୨ৎ You confront Leon about following you home ୨ৎ
You're just a clinical grief & trauma Therapist trying to make it through another workweek. One more intake. One more patient. One more story to carry home. Your job definitely had it's own quiet struggles, though you never expected your newest client to unravel you the way he does. Leon Kennedy is composed, dangerously perceptive, and disarmingly handsome in a way that feels almost unfair.
The last thing either of you need is another complicated relationship, but right now he's looking at you like he’s fighting every urge to pin you against the wall and sink his teeth into you. You tell yourself that you’re still in control, but Pandora’s box is cracking and you don’t think you’ve ever been this aware of someone sitting so close.
Wuthering Blight (8) by RosieMaillot ୨ৎ Leon S. Kennedy/Reader • Emotional Hurt/Comfort • NSFW • 18+ • 51K
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The road home was nearly empty.
Streetlights stretched in long amber lines across the wet asphalt, broken only by the quiet hum of your engine.
You had just turned onto the familiar stretch leading toward your apartment when you noticed the headlights.
Just two small white points hovering in the distance.
You didn’t think anything of it at first.
But the longer you drove, the longer those headlights remained.
Same distance, same position.
A strange unease settles between your ribs.
The headlights flicker slightly as the vehicle behind you shifts lanes.
For a moment, the shape becomes clearer.
One beam briefly dips before straightening again.
You told yourself you were imagining things, but the feeling refused to leave.
Even when you turned toward your building, even when the vehicle slowed farther down the road instead of following into the parking lot.
You sat in your car for a moment longer than necessary.
The unease clung to you like a shadow.
To be fair, the start of the week was anything but normal. And by Wednesday, you could really feel the shift.
Leon had a way of doing that.
Coming and going like a relentless tide, flooding into the spaces between your thoughts.
Into the quiet moments driving home at night.
Into the crisp sheets where your hands lingered.
Grazing, against the satin for something that isn’t there.
Your knuckles sting as they grip the steering wheel.
Raw and tender, from nights spent navigating yourself under the covers.
The engine's hum quieted, but your pulse didn’t follow suit.
You sat in the car for a few moments longer than necessary, staring at the empty spaces in front of you, trying to make sense of what felt like a ghost that refused to leave your side.
“Were you following me, Friday night?”
The question hung between you like a spark in dry tinder.
Leon lounges back, wavering the chair beneath him. It soon becomes an afterthought as it creaks from the shift of weight.
“You think I followed you home?” His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t flinch.
Leon hesitates, watching you with a calm that didn’t feel calm at all.
The lamplight catches along the line of his jaw, tracing the faint shadow of stubble that gives him a type of roughness that doesn't detract.
“You know, stalking isn’t a crime,” He says, “Not when you’re easy to find.”
The silence in the room stretched.
The line between danger and desire, now thinning.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot longer than I should,” He admits, swallowing hard against the pendulum in his throat.
He says it like it’s abstract to him.
Like a puzzle that won’t connect itself.
Only he’s not sure if there’s a piece he can’t account for, or if he’s been looking at the picture the wrong way this whole time.
His lips pucker in response to his problem, as if he’s arranging the pieces in his head for the seventh time over.
Your eyes begin to wander.
He’s wearing jeans again. And his skin had a reddish golden tint, like he’d been working in the sun for too long.
What you would give to feel the sun on your skin again.
You hate that despite the incessant wave of uncontrolled emotions battering you, you can’t help but notice his taut athletic body.
“What happens?” you ask, subtly. “When you think of me...”
You hadn’t meant to ask it that way, but the question lands harder than anything you’ve ever asked him.
And yet, Leon looks at you like you threw him a bone.
But something in his expression warns you he might bite if you try to take it back.
Your eyes seal the attention from your nose when it follows his muscular neck, down to a strong chest and lean torso.
Bear arms, thick and vascular, malt atop the under-bearing arms of the chair.
His shirt pulls slightly across his chest, the fabric stretching just enough to hint at the solid shape beneath it.
Your heart begins to flicker with a mixture of excitement and dread.
“They all start off the same way.” A pause, “In this room.”
Leon’s gaze solidifies. His baby blues lock onto you with a weight that presses against you.
Your breath falters, but you don’t interrupt him.
“It isn’t the first time I've gone down on you, but your moans convince me otherwise.”
His words settle like dust in dim light.
Your gaze slips before you can catch it. Landing right on the tight seam of denim.
Like tracing the edge of a blade, you follow it up toward his crotch without meaning to.
Your eyes praise the centerline.
“I’m giving you what your eyes beg for,” He ends, leaning forward a little closer now.
Leon glances at your red-tinted knuckles.
Your nails are pressing crescents in your palm.
A sense of panic rises in you.
You jerk them away under your notebook.
Staring at the prominent bulge forming in his pants, you swear the sunrays tried to touch it.
“You touch yourself for me," He says.
His words hum, like honeycomb.
Was that a statement, or a request?
Your eyes bat at the thought.
All you can think about is the feeling between your legs that won’t go away.
You don’t understand why your body and brain hate each other, but you need to feel good somehow.
You shouldn’t want this, you try to tell yourself, but your hands are already committed as they weave their way between your thighs.
Something impatient springs from Leon when he sees this; chair legs scrape softly against the floor as he closes the space between you.
His hands capture you without hesitation.
It happens quickly, like a dog snatching a ball.
Leon's lips crash down on you, and your faces twist together, becoming one great knot.
You wince at the dull graze of his five o’clock shadow against the crest of your mouth.
Your clit asks to be next.
He grasps your wrists and ushers your hands away, infiltrating the center of your thighs.
There’s no resistance, as he strips them away.
Leon's hands trickle up your side, passing under the hem of your skirt, brushing along your pelted goose-ridden skin.
He gives just the faintest brush of his fingers against your ankle, as if he’s testing whether you’ll pull away.
Your shoe drops onto the hardwood.
His hand settles deliberately, tracing the curve of your foot with a gentleness that feels heavier than pressure.
Leon dips his head, kissing the soft pads of your feet, leaving behind a quiet warmth you can’t ignore.
He swings your leg over his broad shoulder.
It becomes your new leverage.
“I’m gonna taste your pussy.” He whispers it casually, like passing around candy.
His voice is gritty and low, nestling between your thighs.
Your center eats up his words.
You give a moan shamelessly, and you think you see his lips curve into a smile that he quickly fixes.
At first, you're almost too nervous to feel anything, but as your breath calms, you’re able to escape into his touch.
Leon takes his rough hands and clamps them down on your thighs.
A signal to open your knees.
His hands shuffle to your ass, guiding you to scoot forward in your seat.
His strong arms effortlessly draw your rear forward along chair's lip.
His breath slips through the cotton shield between your legs, making your toes curl.
You can feel his lips just barely pressing against your aching clit.
Sparks fly around your head as his fingers loop the thin fabric separating your cunt and his mouth.
With no words exchanged between you, he pulls you against him.
You shed another moan, louder this time, the moment his mouth laps onto you.
His lips feel so fucking good, like they’re meant to be there.
Your fingers start to pick at his head, eagerly tangling his golden locks.
Leon's baby blues shoot up at you as he navigates his tongue along the soft folds of your tender flesh.
Something in his eyes tells you he might be enjoying it more than you.
He takes a break every now and then, hovering his mouth over your pussy. Taunting you with heavy breaths that match your own.
You throw your head back, body trembling at the feeling of his hot mouth. The warmth contrasts against the cool moisture evaporating off the sensitive pink flesh.
The arch in your back curves more as the intensity builds.
It’s slow at first, but then the feeling coils into itself, like a tide drawing back before it breaks.
“Please don’t stop," You plead, breathlessly.
The heat in your face collapses from the sensation, as he flicks his pointed tongue against the grain of your throbbing clit.
It isn't a request, it's a demand.
Your nipples beg to be noticed, as they harden, preach through your blouse.
Leon sits taller, hands groping harder under your ass as a boost up for him to worship your chest. Your breath aches as he slides his hands against the fabric across your breasts.
His fingertips glide over your tender nipples.
You mouth at the dense air.
"...Leon," Your moan trembles beneath his touch.
Your breasts ache for attention, and his fingers soon find a way to draw them relief.
As you beg him for more, Leon listens to your moans like a record playing on loop.
His strong hands grope around the thickness of your thighs as he claims you.
His name flares past your lips like a flare in the night.
His teeth nip at your tender flesh.
You feel a tug on one of your lips, plump and waiting to be relieved from the tension building between your thighs.
Over and over, again and again.
Allowing yourself to completely abandon, as he buries himself more in your ass and pussy. Fucking you with his mouth to completion.
A series of groans escapes your lips as they ride his soft tongue.
Drowning in a wave of pleasure.
Without warning, your legs constrict around Leon's head like they’re about to pop a grape.
A catastrophic release waves over you, suffocating him as you cum hard against the sharp features of his face.
His facial hair scrapes between your thighs as you rope around him.
A minute goes by, maybe more, before he resurfaces.
For a moment, he floats there, between your legs.
It’s quiet, all except for the heavy exchange of musical breaths.
Leon's body reverberates, like he’s holding something back.
Together, you look at the mess you created.
The sweet mixture of fluids saturates your ass crack, dripping past the lip of the chair.
You watch it sop into the fine fissures of the wooden floor.
Leon’s glossy chin shines bright.
Your reflection treads as it catches the sheen.
A reminder that you’re a piece of his puzzle, that’s shifting into place.
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