HEYYY!! Welcome to my second smut one-shot!!! INFILTRATE ME!!!
I feel like I am slowly getting better at writing smut but... this is lowkey hard (pun totally intended).
EITHER WAY! I wanted to thank you for taking the time to read my story and I hope you enjoy!!!
PLEASE: let me know what you guys want, I am literally open to writing anything!!
🙈🙈RECOMMENDATIONS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!!!!🙈🙈
⛔️⛔️ALSO: if you just want to skip to the SMUT, I will mark the start with "❤️❤️❤️❤️", so you can just skip there if you'd like to!!!⛔️⛔️
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⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️
!!!THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS NSFW!!!
GRAPHIC SEXUAL DESCRIPTIONS ARE INCLUDED!!!
!!!😼CURSING ALSO INCLUDED😼!!!
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‼️‼️‼️THE FOLLOWING SEXUAL CONTENT INCLUDES‼️‼️‼️
ROUGH SEX, SOFT CHOKING, ORAL SEX (FEMALE RECEIVING), PRAISING, SLIGHT DEGRADING, DOMINANCE AND OVERALL POSSESSIVENESS!!!!
I'm terrible at describing it but hopefully my point is made clear LOL!!!
ANYWAYS!! HAPPY READING DIVAS!!!!
WORD COUNT: 9082!!!!
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CONTEXT:
You and Leon have worked together long enough to move like second nature, your instincts always aligning, your timing always in-sync and your trust absolute. You know how he thinks, how he reacts, how his voice shifts when something's wrong.
And he knows you just as well, maybe better than you'd like to admit.
From the beginning, there's been tension... subtle at first and easy to ignore. A glance that lingers too long or the way his hand brushes yours and doesn't pull away immediately. The quiet awareness of each other in every room. You've always told yourself it was nothing... or at least nothing that mattered.
But the truth is harder to ignore: you've always been drawn to him. More than you should be. More than is professional. And he knows it, whether it's the way you look at him or the way you never quite put distance between you.
He notices.....He always notices.
What makes it worse is that he doesn't shut it down. If anything, he leans into it in small, almost imperceptible ways like standing just a little too close or lowering his voice when he speaks to you with an intensity that feels deliberate.
And neither of you is entirely sure where the mission ends... and something real begins.
SUMMARY:
You and Leon are assigned to attend a high-stakes gala as part of a mission.... except "assigned" isn't exactly accurate. He didn't ask; he decided. You're going, and that's that. Your cover? A couple. Not just pretending, but convincing enough that no one would question it for a second. The problem is, the line between acting and reality has never felt particularly solid between the two of you. There's always been something there... something charged, something unspoken... and now, forced into proximity, into intimacy, it's bound to surface.
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The room hums with low and constant noise, screens are flickering, voices are overlapping, the quiet rhythm of the familiar controlled chaos.
You lean back slightly in your chair with a quiet sigh, the sound barely noticeable beneath the low hum of the room. Your arms cross loosely over your chest, not defensive, just habitual as your eyes stay fixed on the projection ahead. Data scrolls endlessly across the screen.
Names, faces, coordinates.
Grainy surveillance photos flicker in and out, each one marked and categorized specifically, filed away like pieces of something bigger. Red markers pulse against the dark backdrop slow and deliberate blinks that feel less like indicators and more like warnings. The kind no one in this room needs spelled out.
"This is the target," Chris Redfield says, his voice steady, cutting cleanly through the quiet.
The display shifts and a new file opens.
"This isn't just a rich party," he continues. "It's a private sale of a next-generation bioweapon strain."
The room stills.. just slightly.
You let out a long, quiet sigh, letting your fingers trail slowly down your face as if trying to wipe away the tension.
A new set of data populates the screen.
Codename: Eidolon Strain.
"A modified parasite-virus hybrid," Chris goes on. "Faster infection rate than Las Plagas. Hosts retain partial intelligence.. Just enough to blend into civilian populations without detection."
Images flash: crowds, city streets, and heat signatures overlaying normal movement.
"Control is achieved through frequency-based signaling."
"Meaning," he adds, more bluntly, "weaponized crowds."
Your jaw tightens slightly.
Not an outbreak.
Not containment.
Control.
Mass control.
"If deployed," Chris continues, "we would not just be not dealing with infected zones.. But also dealing with entire populations being turned into coordinated threats."
The screen shifts again to buyer profiles, encrypted transactions, and location overlays.
"The sample is confirmed on-site. If this deal goes through, it disappears into the black market. If something goes wrong..."
He doesn't need to finish.
It could be released.
Or sold instantly.
Gone before anyone can stop it.
Your attention drifts before he can continue.
It shifts.. pulled, almost instinctively.
To him.
Leon stands just off to the side of the table, slightly removed from the center of the room like he prefers it that way. His arms are folded across his chest, his posture relaxed at a glance, but there's nothing casual about it.
His expression is unreadable. Not blank, just controlled and sharpened down to something precise.
He isn't watching the screen the way everyone else is.
He's tracking it.
His eyes moving subtly, taking in details without reacting to them. No wasted motion. No unnecessary expression. Just quiet and precise focus, like he's already piecing everything together behind the scenes.
Like he's already ten steps ahead.
Like the room, the voices, the briefing itself, it's all just catching up to where he already is.
There's a stillness to him. The kind that doesn't mean calm but means control.
Like he's already there.
Already in it.
Like the mission didn't start when you walked into this room.
It started the second he heard about it.
"The auction is invite-only, extremely exclusive and secured." Chris Redfield continues, his voice steady and measured, like he's laid this out a dozen times already. "Ultra-high net worth individuals will be in attendance along with black market buyers. No known infiltrations have been successful."
There's a brief lull in the room, just the quiet hum of equipment, the soft shifting of weight, the kind of silence that usually follows something like that.
"Because no one's tried the right approach."
Leon's voice cuts through it cleanly.
Calm. Even. Certain.
You glance at him immediately.
There it is.
That tone.
Not dismissive, just confident in a way that suggests he's already figured out the angle before anyone else finished explaining the problem.
Chris doesn't react, just continues. "Entry requires paired attendance. Couples only. Background checks are extensive.. They're looking for consistency and history. Something that holds up under pressure."
Leon doesn't hesitate.
"We'll take it."
The words land like they've already been decided.
You turn fully toward him now, brows pulling together.
"You didn't even ask–"
"You weren't going to say no Y/N."
Your eyes narrow slightly as you glance over at him.
"You don't get to decide that for me."
That finally gets his attention.
He looks at you.
Just a glance, but it lingers a fraction longer than it should.
Steady and knowing.
Like he's not guessing.
Like he's already read the answer.
"You already did," he says.
Simple.
Certain.
And the worst part?
You can't even argue it.
Because he's not wrong.
—----------------------------------------------------
Hours later, you're in a safehouse. It is quiet, the low hum of the air conditioner punctuated only by the shuffle of papers and the occasional click of Leon's pen against the table.
Tonight, you weren't Y/N, and he wasn't Leon S. Kennedy. You were Clara Devereaux, 28, CFO of Devereaux Pharmaceuticals, and he was Alexander "Alex" Hartman, 29, CFO of Hartman Biotech.
A power couple in the world of high-stakes pharmaceutical mergers, elite biotech investors, and private auctions of experimental compounds. Everything about your fabricated lives had been designed to fit the crowd you were about to infiltrate.
You are seated on top of the table with your legs crossed, holding the profile in your hands with a pen. Leon leans against the edge of the table somewhat close to you, arms crossed and reviewing the profile again. He runs his hand over the back of his neck as he begins to speak.
"Alex Hartman," he says, his voice low and even,
"Twenty-nine, CFO of Hartman Biotech, a company based in Monaco. Lives in a private penthouse with Clara. Met her at a Paris charity gala five years ago.. first encounter over spilled Bordeaux. Shared interest in pharmaceuticals and rare biotech patents. Owns a classic car collection and travels frequently, known in investor circles, untouchable socially."
He chuckles, "Sounds believable?"
You raise an eyebrow and smile, with a gentle nod.
"And Clara Devereaux, twenty-eight, CFO of Devereaux Pharmaceuticals. French-American , Monaco-based as well. Met Alex at the gala.. The same wine incident. Loves contemporary European art, and supports biotech charities, runs a personal research foundation. Owns three dogs and volunteers on weekends at local animal shelters. Travels extensively, to attend various conferences and private investment dinners."
Leon smirks faintly. "Three dogs? Really Y/N.. Clara is a dog nutcase?"
"Yes," you respond, rolling your eyes, "Arlo, Jasper, and Cleo." you shrug, "Apparently, small personal details sell credibility... people notice these things more than we think."
He furrows his eyebrows, drawing them together. "The dogs. Do we actually have to remember their names?"
You smirk, tapping the papers. "Come on, Kennedy, surely you've got a couple of brain cells left to remember their names." You glance at him, biting your pen and letting out a low and teasing chuckle.
He chuckles softly and leans in slightly, studying you, he resumes, "Five years together, private but socially connected, never married, discreet travelers.. makes us credible. All the pieces are in place if we act confident."
"So," you draw out, breaking the silence, "our story is solid." You tilt your head, skeptical, "I mean, we know the details, but can you fake intimacy that well?"
Leon doesn't even look up to meet your gaze.
"Better than anyone else in that room," he says flatly, his voice calm and confident. "And besides, the more we "know" about our lives the more natural it will feel to us, the less anyone else will notice."
You snort softly. "Right. Because it's so natural for us to argue over a table full of bioweapon specs."
He finally glances at you, his lips twitching just enough to hint at a smile. "We are going to be fine. And besides, we get to dress up." He nods over toward the closet door in the corner. "I already picked out the suit and dress."
You let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, hopping down from the table. Your shoes click softly against the floor as you make your way to the closet.
Your eyes drift toward the neatly hung options. Leon picked a black tailored suit, crisp lines and understated elegance, exactly the kind of thing that would make him blend into an elite crowd without screaming 'government agent.' Your dress was hung up beside his suit, a deep navy sheath dress, its cut simple but flattering, paired with understated heels that could almost pass for a casual socialite's choice.
"You picked the navy for me?" you ask with a soft chuckle, lifting the dress to your chest, running a hand over the fabric. "I mean... it's nice, but I wasn't expecting.."
"Because navy has always looked good on you Y/N..," Leon interrupts smoothly, his voice low and almost private.
You feel heat rise to your cheeks, the words catching in the air more intimate than anything you would ever expect.. from him..
You blink, trying to play it off, but the corner of your mouth twitches, threatening to smile. "Is that... part of the cover story?"
He shakes his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Nope. That's just me."
You roll your eyes, taking the dress off the hanger and holding it up to your frame, you turn toward the mirror, studying your reflection. "And you really think this will work?" you ask shyly, your voice a little tighter than you mean it to be, a mix of curiosity and nerves.
Leon nods.
"So uhmm, how do you want to play it tonight? Walk in like the power couple, flirty smiles, subtle touches?" you change the subject.
"Subtle," Leon responds immediately. "But believable. Hands on your back, guiding you lightly. Nothing too obvious. A touch here, a glance there.. enough to sell it. We already know each other's rhythms, so it'll be easy."
Your lips press together, suppressing a grin.
"Rhythms, huh?"
"Yes," he replies evenly, though the smirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed the amusement in his tone. "You know my rhythm. I know yours. We can fake it for an hour or two and no one will notice the cracks."
You nod.
Leon smirks, back to business. "Alex Hartman and Clara Devereaux: sophisticated, untouchable, believable. Remember every detail Y/N.. birthdays, vacations, hobbies, the dogs' reactions to thunderstorms... nothing can slip."
Leon's gaze returns to you, sharp but measured. "This has to feel natural. Not just tonight, not just for the auction. If anyone questions us it has to be believable. No hesitation and no awkwardness."
You nod, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Got it. Confidence and charm."
Leon chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Exactly. By the time we enter that room, Alex and Clara exist. Not us. Only them."
—----------------------------------------------------
The bathroom door creaks open, and you step out, the navy dress hanging loosely on your frame, the zipper still undone at the back. The silk catches the dim light of the safehouse, smooth and heavy in your hands as you take a tentative step forward, feeling the weight of Leon's gaze already on you.
Leon sits on the edge of the bed, scanning the dossier one last time, but the moment he looks up, his eyes lock on you. The sharpness in his gaze softens just slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
God, his smirks look like an invitation and a warning all at once.
"Need a hand?" he asks, his voice calm and steady, yet there's an undertone that makes your stomach flip.
You raise an eyebrow. "You're offering?"
"Always," he replies, standing and walking over like it never even occurs to him not to help you. His movements are deliberate and controlled, filling the space around him. Tall, confident, impossibly composed... and your chest tightens just looking at him. He stops just behind you, his hands hovering near the zipper of your dress.
"Arms out," he instructs softly.
You obey without hesitation, letting him ease the fabric as he zips the dress with careful precision.
"You are too good at this." you giggle under his touch.
"Years of experience." His gaze flicks up to yours, sharp and unreadable, and then back down as he straightens the fabric as if to make sure it hugs every curve perfectly. Your heart thuds harder. His fingers linger a fraction longer than necessary at the small of your back, and a shiver runs down your spine, feeling the silk smooth under his hands.
Keep it together Y/N...
"There," he says, stepping back just enough to give you room, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You can feel his gaze like heat pressing against your skin.
"Clara Devereaux looks untouchable," he adds, voice low, smooth, professional but intimate all at once.
You swallow, heat rising to your cheeks. "Flawless, huh?" you tease, trying to hide how your pulse is racing.
Focus, focus.. God how are you going to survive tonight?
Leon chuckles softly. "Tonight," he whispers, leaning slightly forward to adjust the neckline of your dress, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulders.
Almost too close. You have to concentrate not to melt.
"Alex Hartman and Clara Devereaux exist... not us, Y/N. Every glance, every movement... it has to sell the story," he explains calmly.
"We got this," you say, handing him the jewelry box. Your fingers brush his hand for a split second longer than necessary, and your stomach does a little flip.
"Would you mind...?" you ask softly.
"Hold still," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hands lift the delicate chain from the jewelry box, and your breath catches as he carefully clasps the necklace around your neck. The cool metal slides against your skin, and his thumbs linger a moment on your collarbone, adjusting the pendant perfectly. The contact is electric... professional, light... and yet teasingly intimate.
You watch him step back then nod toward the bathroom.
"Time for me to suit up," he says, clearing his throat. His voice is calm, but that low, teasing edge twists your stomach in knots.
You lean against the doorway, letting your eyes follow him. He moves with such effortless control... so composed, and yet every step makes your pulse spike.
A moment later, he emerges from the bathroom, clad in a crisp black suit that looks sculpted just for him. The jacket hugs his broad shoulders and tapers perfectly at his waist, emphasizing the sharp V of his torso. His slim trousers follow the line of his legs flawlessly, and the faint sheen of the fabric catches the light as he moves. Even standing still, he radiates power, control, and a magnetic sexiness that makes it impossible to look away.
"Let me polish Alex Hartman's look... Alex Hartman always looks impeccable, right? " you murmur, your heart thudding a little too fast as you walk over to him holding cufflinks and a dainty gold chain.
Leon extends his hands, letting you place the cufflinks into his crisp sleeves. The metal is cold against your fingers, the warmth of his skin beneath making your pulse jump. When you move to fasten the necklace at his neck, he leans slightly closer, tilting his head so you can clasp it easily. Your fingers brush his skin again, and he doesn't flinch; he stays steady, letting the contact linger. Your chest tightens.
"There," you murmur, stepping back and taking in his reflection. "All set. Perfectly polished, and believable."
Leon adjusts his tie, smoothing the front of his jacket, his eyes catching yours in the mirror.
"And you," he says as he nods toward your reflection, "Clara Devereaux looks sophisticated, confident, untouchable. Exactly what we need tonight."
He runs a hand through his slightly damp blonde hair, tugging it back, giving you a slow, assessing look.
"Ready?" he asks, voice low, controlled.
That smirk, half professional and half something darker, never fails to make your pulse skip and your knees want to buckle.
You nod, tugging the strap of your purse over your shoulder. "As ready as Clara Devereaux can be," you whisper, hoping your voice doesn't betray how aware you are of him, of every inch of him right now.
"Alright. Let's move. The gala won't wait, and Alex and Clara have a reputation to uphold." He extends his arm with that controlled and effortless confidence, the kind that makes you instinctively reach for it.
You slide your hand along his forearm, feeling the solid strength beneath the fabric of his jacket. Your heels click softly against the floor, each step echoing slightly in the quiet safehouse, and the weight of your cover, the mission, and the unspoken tension between you hums in the air like static. Every glance, every subtle shift, and every fraction of a touch carries meaning tonight..
and both of you know it.
With Leon at your side, guiding you forward, the world outside the door fades into a blur of anticipation. It's just the two of you, moving as one. Alex Hartman and Clara Devereaux exist now, flawless, untouchable, and magnetic. Every calculated motion sells the story, every breath pulled into rhythm with the other, until it feels almost effortless.
Tonight, nothing else matters. Not the mission, not the danger, not the lives depending on you. Just this. Just the two of you.. and the perfect illusion you're about to step into.
—----------------------------------------------------
Leon opens the door, and the hallway light spills across the safehouse. You follow, heels clicking softly against the floor, your heart still thudding from the last moments in the mirror. Every step toward the car feels charged, like the air itself is heavier with anticipation.
Clara Devereaux doesn't get nervous, you remind yourself... act the part.... act the part.
Leon holds the passenger door open for you. His tall frame, broad shoulders, and the crisp line of the suit catching the low light making your chest tighten.
"After you," he says, his voice calm but there's that hint of something that makes it impossible not to notice him.
Something that feels personal, even when it shouldn't.
You slide onto the seat, adjusting your purse on your lap. The leather smells faintly new and clean. He shuts the door gently, then moves around to the driver's side. You can't stop your eyes from flicking over him as he settles in, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He looks impossibly composed, but the slight shift of his body, the tilt of his head as he studies the road ahead, makes your pulse spike again.
"Navigation's set," he murmurs softly, his fingers tapping lightly against the wheel as he drives. You try not to focus on the way his muscles move under the suit, the way the fabric stretches just enough to show the lines of his chest and arms.
He glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You nervous?" The smirk is subtle, teasing, just enough to make your stomach twist.
"Of course not," you lie smoothly, resting a hand over your purse. Even though your fingers are trembling slightly from adrenaline... and something else you don't name.
"I'm calm... Clara's also always calm." you reassure with a small chuckle.
Leon lets out a low chuckle. "Y/N we will be in and out of there... half the party won't even know Alex and Clara were even there." he affirms.
You nod.
The car hums along the city streets. Every light in the glass seems to spotlight him somehow. You glance out the window, forcing yourself to focus on the route.
Leon shifts slightly in his seat, adjusting the mirrors. "Your dress suits you Y/N..," he murmurs almost to himself, his voice low enough that you're not sure if he's speaking to you.. or just thinking out loud. You feel your cheeks heat up.
Did he just.. Compliment you??... he's not even looking at you. But you feel it all the same.
You clear your throat, keeping your eyes forward.
"Navy's classic and elegant. Perfect for a rich woman." You hope your voice doesn't betray how aware you are of his presence next to you.
"Perfect for you" he adds, and this time, you can't stop the flicker of a shiver from running through your body. Your stomach twists.
He doesn't glance at you again, just focuses on the road. But the slight smirk that tugs at his lips tells you he knows exactly the effect he's having on you.
You inhale slowly, steadying your pulse.
The gala's venue comes into view, a sleek modern building with discreet security and a small line of luxury cars. Leon eases the car into a spot, smooth and controlled, every movement precise.
Leon shuts off the engine and turns to you. "You ready?" he asks, his voice calm, but that faint teasing edge in it makes your pulse spike again.
Ready. Clara is ready. You are not...
You push down the awareness of how close he is, how the scent of his cologne fills the space between you.
You nod, lifting your chin. "As ready as I can be."
Even though inside, your heart is hammering, and every instinct is screaming that this night might be dangerous... but in the best way possible.
Leon extends his hand smoothly, and you take it, letting him help you out of the car. The small touch is deliberate, electric, and controlled. He doesn't squeeze, doesn't linger too long, but you feel every inch of it, and your stomach flips again.
"Together," he murmurs, just enough for you to hear.
"Together," you echo, stepping onto the sleek, polished walkway toward the gala entrance. Every step you take feels like a heartbeat, every glance between you a silent agreement. The mission is in motion, and so is the tension between you.. Real or fake, you can't quite tell.
The double doors open, revealing a lobby alive with whispers, the clink of glasses, and the faint murmur of high-profile chatter. Leon adjusts his grip on your hand lightly, just enough to guide, and you swallow, feeling every calculated inch of him against you.
Clara Devereaux and Alex Hartman enter the room, untouchable, sophisticated... believable.
And yet, as the elevator hum fades behind you, you can't help but notice every glance Leon casts your way, every fraction of a smile, every deliberate brush of his fingers.. reminders that, no matter how perfect the cover, you're both human underneath.
—--------------------------------—————————
The crowd swirls around you, polished and controlled, laughter and quiet conversations blending into the soft hum of crystal chandeliers.
You navigate through it effortlessly, or at least, how Clara Devereaux would. Leon is at your side, guiding with the subtle pressure of his hand at your back. Every step he takes is precise, measured, commanding, yet comforting; every glance toward you carries weight, steady and attentive.
"Keep it light," he murmurs near your ear, low and private, though the distance between you is still measured. His breath grazes your temple, sending a shiver down your spine you can't quite suppress.
You nod subtly, heart already skipping, pretending to smile for the crowd as he threads you through clusters of laughing investors and careful observers.
Then, the music shifts, a slow waltz begins to thread its way through the room, smooth and intimate against the murmur of polite conversation. Soft enough to contrast the opulence around you, intimate enough that the polished crowd seems to fade into the background. You feel him shift beside you, a subtle cue. His hand moves from the small of your back to your waist, firm, warm, and immovable, grounding you instantly.
You step lightly onto the dance floor, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble, the press of his hand anchoring you as the world tilts just slightly off-center. The warmth of him radiates through your body, heat pooling in your chest, pulling your attention entirely to him despite the gala's glittering distraction.
"You're staring," you murmur softly, almost inaudible to anyone but him.
"Part of the act," he replies, his lips just brushing your ear. The heat from his breath and the deliberate steadiness of his hand make it impossible to think about anything else. Your fingers rest lightly against the fabric of his suit jacket, feeling the taut line of muscle beneath, the controlled strength that he carries even here.
"Am I overdoing it?" he teases, hand shifting ever so slightly at your back subtly, imperceptible to the casual observer, but enough to draw you closer, tightening the coil of tension between you. Your knees threaten to buckle; you catch your breath, hoping he doesn't notice. You look around the room, watching others dance as well as sizing up the room in case things go sideways.
"Relax," he murmurs softly, almost a command, yet wrapped in warmth.
"I am relaxed," you whisper, though your racing heart betrays you.
"No," he says, quiet, measured, "You're calculating exits."
You suppress a laugh. "Occupational hazard."
His grip tightens just slightly. A reminder of the control he has over you, over this moment, over every nerve ending strung taut in his presence.
Your gaze meets his, steady and unwavering, and you realize the world outside this dance: the mission, the gala, even the danger has narrowed down to him, to the heat, to the magnetic draw you can't ignore.
"Kennedy.. Your dancing skills are surprising me more and more by the minute." you lean in to whisper in his ear, a laugh escaping your mouth.
He lets out a deep and soft laugh, "You can say I know a thing or two.. Clara." he whispers and winks.
You move together like it's second nature, your steps syncing without thought, your body fitting against his in a way that feels a little too natural to be just part of the act. Every turn is smooth, every pull is deliberate, his hand steady at your waist as if he knows exactly how close to keep you without drawing suspicion...
...and maybe just close enough to get away with more than he should.
Smiles are exchanged with passing guests, polished and convincing, but beneath it all your voices stay low, private and soft comments, quiet teasing slipping between you like a secret no one else gets to hear.
And then there are the moments that toe the line.
When he spins you back into him, a little slower than necessary, his lips brushing the top of your head in something that could pass as affectionate.. if it didn't linger just a second too long. His hands, always controlled, always intentional... drift just a fraction lower at your back, testing, pressing, before settling again like nothing happened at all.
Subtle.
Convincing.
Dangerous in a way that makes your pulse just a little harder to ignore.
Then there's a pause...
A subtle clearing of throats, a soft shuffle of feet nearby. Leon's head tilts just slightly, scanning the room with calculated precision. He's alert, aware, already adjusting and already planning.
"Excuse us," he murmurs, his voice smooth and controlled, like a whispered order. His hand finds yours, firm, unhesitating. You don't pull back. You can't. He's leading you with the same unshakable certainty he has on every mission, every step.
He guides you through a quieter hallway, away from the crowd and past the gentle echo of polite laughter and the clink of glasses.
"What was that?" you murmur under your breath, tone half teasing and half breathless.
"Too much attention," he replies shortly, his eyes forward and moving with precision.
He leads you into a room that looks like a private lounge, with a full bar, billiards and a few couches. The door clicks softly behind you. Soft, but it might as well be a gunshot. Everything after it is different... quieter, charged, intimate. The moment the sound fades, so does the illusion of distance.
The door clicks shut behind you and Leon locks it, the muted sound swallowed by the soft carpet beneath your heels. The world outside, the gala, the polite murmurs, the polished strangers all disappear instantly.
It's just you and him.. close..
Leon doesn't step back. He remains just a fraction of a breath away, the subtle heat of his body brushing yours, the faint scent of his cologne sharp and clean in the close air.
His eyes roam you slowly, deliberately, scanning every curve, every line, every subtle movement. The effect is electric. It makes your pulse spike, makes your legs feel suddenly heavier under the weight of your heels.
"Leon..."
Neither of you step back. The closeness is deliberate and unspoken, a pull that's been building since the dance, since the moment he first touched you, guiding you across the floor.
You breathe shallowly, aware of the warmth radiating from him, aware of how steady he is, aware of how much easier it would be to let it go just this once.
"You're laying it on a little thick out there," you murmur, trying to be casual, though it comes out uneven, betraying the tension in your chest.
His gaze doesn't waver. Steady, focused, magnetic.
You feel every unspoken word in it.
"You want to blow our cover?"
"That's not what I meant," you whisper.
"Then what did you mean?" he retorts.
He steps closer. Not aggressively, not suddenly, just enough that your back nearly meets the wall. The air between you thickens.
"We need to be convincing," he murmurs, every word carrying control and promise.
You swallow, your pulse spiking. "We already are."
His eyes flick to your mouth, then back to your eyes. Restraint teeters on the edge, hanging by a thread.
"We just have to keep this up.. A lot of people were gathering around...," he sighs, his voice rough and deliberate.
"You're.. thick with tension," he continues, his voice low, and almost teasing, yet his gaze is sharp, as if he's reading every hidden thought you are trying to hide. You feel your stomach tighten and your cheeks burning, but you refuse to step back...
Not yet.
"I'm perfectly relaxed," you whisper, your voice uneven despite your attempt at control. The lie tastes thin in your mouth.
He tilts his head. The corner of his mouth quirks slightly, not quite a smile, but more like a statement of fact. "You're calculating. Every move... every breath. You've done it in front of me a million times before Y/N, just loosen up is all.."
Your eyes flick down briefly, catching the line of his jaw, the strength in his shoulders under the tailored suit, the way the light catches the sharp cut of his collar and tie.
"Help me loosen up then damnit..," you murmur, testing the air and testing him.
Your fingers twitch at your sides, subconsciously brushing the soft fabric of your dress.
He doesn't move fast, he doesn't need to. One measured step forward and the space between you disappears. Your back now pressed against the wall.
The press of his chest against yours is subtle yet unmistakable. His hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to anchor you without giving anything away, your knees feel like they might buckle under it.
"Y/N.." he murmurs, voice lower now, almost deliberate.
Your breath catches. "Leon" you murmur back, your voice trembling slightly, caught between the mission and the pull of the man who's been beside you for years. Every nerve ending feels heightened, every second is stretching, every brush of his fingers against your body whisper of promise.
His hand slides slightly higher on your back, not aggressively or seeking, just guiding... firm and intentional.
Your breath hitches, catching in your throat, and the world narrows to the space between you two. The quiet thrum of tension is deafening, and every second drags like it's both too long and too short.
"You're playing with fire," he says quietly, his lips just inches from your ear, voice low and vibrating with quiet authority.
"And you're enjoying it too much," you reply, breathlessly but teasingly, testing and knowing full well he is. Your pulse races, your legs begin to betray you. Your senses tuned into every slight touch.
Leon's fingers linger just a fraction longer than necessary at your waist. The brush of his touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you're not supposed to feel in a cover mission. His eyes meet yours again, unyielding, magnetic, holding yours as if he's waiting to see if you'll step over the line first.
You shift slightly, brushing your hand along his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the fabric, and the power and control that he carries naturally, inescapably, irresistibly.
He doesn't flinch. He doesn't move away. He lets you linger there, letting the tension coil tighter and letting the anticipation grow until it's nearly unbearable.
And now... every touch, every gaze, every shallow breath is a prelude, every movement a test of restraint, every inch closed a promise of what comes next. The world outside this room has disappeared.
You are alone with him, caught between mission and desire, between duty and temptation, and the tension is absolute.
Leon doesn't move away. He stays impossibly close, his hands steady at your waist, his thumb brushing lightly over the curve of your hip.
"You're dangerous," you murmur, your voice trembling despite your attempt at teasing.
Every instinct screams that he's not just testing you...
He's drawing you in, inch by inch.
"And you like it," he replies, his lips just inches from yours. The words are a fact, not a question, but your chest tightens with the implication.
He tilts his head slightly, capturing your gaze. The control in his eyes is absolute and magnetic, and it makes your knees go weak.
"Hands where I can see them," he murmurs softly, but the command is laced with intimacy, not authority. It's teasing and deliberate.. measuring your reaction, testing your restraint.
You obey instinctively, letting your hands drift along his chest, feeling his muscle beneath your fingertips. His breath is slow and measured, and it takes everything in you not to close the space completely.
Leon's hands slide higher, fingers grazing the curve of your ribcage, drawing slow and deliberate lines over the silk of your dress. He leans in, brushing your mouth with his, a whisper-close kiss that's not fully contact but promises more.
Your hands wander to his jacket, sliding along the fabric in want, your fingertips brushing the sharp angles of his shoulders. Leon's lips finally find yours, soft at first, brushing against yours in a feather-light tease.
Your hands clutch at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, and the heat between you coils tighter.
You need him..
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
He parts your lips with a slow and teasing pressure of his tongue, letting the kiss deepen gradually.
Every inch is deliberate, controlled, and entirely his. Your back presses against the wall instinctively, responding to his rhythm, every movement a silent dialogue of desire.
"You are killing me.." he murmurs against your lips. The sound reverberates in your chest, a tether and a warning. You whimper softly, unable to hide your reaction, and he smirks against your mouth, pleased with the effect.
His hands trail lower along your back, over the curve of your hips, and you gasp softly as he presses closer, every inch of contact amplifying the heat and tension already thrumming between you.
You feel him everywhere.. his pants pressing hard onto you... and your body responds before your mind can catch up.
He continues to kiss you but this time his hands slide under your dress, tracing slow and teasing lines along your thighs, making your knees tremble with anticipation. Your breath becomes faster and your hands clutch at his shoulders, at the strong fabric of his suit, desperate for more connection, more contact..
....more of him.
"Fuck Leon.." you murmur, tilting your head back, giving him the tiniest opening, letting him read your need.
He lets out a low laugh, "Y/N.. we-.." He whispers and shakes his head no, despite his hand running up to squeeze your inner thigh.
"The more we think about it.. The more we definitely wont-" you whisper against his lips.
He cuts you off, he crowds you against the wall, his hands planting on both sides of your head, trapping you in.
"Well Y/N.. I don't think we have to think about this anymore huh..?", he growls, leaning in so close his noses brushes against yours. Your gaze is locked on his, you bring your hand up to pull at his hair to bring him closer to your mouth.
His knee slides in between your legs, pressing insistently.
"I'm not playing games Kennedy.. You better fuck me good." you smirk.
His jaw tightens, a muscle peaks out of his stubbled cheek. With one swift swoop, he picks you up and throws you on one of the black, leather couches within the room leaving you on your back.
Within seconds, he is already hovering over you.
"I'm not in the mood for your smart mouth anymore Y/N.. but you are lucky I can fuck and fight.", he whispers just before his mouth crashes onto yours. His hand moves up to your wrists, slamming them above your head, only needing one to handcuff them securely.
His free hand slides down your back and then to the zipper of your dress.
"You have been a fucking distraction this whole time Y/N.."" he groans against your lips.
"Especially when we were dancing.. you kept looking at me like-."
"Like what" you look up at him, with a knowing smirk.
He squeezes your wrists hard enough to make you whimper, his mouth still on yoir lips, "Like you want me to bend you over and fuck some sense into you." he grins, letting go of your wrists he helps you out of your dress gently, exposing you in your panties and bra. His hand slips down, palming you roughly through your panties.
"Hmm well..", you spread your legs for better access, "There's no denying it that I want it Leon..." you whisper.
His head snaps up, his blue eyes wild and pupils blown. For a second, he just stares at you, his chest heaving, his hand still cupping you possessively.
"Say it again..." he whispers, "So I know you actually fucking mean it." His jaw presses against your ear, his free hand coming to tilt your chin up possessively, forcing you to look up at him.
"Tell me to fuck you Y/N.." he grunts out.
You bite your lip mischievously and smirk, "I want you to fuck me Kennedy.." you whisper.
His eyes roll back slightly at your words, a low groan escaping him.
"Good...", he groans.
You lift up underneath him to slip your panties off, baring you to him completely. He expertly unhooks your bra, allowing your tits to spring free.
He stands up briefly, "Don't move.", he reaching down to his dress pants, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.
You spread your legs slightly.
He leans down and grabs your jaw firmly, "Did I say move?" He growls. He finishes unbuckling his belt and pants, freeing his hard cock. He spits in his hand and wraps it around himself, giving a few rough pumps.
"You want this?"
"Yes Leon.." you whisper, almost a plea.
He grabs your hips roughly, positioning himself at your entrance. Without warning, he slams into you, filling you completely in one brutal thrust. You cry out loudly as he starts fucking you, his hand covering your mouth to muffle the sounds.
"Shh... fuck you are so wet Y/N."
You whine, "This is what you do to me Kennedy.." you lift your legs around his torso so he can fuck you deeper.
He continues to fuck you, each thrust almost punishing. One hand remains over your mouth while the other grips onto your hip hard enough to bruise. He's not making love...he's fucking you into submission.
"Hmm fucking take it." he grunts.
You start to squirm beneath his touch, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. The thrill of it... sleeping with your coworker feels dangerous, but the fact that it's happening in the middle of an active mission only heightens the tension, turning that forbidden edge into something even more intoxicating.
"Fuck, you're tight." He hisses, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his own noise. He starts pounding into you even harder, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room.
His fingers dig into your mouth, pushing back your cheek to silence your moans. "Bite down."
You obey, and bite on his fingers. Groaning and humming against them as he continues to fuck you.
His hand moves from your mouth to wrap around your throat, squeezing as he continues his pace.
"I'm not gonna be gentle about this Y/N.."
"I don't want you to be gentle Leon.." you groan softly, "I asked to be fucked so I want to be fucked.."
"Get on your hands and knees.." he orders promptly.
You oblige, his commanding tone only turning you on more..
"—so I guess I'm gonna fuck you like an animal until you can't walk straight." He yanks your hair once and slaps your ass, making you jump forward onto his cock. He grabs both hips roughly and starts lifting you up and down on him aggressively.
"Hold onto the arm rest Y/N."
You tighten your grip on the armrest, unsure if it'll steady you at all, your breath catching as anticipation curls through you. Your lip slips between your teeth and held there as you brace for what's coming next.
His hands are brutal on your hips, forcing you on his cock in a rough, jackhammer rhythm. You're crying out constantly now, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. Leon's grunts are getting more frequent, more primal.
"So. Fucking. Good." He grits out between thrusts.
You let out a soft moan as he moves in you, each motion sending a rush of sensation through your body. When he hits just the right spot, your breath stutters, your heart skipping as a warmth spreads through you that you can't ignore.
"Keep making those noises baby.. fuck" he whines.
"Hmmm keep going Leon.. don't fucking stop..." you moan.
"Want me to fuck you harder? Want me to make you cum on my big dick?" he groans out.
He slaps one ass cheek hard before gripping both of your hips possessively.
"Answer me with your words princess." He slows his thrusts deliberately, testing your reaction.
You groan at the change of pace.
"Fucking hell Leon.. just do it.." you moan desperately.
"That's what I thought." He chuckles darkly against your back, his teeth grazing your shoulder blade before he pulls out completely and slams back into you with such force your head bumps into the armrest.
He starts fucking you like your under his punishment, his pace unrelenting and unforgiving, using your body for his pleasure.
You let out a soft whimper as the sensation builds again, your body reacting before you can stop it. Your mouth falls open, silent cries caught in your throat as the feeling washes over you.
His balls slap against you with each thrust, the sound echoing through the room along with your desperate whimpers. Leon's hands move up to your shoulders, gripping them for leverage as he pounds into you at an insane speed.
"Have I finally found your limit Y/N?" he grunts, with a smile.
"Fuck— no.." you groan out, struggling to speak.
"Sure princess.." he grits out.
His thrusts slowing down only to pick up pace again, each one deeper and harder than the last. He suddenly pulls out completely, making you whimper in protest. Before you can react, he flips you around and lifts your legs over his shoulders.
"I wouldn't have pinned you to be so greedy Y/N.." he chuckles.
You blush at his remark, heat rushing to your face as you avert your gaze for a split second, trying to steady yourself. "I'm not..."you start, but your voice falters, betraying you.
He lets out a quiet chuckle, clearly unconvinced, and you can feel the weight of his attention on you, making it impossible to hide. Your fingers curl slightly against him, holding on as if that might ground you.
He spits on his cock and shoves it back inside you in one brutal thrust, pinning you against the couch,
"Look at me while I fuck you Y/N." His eyes burn into yours, blue and wild with lust, one hand choking you lightly while the other holds your hip in a bruising grip.
He starts thrusting again more rhythmically, this position letting him go even deeper. Every pump of his hips creates an obscene sound. He squeezes your throat slightly, making your eyes water as he fucks you ruthlessly.
"Eyes on me, baby." he grunts.
Your breath falters, but you immediately obey, your gaze locking onto his. It's hard to focus. He smirks down at you, only turning you on even more.
"My god Leon.."you moan as he thrusts into you, your tits bouncing.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher. "Don't look away."
His hand tightens around your throat as he watches you obey, his eyes burning into yours with an intense, almost feral gaze. He fucks you harder, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyes.
"That's it... look at me while I destroy your pussy." he groans out.
A soft moan slips from your lips, quickly muffled as Leon's grip tightens around your neck. Your back arches instinctively, your body reacting as the sensation builds, intense and overwhelming, almost more than you can take.
"Hmmm... there we go," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, laced with satisfaction. "I can feel you... you close?"
Your breath stutters, your grip tightening as you nod faintly, unable to form words. Everything feels heightened, overwhelming in the best way, your focus slipping as the tension builds.
"Yeah," he adds softly, almost coaxing, "just like that... stay with me."
"Leon.. I'm going to cum-" you moan loudly, your fingertips digging into his muscular back, your legs tightening around his torso as your face contorts with pleasure.
"I know," he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing despite the intensity between you. "I've got you.. cum on my cock baby." he reaches down and rubs your clit firmly with his thumb.
Your chest rises and falls unevenly, your hands gripping tighter as everything starts to crest, your focus slipping further with each passing second.
"Fuck.. That's it," he encourages, his tone low and steady,. "Don't fight it... just let go."
Your walls start clenching around him, fluttering hard and your back arches off the bed. Your head tilts back slightly, a loud and breathless moan escaping you as the tension finally tips over, your body giving in all at once.
You moan against his lips as you come hard, your pussy squeezing him tight as you clench around his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm, not letting up.
"Ahh, fuck— that's it, baby girl."
Leon watches you with predatory eyes as you fall apart around him, your moans filling the room.
"Hmm fuck you feel like heaven.." *He groans, not able to hold himself together anymore. Feeling your pussy milking his cock with your release pushes him over the edge. He slams into you a few more times, burying himself deep as he comes with a low groan.
"Fuck... fuck..." he whimpers, his cock pulses inside you, filling you with his hot cum as he holds your legs up high, keeping you spread open for every drop. "Good girl..."
"Hmm yes.. give it all to me baby." you grunt.
He stays buried inside you, his cock still semi-hard
as he leans down to kiss your neck and jaw gently. His grip on your throat loosens completely, his tone softening but still dominant.
"Good," he says softly, almost under his breath.
"You did so good Y/N.." he pulls out, his cock still semi hard.
You run your hand down his sweat-coated chest, your body still lingering with pleasure as you look up at him in pure lust.
"My god Kennedy.. I didn't think you had it in you to fuck like that.." you smile up at him, your expression glistening with satisfaction
He returns your smile as he lowers himself down your body, his hands finding your inner thighs, spreading you back open.
"Leon wha—." you choke out, your body still sensitive from your high.
"Shhhh Y/N", he looks up at you from between your thighs, kissing one of them softly, "I didn't say I was done.." he chuckles and without hesitation, he licks your slit, slowly and deliberately, looking up at your through his eyebrows to watch your face.
You gasp at the simple touch, your body threatening to already get on the edge.
He chuckles darkly against your pussy seeing your reaction, the vibrations making you tremble.
"Hmm I'll have to take it slow, huh? he whisper.
You groan in response.
"Someone is still sensitive..." he draws out. His tongue slows, becoming more deliberate and worshipful as he eats you out. His hands pin your hips down to keep you secured and open to him.
Your hand runs down your core and into his hair, gently pulling and rubbing his head as he goes to town.
His tongue traces slow, gentle circles around your clit, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. One hand moves to spread you even wider, while the other keeps you trapped beneath him. He sucks and licks softly but intensely, like he's savoring his favorite dessert. With your other hand, you reach down to play with your nipples to chase the pleasure.
"Like that?" Leon asks softly, looking up at you.
"Yes.. just like that.." You lean your head back on the couch in pleasure.
He maintains that gentle but commanding rhythm, his tongue working magic while his hands hold you captive. He occasionally presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, his stubble scraping delicately against your sensitive skin. You pull harder at his hair, letting a groan escape your lips.
"Shh Y/N... Let me eat this perfect pussy like I own it." he hums, without breaking rhythm, he slides one finger slowly into you, curling it perfectly to that sweet spot. His mouth never leaving your clit, he sucks gently while his finger hooks and presses with deep, slow pumps. He's being soft but in complete control..owning you.
"Good girl..." He murmurs against you.
He adds a second finger, stretching you open gently but firmly, pressing against your g-spot with each slow thrust while his tongue continues its worshipping.
"That's it... you deserve this after I used you like a slut.." His free hand traces lazy patterns on your thigh while his head stays buried between your legs.
He pulls back just enough to speak. "Even though I'm worshipping you.. I'm still the one deciding how this feels for you, aren't I?"
He pushes his fingers back inside and sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue circling relentlessly while his fingers start a faster and deep rhythm.
He feels you begin to tense and immediately his pace picks up, his tongue flicking faster against your clit while his two fingers pump deeper and harder, curling relentlessly against your spot.
"There you go... clench around my fingers Y/N." His voice is rough against your pussy, his fingers working you like he's drilling a hole, stretching you open.
You groan out, your back arching off the couch, you try your best to squirm but Leon forces your hips down on the couch, grounding you, and forcing you to feel all the pleasure.
He pulls his fingers back to your entrance and spreads them, stretching you open before pushing back in, three fingers now, thick and deep.
"You need this, don't you?" he grunts possessively.
You moan loudly as his mouth seals over your clit, sucking firmly while his fingers start a relentless pace, curling up with every thrust.*
"Come all over my face, baby" he groans against you, the vibration pushing you closer.
His other hand slides up and rests possessively on your lower belly, holding you down.
As his fingers and mouth work you relentlessly, you start to squirm and whimper. Your legs tremble around his head, trying to close but unable to with his strong grip. He can feel your pussy fluttering around his fingers, getting tighter. He growls against you, encouraging it.
"Fuck Leon—" you moan.
"Come on sweetheart.." he whispers.
He buries his face deeper, his tongue lashing against your clit mercilessly. You arch up, moaning loudly, your hands gripping the couch as you feel the pleasure overwhelm you.
"Fuck yes.. don't stop.. don't stop.." you whimper out.
You begin to unfold, as you begin to cum, Leon groans loudly against your pussy, his fingers and mouth never slowing. He holds you down, riding out your orgasm as your body convulses around him. He sucks and licks through every wave, drawing it out until you're shaking and whimpering uncontrollably.
Your legs clamp around his head involuntarily as your orgasm hits hard, your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers. Your hips bucking up against his face, completely unable to control yourself.
"Fuck yes, there you go... that's it..."
Leon slowly pulls his fingers from you, pressing one last soft kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up your body. He hovers over you, looking down with that familiar cocky expression, though there's something softer underneath.
"Good girl." He murmurs, pressing his lips against your forehead briefly... an unexpected tenderness.
You’re still a trembling mess under Leon, even with the overwhelming pleasure, you still have your humor, you look at him and joke, “You Clara and Alex would have sex like this?” you tease and laugh.
Leon rolls his eyes and shrugs, “Who knows.. if they would.. if they do.. they are having the best sex in this world. “ he smiles, pressing a kiss against your forehead. He sits up already grabbing his clothes from the ground by the couch.
“Well if one thing is for certain..” you murmur, “if anyone heard us.. our front is definitely convincing.”
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HEYYY!!! WELCOME TO THE END THE SMUT!!!
Hope you enjoyed!!!
I love creating new and random scenarios for these heheh!!!
WELL!! I'll catch you divas in the next one... you all better take care of yourselves!!!
SENDING MY LOVE‼️‼️‼️‼️
UNTIL NEXT TIME🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
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