Ok but think about this Leon (any version) first time seeing you in a bikini on a beach and he is yk frustrated 👀👀
WHY SO NERVOUS, KENNEDY? ✹ Leon Kennedy
SUMMARY: Leon takes you to the beach but he doesn't realize it's a bad idea until he starts feeling very much horny when he sees you in a bikini for the very first time
✹ PAIRINGS: Leon Kennedy x Girlfriend!Reader
‼️: mentions of sex, proposal to have (a very much desperate) public sex because Leon’s having an erection (hehe)
✹ WORD COUNT: 1697 ✹ Find me on AO3
✹ Make your RESIDENT EVIL REQUESTS here (information included)
✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST
💬 Day 4/7 of the 100 followers event! I HAD to write this with RE2R Leon, it couldn't be with any other one 😩 Anon: hope you like this as much as I loved writing it! 💖
“Are you sure you’re fine? I mean, I’m not saying you aren’t, just that if at any point you start feeling uncomfortable, well… we can go somewhere else if you want. I mean— I don’t mind being here because I brought you since you wanted to come, but…”
You can’t help but laugh a little.
“Leon, I’m fine, really,” you assure him, trying to calm his nerves. “If you mean the bikini…”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” he interrupts, tripping over his words. “If you don’t feel comfortable or anything, you just have to tell me and—”
“There are people wearing less than a bikini, Leon. Don’t worry about that, really.”
He clears his throat, nervous.
“Uh… right. Yeah... Sorry…”
You spread the towel over the sand, glancing at him over your shoulder before starting to take off the dress you’re wearing.
Your boyfriend, seeing what you’re about to do, immediately turns around, flustered.
“Take your time. I’m not looking or anything, seriously, just so you know…”
You roll your eyes, wondering how Leon can be so shy when you’ve already had sex plenty of times. Yes, he was during those first times, but afterward he had a confidence that surprised you a lot.
You turn around, Leon turning at the same time.
He looks you up and down, a little scared, nerves still running on him. He freezes completely, mouth slightly open, clearly not knowing what to say.
Even with his sunglasses on, you can see his blue eyes wide open.
“Leon?”
He reacts instantly.
“S-sorry! It’s just— wow. I mean, I mean… wow… You’re… appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” you tilt your head, holding back a laugh.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are deeply flushed. “Uh… that bikini looks really good on you. And you’re beautiful, but you’re always beautiful, it’s not because you’re wearing a bikini right now…”
You drop down onto the towel, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and shaking it.
“Thank you,” you say sincerely, turning toward him and giving him a big smile. “Relax. It’s just a bikini. You’ve seen me with no clothes, love,” you remind him, which only makes him blush more.
You pour some sunscreen into your hand and start spreading it over your arms.
Leon swallows.
“So… you need help with your back?” he asks, and you notice his voice crack slightly.
“You really wouldn’t mind?” you smile at him, a little mischievously.
“Why would I mind? Anything for my girlfriend.”
You nod, turning around and handing him the bottle.
“Okay… you can do it, buddy…”
You hear him mutter those words under his breath. Once again, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.
He starts spreading the sunscreen carefully. He takes his time and, of course, touches you far too gently, as if he’s a little afraid of touching somewhere he shouldn’t… much to his own frustration, considering he’s already done it before.
You imagine the internal monologue running through his head and find it far too adorable.
“All done,” he says after a couple of minutes. You turn to him and see that he’s still red. “You’re… protected.”
You smile sweetly, stand up, drag your towel over to where his chair is, and plant a kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you very much. You’re the best boyfriend in the whole world.”
He nods, doesn’t say anything else, and sits down in the chair, taking his time to find the perfect position.
You lie down next to him, face down, positioned toward him. You close your eyes while sunbathing on your back, listening to the waves in the distance… until you start to hear movement right beside you.
You see Leon shifting around. He looks uncomfortable. You can’t help it, but you start thinking, worrying, that he might not be comfortable at the beach. You also think about him being sick, if something hurts… but no.
You realize what’s really going on when you see him grab the bag you brought all your things in and place it over his lap.
You lift your head toward him, taking off your sunglasses.
“Leon?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you holding the bag like there’s a million dollars in there?”
He looks away from you. His right leg starts to shake.
“No reason at all. I’m just… comfortable.”
You get up from the towel and move toward him, kneeling in front of him.
“Why are you so nervous, Kennedy?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t look at you either.
He doesn’t for several seconds, hesitating about whether to look at you or not.
He finally does, but only because you gently take his chin and make him look at you.
“I’m kind of… not doing very good, to be honest.”
“What do you mean you’re not doing very well, love?” you ask, feigning innocence.
“Come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed…”
He lets out a soft groan, biting his lower lip and tilting his head back, eyes closing.
Shyly, he points at his swim trunks. You look down with no embarrassment.
Of course, he has an erection. Nothing you hadn’t already imagined.
“So that’s why you’re like this, love…”
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, looking back at you. “I know this is super inappropriate in a public place, but… I swear I’m not some creep or anything, it’s just that— Fuck, you look incredible. You’re so beautiful and that bikini makes your body look just… wow. And I know it sounds bad, but my body just reacts on its own and it clearly doesn’t want me to keep my dignity with you, here, today, but—”
You laugh softly and rest your head on his legs.
“Hey, Leon…”
He looks at you, still flushed and embarrassed.
“What is it now?”
“Do you know how adorable you are when you get this embarrassed with me?”
“Really…?”
He sounds unsure, glancing at you shyly.
“Absolutely. I mean… you’re human, and you’re attracted to me just like I am to you, so… it’s normal. It’s not a crime.”
He exhales, relieved, like he’s been holding his breath the whole time. His posture relaxes too.
“Still…” he looks down at his erection, still there. “God, this is so embarrassing…”
“If it helps… I feel flattered. Very flattered, actually.”
That earns you a shy smile. He shakes his head and looks at you.
“Why do you have to be like this…”
“You love it, Leon. Don’t deny it.”
And he doesn’t.
Instead, he grabs his towel and spreads it out next to yours, lying down. You do the same, turning onto your side so you can keep looking at him.
You do notice how aroused he still clearly is. The erection has gone down… a little, but the bulge is still very noticeable.
This time, Leon doesn’t try to hide it. He knows it would only make things worse, and all he wants is for it to finally go down.
He clears his throat, noticing your eyes lingering there.
“So… just to be clear… are you acting like nothing’s happening? Are you comfortable with this?”
He glances down again.
You pretend to think about it, even though you already know the answer.
“Well... It depends.”
He props himself up a little, nerves returning, unsurprisingly.
“What do you mean with that”
“I mean, I’m not uncomfortable with you being so horny about me, I already told you this is normal,” you say quickly, making sure he relaxes. He does. “But… maybe, I was thinking... you might need a bit of help, don’t you think so?”
You lean in, pressing your forehead to his, then kiss him.
Leon freezes.
“Help…?”
You pull back and smile at him.
“You’re very tense, sweetheart.”
“You’re enjoying this…” he laughs softly, shaking his head.
“Maybe a little, yes,” you admit.
“What you did earlier didn’t help… even if you think it did,” he admits quietly.
“No? I really thought it would help.”
Leon knows perfectly well that you’re lying, but honestly, he’s loving where the conversation seems to be going.
“If you keep kissing me like that, all you’re going to do is make this worse.”
“I think you’re giving me ideas on how I can help you.”
You lean in again, brushing your nose against his. You kiss his jaw, then his cheek, lingering just long enough to make him desperate.
“Yeah?” he says, letting out a small moan when he feels your lips against his neck.
“But I don’t think that here, in public, is the most appropriate place to help you out…”
He lets out a moan he can’t hold back, soft, but louder than he wants.
“Fuck, love…”
He pulls away and readjusts, leaning back on his forearms.
You mirror him, but move between his legs, resting your head on his chest.
“We can do something when we get home if you want,” you suggest, lifting your head to look at him. “If you only knew the ideas I have in mind…”
“You know I’m going to be thinking about that all day now, right?”
“Perfect. Consider it a bit of motivation to help your little friend calm down.”
“With what you just said, I think it’s going to have the opposite effect.”
Nothing you didn't know.
You can feel it against your back: he’s getting harder again.
“Well, if you’re that desperate…” you start, looking at him, “we could go to the restrooms… and have a quickie or whatever you want me to do for you, Leon.”
You smile innocently, as if you haven’t just suggested having sex in a public place.
He laughs with you, leaning down to kiss you, finally shutting you up.
“You’re a menace,” he says, and you know it’s affectionate.
“But I’m your menace,” you smile contentedly. “If I weren’t… would we have done even half the things we’ve done?”
“Don’t start with that…”
“So… are you going to want to go to the restrooms or not? I think it'd be the best option.”
Leon looks at you, and he doesn’t need to say anything else.
He makes sure you know you’ll have to help him before you go back home.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback on the comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated but, if you feel shy, just send me an anonymous ask! 💖
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💬 I want to thank you all for 200 followers already! I'm definitely not one to focus on numbers but honestly, seeing all the support, your nice comments, and definitely everything is making my mind blow! Same with AO3, the support in there has been insane as well!
ALSO... part 2 anyone? I think we could do something hehe 👀
After Leon returns from a semester in Spain, he finds himself yearning for his coworker more and more, despite how much you both utterly annoy each other. After months of begging you for attention, God answers his prayers in the form of a snowstorm- trapping you both in your cafe overnight.
CW: 7k words, Modern AU!, consent, dom/sub dynamics, coworker relations, AFAB Reader, vaginal unprotected sex (don't be like them!), Squirting, Multiple orgasms, barista! reader, barista! Leon, pet names (baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, pretty), aftercare, domestic fluff, possessive behavior via Leon, post-grad college student! reader, a brief mention of Exchange student! Leon, briefly mentioned Plus size! Reader, briefly mentioned Curly haired! reader, some self-deprecating thoughts about weight and appearance
The espresso machine hisses like a pissed- off cat, sputtering steam as you wipe down the counter for the third time this hour. Outside, the first fat flakes of snow have begun sticking to the sidewalk, turning the evening into one of those nights where people either rush home or hole up inside an unfortunate cafe.
It's almost like you can sense his presence before he even appears. You've been counting down the days until he returns from Spain. For the past 5 months, you've been missing him. Almost yearning for him. Ridiculous, you know, but mornings in the cafe are lonely without his dumbass around. Tonight, Leon finally has his first shift back with you.
Leon strides through the employee entrance with smugness that shouldn't be humanly possible, his stupid fucking coat damp from the weather. "Still here?" he asks, shaking snow from his hair like a dog. You don't miss the way the smirk on his lips grows bigger by the second. "Someone's gotta keep you on task and close this place up," you shrug, fighting the smile on your lips. You nudge him as he strides past, tying on his apron. God, he doesn't even know how hard it is to be around him. It takes everything in you not to climb him like a tree, job be damned.
He catches your wrist before you can pull back, just long enough for you to feel the calluses on his palms. He always does this, teases you with the idea of something more- something more than an overly friendly coworker and her annoying fellow night shift employee. Then he places a keychain gently in your hand, a souvenir from Spain. You open your mouth to protest, but he sternly holds his hand up as if to say, Don’t even fucking try it.
You let it go. It’s better to just take the gift and leave it. Leon won’t take the gift OR money for it back anyway; you’ve tried when he's studied abroad in the past. While you return to absentmindedly clean at the espresso machine, contemplating everything that is Leon, the overhead lights flicker once, then twice, and then finally give out completely. By the time the storm sirens start wailing, the door is already jammed shut under a drift of snow. Leon's grip tightens around his cup. "Well," he says, voice low, "guess we're getting to know each other a little bit better than usual tonight."
You laugh, of course, this shit would happen to you both. The snow continues piling against the windows of the store, plunging the cafe into darkness, save for the emergency exit sign's ghostly glow. His outline moves too fast, too practiced- before you hear the familiar click of a lighter. The flame catches the sharp angles of his face, and for the first time, you notice the scar under his jawline, pale against his stubble.
“How was Spain?” You question, propping yourself up on top of the bar counter.
"Not bad, spent most of it in a dorm studying," he murmurs, thumb brushing your elbow as he hands you his infamous lighter. "I missed you," The admission hangs between you, underscored by the wind howling through the vents. Your pulse jumps when Leon's denim-clad knee bumps yours on the counter, deliberate this time.
“Missed me? You missed my help studying, you mean” you tease, your canines flash bright in the light filtering through the cafe windows glass.
“Nah, I missed your nonstop complaining and inability to focus on one damn task,” he snarks back quickly, though his eyes show he's happy to be back home, you think. Somewhere, a pipe bursts with a metallic groan. Leon doesn't flinch; you noticeably do.
While you look off into the distance distracted, Leon takes the opportunity to startle you, pushing off his barstool quickly. "Tell me," he says, leaning in close enough that his breath warms your pierced ear, "you ever play games to pass the time as a kid?" The lighter's flame dances between you as he plays with it, casting long shadows over the empty cafe air.
You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the counter's edge. "Depends on the game." The words come out lower than you intend, and Leon's grin is slow, dangerous. He pulls something from his back pocket-a deck of cards, bent at the corners- and fans them across the counter with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Strip poker's off the table," he says cheekily, tapping the king gently on the bar counter.
A gust of wind rattles the storefront's glass, making the emergency lights flicker again. You pretend you don't notice his boot hooking around your ankle, dragging you closer. "Blackjack," you blurt, pointing at the cards. Leon's laugh is warm, rough. "Dealer's choice." He deals the first card, the ace of spades, and your breath hitches when his fingertips linger over yours. "House always wins," he murmurs, watching your reaction too closely to be simply casual.
Outside, the storm screams louder than the blood in your ears. You wonder, distantly, if he can feel your pulse when his thumb traces the inside of your wrist- counting beats like a man waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The cards lay forgotten between you, unimportant compared to the way his gaze drops to your mouth as you lick your dry, cracked lips. "Cheating already?" you breathe. Leon's answering smile is all charming teeth. "Sweetheart," he rumbles, "you haven't seen anything yet."
The temperature drops within the next hour as you and Leon half-heartedly play cards. The wind howls, frost creeping across the windows in delicate fractures that mirror the ones forming in your resolve. Leon's knee presses harder against yours, the denim of his jeans rough against your skin as he leans in, his breath painting your throat in warm, uneven strokes. "Cold, pretty girl?" he asks, though his hands-big, scarred-are already sliding your apron straps down your shoulders, slow as a threat. You shiver, but not just from the chill. Leon knows, God he knows, it's like he sees right through everything you do, and snorts a laugh out of his nose.
You manage to protest against him, voice shaking despite his hands, God, his fucking hands, thumbing at your arms. "M’ not pretty, you always call me that, it's so fucking irritating," you complain. Leon's annoying smile grows, his dimples showing even brighter despite the dark of the room. Mischief is written all over him. Leon's arms flex as he reaches back to tug loose the apron tied around his waist.
Somewhere behind the counter, a loose pipe groans under the weight of frozen water, the sound muffled by the thick silence between you. Leon's fingers pause at your waistband, teasing the hem of your shirt upward just enough to expose a sliver of skin. "You can tell me to stop, I'll stop, but I want you to take back what you said," he murmurs; his grip tightens possessively when you arch into him instead. The deck of cards scatters across the floor, forgotten, as his mouth finds the frantic pulse beneath your soft jawline.
The emergency light flickers again, plunging you into near-darkness-just the ragged sound of breathing, the creak of the stool beneath you as Leon drags you flush against him, over the bar counter. His teeth graze your earlobe, sharp enough to make you gasp. "That you only missed me because of my GPA?" you manage, fingers twisting in his compression shirt. He laughs against your skin, low and pleased. "No, that you're not pretty."
Outside, the world vanishes under another foot of snow, sealing you both in the kind of quiet that feels like a held breath. Leon's hands are everywhere-tilting your chin up, tracing the line of your collarbone, mapping you like territory he intended to claim. When the power surges back on with a sudden, blinding hum, neither of you pulls away. The cards lay face-up on the tiles: a pair of kings, staring at each other across the wreckage of the game.
He doesn't kiss you- not yet. Instead, Leon drags his bottom lip along your throat, pausing just above your pounding pulse. "Say it, say you take it back," he whispers, and the smirk in his voice curls hot under your skin. You fist his shirt tighter in your dry hands, tugging him closer until the front of the bar digs into your back, the bite of pain only sharpens the way his body pins yours.
A pipe bursts upstairs with a wet crack, sending water cascading down the walls somewhere you can't see in a sudden, icy rush. Leon barely glances up, his grip shifting to haul you onto the counter in one smooth motion. Spilled coffee soaks through your jeans, cold and sticky, but his hands contrast warm when they cradle your face. "Last chance," he warns, thumb brushing your lower lip. For which? You're not sure. Whether it's to take back your self-deprecating thoughts or to finally accept that Leon does miss you when school drags him away from working with you.
You grab his belt loop instead of answering, dragging him between your thighs. Leon's groan vibrates against your mouth when you finally kiss him— all heat and teeth and the lingering taste of black coffee. Somewhere beneath the sound of the falling pipes and the creaking roof, you swear you hear him mutter, "I'll let that one be on the house, the next time I hear something like that come out of your mouth, I'm making you take it back,” before his tongue slides against yours, ruthless as the blizzard outside.
His hands are already under your shirt when you gasp, fingers calloused and cold from whatever hard work he does outside your daily interactions, tracing your ribs like he was memorizing the map of you. Then lower, so much lower, dipping beneath your waistband with a pause that isn't hesitation so much as anticipation. "Tell me," he murmurs against your jaw, fingers circling but not pressing, "You ever done this before?" You whine, hips jerking when his fingertip grazes your clit through damp fabric. "What? Fuck a coworker on the clock?" you snark, no real heat behind your words. His responding laugh is almost dark, knowing. "No, I mean, fuck anyone".
You want to take offense to his snark, but the first thrust of his fingers do burn, not from pain, but the sheer stretch of them, thick and relentless as he crooks them deep inside you while his thumb draws comforting circles on your clit. Your back arches off the cold counter, nails scraping his shoulders as his breath hitches against your throat. "There she is," he coos, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. "Gonna make you cum so hard, pretty gir-". The rest of his sentence is lost in your choked-off whine as his palm grinds against your pelvic bone perfectly, the pressure and friction marvelous, almost too much, too much-
Then the world shatters, and your vision pulses at the sides. Your thighs clamp around his wrist as it fully hits you- hot and sudden and so much wetter than you'd expected, soaking through your jeans and dripping onto Leon's espresso-stained combat boots. Leon's grin is feral in the dim light, fingers still fiddling with your folds like your pussy is a goddamn toy, helping you through it as you tremble against him. "Fuck," he breathes, holding your blurry gaze. "Look at you, baby."
Jesus Christ, you’ve only been able to do that alone, with a toy.
The storm rages louder when he unzips his jeans, the sound lost under your gasp at the thick, flushed length of him. Holy fuck, how is that going to fit? His fingers had you squirting, and you'd barely been able to take two. He doesn't ask permission again -just drags you forward by the hips until your knees bracket his waist and the counter's edge bites into your thick thighs. The first press is brutal, tearing a sob from your throat as he splits you open, slick and searing. The mushroom tip of his cock kisses almost sweetly at your cervix. "Breathe, you've gotta breathe, pretty girl," he reminds you gently, his hands smoothing over your sweaty hair, but his own breath stutters when you clench around him. You hear the remnants of a whimper, you think, but Leon would never admit that willingly.
You expected him to move, to fuck you hard and fast against the bar. Instead, Leon goes perfectly still, and his forehead presses onto yours, almost lovingly, almost. His whole body shudders with restraint. "Goddamn," he grits out, hips twitching involuntarily. "You're-" The sentence dies when you roll your hips experimentally, and his fingers dig bruises into your doughy waist. "Little fucking tease."
When he finally moves, it's slow, measured thrusts that drag against every nerve. "I've waited for this so long." You whine.
Leon leans his head back and laughs, really laughs. “Oh, you think you’ve been waiting long? I've been sitting alone in a room for 5 fucking months wanting just to see you. Imagine how long I've wanted to fuck you.” You can hear how wet you are, obscene squelches echo off the empty countertops as Leon alternates between slow, hard, and smug and fast, desperate, and stuttering gasps.
“I’m sorry, I didn't think you'd want me, too,” you whimper as Leon’s laugh trails off and his tongue begins suckling at your neck right under your earrings' length.
“How could I not? Have you looked at yourself? Have you seen how I look at you?” Leon reassures you quickly after seeing the frown teasing at your mouth.
The espresso machine rattles as he hammers into you on the bar counter, his grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from sliding across the counter. Somewhere beneath the noise of the storm and your own ragged moans, you hear him murmur teasingly, "House rules- you cum first," right before his teeth sink into your bottom lip and begin to suck a pretty bruise. The world buzzes around you as you cum, a white frothy ring forming around Leon's cock.
Leon doesn't let go. You expect him to pull out, toss your apron at you, and leave, despite the storm. Clearly, this was a one-time thing. There's no way he'd be interested in you, a tired, borderline chubby, anxious loser girl. He seems important, always on the move for school. He’s older, smarter, prettier-
Except, he doesn't move even while you cling to him, thinking self-depracating thoughts. His hands remain gentle on your back, brushing up and down your spine. After a few minutes, he lets out a deep breath. How long had he been waiting to do that? "M' gonna pull out now," he murmurs.
You whine as he sets you down onto the cold counter, and he shushes you. His fingers come up to brush your bangs off your forehead as he reassures you.
"I’m gonna get something to clean us up with, kay?" He says.
Alarms go off in your head. He’s leaving you. You were right, bitter pride seethes off your face. You never could hide your resting bitch face, even working in customer service.
“Hey,” Leon says, sternly. You feel his hand flick at your thigh.
“Don’t get in your head, m’ not leaving you. Just don’t want you to feel gross all night,” he explains, though his eyes betray understanding. He gets it, the thoughts. How quickly they sneak in.
Leon returns after stumbling his way through the back of the house, looking for a bar towel to taint with what remains of his cum leftover on you. He cleans you up after wetting the rag with lukewarm water; his touch is unexpectedly tender as he wipes the sticky mess from your thighs. The storm still howls outside, but the act feels strangely domestic - his fingers linger in the hollow of your knee, the way he smooths your shirt down as if he has the right to.
"Couch, now, my back is gonna kill me if we stay cuddled up on this damn bar," he mutters eventually, nodding toward the plush sectional by the fireplace (cold and dark now, but still soft).
It'll do.
He drags it closer to the emergency heater, tossing cushions onto the floor to make space before pulling you down with him. You expected distance, maybe awkwardness, not the way he immediately tucks you against his chest, manhandling you into place, one arm slung heavily over your waist as if daring you to move. "Storm's not letting up 'til morning," he murmurs into your hair, breathing warm against your scalp. His thumb absentmindedly traces circles on your hipbone through the fabric of your t-shirt. Damn, you'd never even taken it off despite it all.
The heater sputters weakly, casting flickering shadows across Leon's face as he reaches for your discarded apron, draping it over you like a makeshift blanket. His fingers linger at the hem, adjusting it with a precision that feels oddly intimate, like he’s used to tucking people in after fucking them senseless. You shiver when his thumb brushes the fresh bite mark on your shoulder, and his chuckle vibrates through your back where it presses against his chest. "Cold?" he teases, though his arm tightens around you possessively, pulling you closer into the furnace of his body.
After half an hour of you shivering nonstop against Leon’s bare chest, he makes the executive decision to unfold himself from the couch with a groan, his boots scraping against the tile. "Gonna grab blankets from my trunk," he mutters, already shrugging himself back into his snow-caked coat. You watch through the frosted windows as he vanishes into the white-out, his silhouette swallowed by the storm within seconds. The café groans around you, pipes protesting, wind gnawing at the eaves, until the door bursts open again, Leon staggering in with an armload of wool blankets. "Found firewood too, leftover from the holidays out front the grocery store next to us, we’re practically spoiled for the night," he chuckles sarcastically, kicking the door shut with his heel, snowflakes melting in his hair.
He builds the fire with everything the cafe can spare- newspaper twisted tight, kindling stacked just so, until flames lick hungrily at the logs. When he turns back to you, his hands are already reaching, pulling you toward the hearth with a quiet insistence that brooks no argument. The blankets smell like his fruity cologne and firewood, rough against your skin as he wraps them around your shoulders, tucking the edges behind your knees with a precision that makes your breath catch. "Hands," he prompts, and you obey without thinking, letting him cradle your fingers between his palms, rubbing warmth back into your knuckles with his thumbs.
Leon pushes away from the couch abruptly, the sudden absence of his warmth making you shudder. "Stay," he orders, already toeing off his boots efficiently before padding toward the storage closet, his wool socks silent on the tiles. You hear the rustle of fabric before he emerges with another moth-eaten quilt and his own jacket bundled under one arm, its leather sleeves smelling faintly of detergent.
When he kneels beside you, his fingers are carefully threading through your tangled curls, gathering them back with a gentleness that contradicts the red marks blooming on your inner thighs. The hair tie he produces from his apron is yours that you've been missing all while he's been off in Spain. So that’s where it’s been this whole damned time.
The fire pops loudly, making you flinch, and Leon's fingers still where they'd been tracing idle patterns on your forearm. His gaze sharpens. "Shit," he mutters, sitting up straighter. "You take your meds tonight?” You blink, heat creeping up your neck. How does he know you haven’t taken them? He hasn't been here all day.
“How’d you know I missed em’? You’ve been gone all day,” you question, eyes narrowing.
“Baby, clearly you don’t notice when people pay attention to you,” he sighs.
“How?” you press, moving to pull away from him.
Leon sighs again, and his fingers reach up from your arm to pinch at his nose. “Whenever you're fidgety, I know you haven't taken em’. Didn’t want you to fall asleep without it,” he explains gently, almost like he’s pained, like what he’s saying should be common knowledge to you.
The little orange pill bottle had been rattling in your bag all shift, but between the storm and… everything else, it'd slipped your mind. Your silence after his explanation is answer enough. Leon’s already on his feet, snagging your bag from behind the counter with a grunt. "Which pocket?" he demands, shaking it until the telltale rattle sounded.
You open your mouth to protest, to deflect-but all that comes out is a quiet, "Bottom left." The admission curled small between you, vulnerable in a way that has definitely has nothing to do with your bodies pressed together moments ago. Leon's fingers still mid-search, gaze flicking up to yours with an intensity that makes your pulse stutter. He doesn't speak, just holds your stare as he fishes out the bottle, the plastic click of the cap unnaturally loud in the firelit quiet.
He hands you the pills first, then a half-empty water bottle from his own gear, his thumb brushing yours in the exchange- deliberate, lingering. "Eaten anything today?" The question is gruff, but his fingers are already rifling through his jacket pockets, producing one of his signature crushed protein bars. What a gym bro he is through and through sometimes. You shake your head fondly, and his expression darkens, though not at you. He unwraps it silently, pressing it into your palm with the same precision he'd used earlier to dismantle you.
The protein bar tastes like sawdust, but you choke it down under Leon's watchful gaze, his knee pressing into yours like an anchor. When you finish, you hesitate, twisting the blanket edge between your fingers. "Could you-" The words lodge in your throat. No one ever talks about how hard it is to be willingly vulnerable. His brow arches, patiently waiting. "Could you hold me again?" you manage, voice fraying at the edges. "I… haven't slept well since you've left. You-" You swallow the rest, cheeks burning up to your ears.
You make me feel safe.
Leon doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Just exhales hard through his nose and tugs you into his lap with one decisive pull, wrapping the quilt around you both until the only cold left is the tip of your nose pressed against his collarbone. "Good girl, using your words," he praises softly, his palm spanning your back, pressing you flush against his heartbeat. Outside, the storm rages on. Inside, his fingers trace idle patterns between your shoulder blades steadily until your eyelids grow heavy with the kind of contentment you've almost forgotten existed.
His voice is rough with exhaustion when he speaks again, lips moving against your hair. "I haven't been sleeping well without seeing you either. I've missed jokin’ around with you every night,” The confession is quiet, almost lost beneath the crackle of the fire. You feel rather than see his jaw tighten, the way his grip on you shifts, not pulling away, just holding on differently, like he’s bracing for rejection. His thumb brushes the hinge of your jaw, a silent question. You nod against his chest, you understand better than he knows. Leon’s shoulders drop with relief at your response, and his nose buries into your curls.
The next time you stir awake, it’s to the sensation of Leon's fingers carding through your hair, his other arm locked around your waist like a vice. The fire burns low, casting the café in a dull orange glow that catches the stubble on his jaw. He isn’t sleeping, his breathing is too controlled, his body too still, but his eyes soften when he notices you watching. "Storm's worse," he murmurs, nodding toward the windows now thick with ice. His hand slides from your hair to cup the back of your neck, warm and sure. "We're stuck for the night and maybe tomorrow."
You expect him to suggest another round. To push. Anxiety flares in your chest down to your fingers just thinking about being ripped from the peace you're bathing in currently. Instead, Leon shifts just enough to reach for his discarded jacket, draping it over your shoulders properly again before settling back against the cushions with a grunt. "Go back to sleep," he says, and it isn’t a request. His palm smooths down your spine once, twice, a rhythm that might be Morse code if only you knew how to decipher it. Outside, the wind screams, pushing against the side of the cafe walls. Inside, Leon's heartbeat thuds steadily under your ear, a metronome counting down the hours until morning.
Dawn comes gray and grudging, the storm still clawing at the windows with icy fingers. You wake to the smell of burning sugar- Leon crouched by the fire, skewering stale pastries on a straightened coat hanger like some hilarious apocalyptic shish kebab. His hair is stuck up in sleep-mussed tufts, his shirt is wrinkled where you'd clung to it all night. When he catches you staring, he chuckles, really only a huff through his nose, and holds out a blackened croissant. "Breakfast," he deadpans, "courtesy of our expired inventory."
“Hey, I made those! I was proud of them!” you whine.
“And you can still be proud of them, they’re feeding us, aren’t they?” he talks through his chewing.
The pastry crumbles like ash in your mouth, but you choke it down under Leon's amused gaze, your toes curling into the quilt when he licks a smear of jam off his thumb with deliberate slowness. The quiet between you feels different now again- charged, but softer at the edges. Outside, a tree branch snaps under the weight of ice, the sound sharp as a gunshot. Leon doesn’t even blink.
Instead, he reaches for your wrist, turning it palm-up to trace the lines there with his fingertip-slow, methodical, like he’s memorizing the grooves. "When the roads clear," he says, voice rough with something that isn't sleep, "I'm taking you home. Properly." His thumb presses into your pulse point, a silent prompt to answer. You arch into the touch, your quiet "yes, please" lost in the creak of the settling roof. Leon's grin is slow and satisfied as he pulls you into his lap, the quilt slipping forgotten to the floor. The storm could rage for days. You'd stopped counting hours, you’d needed this- needed to be with him like this after being deprived of him for so long.
His calloused fingers trace the coffee stains on your shirt before dragging the fabric up just enough to expose the blossoming bruises along your ribs. "Gonna need to mark the other side too," he murmurs against your ear, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. "I strive for balance in my life."
Leon's grip tightens suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach with one efficient motion. The quilt bunches under your hips as he drags your jeans down just enough to expose the unmarked skin of your other thigh. His palm lands sharp against it once, then twice, until your choked whine echoes off the frosted windows. When his teeth follow the stinging blows, you arch helplessly into the bite, the pain bleeding into warmth as his tongue soothes the mark afterward. “There’s my pretty girl,” he praises in between licks.
You don't correct him, and he's never been prouder.
The coffee machine's power light blinks back on, casting eerie shadows across Leon's face as he surveys his handiwork- the symmetrical bruises, the way your fingers clutch at the quilt. "Better," he decides, thumb pressing possessively into the freshest mark. Outside, snow slides off the roof with a wet thud, but inside, the only sound is his zipper dragging down, pavloving your cunt into dripping onto his jeans.
You shudder when he drags you backward by the hips, his knees bracketing yours as he lines up with agonizing precision. "Don't move, honey, I’ve gotcha," he orders, breath hot against your spine. The first thrust is shallow, testing, his fingers splayed across your lower back to keep you still. The second buries him to the hilt, tearing a ragged noise from your throat that has nothing to do with pain.
Leon's chuckle vibrates against your shoulder blades as he sets a ruthless pace, one hand fisting in your hair to tilt your head back. "Gonna remember this," he moans, teeth scraping your nape with every snap of his hips, "every damn time we work together." The promise coils tight in your belly just before his free hand slides between your legs, fiddling with your puffy clit- faster, faster, and faster until- The storm outside fades to white noise beneath the roar of blood in your ears as you cum while clenching around him so hard his rhythm falters.
He doesn’t pull out afterward, just collapses over you with a grunt, his weight pinning you to the quilt as his breath steams hot against your spine. He whines and nuzzles into your nape when he feels his cum drip slowly out around him, softening. The emergency lights flicker back on, illuminating the wreckage-strewn cards, overturned stools, and your apron tangled around your ankles on the makeshift bed you've both made on the cafe couch like a surrender flag. Leon traces the indents his fingers left on your hips with something dangerously close to reverence before abruptly rolling off you with a groan. "I’ll get you water," he mutters, already shrugging into his discarded shirt as he stalks toward the back room, the muscles in his back flexing with each step.
You expected the distance to bring awkwardness, but Leon returns with two chipped mugs of tap water and a bag of half-melted ice from the freezer, pressing it gently against the freshest bruise on your thigh. His silence isn't cold, just observant, almost like he's assessing you as he palms the back of your neck to guide you into sipping the water. When you wince at the touch, his thumb brushes the spot apologetically. "Next time," he says at last, voice rough from sleep still, “we use a bed, don’ care if it's mine or yours, but we use a damn bed,”
Leon's fingers trace the rim of his mug absentmindedly, as his gaze flicks to the boarded-up door where dawn struggles to breach the storm's hold on the dark sky. The silence between you isn't empty, not really; it thrums with the weight of unspoken things, like the way his knuckles whiten around the ceramic when your foot brushes his under the quilt. He drains the water in one go, then stands abruptly, the floor creaking as he prowls toward the forgotten card deck scattered across the bar's floor. You watch him pluck the king of hearts from the wreckage, his thumb rubbing over the faded gilding before tucking it into his back jeans pocket with a slow smirk. "For luck," he says, though the boyish charm in his eyes and smirk suggest it's more like a claim on you.
The storm's fury eases incrementally, the howling wind softening to a low groan as daylight bleeds through the ice-fractured windows. Leon's phone buzzes against the counter, the first signal of the outside world in hours, but he ignores it in favor of crouching before you, his hands bracketing your thighs as he studies the marks he's left. "Does it hurt, hun?" he asks, though his fingers are already smoothing aloe from the café's first-aid kit over the worst bruises. You hiss at the cold gel, and he pauses, his grip gentling. "Breathe through it, baby,” he murmurs guiltily, and the way his lips press to your inner knee betrays his true tenderness. Part of you feels you don't deserve this, the other heaves a sigh of relief like you've been waiting for him to do this since you both got hired at this place.
Outside, a snowplow rumbles down the distant main road, its yellow beacon cutting through the haze like a lighthouse. Leon's head snaps up at the sound, his body tensing as if physically restraining himself from bolting toward the door to inspect the sudden noise. Instead, he reaches for your discarded apron, folding it with annoying precision before tucking it into his bag. "We're closed today," he declares, as if you, or even the universe, would dare disagree with him. His palm cradles your cheek when he kisses you- slow and thorough as his other hand splays possessively over the heartbeat fluttering beneath your sweater. Fear crawls up your chest; you don't want to part ways with him, not yet.
The café's door scrapes the sidewalk outside, the world intruding with the metallic bite of winter air when Leon finally wrenches it open. He doesn't let go of your hand until the last possible second, his fingers slipping from yours with deliberate slowness as you cross the icy parking lot. "Six PM," he says over his shoulder, already striding toward his snow-covered Jeep. You don't need to ask what he means; the certainty in his voice leaves no room for self-deprecating doubt. The storm has passed, but the tornado that is Leon, annoyingly pretty, smart, tall, hot, fucking Kennedy, has only begun hitting your life.
God, you pray that the cameras didn't have backup power, or you both might be out of a job by six pm.
Back in the wreckage of the café, you trace the front of house bar that’s dented just slightly where his hips had slammed it repeatedly into the wall. The smell of scorched milk and sex clings stubbornly to your clothes, and you don’t bother hiding your shy smile. When you finally get to picking up Leon’s discarded deck of cards, the king of hearts is missing from the scattered deck, its absence reminding you of Leon’s promise. Your phone buzzes later in the morning, once you’ve finished cleaning up the cafe, a single text from Leon: You’ll get your apron back tonight. The attached photo makes your thighs clench: Leon's thumb pressing into the purpling bite mark you left on his neck.
By the time you finish cleaning the cafe, getting home, and emergency grocery shopping for the next snowfall, the snow has refrozen into jagged ruts that crack underfoot as you lock up your apartment door. Headlights flare at the curb- Leon's battered Jeep idling with the passenger door already open. He doesn’t greet you, just reaches across to brush a coffee stain from your collar, his fingers lingering at your pulse. "Seatbelt," he reminds, though his palm slides up your thigh the moment you comply.
The engine growls as he pulls onto the empty street, his knuckles whitening around the gearshift when you trace the stolen card tucked in his breast pocket.
The first stoplight catches you in red. Leon turns suddenly, cuffing the back of your neck to drag you across the console. His kiss tastes like espresso and the peppermint gum he always chews to cover it, despite how many times you’ve reminded him that OSHA will fire his ass if they see him doing it behind the bar. "Hi, pretty girl," he smiles against your mouth, shifting just enough for you to feel the hard line of his arousal through his jeans. The light turns green. He doesn’t let go of your thigh.
His apartment smells like old books, and the ridiculously expensive cologne Leon insists on buying despite how much it puts him out financially. He pins you against the door the second it closes, one hand fisting in your coffee-stained sweater while the other palms your ass through your jeans. "Counter was good," he admits, teeth scraping your earlobe. "Bed's better." The promise in his voice sends heat spiraling low in your belly as he walks you backward toward the bedroom without breaking contact, not once.
You expect roughness. Instead, Leon lays you down with a reverence that makes your throat tight, his calloused hands mapping every bruise he'd left hours earlier. When he finally pushes into you, it’s with a slow, rolling thrust that has you seeing stars. His forehead presses to yours as he coos, "Told you-" His voice breaks off into a whine when you clench around him. "bed's better, right?"
His pace is mercilessly deep, unhurried strokes that drag against every nerve until your fingers claw at his biceps. Leon catches your hand with his hand, slipping his fingers into yours as his hips snap forward, the slap of skin drowning out your whimper. "Have you ever done this?" he murmurs against your lips, his free hand slides between you to circle your puffy clit with almost cruel precision.
"What do you mean? I just did this earlier with you," you whine, confused into his chapped lips.
“No, sweetheart, we fucked earlier, this, this is different.”
“How?” you cry out as your first orgasm rips through you like gunfire, your back arching off the mattress as he grins, "This, this is makin’ love, honey."
The second orgasm hits harder when he twists his fingers in your curls, yanking your head back to expose your throat. His teeth suckle on your pulse point just as his thumb pinches at your abused clit, and the world whites out again as you sob out a moan. "That’s two now, huh? Atta’ girl," he praises against your throat. When the third one finally hits, you’re sobbing his name, your thighs shaking around his waist as he fucks you through it slowly, his hands smoothing your sweaty hair out of your crimson-tinted face. He doesn’t tease you for how many times he’s gotten you to cum, but the boost to his ego definitely shines through on his face.
When Leon finally cums, he doesn’t pull away; his forehead rests against your collarbone as his breathing steadies. His fingers trace slow patterns down your spine, almost like a silent apology for the bruises blooming under his touch on your doughy thighs. When the streetlights flicker on outside, casting gold across the tangle of limbs and damp sheets, you're both enjoying your afterglow in, he finally lifts his head. His smirk is all lovey-dovey, but the way he tucks his duvet around you before reaching for his phone is something more possessive. "Dinner," he declares, thumbs flying over the screen. "Then, maybe… round three." You groan against his chest as he laughs, really laughs, loudly. “Nah, don’t worry, honey, I know you’ve gotta be sore,” he coos while he pulls your trembling body closer to his.
The takeout arrives cold, but neither of you seems to mind, truthfully. You eat straight from the containers, perched on Leon’s kitchen counter, while he feeds you stolen bites, dragging his thumb over your lower lip to clean off any remaining sauce. The silence isn't awkward. When your chopsticks clatter into the sink, Leon doesn't bother doing the dishes. He just crowds you further against the cold kitchen counter as his grip on your waist tightens further. He licks the sweet- and-sour sauce from the corner of your mouth. "Mine?" he questions. “Yours.” You whisper.
Later, tangled in his sheets with the TV murmuring background noise, you trace the burn scar above his hip, a cafe story he hasn't told you yet, you’re guessing. Leon catches your wrist, pressing your palm flat over the jagged line as if daring you to recoil. When you don’t, his grip gentles, thumb brushing your pulse point in silent acceptance. The theme song for The Office plays once more, the main theme casting shadows across the planes of his face as he studies you, not like he’s viewing something fragile per-say, but like you're a puzzle he intends to solve. His "Stay, please" is gruff with sleep, but the way his arm curls around your waist when you curl deeper into his side makes him smile.
Leon's fingers tighten around your waist as dawn creeps through the blinds, his grip firm even in sleep. You shift slightly, just enough to see the faded hickey’s on his shoulder where you'd lost control, and his arm immediately tenses, dragging you back against his chest with a muffled grunt. "Don’ go, aren’t you off today?" he mutters against your hair, voice thick with sleep. His thumb sweeps over your hipbone in slow, absent circles, as if reassuring himself you hadn't vanished in the night. Outside, a snowplow rumbles past, its flashing lights painting streaks of red across the blinds shielding you both from the world. “Mhmm, off t’day and tomorrow,” you murmur, kissing the underside of his jaw reassuringly. You’re not going anywhere.
The smell of burnt coffee and fabric softener clings to the crumpled aprons tossed over his bedside chair. Leon’s apron still has its strings knotted from when he'd yanked it off hours ago. Your’s is neatly folded with your nametag placed delicately ontop. What a gentleman he can be when he isn’t a pain in my ass, you think. Leon follows your gaze, his smirk sharpening as he hooks a finger through your sleep shirt's strap and tugs. "Leave them," he said, though his tone makes it clear it isn't a request.
When you arch a brow, he rolls atop you in one fluid motion, filling your hands with his and pinning them above your head teasingly. "We’ll deal with it tomorrow," he amends, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You know I hate it when my apron is dirty, Leon,” you whine, half-heartedly tugging your hands away from his.
“Mhmm, you can wait, baby, we don’t gotta work for another two days, let’s just enjoy this, huh?” Leon coos into your ear. You sigh dramatically, “Fine,” and meet his kiss halfway. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the infamous King of Hearts hanging out of the pile of your shared laundry on the floor.
plssss more threesome with re9 and re4 leon (or any other version of leon tbh) that was SO GOOD !!💖💖💖
THE ROOKIE AND THE EXPERT ✹ Leon Kennedy
SUMMARY: You and Leon, your husband, find yourselves in a DSO gala having an encounter with his younger him. Little did rookie Leon know that he'd end up the night involved in a threesome with you two
-> Read PART 1: WILDEST DREAM
‼️: NSFW: threesome, oral sex (female and male receiving), ass eating, fingering, masturbation (female and male receiving), unprotected p in v (established marriage and pull out method PLEASE use protection irl), creampie
✹ PAIRINGS: RE9!Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader x RE2!Leon Kennedy
✹ WORD COUNT: 3462 ✹ Find me on AO3
✹ Make your RESIDENT EVIL REQUESTS here (information included)
✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST
💬 Day 5/7 of the 100 followers event! This was so intense omg. Anon, I tried to do something different and add rookie Leon, so I hope you like it! 💖
Leon couldn't stop looking at you.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you since the moment he met you, back when the two of you crossed paths in Raccoon City and had to work together just to make it out of that night alive.
What truly captivated him was when you started working together for the DSO. Training, missions, medical evaluations.
Simply… spending time together.
He wanted you, and way more than he even wanted to admit to himself.
And now… he didn’t know how he’d ended up where he was. He didn't even know if he was still alive, but seeing you in a more mature version, alongside his own even older self…
He felt like he was playing with fire.
“Have you seen the way he’s looking at you? Well, how I’m looking at you.”
You lift your gaze from your phone screen, from the conversation you were having with your teen daughter, to look at your husband. He was perfectly dressed in the suit you had chosen for him a couple of weeks earlier for the DSO gala you were attending now.
“Who?”
Leon rolls his eyes and points to where his younger self is standing.
“Who do you think it is?”
51-year-old Leon Kennedy wasn’t stupid. He’d seen his younger self appear a few minutes earlier, confused, still wearing the pathetic RPD uniform from his very first, catastrophic, day as a cop… if it could even be called that.
You laugh when you see how lost twenty-something Leon looks.
“Do you want to do something about it?” you ask your husband.
“Do you think he’d agree if we invited him to have a threesome with us?”
“Leon!” you widen your eyes and smack his chest, making sure no one around you is paying attention to your conversation. When you realize no one is listening, you lean closer to him. “Would you really like to have a threesome?”
“You know it wouldn’t be the first time. Remember that time I told you I somehow ended up in Spain? And you were there too? And—”
Leon was right, of course.
You didn’t know how all of this had started, but it wasn’t the first time that, for some reason, as if it was some kind of multiverse, if you could call it that, had brought you into the past… and usually ended with you having threesomes with your younger selves.
“Are you sure about what you’re saying?” you ask, shyly. You and your husband had always done it separately, but now… you’d do it together.
“Come on,” he smiles, taking you by the waist and pulling you close. “Wouldn’t you like to fuck me and my almost-virgin self at the same time?”
“Of course I would. But… don’t you think that might be a bit too much?” You glance again at rookie Leon, who keeps wandering around the gala, confused, earning more than a few annoyed looks. “I don’t know if that would be the best idea… Look at the poor guy.”
“Let’s test him. I’ve got a plan I think you’re going to, love.”
“Leon…”
“Why don’t you flirt with him and see how far does it go?” the blue-eyed man says.
Your eyes widen.
“But how am I supposed to do that…” you reply, looking at his younger self, who still looks just as lost. You gesture toward him. “He’s—”
“He’s just me from a few years ago, love,” Leon interrupts, placing a hand on your back and gently pushing you forward, urging you to do something about it. “Come on… I think we’re going to have fun with that.”
You nod, giving up.
You notice that rookie Leon is getting closer to you. When he approaches one of the cocktail bars, you take the opportunity to walk up to him.
The young man notices, but he doesn’t realize it’s you. Or at least, not exactly.
You turn your back to the bar, resting your forearms against it.
“Are you enjoying the night, Leon?”
He focuses on the way your lips move. The way you run your tongue over them after speaking. He imagines running his own tongue over them, what it would be like to kiss you, to bite them…
“Leon?”
He blinks several times, snapping out of his fantasies. You notice his nervousness, and you can’t help but smile with satisfaction. You straighten up and step even closer, placing one hand on his knee.
From a distance, you see your husband, older Leon, wink at you and bite his lower lip. You feel like you're definitely doing a good job… not to mention how wet you’re starting to feel.
“Y-yeah…?” the younger one says hesitantly. “Do we know each other?”
“Of course we do. And I know you do too. I know you’re confused, but… I think the only thing you need to know tonight is that I’m your wife… from the future. And that man over there,” you point toward 51-year-old Leon, “is you in thirty years. Have you seen how good you still look?”
“Okay…”
“You ok?”
“Yes,” he clears his throat and focuses on your eyes. He can’t take his eyes from you, and that's only making him more nervous. “I got a little bit distracted. Sorry.”
You nod, running one hand over your face until you reach your ear.
“Fuck…”
“What happened?” Leon asks, concern in his voice.
“I think I lost one of my earrings,” you pull back just enough to pretend you’re searching for the ‘lost’ earring. “Oh… Look, here it is.”
You step back in front of Leon, giving him a view he tries, and definitely fails, to ignore.
His eyes travel down your legs until he notices the slit in your dress, revealing your red lace underwear.
You’re more than aware of it, so when you straighten up, you smile at him.
Quickly, Leon heads toward a couch, and you follow him without having to think twice.
His cheeks are now flushed a deep crimson and, as if that wasn't enough, he places a cushion over his lap, which gives him away immediately.
“Leon?”
The younger one swallows hard when he hears the voice of his older self.
Your husband approaches the two of you. He takes you by the waist, as if to show that you are his, and pulls you close, pressing a warm kiss to your lips.
The younger Leon doesn’t look away.
“Is something wrong, kid? You look pretty... overwhelmed.”
“Yes, you look way too overwhelmed,” you add, looking at the rookie with feigned concern. You stretch one hand out to touch his forehead, leaning down and giving him a perfect view of your tits thanks to the pronounced neckline you’re wearing. “Are you hot, rookie?”
Twenty-something Leon doesn’t know how much longer he can stand having you right in front of him without doing anything about it.
And, well, speaking of your husband… you know he's probably feeling like his younger self.
Just by looking at him, you know he’s getting pretty desperate. He watches you with hunger, with that familiar look that always means he’d fuck you in that moment if he really could, like he's done plenty of times.
“I’m fine, really,” young Leon manages with difficulty. “I think I’m going to see how the hell I can get back to RPD… or wherever I was before I got here.”
“You can come to our room with us in the meantime. Just if you want, of course,” your husband suggests.
“I think that would be much better, yeah,” you add. “You can relax a little with us. We can also figure out how to help you.”
That last comment had a double meaning, and he seems to realize it. He doesn’t object, of course.
You pick up your purse from the couch and take the hand Leon, your husband, is offering you, waiting for the younger Leon to stand up.
He swallows hard, desperate and nervous.
How is he supposed to get up without making his erection obvious?
He wants to die right now.
“Rookie, are you coming with us or not?” you ask, though it sounds more like a demand.
“Yeah, sure… Just a sec…”
Your husband’s gaze shifts to the cushion still resting on his younger self’s lap. A smile spreads across his face.
“Love, I think rookie has a different kind of problem...”
He points at the cushion, which the twenty-something Leon clutches tightly. You watch him with a raised brow, amused, and your husband speaks again:
“You can help him with that, right?”
Young Leon freezes, wondering whether his older self really says that or if it’s just his imagination… like all this entire situation already feels like.
“Of course,” you assure him, smiling mischievously. “Only if rookie wants to.”
Your husband turns his gaze to his younger self.
He looks like a lost puppy, probably unsure whether you’re messing with him or actually being serious.
“What do you say, rookie?” Leon asks, smiling with satisfaction. “Do you want my wife, your wife, to help you with you little problem?”
“Yes.”
Without saying anything else, he stands up from the couch and walks over to you. He takes you by the neck and, without hesitation, leaving behind the embarrassment he’s had until now, he presses his lips to yours in a deep, desperate kiss.
You force yourself to pull away due to the lack of air. A smile, a big one, starts appearing on your lips.
“I adore how enthusiastic you are, rookie, but I think it’s better if we take things to the bedroom, don’t you think so?”
“Whatever you want.”
The walk back to the hotel suite takes no time at all. You couldn't be happier that your husband convinced the DSO to give you a suite in the same hotel where the gala was held.
Your husband is the one who opens the door, quickly, letting you and the other Leon enter first.
The rookie can’t take it anymore. Just like he did before, he presses his lips to yours once again.
You start running your hands over his torso, remembering when you used to do the same with your husband years ago. You miss the body he had back then, but you certainly can’t complain about the one he has now. A much better one, of course.
Clumsily, you slide your hands down until you reach his belt, but just as you’re about to start undoing it, your husband steps in, clearly not too pleased with what’s happening.
“Mmm… I think we’re going to have to stop for a moment.”
Twenty-something Leon looks confused at his older self. A thousand thoughts starts running through his head, mostly the ones with the fear that he’s about to be kicked out of the room because you're regretting this.
Instead, your husband takes your hand and guides you toward the bed, pressing his lips to yours while his hands roam your body roughly. Clumsily, he starts lifting your dress, sliding his hand underneath and feeling around until he finds your underwear, dragging his fingers over your pussy and noticing just how wet you are.
“Rookie.”
Young Leon snaps out of his daze and steps closer to your husband.
“If you want to be with our girl, then you’re going to have to prove to me that you’re good enough to make her come.”
He feels nervous, a lot. However, he ends up nodding.
Your husband sits down on the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes off his younger self, watching closely to see what he does.
You smile at the younger one to reassure him, which helps rookie Leon calm down enough to press his lips to yours again.
As he kisses you, he moves his hands all over your body. He wants to learn every single part of you, to already have most of the work done in case something like this ever happens between him and you at his age.
He stops at your tits, giving your nipples, already beginning to show beneath your dress, attention.
Leon pulls back slightly, silently asking for permission with his eyes to remove your dress.
Without hesitation, you nod, though you also demand that he does the same. You also send a pleading look toward your husband, silently asking him to do the same.
The younger Leon, now full of energy and having left his shyness behind, brings his lips to one of your breasts, toying with the other one with his hand.
You can’t help but start moaning, which makes him smile, satisfied with the good job he's probably doing.
Leon pushes you onto the bed and begins planting kisses over your tits, moving down your abdomen until he reaches your lower stomach. He runs his fingers over your thong, feeling how the wetness is already there.
He keeps going with slow, torturous movements until you grab his hand, trying to make him do more, and slip it inside your underwear.
“She’s a confident woman. You need to know that she always knows what she wants and when she wants it,” your husband says, standing beside you and placing a chaste kiss on you.
“God, yes… I can definitely tell.”
Rookie Leon finally decides to remove the last piece of clothing you have left after playing with you for a little more.
The moment you're completely naked in front of him, he's stunned.
He's dreamt of you like this countless times, and even if it’s with your older version…
He definitely has nothing to complain about.
He doesn’t stop there. Immediately, he runs his fingers over your folds, repeating the exact same movements he made over your underwear, only now giving more attention to your clit.
You close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the pleasure. You arch your back and let out a surprised cry when you feel him start to fuck you with one finger, then two, while he keeps making circles over your clit.
The rookie can’t stop looking at you. He wants to memorize each and every reaction you’re having so he can recreate them in the future… hopefully, with you.
As he keeps going, he finds out what you like most. What makes you seem to beg him for more.
He keeps going until he brings you right to the edge of orgasm. He feels your walls clench around his fingers.
He has no doubt: he pulls them out.
“Leon, please, if you don’t do something about this…”
You scream his name when you feel him kneel in front of you and run his tongue over your intimacy.
You open your legs and grab his head with your hands, gripping his hair tightly so he doesn’t stop devouring you. Your husband watches the scene with a desire that stroking his erection isn’t enough anymore. Just as desperate, he pulls off his boxer and starts masturbating while he watches his younger self eating you out desperately.
Young Leon massages your tits with his hands while he keeps eating you out. You feel like you’re about to come at any moment. The moment the rookie adds his fingers again is your complete downfall.
You clamp your legs around his head as the orgasm crashes over you. You can't stop moaning as you lift yourself slightly, writhing with pleasure.
You fall back onto the bed while the younger Leon looks at you with a satisfied smile.
“Was it good? Did I do it well?”
“Pretty well, actually, rookie...” you reply as you sit up on the bed and press your lips to the rookie’s, tasting yourself on them. “Let me reward you now. You’ve been such a good, good boy, for me…”
You slide your hands to his pants, still on. You’re finally able to undo them without interruptions, getting rid of his underwear as well.
You wrap your hand around his cock, spreading the pre-cum over the tip as you stroke him slowly, as if you were torturing him.
“Let me fuck you, please…”
“Whatever you want today, rookie…”
Without him having to say a word, you lie back on the bed, spreading your legs wide. Leon positions himself at your entrance, slowly pushing his cock inside you, feeling better with every inch.
Once inside you, he does his best to start with slow movements, trying to savor you as much as possible. The moment you look at him, running your tongue over your lips and biting your lower lip, he couldn't hold back anymore.
He takes your left leg and places it over his shoulder, finding the perfect angle to make you feel him so much better. So much deeper.
While the rookie keeps moving, you shift your gaze to your husband, who is still masturbating, slowly, waiting for you to do something to him as well.
You look at him.
He didn't need to say a word.
You know him too well to know exactly what he wants from you.
“Come here, love…”
He obeys and kneels beside you. You reach out and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it a little while you find the perfect position to start sucking him.
“Look at you, baby… taking both of us so well, like the good girl you are…” your husband murmurs in a deep voice, closing his eyes and tilting his head back in pleasure. “And you, rookie… you’re fucking my wife the way she deserves for being your very first time with her…”
You moan at your husband’s words.
Everything's being too much for you. You’re enjoying this in ways you can’t even describe.
Leon, the younger one, fucking you harder and harder. The other Leon, your husband, in your mouth, the taste of cum already appearing.
Your husband seems to notice you’re about to reach your second orgasm, and he doesn’t hesitate.
He moves one of your hands to your clit and, with just rubbing it a little, you come. Your moans are what make the rookie finish too. He pulls out quickly from you and spills all his cum over your stomach.
Immediately after, and without giving you time to breathe, adult Leon takes the initiative, straightening up, lifting you and positioning you on all fours. He slaps your ass a few times, making you moan out of desperation, and then he kneels behind you to eat your pussy and your ass, tasting all your cum.
Then, he takes his cock and runs it over your folds and your clit, making you lose the little sanity you have left.
“Leon, please…”
“Yes, love?” your husband asks, running his hands over your waist until they stop at your tits.
“I need more, please… I need you…”
He smiles, deciding to end the torture.
In one thrust, he starts fucking you hard and deep. Your husband knows exactly how you like it the most, and he uses his experience with you to make you enjoy it even more than with the other Leon.
Rookie now stands in front of you, willing to kiss you.
Of course, you don’t hesitate.
You kiss him until you have to break away because your husband’s movements inside you are too much, and you’re already far too sensitive after the two previous orgasms.
Your moans sound so loud, so desperate, that they surprise younger Leon.
He can’t take his eyes off the two of you, especially not of your husband and how good he’s making you feel.
The rookie focuses on him, on how his tongue slips out as his hands grip your waist tightly. How another of his hands takes your hair in a ponytail and yanks you back, making you moan even louder, begging him to keep fucking you, harder.
Your husband knows there isn’t much left before the third orgasm completely breaks you.
Both of his hands are again on your hips, gripping them harder, and fucking you even rougher if that’s even possible.
You know it is, of course.
Your husband will always have more for you, especially if you beg him for it.
Rookie Leon is focused on playing with your tits and then, remembering what your husband did earlier, he decides to copy him.
He lowers his right hand to your clit to help you come.
A strangled cry escapes you, followed by your husband’s name, when you feel the pressure in your lower stomach finally explode.
Your vision blurs from the intensity of the pleasure.
Your husband, feeling your walls clench tightly around his cock, finally comes inside you, letting out a growl.
Panting, he pulls out of you. You end collapsing onto the bed, completely spent, while you see Leon head to the bathroom, probably to grab a towel to clean you both up, as he always does.
You curl up against the younger Leon, who's surprised by the gesture but has no complains about it.
“Stay,” you ask the rookie softly. “We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow morning...”
“Are you sure that…?”
You silence him with a kiss, not letting him finish talking.
“Let yourself go for one night, rookie. Don’t you want to be with the version of me that’s here for you?”
He nods, unsure.
“Then take advantage of us tonight. Ask Leon for advice, or if you want… I can teach you what I like and how I like it. Leon can join us again too, if you want.”
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback on the comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated but, if you feel shy, just send me an anonymous ask! 💖
I honestly almost didn’t post it today because I’ve been feeling so down about my writing, but I decided to post it anyways! Huge thanks to my girls Luna and Beth, and also to the rest of you, for cheering me up today 🥹
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