Always this infinity between us
Leon S Kennedy × Female Reader
Tags: romantic smut, established relationship (husband/wife), no use of y/n, 2nd person POV
Word Count: 3,150
Summary: Some things you get used to. Wanting your husband has never been one of them.
My personal challenge to write smut, but slow, yearning, and romantic.
There are days where you get like this, some more than others. All you know is that you want your husband. You want Leon.
It’s almost silly, you think, how you just had date night yesterday and already, you want more. There’s a certain giddy pleasure in discovering new depths of desire when it comes to Leon. Love starts to seem endless: new joys begin where old ones ended.
So tonight, you’re ready for him. A candle burns on the nightstand: that woody and green scent that Leon came to love because he associated it with you. The thermostat set cooler than usual because you know how overheated Leon gets when he wants you. You’re dressed in a new nightie you think Leon will like: black lace, classic, handmade to drape beautifully over your curves.
And of course, dinner waiting for later, because a well-fed Leon is a happy Leon. You giggle at the memory of when you first found out just how food-motivated your husband can be. It’s one of the many little idiosyncrasies that you adore in him.
But for now, you’re sitting on your shared bed, the nightie light and airy around you, goosebumps rising on bare skin exposed to the cool air. The candle flickers briefly, perfuming your bedroom, and you idly play with a lock of your hair, waiting for the love of your life to come home and find you, ready and waiting.
By the time you hear Leon’s key turn in the lock, your anticipation has hit its peak.
He steps through the bedroom door and you rise to your feet, your lips pursed in a coy smile. Whatever he was about to say stops in his throat as you tiptoe to cover his mouth with your hand.
“Welcome home, baby.”
You watch the way his eyes widen, then crease at the corners as he smiles behind your palm.
His stubble prickles your skin. “Huh.” You muse. “Looks like someone didn’t shave this morning.”
Leon gives an apologetic shrug. He knows the way it scratches you when you’re getting intimate. He turns for the bathroom and you yank him back immediately.
“Now where do you think you’re going, hm?”
You bring your hands to rest on his shoulders, grinning when you can feel them drop. You gently knead the firm muscle, admiring how strong and reliable they’ve always been, thick and broad, the perfect place to rest your head.
Then he bends to meet you halfway, chasing your lips with his own.
And God, that’s all you wanted, all day. You missed him on your lips. It’s so unfair, you think, that a man like him also gives such soft, loving kisses. You exhale on a sigh, savouring the silken slip of his tongue. The way it caresses you has the power to unravel rational thought.
You know Leon missed you too. Because when you take a step back to your bed, he follows close, not an inch between you both. Sometimes, you think he’d go anywhere you were. He lingers in your thoughts, every waking moment, in the sweetest dreams of deep sleep, and you hope that for even the merest fraction of the day, you might perhaps occupy a small corner of his mind.
Leon stands between your legs, and you reach up to cup his cheek. “I think you worked hard today, didn’t you?”
You want to giggle, because now, your tough, 49-year-old husband is hitting you with his best effort at pathetic, puppy-dog eyes. He nods seriously, lips pursed into a semblance of a pout.
“My baby deserves to sit back and be taken care of, don’t you think?”
Oh, his nod is extremely eager.
“I thought so. Now…” You tap his chest. “Take this off. There’s a good boy.”
Leon’s hands were already reaching for the hem of his shirt, but the last two words made him pause. That intense gaze trains on you, and your breath catches at the sight of his blown pupils.
There’s a moment where tension pulls taut as you watch each other, neither of you making a sound, high on pure, unadulterated anticipation.
Then the rustle of fabric breaks the silence as Leon fumbles, clumsy in his urgency to rid himself of his work clothes. You lean back, watching appreciatively as his fitted, navy-blue shirt lifts over his head. You drink in the expanse of bared skin, smooth in some places, marked with scars in others. You’ve traced each and every one with a reverent touch; you know them so well you could name them if you wanted. The muscles of his abdomen practically ripple with effort as he hurries to remove his belt and trousers.
What a beautiful man, you think. He’s almost painful to look at. But he’s all mine.
And he wants me.
You rise from the bed and crook your finger at him over your shoulder. “Sit down, baby. Get comfortable.”
Leon settles himself against the headboard and immediately reaches out for you. You chuckle, lowering yourself over his thighs, your back to his chest. “I’m coming, Leon. Mm, you’re so impatient today.”
“Let’s take this nice and slow.” You purr, looking back at him again. “You earned it, baby.”
It’s like it takes a moment for the words to register. A beat passes before he gives a single, curt nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, watching you intently.
And God, does that make your head spin. The way he trusts you to take the lead, waiting for you to move. The tense line of his shoulders tells you just how much effort it’s taking for him to hold still and wait for your touch.
“Doesn’t seem right that one of us is more dressed than the other, huh?” You tease, batting your lashes at him. Leon gives you a flat look, his gaze flicking from your nightie to down to his very undressed state.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me put that right.”
And so it begins. You close your eyes, running your hands down your sides. You feel Leon sit up a little straighter, but you ignore him for now, focussed on tracing the curves of your waist and your silk-draped hips. You think about the way Leon likes to grab your waist, the way he holds on just a little too tight when he’s focussed on you, how your well-loved skin indents with marks from his fingers.
You trail your hand up over your chest, pushing beneath one thin shoulder strap. Ever so slowly, you begin to inch the strap down the slope of your shoulder and arm.
Leon sucks in a breath behind you. You listen, waiting for him to breathe again, your movements stopping.
Nothing comes.
“Leon, breathe.” You giggle. Your audacity is rewarded with a shaky exhale.
You continue, letting the strap fall to your elbow before you move to the other side. You push the strap off your right shoulder, leaving it suspended just a little longer than necessary. There’s an impatient grunt behind you, and in the blink of an eye, heavy warmth settles over your breasts. Your eyes fly open. “Baby, wait–”
He does not wait. Leon’s hands have slipped beneath your nightie, cupping and kneading you firmly. You glance down, looking at the way your softness is a little too much for his hands, overflowing between his fingers. Then, one callused thumb grazes the bead of your right nipple, and you can control neither the goosebumps racing across your skin, nor the moan escaping your parted lips. You were about to chastise him, to tell him to wait, but you’ve forgotten yourself: Leon is now lightly pinching your other nipple, the pressure exactly as he knows you like it.
“Baby…” You were supposed to wait.
But to your surprise, Leon answers with a faint moan. Of course your beloved husband is the one moaning when he’s working at making you feel good.
It’s just so… Leon, you think. The overwhelming surge of fondness you feel makes you lightheaded for a second.
Where was I…? Your hazy thoughts struggle to cohere. Oh, right. You push the front of your nightie down Leon’s hands, freeing yourself from the upper half of the nightie. Cool air grazes exposed skin, but before your body can even respond to the dip in temperature, Leon is moving. You’ve barely revealed your back and Leon is already running his lips across your shoulder blades. Like he can’t get enough.
“Leon, you cheater.” You breathe. “I’m… supposed to be… the one distracting you.”
His chest rumbles with decidedly smug laughter. His lips don’t stop. The curve of his smirk melts away as he presses achingly gentle kisses to one shoulder, then the other. You feel him move down the length of your spine, his touch as reverent as it’s always been. He bends you forward ever so slightly, just so he can access as much bare skin as possible.
He only becomes hungrier as he goes on, bestowing open-mouthed kisses upon each and every inch of flushed skin.
You forget the striptease for a while, because while you were trying to indulge Leon, he was busy indulging you. Indulging in you. The man has some kind of superpower, you think. There’s just something about the way he kisses you, touches you, that makes you forget everything you were supposed to be doing.
Those hungry kisses become positively ravenous. The firm length of his cock is pressing insistently between your thighs, demanding his attention and yours. But Leon, of course, is currently ignoring it because it would seem he wants nothing more than to be kissing you. It’s only when you find your hips mindlessly grinding against his length that you realise you should probably put both of you out of your fevered misery.
But for just a while, you don’t want to. Because God, feeling him become slick through your panties, feeling his cock glide against your slit is so fucking addictive. You feel the rim of his head catch on your clit and you have to grip his thighs to stay upright, because the pleasure that races up your spine is making you lightheaded.
“Fuck…” You curse, laughing and panting. “That feel good for you too, baby?”
Leon nods frantically against your shoulder.
You will yourself to stop the helpless rhythm of your hips, your fingers digging into his muscled thighs with the effort. You swallow hard, your tongue thick in your throat, and reach unsteadily for the waistband of your thong. You let the strap snap once against your skin, the loud sound making Leon jolt once. You’re just about to slide it down your thighs when Leon simply reaches down and pulls the gusset aside. He grazes your pussy, the sudden thrill of sensation making you yelp.
God, you’re aching so badly.
Your head falls back against Leon’s shoulder as you try to steady yourself. Your eyes meet in the mirror, and any hope of calm evaporates instantly. Leon’s half-lidded gaze doesn’t do anything to hide the bottomless depths of his hunger, blue irises eclipsed by dilated pupils. There’s a gorgeous flush riding high on those ridiculous cheekbones of his. Something shifts in his face, desire morphing into defiance.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but no words come. All you hear is the rapid staccato of him panting against your skin.
How does it feel, knowing you did this to him? That beautiful pink on his cheeks looks just like the shade of his skin whenever you spank him across his raised, rock-hard ass. The moan that just escaped him? Exactly the sound he makes as your hands crack against the backs of his thighs.
You refocus and drink in the image of him in the mirror.
Your beloved husband. Those eyes are pleading with you.
You break the spell that’s enraptured you both by reaching down to the sticky mess of your thighs. You grip the slippery length of his cock, gliding up and down. Once, twice.
It’s been so, so long since you’ve had him inside you.
Well… He fucked you until you forgot your name yesterday. So, way too long. How had you survived, not having him exactly where he belongs?
You guide his tip to your entrance.
Now you align him and begin to lower yourself.
It’s a tight fit. It almost always is, no matter how much you crave him. You curse under your breath. You want to be even closer to him, as close as two bodies will ever get, and yours isn’t cooperating as much as you’d like. How infuriating.
“Leon…” You call his name on instinct.
He’s got you. Of course he’s got you. He holds you steady, finds the angle he likes, and pushes forward. Fuck, his cock is relentless. Your walls part and close around him, perfectly snug, and you clench, milking him for every ounce of pleasure he can possibly bring.
Your moans come together, as inseparable as the meeting of your bodies, and you relish in the feeling of Leon’s forehead crashing into your shoulder, in the vibration of his moans tickling your skin.
“C’mon Leon. Baby.” You whine. “All the way. Please.”
His arms fold around your waist, helping to guide you down the rest of the way. The slight sting in your pussy is nothing compared to the knowledge that you’re being completely and utterly filled by the man you love.
Tears well up as he finally, finally bottoms out in you, the insides of your thighs resting against his. It just feels so… right. It’s as if you weren’t complete this morning, weren’t whole all day, until this very moment when you could come together with Leon again. At long last, the ache of being half of a whole eases, and you’re one with your love once more.
And then Leon whimpers.
The poor man is practically trembling with the effort of staying still inside you.
You grind down against him. “Fuck, I missed you.” You moan. “I missed you all day, and now that you’re here… I still miss you.”
Leon answers with a groan as he thrusts into you, his arms tightening around your waist. He drags his palm down, pressing into your lower belly, holding you right against him. His calluses scratch lightly against you, a maddening sensation, and you find yourself involuntarily pushing back into his hand.
Want to feel more, you think. Gotta get closer. You’ve gotten clumsy in your eagerness, bumping your hips against him to meet his thrusts. That stretch threatens to overwhelm you, you swear he’s swollen even larger inside, but that’s always been the best part really: the reminder that it’s Leon inside you right now, the love of your life, the man you want so much it hurts.
A pained-sounding grunt sounds from Leon as you push yourself all the way down, taking him to the root again. You grind against him for good measure. You think you might’ve hurt him, until you feel him pushing back. That’s when you know he feels it too: that desperate, reckless hunger to be one with the person he loves. His hand slides even lower, spreading your lips with his thumb and forefinger, revealing the swollen pearl of your clit to his laser-focussed attention.
Fuck, it’s over for you. Your movements falter, but Leon remains as steady as always. He grabs you by the hips, helping you find your rhythm again, rocking you against him with an ease that makes your head swim. You hear the muffled Nngh into your neck as Leon finds a particularly pleasurable angle, your body going limp as he skillfully teases your clit and presses insistently against the plush front wall of your pussy.
God, he won’t let up– “Please, Leon–I’m close–” You turn, trying to catch his eye. You’re not above begging when it comes to him. He catches your whimper with his lips, and you can’t tell if that soothes or only inflames your desire. He seizes one of your hands, entangling his fingers with yours, gripping you tight.
And then with one more calculated stroke of his fingers, with the sensation of his cock burying itself fully inside you, you cry out, your mind going blissfully blank. The tension in your body flees like an arrow leaving its bow, and you slump bonelessly against Leon’s legs, moaning with abandon, Leon’s hand temporarily stilling as he pushes himself as deep as he can possibly go, spilling himself into you. You shiver, savouring the last pleasant tingles of sensation as you ride out your orgasm, clenching around Leon’s cock as it twitches inside you.
You lay there, Leon resting his forehead against your back, trying to catch your breath. He just tightens his grasp on your hand, pulling it to rest on your chest. You’re certain he can sense your heart racing, and his lips pull into a smirk, knowing just what he’s done to you.
Leon recovers first. Of course. He always does. He strokes your back, unhurried, affectionate, dragging more kisses down the length of your neck, lifting your hair to get better access, making sure every inch of skin feels the full expression of his devotion. You don’t want to move. Damn him, but you get so greedy with his love. You can’t bear the thought of missing one single kiss, one brief caress, every fleeting moment of contact.
He shifts behind you with an apologetic murmur, and then he’s gently lifting you to lie back against him. You barely pay attention to the sounds behind you, you’re still enjoying the last moments of your shared peak, when he presses a glass to your lips. You crack an eye open and drink deeply, the cool water soothing your parched throat. He holds it there, watching you drink.
Now you watch as Leon takes the half-filled glass from you and drinks too.
Your mind wanders. Sometimes, you feel silly. Sometimes, you don’t understand how you can be hypnotised by everything he does: the way he moves your body with ease, the way his throat bobs as he drinks from the same glass, the faint sound as he swallows. You watch the movement of his Adam’s apple, hopelessly lost in him.
You sigh. For a while, you were as close to him as you could possibly be, and it still wasn’t enough. You don’t think it’ll ever be enough; you’ll always want him in endless, impossible ways, always experiencing the hopeless yearning to close the distance between your minds. To show that you love him, in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
He just sets the glass aside, brushes away a stray drop of water, and tucks you against him, settling his head into the crook of your neck. He presses another kiss to your temple.
“I love you.” He says.
You rest your head against his, your heart close to overflowing.
Like you didn’t already know.
