatures with your dad and he managed to keep a straight face like he found the whole thing genuinely interesting. You caught him, twice, watching the kids, and once you caught him watching you, and neither of you looked away as fast as strangers should have.
Leon was easy to be around, which surprised you. He didn’t fill silence for the sake of it. When he said something funny it was dry and quiet and arrived when you least expected, so it kept catching you off guard, and you started angling to make him do it again. He drank slow. He was good with your uncle, who was a lot, letting the near-professional-bowler saga wash over him with the patience of a man who had clearly waited out worse. By the time the light started to slant gold and long across the yard you stopped narrating the party to him and started talking. About the drive out west, about the worst apartment you’d ever lived in, about a neighborhood dog he loved to visit as a kid, which was the only piece of his past he offered unprompted all day and which he offered carefully, like it was fragile.
The sky went from gold to amber to the deep blue that means the show’s about to start, and word went around, mostly via the kids, that it was time to move to the front yard.
You smiled at Leon and motioned your head to the front yard.
Everyone in your family migrated to the front yard. Lawn chairs were lined up in the driveway and grass. The cooler was relocated with great ceremony. Your dad set up a white folding utility table with mortars, fountains, sparklers and random little fireworks that you couldn’t quite name. Of course, your uncle appointed himself as co-director in a way your dad clearly resented but had no choice but to tolerate it.
You and Leon found a spot on the grass just by the sidewalk. You dropped down beside him, maybe a little too close to someone you just met. The warmth from his arm was nice against you and he didn’t seem like it bothered him. Your aunt put sparklers in the little kids’ hands, and the front yard filled with wobbling loops of white sparkling light. The kids were bouncing and shrieking as they wrote their names in the air that was too slow to read.
You got up and grabbed three sparklers from the table. “Here.” You lit one off of your nieces. “Write your name!” You swept the sparkler through the air in big looping cursive, and the light trailed behind your hand, the first letters were already fading to smoke by the time you reached the last.
Your niece tried it with her tongue between her teeth. She was still moving too slow with the letters dying before they connected, it was just a scribble of lines that dissolved in the dark. But she didn’t care, she did it again, faster while laughing.
You handed one of the sparklers to Leon. “Here.” He took it hesitantly. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too cool for a sparkler.”
“I’m too old for a sparkler.”
“That’s not a real thing. Have some whimsy in your life Leon.”
He gave you a look of confusion. “Whimsy?”
“Yes, whimsy.” You smiled and held the lit end of your sparkler to his. He looked at you again and moved the sparkler through the air in a slow scrawl, and you watched the light trail his hand and burn out before he’d finished, and he said, deadpan, “See, it died before I got to the end. Symbolic.”
“You gotta work on your whimsy-ness, Leon.” You laughed, he almost smiled, and your sparkler fizzled out too and left that sharp burnt-metal smell hanging in the dark.
Then the first mortar went up.
It went with the deep gut-punch thump that you felt before you could hear, there was a beat of silence, and then the street cracked open into gold. The kids screamed. Your dad, out in the street, pumped a fist. Another went up, and another, red and then a strange greenish-white that hung and drifted, and the whole street tipped its face up.
You’d done this every year of your life and it still got to you, that first big one. You glanced sideways to see if it got him too, Leon’s face was turned up to the light, and for just a second, in the flash, he didn’t look careful at all. He just looked like a man watching fireworks. Then the light faded and his careful stare came back, but you saw it just for a moment.
“You want to shoot one off?” you asked.
“Come on. My uncle is letting anyone who asks.” You were already standing, tugging his sleeve. “You seem like a guy who’s good with —” you gestured vaguely — “things that explode. I don’t know why. Vibe.”
Something in his face did that confused thing again.”Vibe,” he repeated.
You nodded and he let you pull him up.
Out in the street your uncle handed Leon the lighter with the gravity of passing on a sacred trust, and talked him through it at length despite Leon very obviously not needing to be talked through it. Leon crouched by the tube, lit the fuse in one clean motion, and stepped back at exactly the right distance before the thing screamed up and burst into a huge crackling willow of gold that pulled an “ohhh” out of the whole yard. He came back to you with the ghost of a grin he was trying to suppress, and you bumped your shoulder into his.
“You look like you’ve done that before.”
“Maybe once or twice.” He said smiling.
You did one too, mostly so he'd watch you do it, and he did, and you fumbled the lighter and when he caught your wrist to steady the flame it made your heart skip a beat. The mortar went up casting a myriad of sparkles and colors that lit up the street. You came back and sat down in the grass next to him even closer this time, your arm against his arm and neither of you moved away. The finale started building over the street, flashes of light, explosions overlapping the sky. The noise and the light made you extremely aware of every point where his body touched yours.
Leon didn’t know you well. It had been only a few days, one party and a handful of jokes. But he’d laughed more this afternoon than he could remember laughing in a while, and he liked your mouth when you were being a smartass, which was often. He liked that you didn’t ask too many questions or pry at his personal life. You just let him be a normal guy at a barbecue, which was one of the reasons why he moved two thousand miles away. He wasn’t thinking any of that in words. He was mostly aware that you were warm against his side and that you’d be gone tomorrow, and that both of those facts were becoming difficult to ignore.
The finale broke over the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, the sounds echoing and thundering through the suburbs, if it was any other holiday someone might mistake it as a warzone. Everybody was cheering and under the sparkles of light you turned your head and found Leon already looking at you.
The party started to die down. The kids crashed. A few of the people down the street were popping off the last of their fireworks down the street. Chairs were folded and stowed away. The cooler was much lighter now and got hauled back around the house.
Somewhere in the winding-down you and Leon had drifted to the edge of it. Both of you were loose and easy after you had a couple more beers. The careful thing in him worn down soft by the beer and the night and your company.
“I should let you go,” You said not moving.
“Yeah,” he said and didn’t move either.
You stood there and looked down. You started rubbing circles over the lip of your beer, you really didn’t want to go. You wanted to know more about Leon. You were trying to think of a way to keep him around for the night but nothing came to you.
“Hey,” Leon said. “I could show you what I’ve been working on.”
Something inside you lit up and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Yeah.” a soft smile formed on your face. “I’d like that.”
You both made your way to his house next-door. You were walking down in the dark with him, the smell of gunpowder still hanging over the whole street, and his hand had found the small of your back at some point to steer you around a stray lawn chair. His hand stayed there warm through your shirt and it made your heart flutter.
His porch light was on. The dog lost its mind on the other side of the door and Leon shushed it through the wood and let you both in. The house was dark and half-torn-apart and smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, plastic sheeting hanging in the doorway to the gutted kitchen. He didn’t turn on many lights. He put the dog out in the fenced backyard and came back to find you standing in his half-finished living room among the drop cloths and the stacked tools. For a second you just looked at each other across the dark.
“So, you go back tomorrow,” he said.
“Yeah, tomorrow.” You nodded.
“Tomorrow.” he repeated, his voice was low. He crossed the room to you.
His hand came up to the side of your face, carefully and tenderly. “I know I just met you and you’re leaving but I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”
You looked up at him meeting his gaze. You looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes. You grabbed at his t-shirt giving him the invitation. The first press of his mouth was soft like he was still questioning it. You hand moved to cup his jaw and pulled him in closer.
He kissed like he did everything else, unhurried and deliberate and then suddenly all the held-back care burned off. His hand slid back into your hair and tilted your head and kissed you deeply. You made a sound against his mouth unintentionally and he groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating into your chest. He backed you a few steps until your back hit the bare stretch of wall between the plastic sheeting and the front window, he crowded in close, one hand braced by your head and the other cupped warm at your jaw like you were something he was being careful of.
“This okay,” he said against your mouth, his voice a little gravely and rough.
“Yes, it’s okay.” You pulled him back into you by his shirt. “Stop being so careful.”
He huffed a laugh into the kiss and kissed you more fervently this time before pulling away again.
“Where are you going?” Leon asked.
“East coast, my job’s there.” You pulled him in again pressing your lips against his and tracing his bottom lip with your tongue. He responded by softly biting your lip and swiping his tongue against yours.
Leon went back kissing you deeply again. His hand left your face and found your hip. He pulled you off the wall and your pelvis was flush against his. You could feel the whole hard line of him, the heat coming off him through his jeans. Your hands went under his shirt to the warm skin of his back and he shuddered at that, involuntarily. He dropped his mouth to your jaw, your throat, he found the spot under your ear that made your breath catch. The sawdust smell, the dark and the far-off pop of somebody’s fireworks outside. Everything started to go a little blurry but in a good way. There was just his mouth and his hands and the low sound he made when you dragged your nails lightly down his spine.
He got the hem of your shirt in his fingers and you lifted your arms and let him take it off you, you were wearing a black lace bra. He looked at you with something dark, warm and unguarded, the same unguarded thing you saw during the fireworks. Heat pooled low in your stomach and you could feel yourself getting slick. You reached for his shirt and he let you pull it over his head. The man looked like a greek god, his abs were perfectly sculpted and you gazed down at the V that followed down to his jeans. You traced it with your fingers in the low light and hooked your finger into the waistband of his jeans.
“You like what you see?” he asked.
You nodded and started peppering kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The smell of him was something musky and cedary, it was intoxicating. You went back up to his lips and pressed harshly and he made a rough sound. He started walking you back toward the hall.
“Bed’s the one room I finished,” he murmured against your mouth. You let out a breathy laugh and let him lead you into the dark.
His bedroom was plain and half-unpacked. There was a bed and a nightstand. He laid you back and followed you down, taking his time now in a different way, the urgency was something slower and more deliberate. He was mapping you with his hands and mouth, learning what made you arch. He was kissing you while his hand trailed up to your breasts, his hand cupped your still clothed breast and you let out a soft breathy moan. His thumb brushed slow circles over the lace, teasing the peak of your nipple until it tightened under his touch. You arched into his palm with a soft, breathy sound, and he swallowed it in with another kiss. He kissed you deeper and slower like he was savoring every second.
He pulled back just far enough to look at you. The dim light from the hallway caught in his eyes, turning them darker and softer. “Still okay?” he asked, voice low and rough at the edges.
You smiled and nodded, fingers sliding into his silver-streaked hair at his temple. “More than okay.” You pulled him down. “If you ask me one more time I’m going home tonight.”
He grinned at you and dipped his head. His lips tracing down your throat, across your collarbone, and lower. He unclasped your bra with one hand, slid the straps down your arms, and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed. For a moment he just looked at your now bare breasts.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
Then his mouth was on you. It was warm, wet and gentle. He took one nipple between his lips and sucked softly, tongue flicking, while his hand cupped and kneaded the other. You gasped, hips shifting restlessly against the mattress. He took his time, moving between them, learning what made your breath catch, what made your fingers tighten in his hair. Every pull of his mouth sent sparks straight between your legs.
When he finally kissed lower down to the center of your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel. His hands were already at the button of your shorts. He unbuttoned them and hooked his thumbs in the waistband and drew both shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, helping you kick them off the rest of the way. Cool air kissed your bare skin before he settled between your thighs, big hands gentle as he parted them. He looked at you like something religious, like you were to be worshipped.
He then lowered his head.
The first slow drag of his tongue made your whole body jolt. He licked a long slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, circling a few times before sealing his mouth over you. You moaned, loud in the quiet room, one of your hands flew to his hair. He hummed against you in approval and did it again slower and firmer. He slid two thick fingers inside and curled them just right.
He worked you with patient, focused attention. Tongue flicking and sucking your clit in steady rhythm while his fingers thrust deep and steady, finding that spot that made your thighs start to shake. You could feel how wet you were and you could hear the soft obscene sounds from his mouth and fingers working you. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped like an explosion.
Your orgasm hit hard, back arching clean off the bed, a broken cry tearing out of you as your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop, he just gentled everything, soft licks and slow thrusts from his fingers carrying you through it until you were twitching and oversensitive. You were panting his name like a prayer.
He kissed his way back up your body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kissed you again. You reached down between you, found the hard line of him still trapped in his jeans, and palmed him through the denim. He groaned into your mouth, hips pushing into your hand.
You unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down with his boxers at the same time. His cock sprang free. It was thick and flushed dark at the head with some precum already gathered at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroked him slowly from base to tip, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a rough sound.
“Careful,” he warned, voice strained. “I’ve been thinking about this since you showed up at my door.”
You smiled, stroked him again, firmer. “Then stop thinking.”
He caught your wrist gently, kissed the inside of it, then reached into the nightstand drawer. The condom packet crinkled. He rolled it on with quick practiced hands, then settled back over you, the heavy heat of him resting against your slick entrance.
He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself, teasing your clit with every slow pass. His eyes stayed locked on yours the whole time.
His thumb stroked your cheek and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. “Fuck me, please.”
He pushed in slow giving you every inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. The stretch burned in the best way, filling you completely until his hips were flush against yours. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel… amazing.”
You clenched around him experimentally and he groaned, low and deep in his chest.
He started to move with slow deep thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You met him with the roll of your hips, hands sliding up his back, feeling the flex of muscle under warm skin. He kissed you thoroughly, messy, deep, and sometimes just breathing warm against your mouth.
The rhythm built gradually, still controlled but growing more and more urgent. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together beside your head. The other gripped your hip, angling you just right so every thrust hit deep and perfect. The room filled with the wet sound of him moving inside you, the soft slap of skin, the occasional distant booms from outside and your shared gasps and low moans.
The pressure of his pelvis against your clit and that perfect angle hitting all of the right spots made your orgasm build faster than the first.
He panted against your neck and slipped his hand between your bodies. His fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, steady circles in time with his thrusts.
It pushed you over. You came with a sharp cry, body locking up around him, nails digging into his back as pleasure crashed through you in long, rolling waves. He followed you soon after, his hips stuttering, a rough groan of your name against your shoulder as he buried himself deep and came, cock pulsing inside the condom.
For a long moment neither of you moved, just breathing together, hearts hammering. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom from the nightstand, and came back with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, tenderly, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, your hip and your stomach.
When he climbed back into bed he pulled you straight to his chest, one strong arm around your waist, the other stroking slow lines down your spine. He kissed your forehead, your temple, the corner of your eye.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, the same careful tone he’d used all night.
You nodded against his chest, tracing idle patterns over his heart. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.”
He held you closer, tucking your head under his chin. Outside, somewhere down the street, one last firework popped and fizzled. His fingers kept stroking your back in long, soothing passes.
After what felt like an hour cuddling in bed, you got up and grabbed your shorts and bra that were strewn on the floor. You threw them both on.
“You leaving?” Leon asked.
“Yeah, I gotta get up early in the morning. Don’t wanna miss my flight.”
“Ah.” he nodded and looked out the window like he was debating something.
You crawled back into the bed and asked for Leon’s phone. “Here let me put my number in your phone.”
Leon grabbed his phone from the nightstand and handed it to you. You put your number in with your name, you considered putting an emoji next to your name but decided against it.
“So. you’ll be back for Christmas?” He asked.
“Yes, Christmas.” You tried to hold back a smile but failed. "Feel free to text me though. I know it's not the same considering I'll be like two thousand miles away but I'd like to see the progress on the house."
"Oh, and here." You spotted your black lacy panties by the foot of the bed, scooped them up, and pressed them into his hand. "Consider it a housewarming gift."
Leon let out a breathy laugh and closed his palm around them. "Do you need me to walk you home?"
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t think much will happen from your front door to my parents’. But thank you.”
You slid off the bed again and made your way to the living room. Leon followed you shortly after with only his boxers on. You managed to find your t-shirt on the floor and Leon let the dog back inside. His paws scrambled on the slick hardwood and came tumbling towards you as you put your shirt back on. “Hey! I gotta go, buddy.” You scratched the top of his head and underneath his chin and gave him one final pat. Leon was smiling watching you but there was something behind it that didn't quite match the smile, or maybe he was just tired.
You reached for the front door and opened it. “Bye, Leon.”
He closed the door behind you.
He watched you out of the window just to make sure you got home safely. When he saw that you closed the door to your parents house he let out a relieved sigh. He then leaned down to pet the dog that was lying at his feet.
"Hey.." he scratched the top of his head. "How does Buddy sound?"
The dog barked at Leon and rolled over.
"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I think Buddy is good too."
