warnings/tags: language, sexual moment at the end, this fucking sucks
words: 1.6k
a/n: hey guys :( i'm sorry i disappeared for so long and more than that i'm sorry this fic fucking BLOWS. i got broken up with brutally over text by my long-term partner and had one of the worst calls imaginable at work all within a few days. so i've been struggling a lot and very unmotivated. this part 2 sucks, and i'm so sorry. i promise i will make up for it with another actually angsty part between leon and reader but i didn't have it in me to be too evil to leon here. if you forgive me wait for part 3 to judge me LMAO.
3:14am.
A gentle breeze teased the light colored curtains through the open window of your office. It was warm, soft, comforting. In any other circumstances, it would’ve lulled you to sleep. But you couldn’t sleep. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep ever again.
Your eyes burned as you stared at the laptop screen, and you rolled your shoulders. You let out a long sigh, leaning back and breaking your gaze away from the bright screen.
It had been four days since you had found out about Leon’s infection. And as much as you wanted to be furious with him for hiding it from you, you couldn’t find it in you. You would be damned before you waste whatever time you have left with him being angry with him while he pretended like he wasn’t scared for his life. You couldn’t be selfish- not this time.
You grabbed your lukewarm coffee mug from its spot on your desk, cradling it in your hands before taking a sip. Leon had retired to bed hours ago, but you saw no end in sight for you any time soon.
“God,” you said softly. You were not a woman of faith. You had seen far too much death and evil to truly believe this was all in the hands of something higher, but when your life felt like it was crashing in around you, you were brought some comfort by the idea of speaking to someone- or something- that held your fate in its mighty hands. “God, please. I can’t lose that man, I’m not done with him yet.”
You felt tears pricking at the back of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, setting your mug down and pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. You were inhaling a shaky breath when you heard a gentle knock on the doorframe into your office.
You dropped your hands, your head raising to meet the figure of your daughter standing in the doorway. You had called her the evening after finding out about Leon, and in less than twelve hours she had packed and driven three states over from her college town to be involved. If Leon thought he was in trouble with you, nothing compared to the tongue lashing his daughter was going to give him (the look on his face when he saw her pull into the driveway belonged on a t-shirt).
“Hey, honey,” you said softly, forcing a smile.
She walked in, her face every bit of your dear husband’s genetics. “What’re you still up for?”
You shook your head, “Just… researching symptoms and… whatever. Hoping that there’s someone out there in some old Reddit forum or something who knows anything about this shit.”
Your daughter nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. Despite being a grown woman, she looked just as vulnerable as she did the day she was old enough to realize her daddy wasn’t promised to her. That he was a government pawn before he could be anything else.
“I never thought he’d go like this,” she said distantly, her eyes and mind somewhere that wasn’t in the present moment.
You pursed your lips, nodding in agreement. “Me neither. Maybe to some bullshit B.O.W., or even a fucking car wreck… but to some… whatever the hell this is?” You closed the lid to your laptop. “What a joke.”
Your daughter looked back at you, a sad smile coming across her face.
Leon’s face.
“It really is.”
The hallway light flicked on, grabbing the attention of both you and your daughter. Heavy, tired, footsteps came down the hall, and you let out an exasperated sigh. A moment later, Leon came into view looking particularly ruffled.
“What’re you girls doin’ up?” he mumbled, obviously still half asleep. He ran a hand through his tussled hair, yawning as he looked between the two of you.
“Just talking,” your daughter replied, looking up at Leon. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. You smiled looking at the two of them, your eyes briefly flicking down to the framed photo of them fifteen or so years ago on your desk.
He hummed knowingly, his eyes meeting yours. “Little late for that, ain’t it?” he said, voice still rough from sleep. Leon dragged his gaze from yours to look back down at your daughter. “Go on to bed, yeah? I’m gonna drag your mom to do the same.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest, but appeared to decide against it, seeming to pick up some underlying message you didn’t quite catch. “Okay, love you guys. Nighty night,” she said, a vaguely teasing smile at the corners of her lips.
You blew her a kiss, taking in the brief easy moment.
“Night, kid. Sleep well,” Leon said, kissing the top of her head before letting his arm drop from around her shoulders. “And don’t be on the phone with any boys ‘til the ass crack of dawn. Not interested in being kept awake by your fake ass giggling at their unfunny attempts at comedy.”
“Leon.”
Leon turned to look at you, shrugging. Your daughter rolled her eyes behind his back before slinking out of the room and heading up the stairs with a mumbled, “Asshole.”
When she had finally left the room, Leon’s undivided attention fell on you. He made his way to your desk, all but collapsing into the cushy armchair opposite of you.
“What’re you really doing down here?”
You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest. “Nothing, I just couldn’t sleep.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, not believing a single word out of your mouth. “This isn’t what you do when you can’t sleep. I’d hope you think I know my wife better than that. What’s going on?”
You stood up silently and made your way around the desk, Leon’s eyes tracking your every move along the way. For a moment, you just stood there, taking him in. He looked back up at you and suddenly, you saw how tired he was.
The lines between his eyebrows from hours of recounting his trauma onto paper in reports.
The perpetual emotionless look that he wore to keep himself from coming off as bothered at the things he saw.
The grey streaks in his slightly longer than usual hair that reflected the constant pressure to perform and work at the same capacity he did when he was in his twenties and thirties.
All you saw now was a hardened veteran. Any trace of the baby faced twenty-two year old you met all of those years ago had disappeared without you noticing or telling him you loved him. And god, that made you want to break down right there.
“Can’t you retire?”
Those words escaped you before you could stop them, and Leon looked up at you, slightly taken aback.
“I haven’t really ever given it much thought, if I'm being honest. Why?”
Your hand came up to rest on his face, your thumb rubbing against his stubbly cheek. “You have done more than enough active years as an agent, Leon. We have more money than we could need, I’ll still be working, and you could finally breathe. Go work on that old Ducati, start a garden, learn how to knit, I don’t fucking care. Anything that makes you happy and is safe. You’re too old for this shit, honey.”
Leon exhaled a curt laugh through his nose. “You’re actin’ like I’m one foot in the grave.”
“Keep this up for too much longer and who knows. I’m tired of being worried that my husband will come home in a coffin in the bottom of some American Airlines flight. I know you can handle the job, but I’m not sure I can. We deserve to be happy after all this time. You deserve to be happy after all this time. You’re sick. And I want whatever time we have left to be here, together.” A tear rolled down your cheek without you even realizing you had teared up, and your hand quickly shot up to wipe it away.
Leon placed his large, warm hand over your own, lacing your fingers together. “We’ll figure it out. But it's almost 4:00am, and you should never try to figure your life out any time after midnight or before 8:00am. Come to bed.” He stood up, his fingers still laced through yours.
You pulled him against you without another word, pressing your lips against his hungrily. You wiggled your hand free of his, one going to brace against his chest and the other at the back of his neck. You felt him hesitate slightly, but it was a brief moment of pause before he was returning the favor, one hand squeezing your ass and the other at the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair.
He pushed you back against your desk until it was digging into the backs of your thighs. You took the hint, pushing papers from behind you to… wherever really and sliding on top of the desk. Leon’s broad frame settled between your thighs without either of you breaking the kiss. His hand slid down the back of your neck and around your side, coming to rest under your breast. He pulled away from the kiss, his head dipping down to press sloppy kisses against the column of your neck. You could feel your core growing hot from built up neediness, only urged on by the feeling of his hard length dangerously close to your pussy.
You gasped as he squeezed your breast firmly, his mouth making its way back up your neck and jaw before meeting yours again. You pulled back for just a moment, only far enough to mumble against his lips.
“Don’t you fucking dare die on me, Kennedy.”
“Didn’t plan on it,” he groaned, pulling at the waistband of your shorts.
dividers: @/honeylovesw + i'm not sure because the page refreshed :(
okay guys... not sure if part two of diseased will be out tonight...
if not tonight, then definitely tomorrow but i am SO exhausted from work (them mfs would not stop getting hurt today) and everything i'm writing for part two is ass right now.
I'M SORRY BUT I MIGHT PUT SOMETHING SHORT OUT TONIGHT THAT'S UNRELATED
okay guys... not sure if part two of diseased will be out tonight...
if not tonight, then definitely tomorrow but i am SO exhausted from work (them mfs would not stop getting hurt today) and everything i'm writing for part two is ass right now.
I'M SORRY BUT I MIGHT PUT SOMETHING SHORT OUT TONIGHT THAT'S UNRELATED
warnings/tags: i be cussin, minor sexual references, leon is sick :(
words: 1.9k
a/n: hiiii! i kind of want to make a part 2 of this... like something where leon and reader spend the night before he leaves for raccoon city together thinking he won't come back? angst? smut? who knows. anyways at no point did i know where this fic was going lol, idek what to call this. enjoy anyways if you can.
Your entire marriage, you saw your husband as some immortal, unstoppable force of nature.
Leon Kennedy was the type of man to sort his emotions out through clenched jaws and feigned indifference, rather than tears and raised voices. He was steady and constant, circumstances be damned. That was one of his most desirable and sought after traits as an agent- his ability to stare down the face of death with even breaths and sure hands. After all, his entire job was one big game of Russian roulette with his life, so he learned it was better to be unphased than give away his feelings.
But… something changed suddenly.
His replies were sharper, his footsteps were heavier, his patience was thinner, his hands lingered on your back less, and he stopped holding you.
It made no sense.
Perhaps he had a mistress? Maybe he relapsed from drinking? Had he procured some secret debt?
Regardless of the situation he was in, after nearly three decades with this man, you were sure the two of you could manage to handle it like adults. Unless it was the mistress thing. Then you would probably have to pull his own gun off his waist and kill him with it.
You would ask, he would brush it off, insisting he was just tired, had a headache, or had a long day at work. All the bullshit excuses you give when something is torturing you mentally and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.
Then it was the physical symptoms. Your unit of a husband suddenly seemed to be slowing down. Not in the way men do with age (an attribute you were convinced had no effect on Leon), but in the way a person does when their body is beginning to fail them. Labored breaths, frequent coughing, subtle exhaustion, a lot of hoodies… Yet, he hadn’t said anything.
You were determined to figure out what the hell was going on. He had managed to evade you in any clothing that wasn’t fit for a mormon for the past few weeks, slipping into the bathroom to shower and change while you busied yourself in the kitchen or sprawled on the couch, your daughter’s cheerful voice ringing over a FaceTime call. You just knew something was hiding under his ridiculous amount of long sleeves and jeans, and not only were they uncharacteristic, they were also so rude as to obscure the muscles you were entitled to at any given moment.
So, your quest to figure out what was going on had officially started. He wouldn’t answer your questions, so he was getting this done the hard way.
Leon was in his office, the door open as the soft sound of a keyboard clicking drifted into the dark hallway. You padded down the hallway into his office, the high ceilings stretching overhead and the floor to ceiling shelves dwarfing you.
“Come spar me,” you threw out, no foreplay to your request.
He spared you a glance over his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “I’m in the middle of something right now… Maybe later?”
You shook your head, closing the distance between where you stood and his large oak desk. “Whatever it is doesn’t seem important enough to do in the office, so I think it can wait. You have spent weeks avoiding me like I’m infected with something so the least you could do is try to pretend like you still want something to do with me. Come spar. Now. God forbid I want to spend some time with my husband.”
He sighed heavily, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing on you. “Is something wrong? Is this your way of initiating a conversation about whatever your issue is? ‘Cause if so, you could start with a hell of a lot less attitude.”
You pursed your lips slightly, your eyes bearing into him as you desperately attempt to hold back a highly unproductive, snarky response. You and Leon love and respect each other more than anything as partners in life and work, but god, you guys manage to find that last nerve in each other sometimes.
You shook your head, managing to bite back your response successfully. “Just come on. Please.”
Leon’s gaze softened, and he looked down at his wrist, checking his watch. “Two hours max. Then I really have shit I’ve gotta get done, baby.”
You give him a small, approving smile and a nod. “Two hours.” You come around the desk, carding your fingers through his hair once and planting a kiss to the top of his head. He leaned into your torso at this action, his head resting against your stomach and his blue eyes fluttering shut. You revel in the touch, it being the first prolonged contact you two have had in weeks. “Go get changed,” you urge softly, placing your hand on his cheek and guiding his face so he’s looking up at you before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. You pull back and he nods, pushing his chair back and standing up, his eyes locked onto your face. You can see it in his eyes, something deeper there that he isn’t willing to give up to you just yet, some little secret he’s protecting at the expense of your sanity.
Your breath catches slightly as he stands, and you see his eyes slowly make their way from your face, down your body, and back up. “I’ll be down there in a few minutes,” he says softly, his arm brushing your waist briefly before he moves past you and out of the office. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding, and make your way to the hall, flicking the lights off and heading down the stairs through your finished basement into your home gym.
A few minutes later, Leon comes through the archway of the workout area. He’s wearing that navy quarter zip that’s one wear away from fusing with his skin, but you’re not complaining because it hugs him in all the right places. He’s pushing the sleeves up his thick forearms when he meets your eyes, a flicker of a smile coming across his face, and you toss a training knife at him.
“Ready to get your ass kicked, Agent Kennedy?”
Leon smirks slightly, circling around you, sizing up what he thinks will be your first shot at him. “Could ask you the same thing, Mrs. Agent Kennedy. You’re real fuckin’ cocky for someone who got laid out in less than a minute last time.”
You scoff at him, “It doesn’t count when you start groping me. That’s cheating. And if that’s not you trying to cheat, I really hope you aren’t out there groping whoever’s ass you’ve gotta whoop on assignments.”
Leon shrugs, “Never let ‘em know your next move.”
He hardly got his sentence out before lunging at you, aiming the training knife at your neck fatally. You move in towards him, the knife coming just too far out and missing you as your hand shoots up to catch his wrist. You twist around, your hand still holding his arm in an awkward position as your foot hooks around the back of his.
“Aw, you’re getting slow, old man.”
You shift your weight into your hip, and using his unsteadiness and weight against him, you push him back hard with your hip, effectively causing him to fall straight on his ass. He chuckles, and goes to stand back up when you plant your foot against his hard chest and push him flat on his back. Confusion immediately floods Leon’s face when you won’t let him back up, and his hand wraps around your ankle, pulling it from under you so you lose balance and fall down with him. He pushes himself up, slightly annoyed (he’ll never admit he’s competitive with you), before rolling over to be on top of you, his hands pinning your wrists and his knees caging your hips.
“Who’s slow now?”
You don’t dignify him with a response, instead you bend your knees and lock his ankles in with your feet, then bucking your hips up hard, forcing him to fall on his side. You use this moment to push him over and straddle him. You can see him about to throw out some witty, sexual remarks that quite frankly, you aren’t in the mood for. But before he can, you pull down the collar of that sexy quarter zip and boom.
There it is.
Exactly what you were looking for.
A black, almost necrotic looking patch of skin on Leon’s neck. Black, vein-like necrosis stretched out from the patch, appearing to slowly spread across his scar-littered pale skin. Leon’s eyes widen slightly as he realizes what’s just happened, and you see fear in his eyes that you’ve never seen in your entire life.
“What the fuck is that?” your voice is as close to a whisper as it can be when you let those words out. Leon hesitates slightly, his eyes flicking between your face and your arm, seemingly at a loss for words for what very well may be the first time ever.
“I… I don’t know,” he finally admits, his voice defeated. “I don’t know.” He leans up easily under you, supporting himself on his hands as you slide a little further down his lap, your hand falling back onto your leg from his collar.
You bite your lip, your gaze still locked on the now partially obscured area on his neck. “That’s why you’re sick. That’s why you won’t touch me.” Your eyes finally meet his. “You didn’t think maybe that was important to let your wife in on?” You stand up, your tone now louder and accusatory. “You’re fucking sick and you didn’t tell me!”
Leon scrambles up, his hands instinctively going to pull you in against his chest. You step back, feeling tears prick at your eyes. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but nothing proceeds and his hands fall back to his sides.
“I’m- I’m so sorry.” His voice is soft, understanding… so… Leon. You exhale through your nose, your shoulders dropping like you just let out all of the air in your body. He steps closer to you, tilting his head slightly. “Sherry has it too. I don’t know what it is, but I didn’t want to tell you until I knew or it spread.” He shook his head and his jaw clenched like it did when you knew he was beginning to get emotionally overwhelmed. “I didn’t know what to do, and it was something you couldn’t fix, and god knows you didn’t need the extra stress.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, analyzing the look on his face. “Do you know anything?”
Leon looked distantly off to the side, thinking hard about what he wanted to say next. “It’s something popping up in Raccoon City survivors. I… We don’t know what it is exactly. Just… It’s picking us off one by one it seems.”
Your eyes narrow at him and you step forward. “As in killing you guys?” Your voice is back to anger and Leon just nods. You laugh, but in the way a person laughs before killing another person in the movies. “You seriously thought I didn’t need to know this. Okay, cool.” You nod. “That’s fine.”
You turn on your heel and storm out of the gym area, leaving Leon speechless where he stands. The basement door slams somewhere above him and he closes his eyes, a shaky breath racking through his body.
this makes me so happy 😭 after everything leon has gone through, all the losses he suffered in the past, all his selfless deeds, he finally has a place he can call home—somewhere filled with a warm meal and a bed that isn't cold nor empty at the end of each day he has.
he deserves this and more honestly, and it's absolutely comforting to know that he has a place to go home to this time :( ♡
my sweet man, he's come so far in life, he's gone through so much, from being orphaned to all the traumatizing things he's experienced in his life. now he has a home, and that's something he truly, utterly deserves.
okay, i'm working on something that will hopefully post tonight but has anyone else seen that today leon is confirmed to be married in re9... like i know everyone was speculating but it wasn't confirmed until now... and the dlc is coming... can't believe they're finally going public with leon and i's relationship...
warnings/tags: a lil neck kissin', nothing but sweetness, language
words: 1.4k
a/n: okay, here's that request. i do not know why but i was on the struggle bus with this and still hate it which is SOOOO annoying because it was such a sweet request. </3 i'm sorry for making you guys wait for me to just shit on y'all. ALSO!! SHOULD I WRITE SMUT YES OR NO!! MAYBE?? YES?? THOUGHTS?? IDEAS?? love y'all. <3
One of the staples of your childhood was food.
Food wasn’t just something to nourish the body. It was a tradition. Food meant family, it meant laughter, it meant playing with your cousins until the grass stains on your knees started to fade with the setting sun. To you, it meant normalcy and seeing everyone around the dinner table.
To Leon, food was just, food? Whatever the hell the standard definition of food is, really. Something you scarf down on your way out the door while you shove mismatched socks into untied boots. It never really meant anything to him traditionally. Granted, growing up, he never quite had anyone to share it with in a sentimental way.
Until he met you.
You were twenty, bright-eyed and eager. It was his first day at the DSO field office, and no one paid him any mind. These were the big leagues, no one cared what you survived, how you got there. Just that you did your job and had their six. But you… you walked up to him with a smile on your face and a covered glass dish. He was incredibly confused, and if he remembers correctly, he stared at you with a much more unapproachable look than he really meant to.
You introduced yourself, handing him the dish. “I’ve heard so much about you. I brought you pasta,” you shrugged, like this was just the bare minimum to you, “Just as a welcome to the division kind of thing. I hope you like pasta?”
He fucking loved pasta.
Through the whirlwind and uncertainties of your relationship with Leon, one thing was for sure;
When he came through the front door in the evenings, the first thing to hit him was the smell of something cooking.
Whether he was coming home from a day in the office with paperwork stacked on his desk so fucking high it was hard to believe he was even in there, or stumbling through the door after a bloody assignment, you were there. Really, he didn’t know how you did it. You were by no means a stay at home woman, matter of fact, you two worked on the same damn floor at headquarters. You chopped it up to being more efficient than him at your job, therefore getting out of there hours before he even so much as glanced at his stacks of reports, but he swore you could teleport.
Regardless of the method to your madness, your effort became one of the only constants in his life. Dinners you had freshly ready with his favorite ingredients after weeks away overseas, lunches you brought with you into the office for him in a Tupperware container with a sweet note and a kiss to the head, breakfasts that filled your homey kitchen in D.C. with the smell of bacon and the laughter of you and your daughter on Leon’s rare days off. Your cooking filled your house with family, friends, laughter, and great bottles of wine- a thing that he didn’t know he wanted or needed until you gave him that life. Your desire and excitement to keep him well-fed fell nothing short of a love language between the two of you, and as an added plus, it made him stay accountable in the gym!
But after some twenty-nine odd years of gatherings and dishes passed around the dining table, Leon’s favorite meals were the ones that were just the two of you.
You stood at the counter, leaned over on your elbows next to the stove, scrolling through one of those apps he couldn’t stand with all the dancing teenagers and jokes that made no sense on your phone. He wandered into the kitchen, all wet hair and the smell of cedarwood. He was fresh off a short, standard assignment a few states away, but even just the singular week that he was forced to live off the shitty military rations in his go bag was far too much for a man as culinary spoiled as Leon Kennedy.
Leon came up behind you, his hips pressing against the plush of your ass as his hands planted on the counter on each side of you. He leaned over, looking over your shoulder to see what you were so indulged in. “Whatever you’ve got going on the stove-” his eyes flicked over curiously to the stovetop, “-smells fucking amazing.”
You hum in acknowledgement, pressing the power button on your phone and setting it aside. “It should be done soon… Hungry?” You turned around in his arms, pressing your back against the counter so you were facing him. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, his sturdy arms wrapping around your waist. “Incredibly. Those poor kids in the service are getting fed shit I wouldn’t give to a goddamn dog. Now, agency’s got the audacity to send me out there with their bag o’ slop and expect me to jump up and down in excitement and go do their bidding. Baby, they’re starving me.”
You rolled your eyes at your husband, who as he’s gotten older has only grown more nitpicky towards his job. “Oh, poor Mr-I-Just-Bought-A-Two-Hundred-Thousand-Dollar-Porsche has to eat canned food for a week like the rest of the government peasants instead of all that organic shit you buy from Whole Foods (if someone had told you twenty years ago that string of words would come out of your mouth in reference to Leon, you would’ve laughed so hard you pissed yourself). How ever will we recover? Should we call the United Nations? Maybe the ICC? Oh god, let me call the president!”
Leon tilted his head like a concerned dog, his steely blue eyes bearing into your own. “Yeah,” his voice dropped in a way that made your breath feel sharper as you inhaled. “Mrs-My-Husband-Also-Bought-Me-A-Two-Hundred-Thousand-Dollar-Porsche, maybe you should make sure they’re taking real good care of me because if I quit, guess who’s car is getting sold first so we have some extra money. Spoiler alert, it sure as hell ain’t mine.” He leaned farther into you, closing the tiny space between your two bodies. “It’s your fault I’m spoiled now.”
“You’re damn right, I’ve given you champagne taste when our lovely president seems to be on a beer budget.” You plant your hand against his broad chest, pushing him back just enough to scoot past him to the stove. His eyes follow you as you move past him, a smirk threatening the corner of his mouth and no doubt some kind of snide remark following it up.
“I know something that’s given me champagne taste,” he said snarkily, his eyes slowly combing down your body. “Corny. Not your best work,” you shot back, thoroughly unamused at his poor attempt at… whatever you call that. “Go sit down, Romeo, I’ll make you a plate.”
Leon sauntered up behind you, his large hand splaying across your abdomen. You felt his head dip down and he began pressing soft kisses against the column of your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin there. You drew in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut and your head falling back against his shoulder. “Don’t get distracted now, I thought dinner was of the utmost importance.” His voice was gruff against your skin, suddenly giving you brain fog about what you were doing as if the only thing to exist was the sound of his voice in that moment. “Mhm,” you hummed, still making no moves to resume your efforts of plating dinner. He planted a final kiss to your neck and straightened up before retiring to the less official breakfast table just off the kitchen.
You plate the food to your liking, making sure it’s presentable enough for a Master Chef competition before bringing it to Leon (who’s going to inhale it before noticing your masterful plating techniques). As soon as you enter, he puts his phone down and his eyes track you across the table, a small smile gracing his weathered, tough features. You gently place his plate down in front of him and press a kiss to the top of his head, the smell of his expensive shampoo grounding you and reminding you he’s alive.
“Thank you,” he said softly, reaching across to grab your hand and brushing a kiss over your knuckles. “I love you.”
You barely get the chance to get your reciprocated “I love you,” out before he’s eating like he’s never been fed a day in his life.
Fuck, it kind of makes you a little nauseous sometimes, but at least he was eating.
hey guys!! just wanted to hop on here and say i’m sorry i haven’t posted anything. i’ve been at a tattoo convention over the weekend getting a competition piece and while i was hoping i would get the chance to get in a shit ton of writing while here, it hurt so bad the whole time i couldn’t do anything but put headphones on and lay with my face in a pillow. but now the tattoo is done and today is competition day so once i’m home, trust and believe daddy’s gonna handle business. love y’all. <3
hey guys!! just wanted to hop on here and say i’m sorry i haven’t posted anything. i’ve been at a tattoo convention over the weekend getting a competition piece and while i was hoping i would get the chance to get in a shit ton of writing while here, it hurt so bad the whole time i couldn’t do anything but put headphones on and lay with my face in a pillow. but now the tattoo is done and today is competition day so once i’m home, trust and believe daddy’s gonna handle business. love y’all. <3
is he bothering you, diva? (click here for hot milfs in your area)
☆ summary : hold on, hot stuff! you're trying to rush out for a rare night out, but you have failed to realize your dearest leon has absolutely no interest in hearing about the kids’ routine once he sees you in that dress—and he’s suddenly very concerned about who else will.
☆ caution : fem reader, motherhood, kids, marriage, body talk? slightly naughty. leon is definitely trying to get in those panties later.
☆ note : series? maybe? maybe not. work was kind of crazy today—the snow caused a lot of cancellations so I didn't have much time to finish family protection act but I wanted to post something! forgive me! (╥﹏╥)
you’re already running late.
the zipper of the dress finally settles into place after a short fight with the fabric, the material hugging close in a way that makes you pause for half a second in the mirror. hm. three kids have softened your body in ways it never used to be—your hips fuller, your chest heavier, the curve of your stomach gentler than it once was—but whatever! the dress still fits! that’s a win in your book. gosh, does it feel like it’s been ages since you’ve gone out for a girl’s night.. you’re! nervous! but a good kind!
you reach for your earrings on the counter, studying your reflection as you do so. “honey!” you call toward the bedroom. “listen to me for a second, because i need you to remember this!” you're already worrying your head off, will you even have fun tonight? jesus. that chardonnay was calling your name and yes, you checked the menu beforehand because you were overthinking this morning. its just the anticipation of it all!
leon’s leaning in the doorway. and he’s been standing there longer than you realize, watching the way the fabric of this little number pulls tight over your ass as you lean over the sink. his eyes move slowly over you, starting at the heels and working their way up. “..yeah,” he says.
you take that as confirmation that he's listening and keep talking while fastening the first earring. “the kids already ate, but they’re probably gonna ask for another snack anyway so just—” you stop when something warm settles against your waist. leon’s hand.
he’s stepped up behind you, palm spreading over your hip. “—leon.”
his thumb presses into the soft curve there and he hums absently. you narrow your eyes at his reflection in the mirror. “did you hear what i just said?”
his other hand slides to your stomach, resting there comfortably while he leans down beside your shoulder, studying you so hard that you almost want to ask if there's something on your face.
“..not a word, miss.” he admits.
you turn your head sharply. “babe!”
man.. he doesn’t even look guilty. his brows are slightly drawn together now, gaze drifting over you again—and the longer he looks, the worse the situation becomes in his jeans. yeah, he was a little hard. can you blame him?
“when were you planning on warning me you owned this dress?” he asks.
you blink. “never.”
his hand squeezes your hip slowly. “feels like an important detail..”
you twist slightly to face him, one eyebrow raised. “what’s wrong with you, mister handsy?” you turn back to the mirror, trying to finish your second earring while his fingers keep tracing distracted lines over your waist.
leon doesn’t answer, his attention drops instead, eyes catching on the movement of your hand as you reach to adjust the second earring. the light from the bathroom catches the stone sitting on your ring finger, the diamond throwing a brief sharp glint across the mirror.
he takes your hand before you can pull it away, his fingers curling around yours slowly and a rough thumb turns your hand just enough to look at it properly. the five carat stone flashes again under the light, big and pretty against your skin. it was a pretty penny but you’re worth it and more—he wanted to go bigger but you told him no because then it would look like costume jewelry. leon exhales quietly through his nose and his thumb brushes once over the ring. then again as if? he’s checking that it’s still there. committing it to memory.
“keep this on tonight,” he mutters under his breath.
you blink at him. “i wasn’t planning on taking it off.”
his mouth twitches slightly, but he doesn’t let go of your hand right away. instead, he presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before dropping them back toward you.
“…good,” he says as he studies the dress again, his mouth pulling slightly to one side. “and where exactly are you going again..?”
“dinner.”
“with who.”
you stare at him. “my friends.”
his eyes narrow a fraction. “..which ones.” oh my god! so needy!
you look at him incredulously. “you’re being insane.” a giggle.
he exhales through his nose, running a hand back through his hair—he already knows he’s being ridiculous but he can’t quite stop himself from being so. he has the same expression he used to make decades ago, back when he was twenty one and pretending he wasn’t jealous of anything that breathed near you. because admittedly, you were his first baddie.
“just seems,” he mutters, tugging down at the fabric at your thighs, “like a pretty serious dress for dinner.”
you cross your arms. “is thee leon scott kennedy pouting right now?”
his eyes flick up to yours. “..no.”
you squint and he sighs, touching you again. “you’re not letting anyone buy you drinks.”
you giggle at him. “honey.”
“i’m dead serious— the kids can’t know i’m a.. what do they say on tiktok? a simp? beta? omega—whatever the hell.” ohhhh, he’s all huffy now.
“i’ve been married to you for fifteen years.” she says.
“…yeah,” he mutters. his thumb presses into your waist again. “score.”
How about a reader who has a huge desire to feed her poor husband properly after every mission (and he doesn’t complain)? You know, bringing him lunch to work, cooking his favorite dishes, and so on.
Because what do you eat on missions, dear? Bugs from under rocks? The legs of a zombie? 🤨
um, absofuckinglutely. i can imagine leon probably eats some nasty canned shit on missions, idk why. 😭 like he seems the type to throw back some vienna sausages or something. that’s probably how he got the t-virus.
i’m at a tattoo convention as a model for three days, so i can definitely get this out for you. right now, i’m in a lot of pain lol and can’t really think but once we get to a less spicy part of the tattoo (it’s huge), i’ll get right on this request.
warnings/tags: mention of alcoholism, vague mention of sex, brief mention of suicidal thoughts and conception issues, headcanons?, language
words: 2.5k
a/n: y'all. i was cooking up something really good, but i've been doing overtime at work this week and we've had such a busy shift that this is all i got, and it probably feels rushed as fuck. i'm sorry. to all my ems people out there, y'all know what i'm talking about. these people won't stop trying to die on me tonight. keep your friendly neighborhood paramedics and emts in your thoughts tonight guys- it's rough out here. also, i need ideas! i have ideas but they're all so angsty and depressing that i don't think anyone will want to read them.
You have known Leon since you were both in your early 20s. You trained together at the federal level in 1998 after he survived Raccoon City. He was broody and traumatized, and you were one of the very few people willing to see through that to him. You managed to bring out the version of him that he thought he abandoned back in the midwest.
You two honestly had a rough start when you met. He was brash and standoffish and you were not the type of girl to sit there and take that kind of shit. It wasn’t until you finally pushed back on him enough that he cracked, finally letting his life for the past few months spill out to you over late night drinks in a hazy D.C. bar.
After a while of training side by side, something began to form with the two of you. He smiled more, you got frustrated less. You two started to soften each other, as much as neither of you would ever be willing to admit it at the time.
You had to date under the table in training, fearing that if people found out, they would conjure up a way to separate you two.
Once you were out of training, you were able to be more public, and luckily, there was minimal pushback. You two went on to receive your assignments within USSTRATCOM, and it turned out you wouldn’t even be working all that closely. He became a field agent and was assigned into the DSO, and you became an intelligence agent.
The both of you proved to be excellent in your positions, receiving praise and recognition for your duties. You two matched each other’s eagerness and vigor in perfect sync.
Right after 9/11, you two became in high demand, and the both of you volunteered where you could. As the country fell into chaos, you two knew that you would be scarce for each other for an undetermined amount of time. That night, while the bullpen of your floor was in a meltdown, Leon came to your building and found you. There, he dropped to one knee, chaos be damned, and all but begged you to marry him. You were shocked, and it was the least romantic thing you had ever experienced, but it was so perfectly you and Leon, so you said yes, pulling him into a kiss before you were rushed away for a briefing.
You didn’t see each other for three weeks after that.
In early 2002, you two got married in a small ceremony. Really, there was no time for either of you to get involved with any extravagant wedding planning. To this day, Leon still gets waves of guilt that he couldn’t give you the big white wedding from the romcoms that you made him watch tapes of over Chinese take-out. You never really cared though, he was all you wanted, not the big poofy dress and thousands of dollars worth of flowers that would get thrown away anyways.
As the months went on, Leon’s mental health started to take a sharp downturn. Guilt, anger, and suicidal ideations began to consume his every thought. He tried with everything he had to hide it from you, or at least keep you unaffected. It didn’t work.
By 2004, Leon was a whisper of himself. You weren’t 100% sure what happened in Spain, but whatever it was, you resented it for what it did to your husband.
You dedicated whatever time you had outside of your own strenuous job to Leon, digging deep into him, trying to pull out the man you worked so hard to find back in 1998. You would find that piece of him, again or die trying.
It wasn’t until 2006 that you fully got to see that part of him again.
At the end of 2005, you sat on the lid of your toilet, hand trembling around a pregnancy test with two pink lines. You felt like your world was crashing in. You and Leon discussed kids, but in the way that a French peasant daydreamed about living in Versailles in the mid 1700s. A far off, unattainable dream. You two realistically never expected to have children given your line of work, citing it to be irresponsible and selfish. Well, Leon, you wanted to tell him, What was really fucking irresponsible was deciding you were too good for a condom when you got home from China.
You told him that same night, unable to keep things like this from Leon without him seeing straight through you. Well, told is a strong word. When he got home that night, before he even had the chance to toss his keys in the catch-all bowl, you shoved the little piece of plastic into his hand. He gave you an amused, but ultimately confused look before it connected in his head what you were implying.
“What?”
It took you two every bit of a week to get comfortable with this new information. Both of you were skeptical of your abilities to be half-way decent parents, but when it came down to it, if you two could survive the crazy shit you’ve been through, you could survive a tiny human… right?
Leon spent your pregnancy smiling to your face, rubbing your ever-growing belly, helping you set up a nursery, all of the things a father does. But when the doors closed and he was alone, the facade fell. He was terrified. He was used to just worrying about himself and getting through to the next morning. But now? A human would depend on him. A tiny, helpless human that would look to him as the answer to all of their problems, and he wasn’t sure if he was confident in his ability to rectify those issues.
In mid-2006, you gave birth to a sweet baby girl. She was 6lbs 8oz, and every bit your life’s pride and joy. The second Leon picked her up, every fear he had instilled in himself melted away instantly. He kneeled next to the head of your hospital bed, one hand occupied cradling your new daughter, and the other brushing sweaty hair back off of your forehead as he pressed kisses against your temple, whispering out awed praises to you. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until one of your shaking hands came up, your thumb brushing across his cheek before retracting to wipe away your own tears.
Leon fell into fatherhood as naturally as he fell into his job. Occupying his time with caring for your daughter kept him from thinking about other issues too deeply while at home. He was infatuated with her, and you swore she was going to have the hardest time with boys when she was older because you didn’t think Leon would even contemplate letting some grubby boy near his perfect little girl.
The older she got, the more he turned to putty. One little “Daddy, puh-lease!” and Leon was suddenly wearing a tiara and sitting on the floor in front of a Disney princess fold out table sipping sink water out of a plastic tea cup. She had him wrapped around her comedically tiny finger, even worse now that she had started to turn into your little clone.
The older you and Leon got, the more you grew together. Whether it was trauma or simply semi-frequent distance, the two of you were near obsessed with each other. Of course, your marriage was never 100% perfect. There were nights when someone lashed out at the other, or someone said the wrong thing about someone else’s reaction to a senseless, irrelevant topic. But with the iffiness of your lives being on the line at work, you two never let the negatives define you, worrying that a poor interaction may be one of the last.
Despite your fears throughout the years, you two proved to be a fantastic team. Whether it was being perfectly coordinated parents, or being able to work in sync when assigned a case together in headquarters, you two made an enviable match in love and partnership. There was even a time that a rookie had said you two would be great in a relationship, and as if you had rehearsed it before, you jinxed each other with a, “We’re married.”
After five years of being parents, Leon approached you one day. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, looking over some papers you had taken home from the office when he sank to his knees in front of you, his large hands wrapping around the backs of your calves and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. You looked down at him, raising an eyebrow with an amused expression. “Can I help you?” He just smiled, resting his chin on your leg. “You can, actually,” he replied, turning his head and placing another kiss to your plush skin. “Okay. Care to share with the class, then?” you asked, setting your papers down next to you and leaning back on your hands. “Can we have another baby?” his voice softened with those words, his hands sliding up your legs to rest on your thighs and looking back up at you.
You had to think about it and discuss it with him, but eventually, the two of you settled that another baby may not be so bad.
And man, you two made quick work of trying to make it happen.
Unfortunately, you weren’t as lucky this time around, and struggled to keep a viable pregnancy.
Leon held you and swore to you that you were not the issue. For two people that were happy not having kids six years ago, this hit you hard.
Eventually, your family felt complete with just the three of you. Leon was doting as ever on your rapidly growing daughter, and you couldn't have been happier with the man you chose to be your life partner and father of your child.
Then around late 2013, you started to notice something being off with Leon. His emotional state began to slip into instability, and his personality seemed to regress back to the traumatized twenty-one year old you met back in training. It was driving you crazy- unable to figure out what the issue was.
Suddenly one day, you realized just how much he smelled like liquor when he got home and it all made sense.
You kicked him out of the house a few days later, telling him not to come back until he got some help and a fucking sponsor.
After a few months of not hearing from him, Leon showed up at your front door with a duffle bag and the most tear-rimmed eyes you had seen since the birth of your daughter. He pleaded with you to let him come home, and swore up and down to you that he was done drinking.
He apologized for months after.
You forgave him.
As your daughter approached her teen years, she got moodier and Leon got more annoying. You knew he did it on purpose to embarrass her, but she thought he did it to ruin her life. It was bad enough that her friends thought her dad was hot, but even worse that now her hot dad was making sure to yell out just how much he loved her when he dropped her off in front of her high school.
And as bad as you thought it would be for her when she started dating, you were wrong. It was worse. Leon’s entire life was spent sniffing bad guys out and fucking killing them for the US government. What did you think he would do for his own little girl?
Any time a guy would ring the doorbell to pick your daughter up for a school dance or date, Leon would make sure he was the first to the door. He wasn’t the type to try and intimidate a kid or threaten them- but he was the type to look at them with his steely gaze just long enough that they started to squirm. And in his defense, if Leon told you and your daughter that a guy was bad news, he was never wrong.
Soon, your lives quieted down some. Your daughter went off to college a few states away (you would’ve thought she had died the way Leon moped around after she was gone) and you started to contemplate switching to a division at work that kept you at headquarters year round.
You and Leon’s love only got sweeter as you got older. You constantly were in awe of how handsome he remained, and how resilient he was despite the shit his job refused to stop putting him through. If it was possible, you’d say you only learned to love him more the longer you two were together. And of course, he was equally as infatuated with you. If you ever voiced any sort of insecurity, he was quick to get you somewhere that he could remind you just how much he loved every fucking inch of your body. Maybe that inspired you to complain a little more sometimes. But he never let you feel like he was somehow getting out of your league. You were his wife, the mother of his child, his life partner, his everything, and there was no younger woman, work assignment, or addiction that could make his eyes leave you.
Then Leon started to get really sick.
Restless nights drenched in sweat, days where it felt like his body just wouldn’t quite cooperate. The agency doctors that were well-versed in all of Leon’s medical history were baffled. He was only fifty-one, maybe he wasn’t twenty anymore but he wasn’t one geriatric. He was certainly fit, he had quit drinking long enough ago that it was a very slim chance it was related, and there wasn’t really any reason he should be getting as sick as he was.
He was still mostly himself. The onset was slow enough then that he lived his life normally, waiting for the doctors to figure something out before he got impatient enough to go figure it out himself. You would still tuck into his side at night, breathing him in every time like it would be the last. You could tell that the uncertainty of his illness was bothering him and you were close to trying to address it with him in a deeper manner, but held off in order to let him feel like he could figure it all out alone.
Then Raccoon City survivors started turning up dead.
And when you two found that out, Leon slowly looked at you, more terrified than you had ever seen him.
A/N: chat I have NEVER written smut before. But Leon fucking Kennedy has inspired me to my fullest. Will this be good? Who fucking knows I’m lowkey ABOUT TO HAVE THE SMUT HUMILIATION RITUAL IF YOU GUYS HATE THIS. This is porn with plot sorry not sorry that’s why it’s so long
Warnings: 18+ mdni, later era Leon, kissing, eventual smut, penetration, fem reader, unprotected sex, car sex, fingering, riding, long distance marriage, fluff, some angst (gotta be squinting) GUYS IVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE IS THIS RIGHT.
Summary: after months away on classified missions, Leon Kennedy finally has a lapse in his schedule. The reunion was supposed to happen at the hotel. Instead… the backseat of his Porsche will have to do.
The woman over the loudspeaker called for the next outgoing flight just as you gathered the last of your bags. Luckily for you, yours had landed only minutes ago, though the moment the wheels had touched the runway, it felt like your heart had started racing faster than the plane itself. By the time you scooped up your luggage and hurried through the terminal, nothing in the world could have stopped you from bolting straight for the exit.
Except airport security.
Which, unfortunately, they did.
The flight into Washington Dulles International Airport had been miserable. Turbulence had rattled the plane for nearly half the trip, leaving your stomach knotted somewhere between excitement and nausea, and the anticipation of seeing Leon again had only made the sensation worse. Months had passed since the last time you’d seen him in person, months since that very thorough goodbye where he had held you a little longer than usual before climbing into the waiting taxi that carried him off to another classified destination he couldn’t talk about.
He always checked in when he could. A quick message. A brief call when the signal allowed it. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if those calls were meant more to reassure you or himself, as if he needed the reminder that somewhere in the world there was still a place waiting for him that wasn’t full of weapons, blood, and orders barked through an earpiece. Every conversation helped, but the silence between them always crept back eventually, whispering the same quiet fear that never quite left you alone: that one day the next call wouldn’t be Leon at all.
That it would be someone else offering condolences instead.
The security guards, at least, were kind enough to wave you through once your bags had been cleared. One of them gave you a curious look as you hurried past with your rolling luggage rattling behind you, clearly wondering why someone needed that much baggage for a single trip.
You were staying a week.
A full week with Leon.
After months apart, restraint had never been part of the packing process. Your suitcase held enough clothes to fill every possible moment you imagined spending together, though in reality you knew he was technically still working. It just happened to be the first time in months that his schedule had fallen into a rare lull. No active mission. No new deployment orders. Just a standing requirement that he remain in Washington for the time being. When he’d told you they’d put him up at The Watergate Hotel, barely forty minutes from the airport, the news alone had been enough to send you searching for flights.
The hotel hadn’t even been the part that caught your attention most.
It had been the car.
The “sweet ride,” as Leon had casually called it over the phone, was exactly what you were searching for now as you pushed through the final sliding doors and stepped out into the cold night air. The wind that rushed across the concrete lot nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. It blew up beneath the hem of your dress, the fabric lifting dangerously high against your thighs as the wind caught it, forcing you to grab at it with one hand before it climbed any farther.
After hours sealed inside a metal tube packed with overheated passengers, the chill was shocking enough on its own, but the sudden exposure made your pulse jump for an entirely different reason.
You smoothed the dress back down quickly, muttering under your breath as another gust tugged at it again, silently hoping the entire airport hadn’t just gotten a free show. The outfit had seemed like a perfectly reasonable choice when you packed it, something light and easy for a warm reunion night, but standing here now in the open pickup lane, you couldn’t help wondering if maybe it had been a little too optimistic.
After a moment you wondered if you had come out the wrong exit when you didn’t catch sight of him waiting for you nearby.
Pulling your phone from your pocket, you tapped Leon’s name and reread the last message he had sent.
Meet you at gate three.
You looked up at the glowing blue sign hanging overhead.
Gate four.
“Damn it.”
Dragging your luggage behind you, you hurried down the sidewalk, weaving around other travelers and trying not to look like someone who had completely lost her composure after four months without seeing the man she loved. As you walked, you quickly typed a reply.
Came out the wrong gate. Be there in a sec.
The message was barely sent before another gust of wind swept through the pickup lane, tossing your hair across your face as you rounded the corner toward gate three. The closer you got, the more your nerves twisted in your stomach. Missing him had become its own quiet ache over the months, one that grew sharper the closer you came to finally closing the distance.
You missed everything about him. Not just the small domestic moments that most people took for granted, like falling asleep beside him or finding him already in the kitchen making breakfast in the morning. You missed the way his hands moved over you with quiet reverence, the way he treated your body like something precious he had almost lost and couldn’t quite believe he had again. Every reunion felt like a soldier returning home from war, desperate to memorize every inch of the life he might have to leave again tomorrow.
The thought alone quickened your pace.
By the time you rounded the final corner and the sign for gate three came into view, your eyes immediately locked onto the sleek black Porsche idling in the pickup circle beneath the yellow streetlights.
Yet it wasn’t the car that stopped you in your tracks.
It was the man leaning against it.
Leon stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the dark navy fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders as though the material was doing its best to keep up with the muscle beneath it. The casual posture might have fooled anyone else into thinking he’d been standing there for only a moment, but you knew him too well. He had probably been watching the terminal doors for the last ten minutes.
The moment his eyes found you, he pushed himself away from the car.
That was all it took.
Your suitcases nearly tipped over as you abandoned them in your rush, covering the distance between you before he had time to say a word. Before you thought Leon could react, you were already in his arms, your hands sliding around the back of his neck as your lips crashed into his.
But he didn’t hesitate.
He caught you easily, like he had expected the impact, his arms locking around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened instantly, months of distance collapsing into a single desperate moment as his hands spread across the curve of your hips and drew you closer.
One of them lingered there for a moment longer, fingers brushing along the hem of your dress where the wind had betrayed you earlier. With a small tug he smoothed the fabric back down over your thighs, the gesture so quick and natural it felt almost instinctive before his hand settled firmly against you again.
He had to lean down slightly to meet you, the familiar warmth of him grounding the restless ache that had followed you across the entire country.
When you finally pulled back for air, Leon didn’t release you. One hand remained at your waist while the other slid higher along your back, holding you close as that slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
His eyes roamed over you for a moment before settling on yours again, one brow lifting slightly.
“So,” he said, voice low with amusement. “Did you miss me, Mrs. Kennedy?”
You twisted the wedding ring around your finger as he said it, warmth already spreading its way lower before the words had even finished leaving his mouth.
“God, I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
The unpacking phase of your honeymoon had been the last time Leon had seen the house. At the time it hadn’t seemed strange. Just another goodbye before another trip, another stretch of days you assumed would pass quickly enough. You only wished someone had warned you what the first four months of marriage would actually look like when the man you married belonged just as much to the world as he did to you.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Your fingers slid up to the base of his neck, curling lightly against the warm skin there as he huffed out a quiet laugh. Leon dipped his head again, but this time he didn’t rush the moment. Instead, his mouth found the line of your jaw, slow kisses brushing across your skin while he spoke softly against you.
“You planning on tackling me every time I pick you up,” he murmured, “or am I just lucky tonight?”
When he pulled back, your hand followed him instinctively, fingertips catching against the rough edge of his jaw. Your thumb traced along the week-old stubble there, the faint scratch of it unfamiliar beneath your touch. Leon always had a clean face, but you weren't against the scruff.
“Four months,” you said quietly, eyes lingering on his face. “You are lucky that’s all I did.”
Something in that answer softened him. You saw it immediately in his eyes. They drifted slowly across your features, studying you in a way that felt almost careful before continuing down the rest of you, taking their time like they had nowhere else to be.
Your gaze lingered on him in turn for a moment longer than necessary, taking in the lines of his face like you were committing them to memory all over again. Months apart had a way of doing that, making every reunion feel like rediscovering someone you never truly stopped missing.
A crooked smile returned to his mouth.
“You look different.”
He paused, like he was weighing the words.
“Good different.”
You smiled at the attempt to flatter you. Beneath everything he had become over the years—the hardened agent, the man who became quiet after so many weeks gone—there was still a piece of that rookie cop buried somewhere deep inside him. The one who had once been nervous taking you out for your first date, unsure of everything except the way he looked at you.
But the faint shadows beneath his eyes dulled the memory.
Your hands slid down the front of his chest, fingers spreading against the fabric of his shirt before your thumb began absentmindedly brushing back and forth along the seam near the center.
“Do you want me to be honest with you?”
Leon leaned back just enough to study you again, one brow lifting slightly in that familiar way.
“You look tired," you said.
The smile he gave this time was different. Softer. Warmer. One hand came up, brushing a strand of wind-tossed hair away from your face with a gentleness that never quite left him no matter how many years passed.
“Hard not to be,” he murmured. “When you’re not here.”
You looked up at him through your brows. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re blaming me.”
The same hand he had used to brush the hair from your face slid around to the back of your neck, his fingers settling there as he gently tugged you closer. For a moment it looked like he was going to kiss you again.
Instead, he stopped just short of your lips, hovering there, his breath warm against your mouth.
“I am.”
Your mouth dropped open in mock offense as you gave his chest a playful slap, pushing him back a step. Leon barely moved before his hand caught your wrist, his grip firm but easy as he pulled you right back toward him, closing the distance you’d tried to create.
His lips found yours again without question.
This time the kiss landed harder, like the teasing had snapped whatever restraint he’d been pretending to keep. You didn’t fight it, not for a second. Why would you? This was the exact thing you had missed most about him, the quiet confidence, the playful edge that always slipped through when the two of you were alone.
His hand slid back around you, drawing you close again as if the months apart had never happened. The moment your body settled against his again, the tension seemed to leave him all at once, like he had been holding it in since the moment you stepped off the plane.
You melted against him easily, your hands sliding up his chest again as he held you there, steady and warm, like he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. Your body reacted differently than it had during that first kiss. When his thumb slid slowly to the hollow of your neck, pressing gently against the soft skin there and tilting your head, your mouth parted, letting him take exactly what he wanted.
The soft sound that rumbled low in Leon’s chest was enough to push you dangerously close to the edge. That, and the unmistakable way his grip on you had tightened, told you everything you needed to know about the storm building beneath his calm exterior. You could feel it in the way his body pressed closer, in the heat radiating from him like something barely contained. If the sliding terminal doors hadn’t suddenly opened behind you and a pair of passengers wandered out into the pickup lane, you were almost certain Leon would have taken you right there against the hood of his car without a second thought.
When he pulled back slightly, it wasn’t because he wanted to.
His attention flicked toward the newcomers as they passed, but his hand never left you. It stayed firm against your side, holding you in place like you might disappear the moment he let go. The brief interruption seemed to bring the reality of your surroundings crashing back over both of you at once.
You were standing in the middle of the airport pickup lane.
Very much in public.
Leon exhaled slowly through his nose as the couple moved past, his eyes tracking them for another second before he looked back at you again.
His hand tightened slightly at the back of your waist before he exhaled quietly through his nose again, the sound almost like he was steadying himself.
“We should go,” he muttered.
Then he pulled back.
The shift was immediate. The warmth in his eyes didn’t disappear, but something more controlled slid into place over it as he glanced briefly toward the terminal entrance behind you, clearly remembering where the two of you were standing as cars pulled in behind him.
Leon moved past you, grabbing the handles of your abandoned suitcases before you even thought about it, rolling them toward the Porsche with an efficiency that felt very practiced.
When he reached the passenger side, he stopped and opened the door for you, one hand resting against the top of it as he looked back at you.
His gaze lingered before he flicked his head toward the passenger seat, the motion quick and deliberate. The look in his eyes alone was enough to make you smile, quietly enjoying the way his posture had gone a little rigid as he fought the tension building slowly beneath the fabric of his dark cargo pants.
As you stepped toward the open door, your smile widened just a little. Your hand slid across the front of his chest as you passed him, fingers brushing slowly over the firm line of muscle beneath his shirt.
Leon’s eyes dropped immediately to the movement, his jaw tightening slightly as he watched your hand trail away from him.
You didn’t miss it.
Still smiling, you gathered the hem of your dress and slipped into the passenger seat, settling into the soft leather while Leon remained where he stood beside the door. For a moment he didn’t move, one hand resting along the top of the frame as his gaze stayed fixed on you, following the motion of you adjusting in the seat
The door remained open for only a moment longer before Leon shut it with a solid click, the sound sealing you inside the quiet interior of the Porsche like the world outside had suddenly been cut off. Only the click of him fitting your suitcases into the trunk followed.
By the time he rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, the low hum of the engine filled the interior with a steady vibration. For a second he just sat there, one hand resting on the steering wheel as he glanced toward the terminal behind you in the mirror, checking the flow of cars pulling in and out of the pickup lane.
Then his eyes drifted back to you.
Something unreadable flickered across his expression before he shifted the car into gear, guiding the Porsche smoothly away from the curb and into the line of traffic leaving the airport.
Bright streetlights filtered past the windshield as Leon guided the car through the late-night streets, the glow rolling across the dashboard in slow intervals. The hotel was still a bit of a drive, but the space inside the car already felt thick with everything the two of you had been holding back for months. The moment his hand settled on your exposed thigh, the tension tightened even further, his thumb gliding slowly back and forth over the soft skin like he had every intention of reminding you he was there.
You had missed him enough that the simple weight of his hand sent a small shiver through you. Your own hand drifted upward along his arm, fingers tracing the strong line of muscle as you followed the path of the veins that climbed his forearm before disappearing beneath the cuff of his shirt.
You admired him.
Leon wore the same watch he always had, the dark metal band hugging his wrist, the face scratched just enough to show it had seen more than its share of years and hard use. The faint glow of the dashboard lights caught along the edge of it as his hand flexed against your leg, the movement drawing your eyes farther up his arm.
From there it was impossible not to notice the rest of him.
The dark navy shirt stretched clean across his shoulders, the sleeves pushed just high enough to expose the muscle in his forearms, while the black cargo pants he wore sat low against his hips as he shifted in the driver’s seat. Everything about him looked the same and different all at once, familiar enough to make your chest ache and changed just enough to remind you how long it had been.
You were staring.
And Leon noticed.
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly as his eyes flicked briefly away from the road to you before returning forward again.
“You planning on staring at me all night,” he murmured, voice calm, “or should I be worried about the road?”
A quiet laugh slipped from you as your fingers drifted back down his arm again, tracing the same path absently like you couldn’t quite help yourself. “Sorry,” you said softly, the word carrying more warmth than apology. Your hand stayed there for another moment before you glanced toward him again, your voice gentler when you spoke next.
“I just… missed you.”
The words settled quietly between you, simple and honest in a way that made the car feel briefly calmer, the months apart shrinking down into the small space between the two seats. Leon didn’t answer immediately. The movement of his thumb against your thigh slowed slightly, the gesture softer now, like he was turning the words over in his mind.
“I’ve missed you too,” he said at last, his voice low.
A small pause followed, the kind that carried more weight than the words themselves.
“More than you know.”
His hand shifted as he spoke, fingers tightening slightly where they rested against your leg before sliding a little higher along your thigh as he kept his eyes on the road ahead. The streetlights continued to drift past the windshield while Washington’s late-night traffic rolled quietly around the Porsche, each one briefly illuminating the sharp line of his jaw as he drove, the faintest hint of that familiar crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Somewhere along the way, the tension softened just enough for conversation to take over. Leon's hand stayed where it was.
You started asking questions almost without realizing it. About where he’d been the last few months, about the kind of work that had kept him away so long, about the places he’d seen and the things he’d been doing while you’d been counting the days back home. Leon answered every one of them the way he always did, giving you just enough to satisfy your curiosity without stepping too far into the classified edges of his job. He told you about long flights, unfamiliar cities, and the kind of work that kept him moving from one place to the next without much rest in between. It wasn’t the full story; you knew that much by now, but it was the part he could share—and the part he trusted you with.
In return you filled him in on everything he’d missed.
You told him about the house, about the little things that had piled up while he was gone. The leaky faucet you’d finally managed to fix after three attempts and a YouTube video that had made it look far easier than it actually was. The neighbor who’d started mowing his lawn at six in the morning every Saturday. The way the garden had somehow survived the summer heat despite your questionable watering schedule.
He listened to every word.
Now and then he asked questions of his own, small ones that showed he was paying attention even while keeping the car steady through traffic. You told him about your job, about the long days and the quiet evenings that followed, and about the empty side of the bed that never quite stopped feeling strange no matter how many nights passed.
25 minutes slipped by like that, conversation flowing easily in the space between you, the miles of distance that had separated you over the past months slowly dissolving with every exchanged word.
“I’ll be home soon.” His hand gave your thigh a firm squeeze before he passed a glance your way. “I promise.”
You knew he would. He always came home.
But some days the doubt still crept in anyway, quiet and persistent, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.
“You can’t promise that.”
Your hand curled around his arm as you said it, your gaze drifting toward the window as the Porsche rolled onto a bridge, the dark water below reflecting scattered lights from the city.
The change in Leon was immediate.
You felt it before you even looked at him.
When you finally glanced back, his grip on the steering wheel had tightened, the muscles in his forearm shifting beneath your fingers as his eyes remained fixed straight ahead on the road.
The hotel wasn’t far now.
And suddenly the car felt too quiet. Your tongue sat heavy in your mouth, like a stone you couldn’t swallow back down, the regret settling in almost as quickly as the words had escaped you.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Don’t be.”
Leon exhaled slowly, the breath pushing a few stray silver strands of hair across his forehead before he brushed them back with a quick movement of his hand.
“You’re right.”
For a moment neither of you spoke. The low hum of the engine filled the space between you as the car carried the two of you across the bridge, the city lights stretching out ahead.
Then his hand returned to your leg.
This time when his fingers settled there, they slid a little higher again than before.
“Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”
For a moment you just watched him, the way the passing streetlights caught the lines of his face, the quiet determination that always seemed to sit just beneath the surface. It struck you then that every time he left, every mission that pulled him halfway across the world, it probably cost him more than he ever said out loud.
Being away hurt him too.
Leon wasn’t the kind of man who walked away from the things he believed in. You had known that long before the ring ever found your finger. The work, the danger, the endless string of places he could never fully talk about… it was part of him. Asking him to give it up would have been like asking him to stop breathing.
He couldn’t quit.
He wouldn’t.
And yet the thought that lingered in the back of your mind now was the same one that had been there the day he asked you to marry him.
If he knew the risks… if he knew how much of his life would always belong to that work…
Then why had he chosen this?
Why had he chosen you?
Your gaze drifted down to where his hand still rested against your thigh, the warmth of it steady and grounding as his thumb traced slow, absent circles against your skin. The motion wasn’t hurried anymore, but it wasn’t distant either. If anything, it felt more deliberate now, like something he was holding onto just as tightly as you were.
You reached for him again without thinking, your fingers sliding back along his arm, tracing the familiar lines of muscle beneath his sleeve until your hand settled there.
Stubborn.
That was the word for him.
The same stubbornness that kept him running toward danger again and again was the one that had brought him back to you every time.
And suddenly the tension in the car felt different.
Not sharp like it had been earlier.
Heavier.
Warmer.
Your thumb brushed slowly along his arm as you leaned back into the seat, your voice quieter when you spoke again.
“Good,” you murmured.
Leon glanced toward you briefly.
“Because I’m not going anywhere.”
The words lingered before you spoke again, softer this time.
“I love you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched at that, but his hand tightened slightly where it rested against your leg, sliding this time inward a tad as the car continued through the quiet streets.
“Love you too.”
It was simple, the way he always said it, but the quiet certainty in his voice made your chest tighten all the same. You could feel the shift in him too. The air inside the car felt charged now, like something had settled between you both that made the space feel smaller than before. His thumb continued its slow, torturous movements against your thigh, and the lingering heat from the airport kiss slipped back through your chest.
It was the shift your body needed to finally react.
The warmth spread lower, slowly at first, before building into something far harder to ignore. You found yourself wanting his hands higher, wanting them in places the cramped space of the car simply wouldn’t allow, and suddenly the hotel felt much farther away than it had five minutes ago.
Your fingers curled around his wrist, tighter this time, and you shifted slightly in your seat, your hips moving forward as if you were only trying to get comfortable.
Leon noticed.
His jaw flexed faintly as he glanced toward youl. The motion was subtle, but the quiet breath he let out afterward said enough.
“Keep doing that,” he muttered under his breath, “and we’re not making it to the hotel.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face.
“Was that the plan?” you asked softly.
Leon didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he guided the Porsche through the next intersection, the low growl of the engine filling the quiet cabin as the car turned down a darker stretch of road lined with trees. The city lights thinned here, traffic nearly gone as the road curved alongside the river.
Only then did he glance toward you again, his eyes darker now.
“Starting to look that way.”
You noticed the exact moment he made the decision, like your small movements had been all he needed to finally give you exactly what you wanted.
It wasn’t dramatic. Just a slight shift of the wheel.
The Porsche rolled smoothly along the dark road, the river occasionally flashing between the trees as the headlights carved through the quiet stretch of pavement ahead. A second later the car slowed, Leon guiding it off the road onto a narrow pull-off overlooking the water, gravel crunching softly beneath the tires as he eased the Porsche into the empty space.
The engine idled for a moment, his jaw still set as one hand steadied the wheel. Then his other hand slid from your thigh so he could shift the car into park, right before they found their way back to your thigh.
Silence settled around the two of you.
For a brief moment it felt strangely familiar, like the very beginning again. Shared glances. The quiet tension of a nervous cop who hadn’t quite figured out how to admit he wanted you.
Except now the roles had shifted.
And suddenly you felt very small sitting beside the broad-shouldered government agent next to you, the same man who had crossed half the world more than once and still somehow looked at you like you were the thing he wanted most.
Your voice came out softer than you expected.
“Leon…”
He said nothing as he pulled your thighs apart, lifting your dress another inch.
Even though the thought of letting him do what he wanted out here sent sparks through your stomach, you still grew a little shy, your hand moving over his as he leaned across the center console toward you. When he did, he switched hands, replacing the warmth between your legs with his left one.
“Leon—“
He leaned over to kiss you slowly, taking his time breathing you in, his hand inching its way toward your center and ghosting over the fabric of your panties.
“Yes?”
You shifted your hips again against him, nudging them forward slightly as you looked up at him through hooded eyes.
He could already tell you were wet just by the way his fingers grazed over you.
"I…" You didn't know what to say.
This is exactly what you wanted, and he knew it. He knew you too well. Before any more thought could form, he kissed you again, looping his fingers around the fabric to slip underneath, feeling you entirely.
You shifted again, the sensation pulling a soft moan from your lips into his mouth.
“You wanna go?” he murmured between kisses. “Want me to stop?”
He dragged his finger in slow, slick motions up and down your sex without pushing further, causing a shaky breath to form.
You shook your head, brushing your nose against his as you moved your hips against his hand.
“Then take these off.” He stopped what he was doing, tugging at the fabric before pulling away and reaching for the car door.
You did what he asked, shimmying them down your legs with little effort as he began to get out of the car. For a second the sudden absence of him left you blinking in confusion, the cool night air rushing in where his warmth had been only moments before. That wasn’t what you’d meant at all, and the thought that he might actually walk away made your stomach drop.
You watched him round the front of the car, though, moving with purpose rather than distance.
And then it clicked.
He wasn't leaving.
He was coming for you.
Before you could even ask what he was doing, Leon yanked your door open. The night air was more prevalent as he offered you a hand, his expression unreadable but determined.
“C’mon,” he said quietly.
You slid your hand into his and stepped out, the gravel crunching softly beneath your feet. He didn’t let go right away. Instead, he glanced down, then suddenly bent over in front of you.
The movement caught you off guard, a sudden flush of heat rising up your neck as your mind jumped to an entirely different conclusion.
"What are you—"
But he only huffed a quiet laugh, reaching for the strap of your shoe.
“Relax,” he muttered, slipping it off your foot before moving to the other one. “You’re not climbing back there in these.”
For a second his breath hovered there, his hand sliding lightly up the length of your thigh before he pressed a quick kiss just above your knee.
Then he straightened, your shoes dangling from his fingers, the same dangerous look settling in his eyes again.
Without another word, he opened the back door.
It took less than a minute for him to convince you into the backseat, where he pulled you on top of him, pushing your dress fully up over your hips. You claimed his mouth instantly, one hand braced against his chest while the other cupped his face. His head leaned back against the seat, and his hands enveloped your backside, pulling you down against him to match the needy movement of his hips.
You stole the air from each other, your mouths opening for one another as he claimed you like a starving man finally given what he wanted. When he left your lips to work at your neck, a pleading whimper slipped from you, overwhelmed with the feeling of his mouth against your skin.
One of his hands left your hip to pull the straps of your dress down, exposing your chest to him. Without a second thought, he moved lower until he found your breast, biting and sucking at your skin. Your hand slid into his hair, and the moment his tongue brushed your sensitive peak, a wave of heat swept through your body, causing you to lean back for him as a soft moan sounded from you.
Hearing you seemed to spur him on as his hand hiked up and under your dress completely.
“Off.” He murmured against your chest, guiding it up your body as he spoke. He pulled away only long enough for you to raise your arms as he threw it to the side, leaving you bare on top of him. He found your lips again as he pushed his hips up, meeting your desperate movements to cause friction. His hands trailed over every inch of you before finally finding your hair, tugging your head back to trail his tongue across the length of your neck.
You gasped at the movement, a shiver trailing across your skin as he slowed his pace, trailing his breath across your neck as he spoke.
“So needy.”
A pathetic whine left your lips from the grueling tension building under you, feeling his length through his pants as you ground against him.
"Leon—" you pleaded.
His hand left your hair as he slipped a finger into your mouth, guiding your head down until your eyes met his.
"Yeah, baby?”
You swirled your tongue around his finger before he slid a second in, eliciting a small sound from you as he let you lap at them, pulling your face closer.
“Hmm?” He hummed, just inches from your mouth. “Use your words, baby.”
He pulled his fingers out just enough to let you speak, his breath hot against your lips. "Please," you said.
He smiled, leaning in to take your lower lip between his teeth as he reached between you, slowly gliding his now-wet fingers between your thighs. The second his touch found your entrance, a whimper slipped from your lips as you crashed your mouth against his again, gripping the back of the seat while lifting your hips to give him better leverage.
He was so slow you thought the ache building inside you might actually kill you. But it wasn’t enough; his touches were feather-light, only scratching the surface of what you wanted.
The more he teased you, the more you shifted against him. Until he used his free hand to steady your hip. In the same motion he slipped his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to ease the burning tension for a moment.
“Leon.” You breathed into his ear, frustration threading through your voice as you rolled your hips against him.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmured into your ear, his fingers working achingly slow as he began to move his thumb right over your clit.
You could come undone like this if you wanted, but you hadn’t seen him in four months.
“I need you," you whispered, pressing your face against him.
“You have me.” He breathed.
You bit at his earlobe, feeling every movement of his fingers as they worked you higher. You were a mess on top of him, exposed and desperate. You couldn’t take it anymore.
“I need you to fuck me.”
As soon as you said it, his free hand came up and gripped the space where your jaw and neck meet, pulling you just enough to meet his eyes. He was ravenous; it was like all this teasing was killing him just as much.
He pulled his fingers free and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean before pulling you back in and claiming your lips again. He made sure you could taste it before pulling away.
"Yes, ma’am.”
His hand left your neck, and he lifted your hips enough to work at his pants, freeing himself from the tightness of the fabric.
You could feel your senses growing feral as he adjusted himself below you, gripping your hip with his free hand as he lined himself up.
You dug your nails into his shoulder in anticipation as he claimed your mouth again, pushing you down onto him in one fluid motion. When you moaned into his kiss, you could feel his nails digging into your skin, holding you steady as you took him fully.
It was everything and more, filling every empty need you’d carried for the last four months as you felt him stretch you completely. You didn’t move at first, only shifting your hips slightly as you adjusted to the feeling.
“Fuck.” Leon let out a strangled moan into your mouth as you moved your hips forward, then back, little gasps melding with your kisses.
His patience ran thin as he helped you lift your hips right before pushing them back down, setting you into a toe-curling rhythm.
You pulled back from his mouth, letting your head loll back as he set a devastatingly smooth pace, helping you work him. He took your movements to his advantage, his mouth finding your chest again as he sucked at your skin, leaving marks peppered across your breasts.
For a moment it was pure perfection. Pure bliss. Everything you’d been waiting for, and now you were coming completely undone on top of him.
Your breaths and moans melded together as he claimed every inch of you, marking your skin and fogging the windows of the car. The space was cramped, but he made the most of it, trailing one hand behind your back to support you as you leaned. Then his second hand found its way between your thighs, circling in just the right places to send you into a blissful coma.
At this angle he hit you in just the right spot, each push filling you as much as you could take. You couldn’t tell up from down as he pulled moan after moan from your lips, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
He could tell, either by the way your eyes couldn’t focus or the way you began to tighten around him. He reacted instantly, pulling you closer as he kept his pace steady, the pressure of his grip mixing with the steady rhythm of his hips.
“Come on, baby.”
You looked down at him, watching his eyes fill with lust as they found your lips, your mouth open in pure ecstasy.
“I’ve got you.”
He did. His grip on you was solid, hand splayed across your back as he supported you each time you rocked with him.
“Fuck, Leon—“
“That’s it.”
You were so close. So close to coming undone. So close to letting it all go. You leaned forward, pressing your head against his.
“Don’t stop—don't—"
He kissed your jaw, working his hand tirelessly as your climax was near its peak. He could feel how close you were, feel you clench around him right as it tipped. His hips were relentless as he took over, driving into you as you enjoyed every second.
“That’s it, baby, let go.”
A bright wave of ecstasy plowed through you, and you dug your nails into his back, clinging onto him now for dear life as you rode him through it, working his fingers in lazy circles while he dug his face into your neck. The moan you let out was mixed with curses, washing over you like cold water as you shuddered through the high.
He must have been right behind you because his pace began to falter, his own moans and curses getting lost in your skin as he buried himself closer to you, staggered with each thrust.
His hand left your center, coming up behind your back, and he pulled you flush to him, his movements finally ceasing.
All you could do was breathe, collapsed against his chest as you buried your face into his neck.
He stayed still, not pulling you off, your chests rising and falling in unison. His hands began moving slowly up and down your back before moving down to your thighs. He rubbed small circles in the places he held the hardest as he leaned his head back against the seat.
"Fuck," he breathed.
You let out a breathy laugh as you lifted your head, finally getting a good look at the disheveled mess he’d become. You reached up, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead, before kissing him there gently.
When you pulled back, his mouth was still parted, panting, his eyes hooded as he searched your face.
You pulled back another inch. “What?”
He smiled, trailing his hands slowly back up your sides in soothing motions. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
A heat flushed across your face as if you weren’t already married to this man, and you smiled giddily as your hand trailed across his stubble.
He leaned forward to kiss your jaw again. “Especially like this.”
He kissed your skin once more before pulling you back down against him, settling your head on his shoulder.
You lay like this for some time, enjoying each other's warmth, basking in the backseat of his car until you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently settling into your hair.
“I’m not goin anywhere.”
You weren’t sure what he meant until you thought back to your earlier conversation.
You can’t promise that.
You lifted your head, looking at him as he stared out the windshield, absently stroking your hair.
“I know,” you said, placing your hand on his chest.
He looked at you then with a soft smile before kissing your forehead.
“You got anything comfy in those suitcases?”
You pulled back. "Yeah, why?"
Then, you were rudely reminded that you were still sitting on him—still connected to him. When he lifted your hips from his lap, you gasped as reality washed back over you, and as he pulled out, the aftermath of your escapade dripped down your legs.
“I’m not putting you back in that dress. Which suitcase? I’ll grab it.”
He was so casual about it, helping you shift into the seat beside him while he tugged his pants back up and buttoned them before leaning over to give you a quick kiss.
You just stared at him, star-struck. “Uh, well—”
“Don’t think too hard. Whatever you pick is just gonna end up on my floor tonight anyway.”
You raised your eyebrows at him, your lips parting slightly.
He seemed a little surprised too, though there was humor in it. “You think after four months I haven’t been dying for this exact fucking moment?”
You blinked at him, a slow smile creeping across your face.
“You know,” you said, leaning back against the seat, “most husbands wait at least five minutes before admitting that.”
Leon's hand found your thigh again. “Do most husbands also fuck their wives in the back of a Porsche on the side of a greenway?”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know,” you said. “But if they don’t, they're doing marriage wrong.”
Leon laughed quietly under his breath before leaning over to press one more kiss to your temple.
“That’s my girl.” He said, reaching for the door handle. “Now c’mon before I get distracted again, which suitcase?”
You glanced at him as he stepped out of the car, shaking your head with a smile.
Four months apart, and somehow he still had the power to make your heart race like it was the first. Night all over again.
