Currently obsessed with re2 Leon sooooo In this scenario we're roommates, maybe close friends, you get back from another bad date, Leon helps you out
TEEHEE I did not just write that.. LMFAO
Roommates, friends to lovers? Hookup, first time, loss of virginity, rookie leon is so cute I love him
You slam the apartment door harder than you mean to, the sound echoing in the quiet living room. It’s late, almost midnight, and the only light comes from the flickering TV screen paused on some dumb action movie Leon must’ve been watching. You’re still in your cute little date outfit: short black dress, heels you wobbled in all night, hair done up nice. But now your mascara is streaked down your cheeks, eyes puffy from crying in the taxi on the way home.
You don’t even look at the couch as you storm past, heading straight for your room. You just want to peel this dress off, wash your face, and scream into your pillow.
But halfway down the hall you hear a sleepy, concerned voice behind you.
He’s sprawled out on the couch in sweatpants and a faded RPD academy t-shirt that’s ridden up a little, showing a strip of toned stomach from all those push-ups they make him do. One arm is flung over his eyes, the other loosely holding a half-empty beer bottle that’s dangling off the edge of the cushion. His blond hair is a total mess, sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it, or just passed out for a bit.
He sits up slowly when you don’t answer, blinking those big, curious blue eyes at you like a confused puppy who just heard a weird noise. Training kicked his ass today, some brutal obstacle course in the rain, so he came home, cracked a beer, and apparently conked out waiting for you to get back.
Now he’s fully awake, though, watching you freeze in the hallway with your back to him.
“…Bad date?” he guesses softly, voice still a little rough from sleep.
You nod without turning around, sniffling. “Yeah. Really bad.”
He sets the beer down on the coffee table and stands up, padding over in his socks. He stops a couple feet away, not crowding you, just close enough that you can smell the faint mix of his cologne and the beer.
“You’re crying,” he says, like he’s stating the obvious but it still surprises him. He tilts his head, trying to get a better look at your face. “What’d the guy do?”
You finally turn. Your cheeks are all blotchy, mascara smudged into little black rivers. “Nothing. That’s the problem. He was fine. Boring, but fine. And I thought… maybe tonight would finally be the night, you know? But then I couldn’t go through with it. I don’t want my first time to be with some random guy I barely like on a mediocre first date.”
Leon’s eyes widen a little. He rubs the back of his neck, that telltale blush creeping up his ears. You’ve complained about this like a thousand before, how you’re 20 and still a virgin, how it feels embarrassing, how everyone else seems to have figured it out already. He always listens, gives awkward but sweet advice, changes the subject when it gets too heavy.
Tonight, though, he’s tired, a little buzzed, and seeing you this upset flips some protective switch in him.
“Hey,” he says gently, stepping closer. “Come sit down for a sec. You’re shaking.”
You let him guide you back to the couch. You sink into one end; he sits on the other, angled toward you, one knee pulled up. For a minute it’s quiet except for your occasional sniffle.
“I just… hate feeling like I’m running out of time or something,” you mumble, staring at your hands. “Like there’s something wrong with me. Am i not hot or something?”
Leon frowns. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re… you’re awesome. Guys are idiots if they don’t see that.”
You let out a watery laugh. “You have to say that. We’ve been friends since freshman year.”
“I don’t have to say anything,” he counters, a tiny spark of that new academy confidence in his voice. Then he softens again. “I mean it.”
Another silence. He picks at the label on his beer bottle, thinking.
Finally he exhales, like he’s made a decision.
“You know… if it’s really eating at you this much,” he starts, voice low, “and you trust me… I could help. With the, uh… virginity thing.”
Your head snaps up. He’s looking at you carefully, cheeks pink but eyes steady.
“I’m not saying I’m some stud or anything,” he adds quickly, half-laughing at himself. “God, no. I’ve only done it a couple times and it was… fine, I guess. But I like you. I care about you. And if you wanted it to be with someone who actually gives a damn about whether you’re okay…” He shrugs, a little shy but not backing down. “I’d do it. Only if you want. No pressure. We can pretend I never said anything if it’s weird.”
Your heart is suddenly pounding. You stare at him, this sweet, floppy-haired boy you’ve lived with for months, who makes you coffee when you’re late for work and always takes the trash out without being asked.
“You’d… really?” you whisper.
He nods, swallowing. “Yeah. I’d rather it be me than some jerk who doesn’t deserve you.”
The air feels thick all of a sudden. You scoot a little closer on the couch. He watches you, waiting.
“Okay,” you breathe. “I… I want it to be you.”
His eyes flutter wider, like he didn’t actually expect you to say yes. Then a soft, nervous smile tugs at his lips.
“Yeah?” he checks one more time.
He reaches out slowly, brushing a thumb under your eye to wipe away a smear of mascara. His touch is warm, careful.
“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” he murmurs. “You’ve got raccoon eyes.”
You laugh, actually laugh, and he grins back, relieved.
He stands, offers you his hand. You take it, letting him pull you up and lead you to the bathroom. He wets a washcloth under warm water, tilts your chin gently, and wipes the makeup off your cheeks with the kind of focus he probably uses when cleaning his training pistol. Soft, methodical, making sure he gets every streak.
“There,” he says quietly when he’s done. “Prettier without all that anyway.”
You meet his eyes in the mirror. He’s standing behind you, hands resting lightly on your shoulders now. You can feel the warmth of him.
He leans down a little, presses a tentative kiss to the side of your neck, just a test. When you don’t pull away, he does it again, braver this time, lips lingering.
“Bedroom?” he asks against your skin, voice a little shaky.
You nod, turning in his arms. He kisses you for the first time right there, slow, sweet, a little clumsy because he’s nervous too. His hands settle on your waist like he’s afraid to hold too tight.
You end up in his room (his bed’s bigger). He closes the door softly, then turns to you, brushing your hair back.
“Tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay? Promise me.”
Clothes come off piece by piece, slow and deliberate, like neither of you wants to rush this moment you’ve both secretly thought about more than once.
Leon’s fingers tremble just a little as he finds the zipper at the back of your little black dress. He pulls it down inch by inch, breath catching when the fabric parts and reveals the lace of your bra and the soft skin of your back. You help him tug the dress over your hips, stepping out of it until you’re in just your matching panties and bra, girly pink lace that makes his eyes darken instantly.
He swallows hard. “Shit… you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice rougher now, like the sight of you is hitting him all at once.
You reach for the hem of his t-shirt next, and he lifts his arms to let you pull it off. The academy training has done wonders.. his chest and abs are defined but not bulky, lean muscle shifting under smooth skin, a faint trail of dark blond hair leading down from his navel. There’s a small scar on his ribs from some training mishap he told you about once, and you trace it with your fingertips. He shivers.
Your bra is next. He reaches behind you, fumbling only once with the clasp before it snaps open. His gaze drops to your breasts as the straps slide down your arms, and he lets out a soft, reverent “fuck” under his breath, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His hands cup you gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden and you whimper.
Pants and boxers follow quickly after that. You’re both breathing faster now. When his sweatpants and underwear hit the floor, you finally get a good look at him.
He’s… beautiful. Hard and flushed, thick enough that your thighs press together instinctively, the tip already glistening a little. He’s perfectly proportioned to his lean frame, long, straight, with a slight upward curve that makes your stomach flip. A neat trim of dark blond hair at the base, skin velvety smooth along the shaft. He’s not showing off, he’s actually blushing harder now that you’re staring, but the way he twitches under your gaze tells you how turned on he is.
Leon notices you looking and gives a shy, lopsided grin. “You can touch.. it.. if you want,” he says softly, voice cracking just a little. “I mean… please.”
So you do. Your hand wraps around him, warm, heavy, throbbing in your palm, and he groans low in his throat, hips jerking forward once before he catches himself. You stroke him slowly, feeling every ridge, the way he pulses against your fingers. He drops his forehead to yours, breathing ragged.
“Keep that up and this is gonna be over way too fast,” he laughs breathlessly, then kisses you deep and messy to distract himself.
He guides you back onto his bed, settling over you like he’s afraid to put too much weight down. More kisses, down your neck, across your collarbone, lingering at your breasts until you’re arching up into his mouth. He spends forever there, licking and sucking gently, learning every little sound you make.
Then lower. His lips trail over your stomach, hands sliding your panties down your legs until you’re completely bare for him. He settles between your thighs, looking up at you with those big, earnest blue eyes, asking permission without words. You nod, and he groans again before his mouth finds you.
He’s careful at first, exploring with soft licks, figuring out what makes your hips buck. When he finds the right rhythm, slow circles with the flat of his tongue while his fingers tease your entrance, you’re already soaking, clinging to his hair, whispering his name like a prayer.
Only when you’re trembling and close does he pull back, crawling up your body again. He grabs a condom from his nightstand (thank God one of you is thinking straight), rolling it on with slightly shaky hands while you watch, biting your lip.
He lines up, tip nudging against you, and pauses.
“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “We’ll go slow.”
The first push is tight, a stretch that burns a little, but he’s so careful, rocking in shallow thrusts, giving you time. His jaw is clenched, eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of expression.
“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “I’ve got you. Just relax for me.”
You do, little by little, until he’s fully inside and you both gasp at how perfect it feels. He stills completely, buried deep, letting you adjust around the thick heat of him.
Then you move first, rolling your hips experimentally, and he moans your name like it hurts to hold back.
He starts slow, long strokes that drag over every sensitive spot inside you. The bed creaks rhythmically, and at one point he laughs breathlessly against your neck “Shit, the neighbors are gonna hate us” and you laugh too, the sound turning into a moan when he hits just the right angle.
You wrap your legs high around his waist, pulling him deeper, and that’s when he loses a bit of that careful control. His thrusts get harder, more confident, hips snapping into yours with wet sounds that make you both flush hotter.
His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Come on,” he pants against your ear. “Want to feel you come around me. Please.”
It doesn’t take long, you’re already so close. Pleasure coils tight and snaps, and you come with a soft cry, clenching hard around him, nails digging into his back. It feels like an itch being scratched deep in your core
He follows seconds later, thrusting deep one last time and groaning low and broken into your shoulder, body shuddering as he spills.
For a long moment you just hold each other, breathing hard, hearts racing together.
Eventually he pulls out carefully, ties off the condom, and collapses beside you, only to immediately tug you into his chest, arms wrapping around you like he never wants to let go. His fingers trace lazy, soothing patterns along your spine.
“You okay?” he whispers again, voice soft and awed, pressing a kiss to your damp hair.
You nuzzle closer, smiling against his skin. “More than okay. That was… perfect.”
He exhales a happy little laugh, squeezing you tighter. “Good. Because I really, really liked that. A lot.”
You fall asleep like that, legs tangled, his heartbeat steady under your cheek, the faint scent of sweat and sex and Leon all around you.
Safe. Wanted. Finally not a virgin anymoreband so glad it was with him.
