your stomach erupted with butterflies the second you heard the familiar low rumble of his jeep turning onto your quiet street.
weeks of brutal exams, your parents watching your every move, and leon’s exhausting shifts at the RPD had kept you apart. you missed his voice, his smell, his gentle touches, the way he made you feel like the centre of his entire world.
so, you’d finally managed to convince him to come over tonight. he had been hesitant, ofcourse—worried about getting you in trouble with your parents because of him, but you knew he could never really say no to you.
you’d sneaked out that night through the back door in just an oversized hoodie and a skirt. his jeep waited for you at the end of the block. you ran and climbed into the passenger seat, leon didn’t even let you close the door fully before lunging at you, hands cupping your face with desperate trembling fingers.
“baby—fuck, finally” he whimpered against your lips, kissing you hard. it was messy, needy, all tongue and soft broken sounds spilling from his throat “i missed you so much…”
you melted instantly, your fingers twisting in his uniform jacket as he kissed you deeper, moaning softly every time your tongues slid together. his hands roamed all over your body, your waist, your thighs. “drive somewhere dark” you managed to mumble, biting his bottom lip “i need you, right now”
leon nodded frantically “yeah…yeah, okay. anything for you” he said starting the car, one hand gripping hard on the wheel while the other stayed glued to your thigh, squeezing it hard, like he couldn’t bear not touching you.
he looked too good, his hair messy from the long day, his tight uniform stretching across his broad shoulders and chest, you were already throbbing and wet for him.
you couldn’t wait even a minute. as soon as he turned back on the road, you reached over and tugged at his jacket “off. now”
“take it baby, it’s all yours” he shrugged and twisted awkwardly so you could yank the jacket down his arms. the second you had it, you leaned back in your seat, spread your thighs and pressed the bundled jacket right between your legs
a needy moan slipped out as you started grinding, you rolled your hips in slow circles, dragging your dripping folds along the thick, rough fabric. the material rubbed perfectly against your swollen clit through your panties, the stiff collar and cool metal name tag teasing you with every movement. you pressed down harder, humping the jacket with long, desperate strokes, the wet sounds of your slick soaking into it getting louder.
“fuck, leon…it’s still so warm from you,” you whimpered, grinding faster. “smells like you…feels so good on my pussy.”
leon glanced over, his pretty blue eyes widening “Oh—my god baby…look at you” his voice was already wrecked and trembling “you’re actually doing this while i’m driving? fuck..”
leon looked devastatingly hot beside you, he was flushed all the way down his neck, his lips parted, breathing heavily. his fitted black shirt clung to his toned chest and arms. his cock was visibly hard and twitching against his uniform pants and those gorgeous blue eyes were glued between your legs completely mesmerized.
“shit…baby,” he whined, voice low and shaky “you look so hot like this, i’ve been leaking in my pants the whole way here just thinking about you”
you moaned softly pressing the jacket’s sleeve right against your soaked core, rubbing it in needy circles.
his eyes were flicking desperately between the dark road and the sight of you using his jacket “—fuck, that’s so hot. you’re soaking it, aren’t you baby? getting your pretty pussy all over my uniform” he gripped your inner thigh and spread you wider
“baby, i’m gonna crash if you keep doing that” he whined, his voice cracking “i’ve been jerking off every night thinking about you and it’s never enough, never as good as you”
you whimpered his name and humped the jacket even harder, chasing the pleasure, your thighs were trembling. leon’s hand slid higher, fingers slipping inside your skirt to feel how wet you were.
“you’re dripping everywhere” he gasped, almost sobbing with need “all over my jacket…fuck, i love you so much. need you so fucking bad love”
the wet patch on his jacket grew bigger and darker under you with every grind
“pull over baby, now!”
you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a messy, desperate kiss. It turned sloppy instantly with your tongues sliding, spit swapping and strings of saliva connecting your lips every time you parted for air.
you kept frantically grinding on his jacket the whole time, hips rolling and thrusting against the bunched fabric like you couldn’t get enough.
between wet kisses, you moaned against his mouth, “couldn’t wait for this honey, ‘s perfect”
leon whimpered into the kiss, the sound so cute yet so hot coming from him. he kissed you even messier, drooling into your mouth. “you’re so fucking dirty…my pretty girl couldn’t even wait five minutes”
“gonna cum all over your jacket” you gasped against his lips, licking his mouth again. “you’re gonna wear it tomorrow covered in me.”
leon moaned, the sound downright sinful. his pretty face was burning red. “god, yes—please, i want it. want to wear your mess all day.”
that pushed you over the edge.
you came hard with a loud, broken moan into his mouth, your hips stuttering wildly as you rode his jacket through it. your thighs clamped tight around the fabric while fresh arousal soaked through, ruining it even more. leon kept kissing you the entire time, sloppy, spit slick, and desperate, holding your face like you were the only thing in his world.
when you finally slumped back against the seat, panting and satisfied. leon stared down at the shiny, soaked patch you left all over his RPD jacket. his chest was still heaving, lips swollen and red from your messy kisses, looking ridiculously hot and wrecked.
he let out a shy, embarrassed laugh and ran a hand through his messy hair.
you poor thing. it’s so hard to properly unwind with such a stressful job like this, isn’t it? that’s why you’re so grateful for your coworker, leon, who has been kind enough to give you a helping hand (and thigh).
content disclosure: 18+ - view at your own discretion, f!reader, smut, oneshot, can be any leon post re2, free use (yes you read that right. you are free using leon kennedy and he is a more than willing subject), fingering, thigh riding, jerk off instructions (leon kennedy joi lol) & p in v riding. wc - 4.6k
It first began when you were heading back from a conference meeting regarding the strengthening of international relations related to the development of a new visa subclass to allow for easier travel across borders. In this case, you and your seasoned coworker, Leon, along with a handful of other agents and higher-ups, had flown to London to represent America and the DSO. Unfortunately for you, right before the conference began, you both only had three days to recover. Leon seemed rested enough, but you on the other hand, had not slept a wink.
"Shit, that conference was so tiring. How was it somehow more tiring than running around fighting a bunch of infected in the pouring rain?" You can't help but groan, absentmindedly rubbing the back of your neck.
"More higher-ups than actual agents in the room, that's why." Leon gives you a dry chuckle as you both step into the hotel elevator, heading to the floor you were both staying on.
"And yet their backs never kill them." You scoff, walking alongside Leon.
"I don't know if I'm overstepping here, but you look tense. And I noticed you had about five coffees during the conference but you were still dozing off. Have you been having trouble winding down?" Leon asks.
"Is it that obvious?" You sheepishly purse your lips as you approach your hotel room doors that are directly opposite each other.
"Nah, I just… I've been there, that's all. Your body not being able to just shut off and relax, your mind constantly staying vigilant because it still thinks a threat is around the corner… It all sucks." Leon explains.
"Yeah… That's exactly how I feel. The flight didn't help either, the jetlag is so awful. I couldn't even sleep more than an hour last night." You sigh.
"Have you tried anything? Like sleeping medication, stretches, no screens…?" Leon asks.
"Haha. All of it." You give him a short, sarcastic laugh. Before you can continue your conversation, you hear a very large group of women clearly on a bachelorette trip, giggling and drunkenly stumbling towards you both. "Uh, do you wanna continue the conversation inside real quick? I have a feeling we'll get interrupted out here." You offer, turning to Leon.
"If you're comfortable with that, yeah, sure." Leon nods.
"Well, yeah, of course. I mean, we've been on what, three missions together now? Of course I feel comfortable with you, silly." You smile, as Leon steps into your room. Perching yourself on the edge of your bed, Leon takes a seat on the armchair near the vanity, turning it to face you.
"This job doesn't understand the definition of a work-life balance, that's for sure." Leon grumbles, and you nod in agreement.
"Even on days off, I can't remember the last time I did something fun and actually felt relaxed, to be honest." You admit, absentmindedly dangling your legs off the bed.
"Well, what do you do that really - and I mean really helps you relax? For me, I find it kinda meditative to just shut my brain off and work on my car or motorbike." Leon suggests.
"Haha… I don't even know how to pop open my hood. So not cars. Um, I enjoy reading? But I try to read something I'm excited about and my mind just keeps wandering. I like to do some art or listen to music, but it's all the same. I just can't switch my mind off." You sigh.
"Damn, so really nothing at all then? No other hobbies you've wanted to try out, or just anything that really makes your brain turn off?" Leon asks.
"No… Well yes- uhh… No." You hold your tongue, realising that what you were going to say could have been a total HR violation. You also don't want to make your fellow agent and mission partner feel uncomfortable.
"What? What is it?" Leon tilts his head in question, reminding you of a curious dog.
You clear your throat. "Oh, no, don't worry about it."
"Really? You know, if you don't find solutions to properly unwind, it'll eventually eat away at your performance on the job too. Trust me, it sucks." Leon empathises. He really is being genuine, and maybe… Maybe it's fine to admit something a little personal to Leon. You're basically friends - even though he started off as your mentor when you first transferred to the Eastern DSO HQ, you've been on three missions together and you've hung out a handful of times outside of work.
"Well, umm… There has been one time where I could get my mind to shut off. But it's kind of… Weird." Your legs stop dangling for a moment.
"Can't get any weirder than the shit we saw a few days ago."
"Wait, no, I mean like…" Your cheeks begin to feel a little warm.
"Oh… Right. You can be honest with me, it won't make me uncomfortable."
"O-okay, well, the last time I was able to properly wind down and switch my brain off was when I, um… You know. Had an orgasm." The last three words were very quiet, but Leon is an attentive listener.
"Yeah, no judgment from me, it makes perfect sense. But why don't you just do that again?"
"Uh… I can't do it with my own hands. And I've tried so many… Things. But they all seem to break on me pretty fast which gets expensive, or they just don't work that well. So that's why I can't just… Have one." You're usually a pretty clear and confident speaker, but talking about something like this to a coworker - especially a coworker who you think is very attractive and easy to get along with, has you feeling a little shy.
"Yeah, I get it… But surely you go on dates, right? That could lead somewhere and you could get it done that way?" Leon suggests, but you shake your head almost instantly.
"This job is too demanding, I actually don't go on dates. I don't like hookups either. I find it hard to just… Trust a stranger in that way." You respond, when suddenly your mind begins to wander and you find yourself blurting something stupid out. "Well, I trust you." You add.
Suddenly your mind catches up to your mouth, and you want to run over to your window and throw yourself out of it. "Sorry- no, I didn't mean to say that. Ignore me. I'm so sorry. You're a coworker, that was so inappropriate of me." Your babbling apology is slightly muffled as your hand clasps over your mouth.
"You trust me?" Leon asks, cocking his head to the side.
"Well, y-yes! Of course, I mean, we've gone on missions together and we have each others' back and so that means there's a high degree of trust that-" Your tone is at an unnaturally high pitch as you continue to explain yourself at a rapid, directionless pace.
"If you trust me, then I can help you." The tips of Leon's ears are tinged with pink, but he sounds sincere. He really does want to help you relax.
"You… You can? Wait, but that would be super inappropriate of us, we're coworkers." You emphasise the last word of your sentence.
"Well, we don't have to ruin that dynamic. I could just help you, kinda like how I bandage you up when you take a nasty hit." Leon shrugs. You're in slight disbelief that he'd actually offer, but your body is already buzzing with the thought of him helping you reach an orgasm.
"Okay… Well then, what do I do, exactly?" You ask, your front teeth pinching the flesh of your bottom lip for a moment.
"You can just show me how you use your hands first, maybe I can give you some direction." Leon nods.
You can't believe you're doing this, and yet, you're also giddy at the thought. Your fingers gingerly pinch at the hem of your black wool pencil skirt, slowly peeling it up as you sit back on the bed, kicking your heels off. Leon stares at the sight of you with widely blown pupils, crossing an ankle over his knee as he leans forward. Your breath hitches in your throat as you slide your panties down, a thin little line of slick breaking apart as the garment drops to the floor.
Too shy to say a word, you run your middle and index finger between your folds to spread your juices. As you collect enough wetness, you begin to rub slow, little circles on your clit with your fingers. Leon is observing you intently as your fingers quicken by a fraction, and you stifle a moan. "S-sorry, I've never been watched like this before." You whimper, your fingers relentlessly rubbing as you begin to feel warmth pool across your lower body. Suddenly, the heat builds a little too rapidly, and it almost becomes too much in an instant. You remove your fingers suddenly, sighing in frustration. "That's… Pretty much always where I stop. It just doesn't feel right once I start to get close." You explain.
Rising from his chair, Leon approaches you slowly, his pale blue eyes locked on yours. "You okay if I touch you?" He asks.
"Y-yeah, that's fine." You stammer, feeling your heartbeat quicken.
"Hang on, I'll sit underneath you." Leon instructs, as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed facing the mirror, and you settle into his lap. Your back is flush against his chest, and you can feel something poking at your backside. "You're going too fast too quickly and you're not giving yourself enough time to build it up." Leon whispers, his fingers dragging down your folds at a slow pace, the pads of his fingers collecting more wetness from your sopping wet hole.
"Just go nice and slow first, like this…" He instructs, his fingertips slowly but firmly moving up and down, causing you to buck your hips into his hand. "Yeah, and when your body is looking for more, then you can start rubbing." Leon continues, his fingers gently rubbing little slow circles on your clit. "You're not pulling yourself taut either, like this." He uses the index and middle finger on his other hand to spread your pussy apart, exposing your clit as he drags his thumb across it.
"A-ah! Fuck!" You jolt at the sensation, your eyelids fluttering.
"Hey, you wanted to learn, didn't you?" Leon chuckles, gently grabbing your jaw to recentre your gaze on the mirror in front of you. "You need to watch." He adds, spreading your pussy once again as you watch his thumb rub at your clit.
"I didn't know you had this level of perversion in you- shit!" You moan, as Leon sinks his middle and index finger into your pussy.
"I'm the perv? Are you forgetting you're the one who brought it up in the first place?" Leon questions as he begins to pump his fingers inside of you.
"P-point taken…" You breathe out as he curls his fingers upwards, hitting that perfect, sweet spot with the perfect amount of pressure.
"So when you curl your fingers like this, you can hit that spot and feel it every time. It gets intense fast." Leon whispers as his hand moves faster and faster, and you find yourself squirming in his lap as your pussy makes such obscene noises as his fingers plunge back and forth into you.
"O-oh, shit… Wait, please don't stop, please don't stop…" You whimper, your hips moving so frantically that Leon ends up moving his free hand to steady your hips in place. Your body tenses up and your thighs shake, before that known feeling of warmth in your belly arrives, and your body gives in to the first orgasm you've had in quite some time.
"Knew you could do it. Just needed a little help, huh?" Leon mumbles into the crook of your neck as you come down from your high.
Oh, you could easily get addicted to this.
The following evening, you find yourself groaning in frustration, the back of your head hitting your pillow with a soft thud. You're a fast learner, but why was it so difficult to replicate what Leon did for you yesterday? Maybe it was the angle he could get, or maybe it was the size of his hands and the way he could so perfectly reach exactly where you needed them to… Whatever it is, you're getting annoyed that your only avenue of stress relief is unattainable once more.
…And it is exactly what Leon wants. Leon was always unsure of how you saw him, but Leon has harbored feelings for you the moment he was assigned as your mentor when you transferred to his DSO headquarters. You're more than the pretty coworker - you're the one who has saved him countless times, the one who makes just as many corny jokes as he does, and the one who has taken the time to truly get to know him. So when you let it slip that you needed help… Well. Leon was itching to make himself useful, hoping that now you'll finally see him in a different way and lead to something more.
"Hey." You greet Leon with flushed cheeks and dewy lips. He wants to believe he's a respectful man, but when you show up at his hotel door in nothing but a thin grey tank top with your tits so obviously straining through the cotton and such tiny little bed shorts, he has no choice but to sneak just a quick look.
"Hey. You alright?" Leon asks, leaning his forearm on the side of his doorway. Your eyes travel to his large and muscular bicep as it tenses a little with the way he’s leaning. You swallow thickly.
"U-um, no, actually. I… I really tried to do everything you instructed, but it's just not working." You grumble with a little pout. Leon opens his door a little wider as you step inside his room.
"Can't do it on your own?" Leon asks.
"I can't… I don't know what's wrong with me. But you did it for me so perfectly before, so, um…" You stare down at your socks, suddenly feeling like maybe asking your coworker to get you off again is actually in fact, not a great idea.
"Yeah, I'll help you again." He nods. "But we'll do it a little differently." Leon adds as he sits in his armchair.
"Differently?" You ask while you approach him.
"Yeah. I want you to sit down on me, but this time face me and straddle one of my legs." Leon directs you, as you do exactly as he says. As you straddle his sweatpants-clad thigh, you already feel the blunt pressure of his thigh against your core. You get the idea pretty quickly.
"O-oh." You gasp as your thighs tighten a little and you lean further into him. Leon's hands move from his side to gently hold your hips.
"Move, like this." Leon guides your hips with his hands as you follow the pace he's set. It's beyond pleasant; to turn your brain off and let Leon do most of the thinking for you as you chase your own pleasure. It's nice that he takes care of you like this. He’s so nice to you.
"Wait, fuck… This feels really good…" You whimper as your hips buck a little faster.
"Feels good for you?" Leon asks and you nod. "Good." He replies as you grind against him with more pressure. The friction begins to build, but there's just one too many layers. You quickly shove the crotch of your bed shorts to one side, with only the thin layer of your underwear against his clothed leg. Wordlessly, he holds eye contact with you as he flexes his thigh, creating a much more tense and firm surface to grind on. Your jaw falls open as you can't help but let out a breathy moan.
As you continue to grind against him, you can't help but notice how intimate this is - not only in the obvious physical sense, but the psychological sense too. Leon is a good mission partner - he's dependable, kind, and considerate. Maybe doing something like this with a coworker is meant to be inappropriate, but you don't feel a trace of anxiety or unease with him. None of this feels wrong. You simply just trust him to take care of you, and you can let go. You can finally let your mind go numb, even if it's just for a few minutes.
"S-shit, I'm getting close." You rasp, as you lean your body flush against Leon's, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
"S'okay. I've got you." Leon murmurs, one hand travelling to the small of your back as you grind down against him harder.
"Oh, god, I'm-" You can't even finish your sentence; you're too busy trying not to whimper. You're failing miserably.
"Yeah… That's it. Ride it out for me. Just let go." Leon whispers, his breath fanning right against the shell of your ear as you cum all over his thigh, your shaky body slowly stopping to a complete halt as your orgasm subsides.
Peeling your face away from the crook of his neck and beginning to stand up, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you, as you notice the large sticky patch of your pussy juice that has created a significantly dark and glistening spot on the front of Leon's grey sweatpants. "Fuck, I'm-" You hold a loosely clenched fist to your mouth, shocked as if it wasn't you who just came all over his leg.
"Don't say you're sorry. I wanted you to." Leon gently cuts your sentence off, giving you a soft, reassuring gaze.
"Oh, thank you… I know it's, uh… Not really a good thing to do, us being coworkers and all. I appreciate you helping me." You purse your lips, but return his expression with a small smile.
You thought maybe after that second time Leon helped you cum, you would finally be able to do it on your own. But when you returned to America, you spent the first two weeks after those encounters with Leon desperately trying to reach a climax by yourself. You were starting to think it was an impossible task, at least when you're at the helm. So that's when you waited for a quiet hour, and asked him for the first time in his office to help you out. It quickly became a routine for you both.
You'd find a quiet hour or purposely stay back to do overtime so the HQ would be practically desolate, just so you can shut the blinds and lock his office door. And Leon knows exactly what you want, pushing his chair out a little and spreading his legs just a little more, letting you straddle his thigh. You'd ride his thigh until you came, all while he's still typing (albeit very slowly) on his laptop at his desk. Sometimes he'd even take a phone call while you're doing it, but you quickly learned not to make any noise, so it only added to the thrill.
After all, what kind of mission partner and coworker would Leon be if he were to deny you the opportunity to increase your performance in the workplace? And of course Leon kept it professional, just like any good coworker should. He'd only hold you at your hips or waist to guide you when you needed it, or hold you just long enough so the wobbling in your knees would subside. He's never done anything more, despite the obvious bulge in his pants - he's never once planted a kiss or touched you in any other way that wouldn't get you to your destination.
You're unsure of what to think about it, although the thought of one day having to cease this arrangement with Leon puts a bitter taste in your mouth. Maybe you're just trying to convince yourself that the bitter taste is because you'd have to find other means to achieving an orgasm, and not because you have intense romantic feelings for him. But you cram that thought in a box and put a tight lid on it, because this last month of Leon helping you 'relieve stress' has been working great for you.
"Shit… I'm gonna cum… Fuck…" You moan, your hips bucking as Leon keeps his thigh flexed and one hand on your hip, letting you grind him until your climax ebbs. With a long exhale, you peel yourself off of him, using your slightly clammy hands to roll the hem of your skirt back down. You begin to turn around, ready to roll the blinds back open and unlock the door, but Leon's hand gently grasps at your wrist.
"Hey, can we talk for a sec?" Leon asks.
"Oh, sure. What's up?" You reply, sounding so awfully casual despite the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead and several hair strands sticking out of place.
"I know this… This arrangement is working for you. But I think it's best we stop." Leon clears his throat as you try to hide your crestfallen expression.
"Oh… Yeah, no. I get it. Completely. It's uh… I know it's not great from a professional viewpoint." Your expression quickly recovers as you smooth down your hair. "And you must be seeing someone else, or at least you will at some point… Right? It'd definitely be inappropriate for me to keeping asking you to help me." You can't help but blurt out.
"Wait, what?" Leon looks at you as if you just grew a second head.
"Huh? What do you mean what?"
"You… Do you really think that's what it is…?" Leon asks in disbelief.
"Well, of course. I know what we're doing isn't exactly professional and would be weird to continue if you began seeing someone, so…" You trail off, giving him a look of confusion.
"I'm not entirely sure I can even follow your thought process. You know I like you, right?" Leon responds, the last six words hitting you like a tonne of bricks. There's a warmth that blooms throughout your chest, and a giddiness in your stomach that you can't quite contain.
"...You like me?"
"I thought that much was obvious. You think I'd just let any woman into my office and grind on me?" Leon chuckles sardonically.
"But we're-"
"-Coworkers? Yeah… You seemed anxious about that bit. So I didn't push it… I thought your brain needed time to catch up." Leon gently interjects.
"Well, okay- wait. Why didn't you say anything before I started this?" You ask him.
"You really think I could say no to you?" Leon gives you a soft gaze as he lets out a small huff of amusement. "I find it very difficult to reject requests from the woman I like. Especially requests when she needs help." He adds.
"I… Oh my god. I suddenly feel really silly." You admit, looking at Leon with a sheepish expression.
"To be fair, I probably should have told you how I felt from the start. But… Do you feel the same way?" Leon asks.
You always thought a relationship formed on the foundation of work was an absolute no-no. There was some kind of unspoken rule in your head that being professional meant there would be no room for love or romance in your line of work, and especially one with a coworker. That rule has been holding you back from admitting to yourself that ever since you walked into the office and Leon was introduced to you as your mentor, you felt an immediate attraction towards him.
That attraction towards Leon didn't wane once you began going on missions together, in fact it's only being strengthened. You're so familiar with each other that you remember things like your coffee orders, the preferred category of gun to use, and where your worst scars are. You realise this entire time that you've been holding back because you're scared of being known so intimately that rejection would cut deeper than any knife could. Maybe it's about time you stop listening to those fears.
"I do. I like you too. I like you a lot, actually." You smile, feeling an invisible weight finally lift from your shoulders.
"Thank god." Leon breathes out a relieved chuckle.
"But now that that's established, let me finally take care of you." You note, gesturing to Leon's very obvious tent in his pants. You notice the red tinge on the tips of Leon's ears and the top of his cheekbones as you sit in his lap once more, your lips hovering mere millimetres against his. He's looking at you with a gaze so soft you think you might just melt right into his arms, like ice cream dropped on scorching hot asphalt. You can't take it any longer; you want to know what his lips feel like against yours. The kiss is initially tender and sweet - his lips are softer than you imagined and once your tongues met, you could taste coffee and the remnants of his spearmint gum. You can't help but let out a moan against his mouth. Leon has been absolutely starving for you, so instead of breaking away, he simply leaned into the kiss even more, greedily swallowing your moans until you both have to come up for air.
"Are you sure you wanna do it here? You know, for our first time I kind of pictured us going out for dinner or something before heading back to my place." Leon asks.
"I'm impatient, but I can wait, if that's what you want. We can do it your way… Or we can do it my way. Fuck here, go on that dinner date, and then fuck some more back at yours." You suggest, planting a kiss on his neck.
"You're killin' me… Okay. Your way." Leon bites his lip, gently tugging the back of your head to tilt your neck towards his mouth. As he plants hot, wet, open-mouthed to kisses your neck, you fiddle with his belt buckle until it unlatches, and you palm his cock through his underwear. He's straining against his underwear, a little damp patch already evident. Freeing his cock from the thin cotton material, you notice his tip is already drooling with precum, a glossy reddish hue.
You don't waste any more time - you've wanted to do this for so long. Your hips sink down against his, the tip of his cock already stretching you out, making you quietly whimper in pleasure until he's fully seated in you, all the way in. "Fuck… You're so tight." He hisses in ecstasy, as you slowly move your hips up and down on him. With the sensitivity from riding his thigh and the level of arousal Leon's feeling just from letting you use him for your own pleasure already has you both reactive to each others' touch.
"O-oh, god… You feel so good…" You let out a choked moan as Leon offers you his thumb to dampen the whimpers and moans coming from your throat. You take it, sucking on it and biting down just a little as your hips move faster. You're both getting closer and closer, when suddenly Leon removes his thumb from your mouth and fucks his hips up into you, snapping them upwards and pounding right into your sopping wet cunt at a pace that feels so precise it's almost mechanical. "Fuuuck, right there… Please don't stop, please don't stop…" You mewl - and he obliges.
"Yeah, that's it… Just let go, baby." Leon whispers. He doesn't stop at all, his tip hammering into that spot that makes your vision turn into a flash of white.
"Shit… G-gonna cum!" You gasp, giving him little warning as your walls instinctively tighten around him, spurring Leon's orgasm on right after yours. With loud breaths and sweaty bodies, you pull each other in for another kiss. "…So. What place did you have in mind for dinner?" You manage to rasp out with a small smile.
Thinking about RE9!Leon and Wife!Reader There had always been something about Leon's stubble, when he came back from months of being away and tiring missions, he would have a stubble from not being able to shave, as he didn't have time. But when you saw the pricky hair on his face, you found yourself having dirty little fantasies.
Well tonight your husband decided to indulge your fantasies, your hand's where based against the headboard, Leon's muscular arms wrapped around your thighs as he held you to his face, he was groaning and grunted against your slick folds as he devoured you, You arched your back as one hand threw down into Leon's dark hair, gently tugging to pull him even closer.
He looked up at you his blue eyes racking over your figure, to him the sight was enough to make him rock hard, his nose bumping into your clit as his tongue was buried inside you, his stubble was scratching the inside of your inner thigh, creating delicious friction as you grinded against his face, moving against his rhythm.
The man didn't even need to use his fingers to make you come, he knew your body like the back of his hand, pulling you closer to his face if that was even possible, you squealed as you heard Leon slurp something before spitting it back against your folds, you whined softly as you grinded your clit up against his nose.
Leon got the message and soon you where holding onto the bedframe for dear life, as Leon started to devour you using his stubble to his advantage, you were trembling at the intensity and trying to not be too loud since you had gotten complains from the neighbors before, but it was a struggle when Leon was feasting on you like a full course buffet.
"L-Leon." you tried to shutter out but you where cut off as your climax was fast approaching and before you knew it, your orgasm crashed over you as your thighs locked around his head, Leon worked you though your high, making sure to milk as much pleasure from you as possible.
After a few moments and your high was slowly coming down, you finally opened your thighs enough for Leon to move, and he just grinned at you covered in your slick.
"So the stubble is staying?" he asked already knowing the answer to the question as he licked his lips.
Summary: Leon Kennedy just moved in next door to your parents, and you're only home for the week. It's the Fourth Of July. There's a barbecue, a dog that doesn't have a name yet, and the man next door who says he moved to the suburbs because he wanted normal, for once. You've got just one night. Might as well spend it wisely.
WC: 6.5k
Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, protected sex, P in V, consent, older man/younger woman, fluff, age gap, oral (female receiving), soft Leon
Notes: RE9 Leon, set the week of the Fourth. My first fic ever! Hope you enjoy!
Original post on ao3
Playlist I made for this fic
Your mom had a way of filling the house with sound. There was a radio going in the kitchen, the news was murmuring from the living room and her voice echoed through the house as she was making a phone call. After two days of this you’d started inventing reasons to get outside. Today you decided would be the perfect day to go get the mail.
You slid your sandals on and opened the front door. The air outside was arid and hot. It was the kind of heat that sat on your skin instead of soaking into it. The neighborhood baked quietly, sprinklers ticking somewhere down the block, the mountains cut out past the rooftops.
Right as you opened the front of the mailbox a blur of tan and white came barreling around the hedge and then sixty pounds of enthusiasm planted both front paws on your stomach. It knocked the breath out of you. You staggered and caught yourself on the mailbox post. The dog’s whole back half was wagging with its tongue licking across your jaw before you could turn your face.
You laughed. “Okay, okay, hi!” You went down to a crouch, partly to greet it and partly in self-defense. The dog took the opportunity to try and climb into your lap. It was some kind of shepherd mix with one ear that flopped and one that stood up. “Where’d you come from, huh? Where’s your — you got a collar?”
You were feeling for the tag, the dog squirming with delight, when a voice came from the direction of the hedge.
“Sorry. Sorry, he does that.”
You looked up.
The man coming across the neighboring lawn was wiping his hands on a rag, he looked like he was maybe working. There was drywall dust ghosting the front of his t-shirt, a smear of something pale along one forearm, and his hair was dark blonde with streaks of silver that was falling into his eyes. It looked almost flattened like he had been pushing it back all day with the back of his wrist. He was tall and moved like the heat didn’t bother him. He crouched a few feet away and snapped his fingers once.
“Hey. Come here. Leave the —” He glanced at you. “Leave the poor girl alone.”
“Aw, he’s fine.” You scratched behind the flopped ear, and the dog leaned its whole weight into your hand. “He’s so cute. This is the best welcome I’ve gotten all week.”
“He’s supposed to be learning boundaries,” he said. “It’s going great, as you can see.”
You smiled. “Who needs boundaries, when you’re this cute.” You gave the dog one more scratch and then stood up. You brushed the paw-prints off your shorts. Up close the man looked several years older than you but his face was easy to look at in a way that made you not want to be caught looking. His eyes were a very pale blue and he had some stubble across his jaw. He looked at you, then the street behind you before settling back on your face.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you said.
“Yeah. I just moved in a couple weeks ago.” He gestured vaguely at the house behind him. It was a nice two story suburban home with gray siding and a black metal roof. “Still—” He glances behind him. “Still renovating the kitchen.”
“Looks like you’re renovating more than just a kitchen.” You nodded at the drywall dust. “You gutting the place?”
“Well the bathroom had some water damage too and the owners before had a real commitment to wood paneling.” He said dryly and you laughed. He seemed a little surprised that you did laugh.
“Y/N” you said, and you put out your hand.
"Leon." He took your hand, his grip was warm and careful, the kind that could be firmer but he was deliberately choosing not to be. "My name's Leon—" A beat, like there was a final part he was going to say.
“Nice to meet you, Leon.” You smiled and let go of his hand. You knelt down at the dog between you. “And nice to meet you too…” You give him a pet on the head and smooshed his face between your hands. He licked your hand in response and panted heavily from the summer heat. “What’s his name?”
“Still working on it. He came from a shelter with the name ‘Biscuit.’ and I refuse to yell ‘Biscuit’ across the yard for the next ten years or so,” He shrugged. “He’s temporarily nameless but he doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Well, he surely doesn’t look like a Biscuit to me either.” You scratched under the dog’s chin and he leaned into it with his tail wagging. “You’ll figure it out.”
You grinned. There was a beat where neither of you said anything and the sprinklers ticked and the sun sat warm on the back of your neck. You realized you should have gone back inside with your parents but you enjoyed Leon’s company. Something about him was mysterious and unspeakably handsome that made you want to know more about him.
“Hey,” you knew what you were about to say might have been a little bold. “My family is having a whole fourth of July party. It might be a little overboard but we’re gonna have a barbeque and light up fireworks later in the night. If you don’t have plans, we got enough food to feed the whole neighborhood.”
Leon looked at you for a second. Like he was maybe shocked that someone as young as you would want to invite over an older guy like him. Or maybe it was something else entirely that was weighing on him, maybe some old habit of not committing to things.
“I might have plans,” he said.
“Sure, yeah, that’s totally fine.” you said.
“I might not.”
“Also fine.” You bent down again and gave the dog a last scratch, straightening before it could climb into your lap again. Not that you would have minded. “Offer stands either way. We’re right next to you with the big ass flag in the front yard that’s impossible to miss.” You laughed.
That got a smile from him, finally. “That flag is pretty hard to miss,” he agreed.
“My Dad would be thrilled to hear you say that.” You started backing toward the mailbox that you still hadn’t actually opened. “Oh.. Hey. Good luck with the remodeling!”
“Thanks.” He whistled low, and the dog reluctantly peeled itself off the driveway and trotted to his side. Leon lifted a hand, partially waving with the rag still hooked in his fingers and turned back to his house. You watched him walk back a little longer than you needed to before you opened the mailbox.
It was only filled with grocery flyers and a water bill. You figured it would be and you took it back inside anyways. You decided to not tell your mom about the neighbor, though you weren’t sure why.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The Fourth arrived the way it always had at your parents’ house, it was always way too loud and earlier than it needed to be.
By noon your dad had claimed the grill as sovereign territory and would not be taken over by anybody else. Your aunts had taken over the kitchen. Somewhere in the last twenty-four hours the backyard had sprouted a folding-table archipelago draped in plastic cloths and a small cooler that sat on the patio. It was packed to the brim with ice, cans and glass bottles. Your little cousins, nephews and nieces with two kids you were pretty sure belonged to a neighbor were running around with something that looked like a bubble blower of some sorts. They were shrieking and definitely high on sugar and freedom.
You were mostly useful all morning. You hauled ice, wrangled kids, argued with your uncle about the correct way to arrange a cooler. And around two, standing at the edge of the patio with a sweating glass bottle in your hand, you thought about the guy next door. You looked over the top of his fence and thought about him staring at his drywall. You set the bottle down and told your mom you’d be right back.
“Where are you going?” she called.
“Neighbor,” you said, which was true and explained nothing, and you were out the side gate before she could ask more questions.
You made your way up his driveway and you could hear something from inside the house, a radio and a saw. You knocked on the frame of the screen door and stepped back, suddenly aware that showing up at a near-stranger’s door was probably way too forward than you intended.
The inner door opened. Leon had a pencil behind his ear and a look on his face that shifted from wary to something calmer when he saw it was you. The wariness didn’t fully leave and you noticed.
“Hi,” you said. “So. It’s the Fourth.”
“It is.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “I noticed your dad’s flag has a friend now.”
“Oh. God. Yeah he’s really uh.. Patriotic.” You let out a soft laugh almost wincing. “Hey uhm, the offer from the other day. It still stands if you know.. If you still don't have any plans.”
Leon looked at you. The dog appeared behind his legs and saw you. He lost his entire mind and Leon put a hand down absently to keep him from bolting out the door.
“I don’t have plans,” he admitted.
“Okay, good.” You grinned. “Come on. There’s food and a cooler full of all kinds of beer if you want. Buddy here can come too, the kids will love him.”
“Buddy.” He hesitated and looked down at the dog like he was pondering on the new found name.
He then pushed off the door frame. “Let me grab a shirt that doesn’t have plaster on it,” he said. “Leave him here. He’ll eat somebody’s hot dog and start an incident.”
You laughed. “Okay.” You waited on the step while he disappeared inside and when he came back out he’d changed into a clean black t-shirt exposing the lean muscle of his arms. He pulled the door shut behind him and checked it was locked in a way that was more thorough than a suburban door really required.
You walked down his driveway and up your parents lawn. You opened the gate to the backyard where everyone was. You could sense some uneasiness in him with the way his jaw tensed.
Your dad clocked the stranger immediately, abandoned the grill for the first time all day, and shook Leon’s hand with the fervor of a man delighted to have a new audience for his flag. Your mom materialized with a plate before Leon had said ten words. Somewhere in the introductions you handed him a cold one from the cooler. You cracked another one for yourself, and by the time you’d steered him to a quieter corner of the patio he’d already been claimed, fed, and interrogated about his home renovations by three separate relatives.
“That’s my mom and dad who you just met,” nodding to your parents’ general direction. “Grill’s my dad’s whole personality this weekend. My mom is always making sure you have a full plate before you can refuse. The loud one by the cooler is my uncle, he’ll tell you he was almost a professional bowler. He was not. The kids are—” you scanned the shrieking pack currently orbiting the swing set. “Honestly I’ve lost track. Some of them are actually my family and some just showed up. We don’t ask questions.” You chuckled.
Leon took a pull of his beer and watched the chaos with an expression you couldn’t put a finger on.
“It’s a lot,” he said but it didn’t sound like a complaint.
“Yeah, it’s a lot, for sure.” you agreed. “You get used to it, though.”
“I like it.” He said it simply, and then seemed a little caught out by having said it and tried to cover it up by drinking again.
You leaned against the patio rail beside him, close enough that your shoulders were almost touching. You were both slightly apart from the crowd and the barbecue smoke drifted.
“So what’s the story,” you said. “You just moved out west. From where?”
“East, originally. Around, mostly. Work moved me a lot.” He said flatly. “I wanted to come out here. Always wanted to, honestly. For a long time.” He looked out at the mountains past the fence. “Never had the chance to.”
“And now you do?”
“Now I do.”
“Okay, but why the suburbs?” You said it lightly in a teasing way. “You could’ve gone anywhere out here. Mountains, the coast, a cabin in the middle of nowhere. And you picked a random suburb with an HOA.”
The corner of his mouth lifted up but when he answered, the humor had gone somewhere underneath it.
“I wanted normal,” he said. “For once.”
For once.
It was two words that sat there between the both of you. You took another drink. You wondered what he meant by that. Like normal was a thing he’d been priced out of for a long time. Like a boring street, with nosy neighbors and an HOA were a luxury other people took for granted and he was going into it deliberately, with intent, the way you’d buy something you’d wanted since you were a kid. You thought about the locked door he’d checked twice, and you decided it was better to not ask the question those things raised, because it was personal and you’d only known him for a few days.
Instead you said, “Well. You picked a good street for normal. Nothing ever happens here. The most exciting thing all year is whether my uncle is going to blow off a finger with the mortars.”
That surprised a real laugh out of him, short and warm, and you noticed the crinkle in his eyes that made your heart melt.
“I’ll manage my expectations," he said.
“Probably wise.” You knocked your glass bottle lightly against his. “Speaking of which, full disclosure, so you don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t actually live here.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m just home for the week. Visiting. So. I’m not your new neighbor. I’m just the neighbor’s kid who ambushed you and dragged you to a party. I go home tomorrow.” You shrugged, keeping it easy, though you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to tell him.
Something flickered across his face, you couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or something else but whatever it was he tucked it away fast.
“Tomorrow.” He repeated.
“Tomorrow.”
“Good to know.” He looked at you a beat longer than the words needed, his pale blue gaze was steady, and then he tipped his beer back and looked away.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The afternoon continued on with the kids throwing pop its nearby and lighting whatever daytime monstrosities that were allowed. You ate way too much barbeque and so many desserts that you lost count. Poor Leon was roped into a conversation about grill temperatures with your dad and he managed to keep a straight face like he found the whole thing genuinely interesting. You caught him, twice, watching the kids, and once you caught him watching you, and neither of you looked away as fast as strangers should have.
Leon was easy to be around, which surprised you. He didn’t fill silence for the sake of it. When he said something funny it was dry and quiet and arrived when you least expected, so it kept catching you off guard, and you started angling to make him do it again. He drank slow. He was good with your uncle, who was a lot, letting the near-professional-bowler saga wash over him with the patience of a man who had clearly waited out worse. By the time the light started to slant gold and long across the yard you stopped narrating the party to him and started talking. About the drive out west, about the worst apartment you’d ever lived in, about a neighborhood dog he loved to visit as a kid, which was the only piece of his past he offered unprompted all day and which he offered carefully, like it was fragile.
The sky went from gold to amber to the deep blue that means the show’s about to start, and word went around, mostly via the kids, that it was time to move to the front yard.
You smiled at Leon and motioned your head to the front yard.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Everyone in your family migrated to the front yard. Lawn chairs were lined up in the driveway and grass. The cooler was relocated with great ceremony. Your dad set up a white folding utility table with mortars, fountains, sparklers and random little fireworks that you couldn’t quite name. Of course, your uncle appointed himself as co-director in a way your dad clearly resented but had no choice but to tolerate it.
You and Leon found a spot on the grass just by the sidewalk. You dropped down beside him, maybe a little too close to someone you just met. The warmth from his arm was nice against you and he didn’t seem like it bothered him. Your aunt put sparklers in the little kids’ hands, and the front yard filled with wobbling loops of white sparkling light. The kids were bouncing and shrieking as they wrote their names in the air that was too slow to read.
You got up and grabbed three sparklers from the table. “Here.” You lit one off of your nieces. “Write your name!” You swept the sparkler through the air in big looping cursive, and the light trailed behind your hand, the first letters were already fading to smoke by the time you reached the last.
Your niece tried it with her tongue between her teeth. She was still moving too slow with the letters dying before they connected, it was just a scribble of lines that dissolved in the dark. But she didn’t care, she did it again, faster while laughing.
You handed one of the sparklers to Leon. “Here.” He took it hesitantly. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too cool for a sparkler.”
“I’m too old for a sparkler.”
“That’s not a real thing. Have some whimsy in your life Leon.”
He gave you a look of confusion. “Whimsy?”
“Yes, whimsy.” You smiled and held the lit end of your sparkler to his. He looked at you again and moved the sparkler through the air in a slow scrawl, and you watched the light trail his hand and burn out before he’d finished, and he said, deadpan, “See, it died before I got to the end. Symbolic.”
“You gotta work on your whimsy-ness, Leon.” You laughed, he almost smiled, and your sparkler fizzled out too and left that sharp burnt-metal smell hanging in the dark.
Then the first mortar went up.
It went with the deep gut-punch thump that you felt before you could hear, there was a beat of silence, and then the street cracked open into gold. The kids screamed. Your dad, out in the street, pumped a fist. Another went up, and another, red and then a strange greenish-white that hung and drifted, and the whole street tipped its face up.
You’d done this every year of your life and it still got to you, that first big one. You glanced sideways to see if it got him too, Leon’s face was turned up to the light, and for just a second, in the flash, he didn’t look careful at all. He just looked like a man watching fireworks. Then the light faded and his careful stare came back, but you saw it just for a moment.
“You want to shoot one off?” you asked.
He looked at you.
“Come on. My uncle is letting anyone who asks.” You were already standing, tugging his sleeve. “You seem like a guy who’s good with —” you gestured vaguely — “things that explode. I don’t know why. Vibe.”
Something in his face did that confused thing again.”Vibe,” he repeated.
You nodded and he let you pull him up.
Out in the street your uncle handed Leon the lighter with the gravity of passing on a sacred trust, and talked him through it at length despite Leon very obviously not needing to be talked through it. Leon crouched by the tube, lit the fuse in one clean motion, and stepped back at exactly the right distance before the thing screamed up and burst into a huge crackling willow of gold that pulled an “ohhh” out of the whole yard. He came back to you with the ghost of a grin he was trying to suppress, and you bumped your shoulder into his.
“You look like you’ve done that before.”
“Maybe once or twice.” He said smiling.
You did one too, mostly so he'd watch you do it, and he did, and you fumbled the lighter and when he caught your wrist to steady the flame it made your heart skip a beat. The mortar went up casting a myriad of sparkles and colors that lit up the street. You came back and sat down in the grass next to him even closer this time, your arm against his arm and neither of you moved away. The finale started building over the street, flashes of light, explosions overlapping the sky. The noise and the light made you extremely aware of every point where his body touched yours.
Leon didn’t know you well. It had been only a few days, one party and a handful of jokes. But he’d laughed more this afternoon than he could remember laughing in a while, and he liked your mouth when you were being a smartass, which was often. He liked that you didn’t ask too many questions or pry at his personal life. You just let him be a normal guy at a barbecue, which was one of the reasons why he moved two thousand miles away. He wasn’t thinking any of that in words. He was mostly aware that you were warm against his side and that you’d be gone tomorrow, and that both of those facts were becoming difficult to ignore.
The finale broke over the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, the sounds echoing and thundering through the suburbs, if it was any other holiday someone might mistake it as a warzone. Everybody was cheering and under the sparkles of light you turned your head and found Leon already looking at you.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The party started to die down. The kids crashed. A few of the people down the street were popping off the last of their fireworks down the street. Chairs were folded and stowed away. The cooler was much lighter now and got hauled back around the house.
Somewhere in the winding-down you and Leon had drifted to the edge of it. Both of you were loose and easy after you had a couple more beers. The careful thing in him worn down soft by the beer and the night and your company.
“I should let you go,” You said not moving.
“Yeah,” he said and didn’t move either.
You stood there and looked down. You started rubbing circles over the lip of your beer, you really didn’t want to go. You wanted to know more about Leon. You were trying to think of a way to keep him around for the night but nothing came to you.
“Hey,” Leon said. “I could show you what I’ve been working on.”
Something inside you lit up and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Yeah.” a soft smile formed on your face. “I’d like that.”
You both made your way to his house next-door. You were walking down in the dark with him, the smell of gunpowder still hanging over the whole street, and his hand had found the small of your back at some point to steer you around a stray lawn chair. His hand stayed there warm through your shirt and it made your heart flutter.
His porch light was on. The dog lost its mind on the other side of the door and Leon shushed it through the wood and let you both in. The house was dark and half-torn-apart and smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, plastic sheeting hanging in the doorway to the gutted kitchen. He didn’t turn on many lights. He put the dog out in the fenced backyard and came back to find you standing in his half-finished living room among the drop cloths and the stacked tools. For a second you just looked at each other across the dark.
“So, you go back tomorrow,” he said.
“Yeah, tomorrow.” You nodded.
“Tomorrow.” he repeated, his voice was low. He crossed the room to you.
His hand came up to the side of your face, carefully and tenderly. “I know I just met you and you’re leaving but I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”
You looked up at him meeting his gaze. You looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes. You grabbed at his t-shirt giving him the invitation. The first press of his mouth was soft like he was still questioning it. You hand moved to cup his jaw and pulled him in closer.
He kissed like he did everything else, unhurried and deliberate and then suddenly all the held-back care burned off. His hand slid back into your hair and tilted your head and kissed you deeply. You made a sound against his mouth unintentionally and he groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating into your chest. He backed you a few steps until your back hit the bare stretch of wall between the plastic sheeting and the front window, he crowded in close, one hand braced by your head and the other cupped warm at your jaw like you were something he was being careful of.
“This okay,” he said against your mouth, his voice a little gravely and rough.
“Yes, it’s okay.” You pulled him back into you by his shirt. “Stop being so careful.”
He huffed a laugh into the kiss and kissed you more fervently this time before pulling away again.
“Where are you going?” Leon asked.
“East coast, my job’s there.” You pulled him in again pressing your lips against his and tracing his bottom lip with your tongue. He responded by softly biting your lip and swiping his tongue against yours.
Leon went back kissing you deeply again. His hand left your face and found your hip. He pulled you off the wall and your pelvis was flush against his. You could feel the whole hard line of him, the heat coming off him through his jeans. Your hands went under his shirt to the warm skin of his back and he shuddered at that, involuntarily. He dropped his mouth to your jaw, your throat, he found the spot under your ear that made your breath catch. The sawdust smell, the dark and the far-off pop of somebody’s fireworks outside. Everything started to go a little blurry but in a good way. There was just his mouth and his hands and the low sound he made when you dragged your nails lightly down his spine.
He got the hem of your shirt in his fingers and you lifted your arms and let him take it off you, you were wearing a black lace bra. He looked at you with something dark, warm and unguarded, the same unguarded thing you saw during the fireworks. Heat pooled low in your stomach and you could feel yourself getting slick. You reached for his shirt and he let you pull it over his head. The man looked like a greek god, his abs were perfectly sculpted and you gazed down at the V that followed down to his jeans. You traced it with your fingers in the low light and hooked your finger into the waistband of his jeans.
“You like what you see?” he asked.
You nodded and started peppering kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The smell of him was something musky and cedary, it was intoxicating. You went back up to his lips and pressed harshly and he made a rough sound. He started walking you back toward the hall.
“Bed’s the one room I finished,” he murmured against your mouth. You let out a breathy laugh and let him lead you into the dark.
His bedroom was plain and half-unpacked. There was a bed and a nightstand. He laid you back and followed you down, taking his time now in a different way, the urgency was something slower and more deliberate. He was mapping you with his hands and mouth, learning what made you arch. He was kissing you while his hand trailed up to your breasts, his hand cupped your still clothed breast and you let out a soft breathy moan. His thumb brushed slow circles over the lace, teasing the peak of your nipple until it tightened under his touch. You arched into his palm with a soft, breathy sound, and he swallowed it in with another kiss. He kissed you deeper and slower like he was savoring every second.
He pulled back just far enough to look at you. The dim light from the hallway caught in his eyes, turning them darker and softer. “Still okay?” he asked, voice low and rough at the edges.
You smiled and nodded, fingers sliding into his silver-streaked hair at his temple. “More than okay.” You pulled him down. “If you ask me one more time I’m going home tonight.”
He grinned at you and dipped his head. His lips tracing down your throat, across your collarbone, and lower. He unclasped your bra with one hand, slid the straps down your arms, and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed. For a moment he just looked at your now bare breasts.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
Then his mouth was on you. It was warm, wet and gentle. He took one nipple between his lips and sucked softly, tongue flicking, while his hand cupped and kneaded the other. You gasped, hips shifting restlessly against the mattress. He took his time, moving between them, learning what made your breath catch, what made your fingers tighten in his hair. Every pull of his mouth sent sparks straight between your legs.
When he finally kissed lower down to the center of your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel. His hands were already at the button of your shorts. He unbuttoned them and hooked his thumbs in the waistband and drew both shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, helping you kick them off the rest of the way. Cool air kissed your bare skin before he settled between your thighs, big hands gentle as he parted them. He looked at you like something religious, like you were to be worshipped.
He then lowered his head.
The first slow drag of his tongue made your whole body jolt. He licked a long slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, circling a few times before sealing his mouth over you. You moaned, loud in the quiet room, one of your hands flew to his hair. He hummed against you in approval and did it again slower and firmer. He slid two thick fingers inside and curled them just right.
He worked you with patient, focused attention. Tongue flicking and sucking your clit in steady rhythm while his fingers thrust deep and steady, finding that spot that made your thighs start to shake. You could feel how wet you were and you could hear the soft obscene sounds from his mouth and fingers working you. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped like an explosion.
“Leon– oh— fuck—”
Your orgasm hit hard, back arching clean off the bed, a broken cry tearing out of you as your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop, he just gentled everything, soft licks and slow thrusts from his fingers carrying you through it until you were twitching and oversensitive. You were panting his name like a prayer.
He kissed his way back up your body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kissed you again. You reached down between you, found the hard line of him still trapped in his jeans, and palmed him through the denim. He groaned into your mouth, hips pushing into your hand.
You unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down with his boxers at the same time. His cock sprang free. It was thick and flushed dark at the head with some precum already gathered at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroked him slowly from base to tip, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a rough sound.
“Careful,” he warned, voice strained. “I’ve been thinking about this since you showed up at my door.”
You smiled, stroked him again, firmer. “Then stop thinking.”
He caught your wrist gently, kissed the inside of it, then reached into the nightstand drawer. The condom packet crinkled. He rolled it on with quick practiced hands, then settled back over you, the heavy heat of him resting against your slick entrance.
He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself, teasing your clit with every slow pass. His eyes stayed locked on yours the whole time.
His thumb stroked your cheek and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. “Fuck me, please.”
He pushed in slow giving you every inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. The stretch burned in the best way, filling you completely until his hips were flush against yours. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel… amazing.”
You clenched around him experimentally and he groaned, low and deep in his chest.
He started to move with slow deep thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You met him with the roll of your hips, hands sliding up his back, feeling the flex of muscle under warm skin. He kissed you thoroughly, messy, deep, and sometimes just breathing warm against your mouth.
The rhythm built gradually, still controlled but growing more and more urgent. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together beside your head. The other gripped your hip, angling you just right so every thrust hit deep and perfect. The room filled with the wet sound of him moving inside you, the soft slap of skin, the occasional distant booms from outside and your shared gasps and low moans.
The pressure of his pelvis against your clit and that perfect angle hitting all of the right spots made your orgasm build faster than the first.
“Leon— I’m close—-”
He panted against your neck and slipped his hand between your bodies. His fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, steady circles in time with his thrusts.
It pushed you over. You came with a sharp cry, body locking up around him, nails digging into his back as pleasure crashed through you in long, rolling waves. He followed you soon after, his hips stuttering, a rough groan of your name against your shoulder as he buried himself deep and came, cock pulsing inside the condom.
For a long moment neither of you moved, just breathing together, hearts hammering. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom from the nightstand, and came back with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, tenderly, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, your hip and your stomach.
When he climbed back into bed he pulled you straight to his chest, one strong arm around your waist, the other stroking slow lines down your spine. He kissed your forehead, your temple, the corner of your eye.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, the same careful tone he’d used all night.
You nodded against his chest, tracing idle patterns over his heart. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.”
He held you closer, tucking your head under his chin. Outside, somewhere down the street, one last firework popped and fizzled. His fingers kept stroking your back in long, soothing passes.
After what felt like an hour cuddling in bed, you got up and grabbed your shorts and bra that were strewn on the floor. You threw them both on.
“You leaving?” Leon asked.
“Yeah, I gotta get up early in the morning. Don’t wanna miss my flight.”
“Ah.” he nodded and looked out the window like he was debating something.
You crawled back into the bed and asked for Leon’s phone. “Here let me put my number in your phone.”
Leon grabbed his phone from the nightstand and handed it to you. You put your number in with your name, you considered putting an emoji next to your name but decided against it.
“So. you’ll be back for Christmas?” He asked.
“Yes, Christmas.” You tried to hold back a smile but failed. "Feel free to text me though. I know it's not the same considering I'll be like two thousand miles away but I'd like to see the progress on the house."
"Oh, and here." You spotted your black lacy panties by the foot of the bed, scooped them up, and pressed them into his hand. "Consider it a housewarming gift."
Leon let out a breathy laugh and closed his palm around them. "Do you need me to walk you home?"
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t think much will happen from your front door to my parents’. But thank you.”
You slid off the bed again and made your way to the living room. Leon followed you shortly after with only his boxers on. You managed to find your t-shirt on the floor and Leon let the dog back inside. His paws scrambled on the slick hardwood and came tumbling towards you as you put your shirt back on. “Hey! I gotta go, buddy.” You scratched the top of his head and underneath his chin and gave him one final pat. Leon was smiling watching you but there was something behind it that didn't quite match the smile, or maybe he was just tired.
You reached for the front door and opened it. “Bye, Leon.”
“Bye.”
He closed the door behind you.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He watched you out of the window just to make sure you got home safely. When he saw that you closed the door to your parents house he let out a relieved sigh. He then leaned down to pet the dog that was lying at his feet.
"Hey.." he scratched the top of his head. "How does Buddy sound?"
The dog barked at Leon and rolled over.
"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I think Buddy is good too."
Pairing/WC/tags: re9!Leon x gf!reader / 464 / fluff, cuddling, older!boyfriend, established relationship
a/n: saw this from @starberrymatcha and HAD to write it cuz im so into Leon my GAWD- unedited and rushed oops
He’s absorbed in whatever he’s reading on his phone, the soft glow lighting up his face as he scrolls through the screen. But you’re not paying attention to that. Instead, you’re nestled right up next to him, your cheek pressed against his warm, muscular bicep, eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself get lost in the sensation of him.
Your hands reach up, curling around his arm, fingers squeezing his bicep gently, like you’re squishing a stress ball. It’s something you do without thinking, the familiar softness of his skin beneath your touch always a comfort. He doesn’t even glance at you at this point, he’s used to your random acts of affection. It’s just another one of those small, silly things you do when you’re near him.
But then, in a playful shift, you place a soft kiss on his bicep, just below your fingers. And then another. And another, dotting the muscle with quick, affectionate pecks. Each kiss is light, teasing, a contrast to the pressure of your earlier squeeze. He hums, low and content, but doesn’t look away from his phone. It’s a quiet understanding between you both, that these moments, these silly, small gestures, are the kind of intimacy that feels like home.
You lift your head just slightly, enough to press a gentle bite into the bicep, a little playful nip, before pulling away and pressing a soft kiss to the mark. Then, with a soft exhale, you rest your cheek against him again, sinking into the warmth of his arm as though it’s the safest place in the world.
He shifts a bit, but only enough to adjust his arm, making sure you’re comfortable. His thumb moves across the screen, scrolling, but his free hand reaches down, gently stroking your hair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“You’re being extra cuddly today,” he murmurs, voice soft and amused.
“Just love you,” you mumble into his arm, your words muffled but filled with affection. You can feel his smile widen as he responds with a simple hum, content to let you continue your little routine.
And you do. You keep resting your head on his bicep, pressing your face against it like it’s the most comfortable pillow in the world. Every now and then, you surprise him with another gentle kiss, or a squeeze that makes him chuckle softly, but it’s all part of the rhythm you’ve built together. It’s simple, it’s soft, and it’s so utterly you.
“Guess I’m your favorite squish toy, huh?” he teases, his fingers brushing through your hair in that way that makes your heart flutter.
“Yep,” you whisper, letting out a small, satisfied sigh. “And I’m not sharing.”
He chuckles quietly, lifting his phone just a little higher, but you both know that it doesn’t matter. You’re here, with him, and everything else in the world can wait. For now, it’s just you, him, and the warmth of his bicep, your own little world of quiet love.
Summary: After a day of endless teasing from you, Leon is pent up to the point of no return. During a fancy dinner you decide to take it a step further, which ends in Leon bending you over the balcony railing.
Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, curse words, public sex, fingering, P in V, lots of teasing, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, Reader and Leon are the same age (late fourties), slight voyeurism bc of public balcony
A/N: Hello my Sweethearts and welcome to the second part of the 2k Followers celebration. I am so excited to show you Leon’s oneshot! This boiling hot idea won and it came from my wonderful, beautiful, whimsy fairy bestie @tothelions. You can find her idea here. (I love your brain! You know it but I will tell you again!) Once again, I would like to thank everyone for being so welcoming and supportive of me and my fics. This was so so so fun to write. I have a thing for these night settings, especially with a skyline view. On top of that, I added a hot idea my champagne anon mentioned: you can find it here. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this wild ride and I would be so so happy to hear your opinions. So much love, Shell xo
“You won’t forget about the dinner tonight, right?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe as you watched Leon reading through some papers. He seemed to be deep in thought, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent.
His desk looked messier than usual, implying that he had been working non-stop. Thank God, it was Friday already.
“Hm?” He asked, looking up in your direction. It was obvious that he hadn’t been listening to you at all, with his mind being still clouded with work and various other duties that were waiting for him.
“The dinner tonight,” you repeated with a chuckle as you approached him. It was a dinner hosted by the DSO, officially. Well, more or less. Only the highest members were invited, and that obviously included Leon and you. What was originally planned as a small gathering between coworkers had turned into an uptight dinner event over the years. The two of you were never particularly thrilled for these kinds of parties. If it were up to you, you’d end up on the couch with your favorite wine and a movie playing in the background; however, that wasn’t in the cards for you tonight.
“Yeah, I remember,” he muttered, leaning back into his chair.
“You sound just as excited as I am,” you joked as you stood behind him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and started to lightly massage the tense muscles there. “You need to relax a little more,” you whispered.
He groaned lowly, leaning into your touch. You focused on the tight knots, putting just the right amount of pressure on them to help ease the tension.
“Easier said than done, love,” he said as he looked back to the papers in his hands. You only hummed in agreement. The last few weeks had been hectic and stressful, and there hadn’t really been any chance for spending a little bit of quality time together. Not even on the weekends. Unfortunately, bioterrorism threats rarely cared about regular working hours.
“Maybe it will boost your motivation when I tell you that I bought a new dress for the occasion.” You smiled, letting your hands wander from his neck down his upper body. “Even in your favorite color,” you continued, your voice dropping lower.
“That definitely helps.” A slight smirk crossed his features as he watched your hands making their way down his torso. You bent down a little to give him a few kisses on his neck as well.
He closed his eyes at your delicate touches, hissing when one of your hands brushed over his bulge. It could have been dismissed as an accident, but it was never accidental with you. Especially not now when you had been teasing him the whole day already. He loved it, he really did, but it was on the brink of getting painful, considering that there was simply no time to indulge in each other and releaseyourselves.
“What do you think you’re doing, hm?” He asked, the papers in his hand long forgotten.
“I am just trying to help my husband relax,” you stated in a sweet-sounding voice. Your hands brushed another time over his clothed dick, this time with a little more pressure.
He gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from moving any further. “I feel like this is doing the opposite, actually."
"Unless..." he slightly turned his head to look at your face. “You intend to do something about it.”
You grinned, enjoying the satisfactory proof that he was just as worked up as you were. And it was all because of you and your mischievous provocations. With excruciating slowness, you started palming his member until you felt him hardening under your touch. Not to sound too cocky, but there was something oddly satisfying about knowing how easy it was for you to get him hard.
“As much as I’d love to help you, I have another meeting in 10 minutes,” you explained with a smile, pulling back slightly and letting your hands drift back to his shoulders. He sighed, letting his head fall against the headrest.
“Of course you do,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Aw c’mon. Besides, I don’t want to distract you from work.” You smirked, giving his shoulders a few more squeezes before making your way back to the door.
“Too late for that,” he chuckled lowly, watching as you reached for the door handle. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me here with a boner?” He asked.
“Just look forward to tonight. When we get home, I might let you help me out of said dress,” you said, taking one last glance back at him. “Like a reward.” You winked before disappearing into the busy hallway.
He let his gaze linger on the door you'd just disappeared through before forcing his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which, admittedly, wasn't all that easy when the blood in his body had decided his brain was no longer its priority.
“This woman will be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a slight grin.
Maybe this was your final payback after the most recent times he'd driven you crazy in the most inappropriate settings.
The mutual teasing had become a well-established part of your marriage. Being married for over twenty years and working as elite agents meant it sometimes took creativity to keep certain things, like intimacy, from falling by the wayside. Showing how much you craved and longed for each other and how there was still the same lust and desire as twenty years before, seemed to be your secret recipe. The only difference was that by now it felt even deeper and more grounded.
The rest of the day went about the same. Not-so-accidental touches when you met him in the hallway, sultry remarks whispered into his ear during a short meeting, and a peck on the lips that lasted a tad too long on the drive home.
Leon handled it like a pro for the most part, holding onto the thought of ravishing you as soon as he had you all to himself again.
Once you arrived at your apartment, Leon's hands were on you. He was so good at charming his way into your heart that he was convinced you couldn’t say no. Not when he seductively offered to do it in the shower. Or in the hallway. Or in the car. Or on the couch.
Such damn tempting offers, if it weren't for the fact that you weren’t done teasing him. So instead of giving in, you’d put him off with the same excuse of not having enough time until you had to leave for the dinner. Surely, it would have been enough time for a quick release, but that was not what you wanted. You wanted him losing his mind for you. You wanted him so worked up that he couldn’t think straight anymore. So desperate that he was ready to pull you into the next empty hallway to take you against the wall.
If only you’d known by then how that would play out later.
“Leon? Will you help me with the dress?” You called from the bedroom. You’d slipped into your silky midnight-blue dress that ended just above your knees. It was sexy, yet still elegant and classy. Perfect for the occasion.
“On my way,” he called back. He’d already been dressed and ready, waiting for you in the living room.
A hushed and low “wow” was the first thing you heard when he entered the bedroom. Your back was facing him, your dress still hanging open as you waited for him.
You giggled. “You can’t even see the dress properly yet.”
“I see my beautiful wife. Think that is enough,” he hummed lowly, letting his fingers brush over the exposed skin. You shivered at the delicacy of his touch, feeling the goosebumps running all over your back.
“Fuck.” His hands stopped at the zipper, seeing your matching lace underwear that you’d decided to wear underneath. You smiled when you noticed his reaction. Exactly what you wanted.
“Hm?” You asked innocently, as if you were completely oblivious of your seducing undergarments.
“You are really trying to kill me,” he stated, his touch lingering on your skin for a few more moments until he slowly zipped up your dress.
“So, it’s working?” You grinned, holding your hair up a little as he adjusted the dress a little on your neck.
“All too well,” he sighed longingly. “How am I going to concentrate when I am seeing you in this dress all night long?” He gently placed a few kisses on your neck, inhaling your scent.
“Maybe that’s the point,” you said softly, closing your eyes when you felt his lips brush your skin. By now, every touch felt electric, the tension between you becoming unbearable.
Once Leon was done, you turned around finally, letting your gaze wander over him. He was dressed to the nines, wearing one of your favorite suits of his. It was all black, combined with a white shirt and a black tie. He looked delectable, so handsome and like a total dream come true. You’d seen him so many times in suits before, but something about today was different. It felt like seeing him for the first time again. Even the butterflies in your stomach seemed to agree.
“You look so beautiful.” Leon was the first to say something, as you were still ogling him and trying to catch your breath.
“And you look…wow,” you stated, your eyes returning to his handsome face and his steel blue eyes that were admiring you.
“Can’t compete with you, Mrs. Kennedy,” he smirked, reaching for your hand. “Shall we?”
You would never get tired of hearing him call you that. It always gave you a sense of pride, knowing that you were carrying his name and were officially his. Forever and ever.
“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said with a grin in the same teasing manner, accepting his hand and following him out of your apartment.
The drive to the location was quiet, with none of you wanting to ramp up the tension any further. At least not yet, when your professionalism was called for.
When you arrived, the place was already packed. It was a lavish and spacious apartment on the top floors that felt more like a huge mansion. It was one of those places you could only get into by previous registration and via a separate elevator. It belonged to one of the bigwigs at the DSO. Even though it sometimes seemed a bit over the top to you, you were there for every dinner event.
“Ah, the Kennedys arrived!” One of the men from the forensic team announced with a big grin, inviting you over to his small group that had gathered on a nearby table. The two of you exchanged an amused look before joining the group.
Leon and you spent the first half of the evening doing exactly that. Having small talk with your coworkers and sipping on your drinks with a few laughs here and there. All the while, Leon rested his hand on the small of your back, drawing soothing circles over the silky fabric of your dress. At other times he brushed his fingers over your arm, like a silent reminder that he was appreciating you even when he wasn’t looking at you.
After the main course was served and eaten, you felt yourself becoming more and more restless. Talking about work for what felt like the twentieth time and answering the same questions over and over again felt tedious after a while. You tried your best to smile and engage in the conversations, but after a few more conversations, you just turned on autopilot.
When you glanced back at Leon sitting next to you, you were intrigued by how well he managed to stay so professional, talking with the same charm in his voice you fell in love with.
After another glass of wine, an idea crossed your mind. While he was still talking to the other guests on the table, you gently laid your hand on his thigh. An innocent and comforting gesture between a married couple, at least that was what it looked like to the others.
You started drawing small circles and patterns on his thigh, while you smiled and nodded whenever someone said something amusing.
By now, the conversations grew more relaxed, the drinks were flowing, and the overall lighting was adjusted to a nicely, dimly lit brightness. It was as if the universe was aligning with your plans, or so you thought.
On top of that, your leg occasionally brushed against his, running up and down to ensure even more contact. Leon listened attentively to one of the men speaking, wearing his perfect poker face, but the higher your leg wandered, the more you could see the tension setting in his jaw.
At some point, you couldn't move your leg any further, so you decided to continue with your hand. You were more than grateful for the oversized cloth napkins that covered your legs.
Slowly, you let your hand wander higher until you stopped at his crotch. Your fingers faintly brushed over his bulge, the same way you’d done it in his office a few hours ago. You gauged his reaction, trying to break his poker face, but he played it cool. After all, he was a well-trained agent, so you needed to do more than just that.
You leaned a little forward eventually, hiding what you were doing with your hands, as you began palming him through his pants, feeling him getting harder under your touch.
With a satisfied smirk, you noticed his answers becoming noticeably shorter.
“It seems like the two of you really work well together as a team,” one of the guests said with a friendly smile.
Leon nodded, fidgeting just slightly when you applied more pressure on his dick. “We really do."
You enjoyed watching him trying to keep his composure as he grew harder by the minute, your hands applying the perfect amount of pressure in all the right places.
“So nice to see a happy couple after all these years,” another woman added with a warm smile.
“Yes, she is just the most precious and wonderful person in my life,” Leon said charmingly, using this opportunity to take your hand away from his throbbing member and kissing the back of your hand, before placing your intertwined hands on the table. The whole group went “aww” once they saw your seemingly innocent and romantic gesture, completely unaware of the things happening under the table.
Leon shot you a stern look when no one was watching. When he reached for his glass, he leaned a little more in than necessary so he could whisper in your ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked in a deep voice, his breath brushing your ear.
“Making the evening more interesting?” You said in a questioning tone, the feigned innocence dripping from your voice.
He huffed as he pulled back. “You sure did.”
After sharing a short smile and you giving him a peck on the lips as a form of a declaration of peace, you assumed that your little game would end here. However, you knew your husband better than that.
Once the conversation drifted to different topics and the other guest seemed to be less engaged with the two of you, Leon's hand drifted under the table again.
He laid his hand on your thigh, sneaking it under the hem of your dress. In the corner of your eye you could see that he was eyeing you, studying your response to the feel of his fingers on your bare skin.
Out of reflex you closed your thighs, careful not to draw any more attention to you, but he was not having it.
Chuckling at one of the jokes that were told, Leon looked back to one of his colleagues. He was an expert at playing his part, his hands never leaving your thighs.
Without much effort, he nudged your legs apart with his hand, running it along your inner thigh.
There were two voices in your head talking insistently to you. One was telling you to set an end to this and finish this evening as soon as possible so you could go home finally.
The other was persuading you into keeping this game going.
As soon as his fingers reached your panties, stroking over the lace fabric with enough pressure to fondle your clit, you decided that you’d let the second voice win.
Putting on a neutral face, you tried your best to keep your composure, smile at the right times, and even answer a question or two, but Leon wasn’t making it easy for you.
You suppressed the moan building in your throat the second he pulled the lace aside. Immediately, his fingers made contact with your clit. A heavenly feeling, considering the last sex had been a while ago.
He massaged your sensitive nub a few times, letting his fingers drift lower to your entrance. You gripped the stem of your glass a little too tight, hands turning sweaty and nearly tripping it over.
“Leon,” you whispered in a warning tone, turning your face toward him just slightly. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He kept rubbing your sensitive parts with his skilled fingers without moving the rest of his arm or hand too much so it wasn’t getting obvious. He was definitely a pro.
“Hm?” He leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” he whispered in your ear.
Carefully, you put your hand on his wrist, trying to stop his movements. Your clit was getting increasingly sensitive, your wetness soaking his fingers already, and you knew it wouldn’t take long until you’d come.
“Maybe a little too much,” you muttered under your breath, a shiver running down your legs when he started applying more pressure. There was no way you’d be able to keep still any longer.
You didn’t know what was more embarrassing. The possibility of people assuming you would be fidgeting in your seat like a toddler because you needed to pee or them actually noticing that you were getting fingered by your husband under the table. Both options seemed…not ideal.
As he brushed his thumb over your clit for a final time, almost causing you to grip onto the edge of the table, you choked on your drink.
You were so close to cumming, but you couldn’t let that happen. Not here when you were threatening to moan his name out loud in a room full of people.
A friendly-looking woman shot you a look. “Is everything okay?”
Leon's fingers slowed down, the tight circles from earlier turning into soft strokes over your folds.
“Yes, sure. I think I just need to freshen up a little." You smiled apologetically, looking over to Leon, who played the part of the perfect, worried husband all too well.
“Are you sure? Can I bring you anything? Water maybe?” He asked, mirroring the worried-sounding voice of the woman at your table.
“No, thank you, darling.” You smiled sweetly at him.
You gently pushed his hand away from between your legs and stood up. “Would you excuse me?” You continued, disappearing into the next hallway.
A little lost and still in a heated haze, you made your way through the long corridors. The voices from the party became quieter with each step you took, fading into the distance until it was only you and your ragged breathing.
Maybe some cold water would do? But in your state, you'd need a whole bucket of ice to cool you down again.
Shortly before you could reach the bathroom, an opened door caught your attention. Now, you were really no one to snoop around in other people’s businesses or spaces, but you couldn't help yourself and take a peek inside. After all, the door was already open, so it couldn't be something top-secret anyway, right?
The room was nicely furnished and looked like a spare bedroom or guest room. A nice bed, some drawers, and a mirror were decorating the room, as well as various fancy pictures hanging on the wall.
What really caught your eye though was the huge balcony that was attached to it. The large glass doors let enough light in to bathe the room in a nice blueish hue.
You bit your lip. Maybe some fresh air would be even better than your originally planned face-splash with cold water.
After taking one last glance behind your back to make sure that no one had followed you, you tiptoed through the room, right to the huge glass door.
As you opened it, you were met with the chilly air of the night, combined with the loud sounds of the traffic below you. The lights from the surrounding buildings made everything feel kind of surreal. As if you were in a dream.
You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your mind and nerves, but it was quite obvious that it only helped for so long.
The heat between your legs was still prominent; the feeling of Leon's fingers slipping under your panties was still lingering on your skin.
You needed him. You needed him so badly that it was on the brink of getting painful.
Sure, you'd enjoyed teasing him the whole day and seeing his clenched jaw and furrowed brows. Feeling his hardening member twitch under your fingertips was enough to make you wet and ready for him.
However, the touching underneath the table had proved to be too much. Even for you.
You took a few steps forward, leaning against the railing to take in the skyline.
Your options were limited. Going back, acting like nothing happened and hoping Leon and you could keep your hands off each other. Very unlikely.
Going back, saying you weren't feeling well so you both could leave as soon as possible. If you were lucky, Leon might fuck you in his Porsche. Not ideal either.
Instead, you grabbed your phone and looked at Leon's contact. Biting your lip, you thought about calling him, your thumb hovering over his number. But what should you tell him?
Meet me at that secluded balcony? Yeah, sure.
Apparently, your intimate parts overtook the thinking part, because you actually ended up dialing his number. It didn't take two seconds until he picked up.
“Where are you?” He asked in a tense voice, sounding as if he were trying his hardest to keep his voice down. In the background you could hear wild chattering and the sound of clattering dishes.
“At…a balcony,” you said innocently, making it sound more like a question rather than a statement.
"A balcony?” He asked.
“I needed some fresh air, I guess,” you mumbled, looking down to see the cars rushing over the intersection.
He huffed. “So, did it help?”
You weren’t sure if he was teasing you or if he was being serious. It was hard to tell due to his low voice and the noises in the background.
“Barely,” you groaned in frustration, closing your eyes. “Leon…”
“You started it, sweetheart,” he said. Now you were certain he was definitely making fun of you and your situation. “Come back and I might help you,” he said, followed by a low chuckle.
That wouldn’t do. Not anymore.
“It’s not enough,” you mumbled, shaking your head. The wind was blowing through your hair; the first few strands already started to loosen from your hairdo. A few moments of silence followed until you finally spoke your truth.
“I need you to fuck me, Leon,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I am so horny. I really need you to fuck me as soon as possible,” you confessed, suppressing another groan spilling from your lips.
From the other side on the line, you could hear Leon drawing in a sharp breath. He couldn’t possibly be indifferent to your confession, not after the relentless teasing from you and the activities under the table.
You were just about to take your words back and come back to your senses when Leon finally answered.
“Where is that balcony?”
His words cut through the silence like a knife; so deep and yet so sharp, they made your head spin. Was he really-
He couldn’t possibly-
Feeling as if another person were speaking through you, you described the way to the secluded balcony, and without another word, he hung up on you. Just like that.
You took a deep breath, hiding your face in your hands for a few seconds to contemplate your options. You weren’t actually doing it on a balcony, right?
You quickly turned around when you heard the glass door being opened. He was quicker than you'd thought, but on the other hand, he was an agent after all, so what did you expect?
His eyes looked even darker than before, hair slightly tousled, and his neck had turned into a slightly reddish tone. To others, he looked like he always did. To you, however, he looked like he was worked up to the point of no return. And you knew he was.
You suppressed a nervous chuckle. “You found me.”
“I did,” he said humorlessly as he closed the door behind him.
Slowly, he took a few steps forward until he stood right in front of you. With his eyes still locked on yours, he placed his hands on the railing, caging you in as he looked down at you.
“Do you have any idea how risky that is?” He asked in a low voice.
“I mean…the bedroom door is locked, right?”
“And what’s with the other hundreds of potential spectators?”
Well, he was right. You were surrounded by several skyscrapers. There was no way this was happening.
You stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity until he ultimately crashed his lips onto yours and sealed them with a hungry kiss.
He gently pushed you against the railing, the cold metal pressing into your skin, right through the thin layer of your dress.
In an instant, your hands pulled him closer to you, grabbing onto his tie, which had started to loosen already.
The kisses were messy and needy, with teeth clashing together and occasional gasps whenever Leon pushed you back against the railing.
“We should leave,” you mumbled against his lips, still holding onto his tie for dear life.
“We should,” he confirmed, without breaking the kiss. It was clear that none of you made the effort to actually leave. By now, it felt like there was a magnetic pull holding you together. The panting from both of you grew louder and more desperate, almost drowning out the traffic noise, if that was even possible. All you could see, hear, and taste was Leon.
“You and this dress are the reason I can't fucking concentrate,” he hissed, squeezing your ass through your dress. “I love you so much, but goddamn, you can be such a tease.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” you panted, as his lips wandered down your neck. “May I remind you that you were the one who fingered me under the table? So don't play innocent.”
You could feel him grinning against your skin.
“Mhm, true,” he simply muttered.
“You are pretty quiet for someone that moaned into the phone that she wants to be fucked just two minutes ago,” he whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
“I didn't expect you to actually-“
Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled your dress up just slightly and sneaked his hand under the fabric, heading straight to your soaked panties. There had already started to build a wet patch from him toying with you earlier.
“What? That I actually do this?” He huffed as he slipped his fingers under the fabric. With ease he found your clit again, circling it in a gentle motion.
“Y-yes,” you whimpered, hands gripping onto the railing as you felt the cold breeze hitting your intimate parts, combined with the warmth of his calloused fingers.
One hand held you back against the cold metal, while the other stroked through your folds, spreading your wetness all over you.
“You were so close to cumming, hm? Under the table,” he breathed against your lips, rubbing you a little tighter while pressing his lips to yours again. You could only nod, feeling your bud becoming more sensitive by the second. This was even better than getting fingered under the table.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled before getting on his knees. Your eyes shot open, hands still holding the railing behind you.
“Leon-“
“We can stop anytime,” he said, hooking the fingers in the waistbands. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked, looking up at you with dark eyes.
“No, please go on,” you whispered, closing your eyes when you felt him pushing up your dress just enough to get access to your throbbing cunt. He leaned forward and started lapping at you right away, knowing that there wasn’t enough time to tease you like he normally did. He went straight into you, eating you out as if he were starving, all the while holding your thighs open for him.
You moaned his name, arching your back just right so your pelvis was at the perfect angle meeting his tongue. He alternated between kitten-like licks and sucking on it with the perfect amount of pressure. In a matter of seconds you felt your orgasm approaching, your walls clenching around nothing.
He took one of your legs and lifted it slightly over his shoulder for better access. That way, he could lick you even better, his tongue going deeper into you and causing your eyes to roll back in your head. He sped up his movements, fully making out with your pussy now, moaning when he tasted your arousal.
By now, he was sure he knew what the term "blue balls" meant because never in his life had he ever been this pent up. The mixture between the ongoing teasing and the adrenaline rushing through his body from doing something taboo turned him on so much that he was fearing he might come in his pants if he kept going.
“Fuck Leon I’m gonna-“ You sobbed, one hand tangling in his hair and pushing him just slightly against you for more friction.
“Doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he praised between licks, moaning when he felt you riding against his tongue. “Cum for me,” he urged, feeling you tremble under his touch.
And you did, more intensely than you thought you could, given the circumstances. Your orgasm washed over you, causing you to shudder, electricity running through your whole body.
Your lower body moved against him as he kept licking you through your high, doing his best to give you the maximum amount of pleasure. With a satisfied hum, he lapped at you a few more times, gathering all the arousal he could on his tongue.
“Shit,” you muttered as you tried to catch your breath, watching as he got up. His eyes were dark, hair messy, and lips glistening with your lust.
You watched him in awe before pulling him down to you, kissing him and tasting yourself on his lips.
“As much as I’d love to stretch it out….we need to be a littler quicker,” he panted.
“I know.” You nodded, reaching for your panties that were still sitting at knee level. You thought he meant leaving this place finally and finishing at home, but that was not what his true intention was. Far from it.
Suddenly he spun you around, his body caging you in like before, just in a different position. You gasped when you felt him press himself against you, his erection grinding against your ass. Holding onto the railing, you looked out into the skyline, wondering if this was even real anymore.
“I’m not gonna last until home, baby,” he whispered into your ear. “I need you now.”
“Oh god…” you whispered, your cunt clenching at his words. If your friends were ever to ask you again what your wildest sex experience was, this would make it easily the number one top.
“Is that okay? Do you still want this?” He asked in a raspy voice, his words ringing in your ear.
“Yes please, fuck me already,” you begged, rubbing yourself against him impatiently.
“Thank god,” he said huskily, pulling up your dress a little higher.
You looked behind you, watching as he opened his belt with light hands. God, this man was hotter than anything you could have ever imagined. Not that you didn’t know this already, but he proved it to you time and time again.
He pulled down his pants just enough to free his thick cock, basically presenting it to you. Your mouth watered at the sight. The tip was red already, glistening with pre-cum. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but if you concentrated enough, you were sure you saw his member throbbing in his hand.
You would have loved to wrap your lips around him, giving him the sloppiest blowjob you could think of.
“Another time,” he hummed, watching your hungry gaze, as if he could read your mind. “Lean forward for me, love,” he said, hands gripping your hips as he helped you adjust your stance.
“You look so goddamn perfect,” he muttered under his breath, watching your glistening sex as he gave himself a few good strokes with one hand. The other stayed on your hip, gripping into your skin.
You bent forward a little more, gripping tightly onto the railing as he finally aligned himself at your entrance. You were slick with arousal, making it rather easy for him to enter you. With a groan he bottomed out, feeling your tightness engulfing his member in the most perfect way.
“Fuck,” he cursed, closing his eyes at the sensation of your tight pussy around him.
“Mhm, Leon, this feels so good,” you moaned, feeling him stretching you out, the angle making it even better.
His hands stayed on your hips as he started moving, thrusting into you with a slow pace at first to test your reactions. Each thrust felt better than the one before, gliding perfectly against your walls.
When you opened your eyes again, you looked into the night, the city moving at its own pace, blissfully unaware of the action happening this far up here. Your initial hesitation was swiftly replaced by nothing other than lust, your mind slowly starting to get cock-drunk.
“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, picking up the pace just slightly. “Getting fucked on a balcony by your husband?” The way he was emphasizing the word husband with his strained voice, caused your walls to flutter around him.
His hand gripped your chin and turned your face to him, searching for your lips as he kept fucking you against the railing. Your lips crashed against each other, smudging your lipstick all over your mouth.
“I love you so much,” he panted in your mouth, hands gripping more tightly into the flesh of your hips to keep you at the perfect angle. “Your pussy’s taking me so fucking well.”
“Oh god yes,” you groaned, knuckles turning white by how tightly you gripped onto the railing. As he kept pounding into you, he looked down to where your bodies were connected, enjoying the erotic sight of his cock disappearing into your tightness. He pressed his hand against your upper back, causing you to bend down even lower.
By now, your dress had slipped above your ass, giving Leon an even more enticing view.
Your eyes rolled back when he changed the angle, hitting your g-spot in an impeccable way.
“Leon-,” you whimpered, the rest of your words dying in your throat when you felt his hand drifting between your legs. This time he didn’t start slow. He matched his movements with the pace of his thrusts, drawing tight and fast circles over your sensitive clit.
You started getting tighter around his cock with every movement, making it impossible to keep your eyes open.
“Shit…I’m not gonna last much longer, baby,” Leon gasped, pressing kisses along your neck, all the places he could still reach with the position you were in.
“Please don’t stop! I’m so close,” you whined. “Please fuck me harder Leon.”
The obscene sounds of skin clapping against skin filled your ears as he did what you begged him for. He pounded you harder against the cold metal, holding you tightly to keep you safe and secure still.
At some point, you couldn't tell up from down anymore. His hands were everyhwere. On your hips, tangled in your hair or on your tits, toying with the soft flesh in his hand.
“You okay?” He asked through gritted teeth, chasing his high as he felt the first spasms of your walls around him.
“Yes yes yes,” you cried out into the night when you felt your release rushing through your body. Rarely had an orgasm felt as intense and delectable as this one. All that pent-up desire suddenly dissolved. Leon followed right behind you, spilling his hot seed inside you. His thick ropes of cum filled you, marking you from the inside. Just the way he liked it.
„Fuck,“ He groaned, fucking you a few more times, securing you were taking every last drop of him. Something about cumming inside you drove his mind wild.
A variety of curses left his mouth as he kept moving lazily inside you. Both of your releases were mixed, the first drops already making their way down your legs. This was going to be one hell of a mess.
Your legs trembled, the aftershocks of your intense lovemaking still tingling in your core.
“Hey, careful,” Leon said out of breath, helping you to get back on your feet properly. “Hold on tight for me,” he mumbled lowly as he helped you pull your panties back up. You just stood there, catching your breath, trying to return to reality. He then straightened your dress as best as he could.
“Thank you.” You whispered, shakingly turning around to face him again. He was busy putting himself back in his pants, looking just as chaotic and messy as you were. His tie was hanging loosely from his neck, his shirt was crinkled, and the hair tousled.
“You’re looking….”
“Freshly fucked?” He asked with a grin, fastening the belt on his pants.
“Yeah.”
He looked up, brushing his thumb over the smudged the lipstick with a gentle smile. “I could say the same about you,” he chuckled.
You looked into each other's eyes, still panting, chest heaving with ragged breath. Slowly, the sounds of the city started returning to your orbit. It felt like waking up from a dream. A wonderful, sexy, and illicit dream.
“We are really fucking crazy,” you said.
“You definitely are,” he laughed, kissing your temple and pulling you flush against his chest.
“Hey, this was your idea!” You retorted, playfully acting offended.
“I only had this idea because you were driving me insane the whole day,” he said, caressing your back a few more times before reaching for your hand.
Like teenagers sneaking out past their bedtime, you made your way back through the corridors until you reached one of the bathrooms. You freshened up as best as you could, helping each other to look presentable, at least for another one or two hours max.
“We should hurry up or else they file a missing persons report for us,” you joked, drying your hands after washing them.
Leon was already done, leaning against the sink. He had been eyeing you the past minutes like a man falling in love over again.
“Did you listen to me?” You asked when you noticed his gaze.
“Yeah,” he nodded, taking your hand to guide you to the door. “I was just thinking about how much I love and appreciate you. Even after all these years. And I thought you should know that,” he confessed suddenly.
You blushed a little, your heart skipping a beat at his words.
“Do you just say this because we had some freaky public sex?” You asked teasingly.
“No I don’t,” he muttered, kissing you one last time. “Even though the sex helped for sure,” he grinned.
“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile, dragging him out of the bathroom.
When you returned, your whole table was empty. Most of them were either at the bar or had switched to other tables.
Leon and you exchanged a look, silently communicating whether you should just leave, but it was too late. A familiar voice greeted you.
“There you are,” the forensic guy from earlier said a little surprised, taking a seat at your table. “You guys totally missed the dessert! Was wondering where you went.”
You took a sip of your wine before answering. Leon's eyes were glued on you, barely able to contain the smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips. How would you tell this poor man that your private dessert had already been served on the balcony?
As if on command, the other guests from your table returned one by one, watching you with genuine worry in their eyes.
“I am sorry. I needed some fresh air and Leon looked after me,” you explained apologetically with a soft smile playing on your lips.
“He was so worried for me,” you continued.
“Well, I hope you feel better then,” one of them said, looking back and forth between you and Leon.
“Oh, I feel much better, thank you,” you said with a satisfied smile.
“Seems like you guys are really made for each other,” another man chimed in, holding up his glass and gesturing in your direction.
“We really are,” Leon and you said in unison, causing the whole table to laugh in admiration of your bond. If someone had told you this morning that you’d end up getting fucked on a balcony by your husband, you’d probably burst out laughing. On the other hand, it didn’t surprise you. You were simply unable to keep your hands to yourself, but who could blame you?
Your marriage would never get boring. Not with this wonderful man by your side.
Final Note: I hope you enjoyed it! As always, feedback is very much appreciated and means the world to me! No matter if its comments, likes, reblogs. I appreciate the support so much. 💗
My Leon Kennedy masterlist can be found: here
If you want to be tagged in future stories, feel free to reach out to me here or in the comments (I have one for Leon and one for Carlos. You can also be added to both ofc 😊)
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Summary: Being the only female rookie at the DSO, you're used to being belittled by your fellow agents. Thought to be invisible to your superior Mr. Kennedy, you would have never thought he'd come to safe you as your first mission goes terribly wrong.
Warnings/notes: Horror, blood and gore, violence, gun mention, angst, appearance of Chris Redfield, protective Leon, age difference, older!Leon, very slow burn, no use of y/n, author's first language isn't English
Clouds fill the sky. Putting a dark shadow on the world, while the sun desperately tries to get through the thick cover. It’s faint light cascading on the run-down buildings, streets and everything that once was. The air is cold against your skin. The fresh autumnal morning air doing nothing to prevent the light blush that starts to form on your cheeks once you get out of the car. The cold nips at the top of your fingers, making you curl them into the palm of your hands. Even though it was only the start of October, it wouldn’t take long before winter would sweep the land into its stone-cold grasp. For that reason alone you slightly dread the days in the field that would soon, hopefully, follow. Never really liking the cold, you aimed for a warmer climate. That would be possible of course if your life had been different.
You stand in line with three other agents next to you. Men. Taller and broader than you, but not necessarily better. You’re all clad in a tight marine blue shirt, sleeves rolled up and a small zipper at the neckline. Due to the weather, yours is all the way up, concealing your chest. A pair of black combat trousers hug your thighs while boots in the same color are on your feet, making you stand firm and secure.
The harness around your chest carries the essentials. Handgun at your right side, shotgun and sniper rifle secure on your back. Two hand grenades hanging on your left just in case. The weight of a knife rests against your lower back. The blade is sharp, a machete, ready to chop a zombie's head off if necessary.
The men next to you wear similar assemblies. To your right there’s Jonathan. A twenty-five year old, six ft tall blond with an ego flying through the roof. Shotgun and sniper also on his back but instead of a knife, he carries a large stone hammer. The tip sharpened, making it easier to break one's skull. He has been in this program for just as long as you have, starting three months ago.
The two men on your left, who you can’t even bother to remember the names of, have the same confidence as Jonathan. A smirk on their faces, like this first field job is going to be a piece of cake. They look slightly younger, twenty-two maybe twenty-three? You’re not sure. A few men in the other group that would come after you were twenty-six and twenty-seven. At the ‘ripe’ age of twenty-nine you’re the oldest one out of the rookies.
Standing before you are two more seasoned men. One incredibly broad, hair a dark brown almost grey at the sides, going by the name of Chris Redfield. At almost 6’1”his stance is wide, arms crossed, making his presence well known. He’s looking at us like any other teacher would. His brown eyes looking over his so called “students” with a straight face, while thinking to himself: “What the hell do these rookies think they’re doing here?”.
Next to him, slightly more behind, is his comrade. His hair, a dark blond streaked with a few grey strands signaling his age. Blue eyes focusing on the hand gun in his palm while putting in new ammo, not giving us as much attention. By 5’11” Leon S. Kennedy was not as broad as Mr. Redfield, but compared to him, he was definitely muscular as well. Biceps protruding and forearms showing off the few veins that peak from under his shirt.
The two of them had a well-known reputation. Both fought against any monstrosity the Umbrella corporation had thrown at them. Trying to protect the world from all evil.
They had trained you. Three months inside the DSO facility. Learning the basics from knowing how to reload a gun, to shooting one with perfect aim. Physical and emotional training, needed to defeat all enemies you would come across. Three months and eight trainees. All inexperienced rookies who wished to be full DSO agents, ready to kick some ass. Seven men and one woman. You.
Of course, being the only woman, which is very unseen in this line of work, you were often laughed at. Thought to be useless, weak and incompetent to get the job done. Well, we’ll see about that.
You’re quiet. Slowly analyzing the situation you’re in. Today is your first ever mission. As a trial of course. Three months of training had to lead somewhere. They had divided the group into two. The first group, with you in it, was brought to the outskirts of Raccoon city, driven in a van by Kennedy, Redfield in the passenger seat. The chanter in the car from your three other colleagues had been loud while you kept mostly to yourself. As you arrived at the scene, which seemed to be an open square with buildings surrounding you, you quickly got out of the car before anyone else. Already opening the trunk to get all your gear.
And that’s where we are now.
“Alright listen up.” You hear Chris say, making your ears perk up. “Your mission today will be simple, which is to retrieve some important information back from the old Umbrella labs that are situated below ground. You will be divided into two teams and each will be given a map. Your task is to bring the piece of information back to me. If you fail, you will be taken out of the program and you can pack your bags. Are we clear?”
You hear Jonathan next to you scoff, a silent “as if” slipping from his lips. Ever since the beginning of your training he has made it clear that he was the one who would be the next super-agent at the DSO. You already know now that a simple training, to retrieve information out of a lab, isn’t spectacular enough for him.
Chris’s eyes look us all up and down again before settling on you and Jonathan for a few seconds, then back to the two guys on your left. “Liam and Jason…” So those are their names. “… the two of you will be under my supervision.” Chris announces while walking over to them, handing them a phone with a map on it. “Leon, you take him and the girl” he continues, gesturing over to you. The girl…
“You need to take this mission seriously guys. This may look easy but you never know what could be lurking in this city. Especially underground. This is a necessary part of your training. Don’t take this lightly. You know what happens when you fail.” And with that he gestures to Liam and Jason to follow him, leaving you and Jonathan alone with Leon.
Leon's cold stare lingers on the both of you, sizing you up, almost like he is determining if the two of you are even worth his time. His gun is brought back into its holster, hanging at his right hip, before taking a phone out of his pocket similar to the one Chris gave to his own two rookies. “Take this.” He murmurs while outstretching his arm, waiting for one of you to take it.
Before you even get the chance to put a step forward, Jonathan beats you to it. Grabbing the phone out of Leon's grasp, he immediately starts to inspect the screen. Hastily looking over the map without including you. After a few seconds and a small huff from you, he looks up, eyes directed at Leon. “Is this a competition between the two teams? To see who finds the piece of information first?” The corners of his mouth slowly turn upwards. “Because I’ll beat them to it.”
The smirk that covers his face is so arrogant that you almost want to punch him in the face. You’re sure you could win a 1v1 fight against him.
“It is not a competition in any way. You look for the piece of information that we want, you get it and get back out of there unscratched, together with your partner, is that clear?” Leon isn’t amused by Jonathan's confidence either. When he averts his gaze back to you, you can see the slight frown on his face soften just a smidge.
“Now…” he says, focused on you while pointing to your ear “… The little earpieces you have in do not only allow us to communicate with each other if necessary, but I will also be able to see your vitals while I keep an eye out for you during the mission.”
“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Jonathan speaks, a slight tremor in his voice if you hear correctly. Maybe even a little nervous? Anyway, it’s not enough to push him off the throne of pride in his head.
Leon looks back at him. “Who am I? Your babysitter? I’m not gonna hold your hand every time you have a mission. I think you’re old enough. You do know this is what you trained for right?”
You have to do your best to not let out the laugh that’s trying to burst out of your mouth. Your lips turning into a small smile instead that you desperately try to cover with your hand.
You’ve always liked Leon, ever since the moment you met him back at DSO. Back when you were truly ‘a rookie’, having very little experience on the subject of being a special agent. Back then he had only greeted you with a firm handshake and a curt nod, murmuring a quick ‘nice to meet you’ as he quickly went on to greet the next rookie in line. But the way he carried himself and the way he was respectful towards others... Trying to help people when and wherever he could? It made you have a certain form of respect for the man.
It was also not difficult to notice that he’s very easy on the eye. The strong build, the sharp jawline, the stubble covering it… After three months of seeing him almost everyday, you'd grown a little crush for him. All innocent of course, because you knew very well the two of you could never be together. What would a successful and good looking DSO agent see in a twenty years younger and inexperienced ‘girl’? So you kept your silly feelings at bay, knowing it wasn’t worth the energy.
All of that put aside now, you are a bit apprehensive about what Leon had just said to Jonathan… You have to admit, you’re a bit nervous being out there in the field with no experienced agent by your side if things were to go to shit. But you’re strong mentally, a good fighter and you’re brave. You can do this.
Jonathan, who of course isn’t impressed by Leon’s words, shoots right back. “And how do we…” he says, mockingly correcting what Leon had warned him about while pointing from himself to you “... know what we’re looking for? How are we supposed to know what kind of special information you guys need us to get?”
“You got a map. Use it.”
Jonathan steps forward. “That’s ridiculous. For all I know we could be out here until nightfall looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Or until next week. That’s completely up to you.” Leon smirks, clearly having fun riling up the twenty-four year younger ‘boy’.
“You're insane, old man.” Jonathan spits back.
You can see Leon’s eyebrow raise at those words. Seeming to unlock something within him and break through his usual more calm facade. Something that you’ve seen maybe once or twice during your training. Something that was a little bit more dominating… His jaw is clenched, teeth grinding before, in his turn, taking a step forward. Looking your colleague dead in the eye, smirk removed from his face with now a stern glare replacing it.
“Watch it kid. I suggest you temper that tone of yours.” Another step closer. Not raising his voice, but keeping it cold and stern. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t give a fuck if you drop out right now. What I do need to know though, is when you wish to go through with this, you will not fuck around. You will both protect each other while completing the mission. If your lives are at stake, you will do everything you can to get the two of you out of there. If you say yes to that, I, your superior, demand respect from you. Is that clear? You must learn your fucking. place. rookie.”
It went quiet next to you. No more words coming from Jonathan’s mouth.
When you turn to get a better look at him, you swear you see the dilemma in his eyes. Not knowing whether to punch Leon in the face or to restrain himself and go for the more civil option.
Eventually he casts his gaze downwards, realizing he couldn’t keep going like that if he wanted to reach his goal at the DSO.
“Fine.”
Leon recognises the submission and decides to drop the subject. Point taken.
He takes a step back, arms crossed. "Alright, I suggest the two of you start off immediately. The day is short and you’ve got quite a lot of ground to cover. Use the time that you have.” Then before turning his back, his gaze lingers on you one more time. The look in his eyes sincere. “Take care.”
And with that, you and Jonathan are left to fend for yourselves in the harsh reality that is Raccoon city. It is so that even one hour later, you’re still trying to work out the map. That is, if Jonathan would give you a chance to look it over.
You’ve had enough. You were constantly running in circles, covering the same places over and over again, which did nothing to ease your frustration with the man walking a few feet in front of you. It almost felt like the walls started to close in on you. So you decided to speak up. Thinking you’ve been patient enough.
“You have no idea where we’re going, do you?”
He stops abruptly, making you almost walk straight into him. He turns his neck so fast, you’re almost certain he has broken it. “Excuse me?”
You can see he’s trying to stay calm even though a fire is starting to ignite in his green eyes.
“You heard me. I don’t think you have even the slightest idea about where we are.”
A scoff falls from his lips, in deep contrast to the droplet of sweat coming down the side of his face. A sign of insecurity? Guess you’re right after all. “Oh please, I have the map. I know exactly what I’m doing.” His arrogance shining through, even though you can see his facade slowly starting to break. So you continue.
“Jonathan, this is the second time we are going through this alley. There’s two possibilities. Either you don’t know where we’re going, or you love the scenery here so much you just had to see everything twice, some streets even thrice. And don’t tell me it’s the latter. I think it’s about time we switch things up and you give me a go at the map.”
“Oh please…” he replies, now fully facing you, trying to solve the matter in his favor. “You’re a girl. How could you be of any help right now? Do you even know how to read a map?”
What is it with toxic men and their twisted ego’s? Their dying need to make women feel inferior? Never wanting to admit or even think about the idea that a woman could be right for once? Could be better?
That’s the second time today you want to punch him in the face.
You step forward, pushing yourself up so you’re standing on the tips of your feet. Your hot breath hitting his face, mere inches from yours. “Watch a girl save your stupid ass.”
You snatch the phone out of his hand before he even has a chance to register what has happened. Pushing past him, you try to ignore the protests coming out of his mouth. Your fingers flying over the screen of the phone, finally getting a good look at the map.
You’re not too far off from the way you need to go. The so-called entrance to the Umbrella labs underground being only a fifteen minute walk from here. How the hell did he miss that?
“Give me the phone back.” Jonathan grumbles, his arm reaching around you. You’re faster though, already taking a few steps forward, making your way out of the alley and onto the main street, moving in the right direction.
“Just save your breath pretty boy. We’ll be there in no time.” You smile, picking up pace. You hear him right behind you, sighing like a toddler who hasn’t been given his way.
After ten minutes or so, you reach a more secluded area of the city. The buildings looking even more run-down than before. The air suddenly so dense and foggy, you’re sure the entrance should be right around the corner. And you’re right. When you continue, you see multiple Umbrella posters plastered onto nearby fences, the red and white logo clearly recognisable. You grin, looking down at the map again, seeing that the entrance should be right ahead.
“You know, I’m not one to apologize easily but… Seems like you were right after all.”
You almost choke on your own spit at hearing the words Jonathan says from behind you. “Excuse me?” You stop, turning around to face him.
“Yeah, I just…” He starts, stopping next to you “... guess I was kind of dick to you before? You got us right where we needed to go.”
You blink, not fully knowing how to react for a couple seconds. Does the all so mighty Jonathan actually want to apologize to you? Ever since you started training together 3 months ago he wouldn’t even spare you a second glance. And now he’s trying to be nice?
“Uh... Yeah, whatever. Let’s keep going.” you reply, starting to feel a little awkward.
You turn your back to him again, your steps firm as you continue your search. You hear hurried footsteps behind you, Jonathan now making his way right beside you.
“So I’ve been thinking…” Oh boy, he’s been thinking? What an achievement. “... You and I? We would be a great team together don’t you think?”
You turn your head, making eye contact with him before quickly averting your gaze once you see the tiny smirk plastered on his face. You don’t like where his insinuation is going.
“Uh, maybe? I don’t know. What’s your point?”
His smirk grows wider at that. His steps curving slightly to the left, making his way closer to you. “Oh I’ve seen you, you know. Back at the DSO facility. You’re always by yourself, not making a fuss, doing exactly what dear Redfield and Kennedy ask of us. You’re always at the top of the class, doing your training like a good girl. You’re a natural. I figured, when this mission is over, you’d maybe want to consider becoming partners.”
You find his words creepy at the very least. And do you believe him? Has he actually been watching you these past 3 months? Or is this just his way of saving his ass so you won’t complain about him when you get back?
“How could you be of any help to me? You couldn’t even read the map.” You scoff.
You can feel his hand brushing against your underarm slightly. He’s so close now you can feel his hot breath hitting the side of your face. “I didn’t mean it in an agent kind of way, love.”
You stop again abruptly, looking at him like he’d just grown an extra head. “Excuse me?”
He’s laughing now, a disgusting rasp in his throat. “Oh come on, don’t play dumb. We’ve been at the DSO for three months now and you're the only female agent in training. You don’t mean to tell me no one else has ever made an offer like this to you?”
“What the hell are you implying?”
“I could show you a good time, you know? Have you take the edge off for once. I must say that I know my way around the female body very well, so you’d be in for a treat. I could please you just right. You won’t regret it. I can promise you that.”
Not only is he trying to get on your good side to profit from it at the DSO, but he’s also trying to get in your pants. You just shake your head. Sadly this hadn’t been the first time a man had spoken to you like that.
“You’re a pig.” You turn around, ignoring the excuses and promises pouring out of his mouth. You have better things to do than reprimanding a child.
What the two of you don’t know, is that a few streets back, Leon is following you. Not just following and checking your vitals, but also hearing every word that’s being said between you and Jonathan. A little detail the DSO keeps hidden, to see how rookies will react in these kinds of missions, not holding anything back while their superiors listen. And right now? Leon is very happy he’s able to do so.
He finds Jonathan to be an inexperienced low life who thinks he’s got it all figured out. The way he talks to you makes his blood boil. Not necessarily because it’s you, but just of the way he speaks to a woman. Like you’re just a vessel for his pleasure.
He chuckles when you dismiss him so easily, not paying him much mind. He likes your spirit. You always thought he didn’t pay you much thought during training, but you were wrong. He knew who you were. Who didn’t to be honest? The only female field agent at the DSO. Doing your best at every training. Hitting your marks every time there was a shooting test. Often even better than the other male rookies.
So yes, you had definitely triggered his interest.
As you make your way through all the abandoned and burned down cars, you can see a large hole in the ground just a few feet up ahead. Bingo.
You reach it. A black hole, approximately six by six feet big, making its way down through the concrete. No sounds come from it, but the smell is undeniable. Rotting flesh.
Ok. You prepare yourself for a few zombies down there. It should be doable with your training and all the weapons you have on you, you tell yourself. Luckily you’re not alone.
You take a flare that’s attached to your belt before igniting it and letting it fall into the darkness. It falls down a few seconds, hitting a few metal objects in its way, before settling at the bottom. You can see a steep wall of concrete going down, followed by a half destroyed ladder that reaches the bottom. You don’t see or hear any infected. For all you know, there could be a rotting corpse down there. You’re not going to wait to find out.
“Let’s go.” you say before squatting, moving one leg into the hole.
“Oh how how wait! You wanna go in there?” Jonathan grabs your shoulder. When you look back at him you can see the uncertainty in his expression. Gone is all the fun and excitement from before, replacing it with a certain form of fear.
“And what else do you suggest?” you question him.
He starts looking around all of sudden. “Well… Maybe there’s another entrance. One that’s more safe than this one.”
“Nothing about our job is safe Jonathan. Look around you. Do you see another way in? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t. The map led us to this place right here.”
He doesn’t reply after that, just keeps looking at you with the same uncertainty as before.
“You coming or not?”
His only reply is a curt nod, making you doubt if he actually means it or not. He squats next to you, letting go of your shoulder. You take that as your cue to keep going. You descend gently and slowly, one foot in front of the other down the steep concrete wall. Into the lion's den as they say.
You try to make as little noise as possible, making your way down the ladder. Once you have reached the bottom, you take your flashlight so you can check your surroundings better.
The room you’re in is small, also six by six feet. A long dark tunnel is connected to it. You can’t see anything more than a few feet ahead of you, the flare and flashlight only illuminating a small amount of the place. You see water further ahead, making the tunnel appear to be some kind of sewer, which explains the smell as well.
Jonathan reaches the bottom next to you, frantically looking around, hand covering his nose. “What the fuck is this…”
You pick your gun from its holster, aiming it in front of you while also pointing your flashlight. You gesture for him to follow you. “Come on.”
You step into the tunnel. The water around your feet making your steps more heavy, while also producing a little too much sound for your liking. Behind you, you hear Jonathan pick up the flare. You turn around.
“Leave it so we can still see the entrance. Use your flashlight.”
He looks down again, a little frustrated with himself. “I didn’t bring one.”
You blink. “You didn’t bring one? Seriously?" A tiny shake of his head signaling no was your response. Jesus… Try going to war with someone like him.
“How could you possibly-. You know what? Forget it. Let’s go.” You wish this day would be over very soon.
The two of you continue through the tunnel, you at the front, him checking for any threats coming from behind, his gun now also drawn. The tunnel seems to bring you further down, a slight steep to your feet. It goes on for about two hundred feet until it separates into two new tunnels. One going left and one going right. You stop, trying to decide where to go from here. Jonathan bumps into you, not realising you had stopped. A whispered ‘sorry’ before an ‘oh fuck’ fell from his lips once he sees the split-up.
“What do we do now? What does the map say?” He asks, looking at you.
You take the phone again, your flashlight resting between your cheek and shoulder as you hold it in place. You see the thick yellow line bending to the right, signaling your way forward. As you put the device away again, you hear a low rumbling noise coming from the left. It’s far away though, a gurgling moaning sound that gets swallowed by the dark. You don’t have to ponder very long to realise what it is. You point your flashlight to the left, squinting your eyes, but you can't see anything.
“Thank God we don’t have to go in that direction.” You whisper while hearing Jonathan quietly agree behind you. You take that as your queue to continue your way right.
After about fifteen minutes of following tunnels, coming onto new split-ups, going left and right, you have reached the end of the tunnel. A short type of stairs going up with a metal door at the end of it. That must be where the lab is.
You grin in victory, ready to be done with this mission. You turn towards Jonathan, who’s inspecting the door with a certain nervousness. “You go up there and try unhinging the door. Look for any threats inside. I’ll cover you.” You tell him. He looks at you now, lips parted, clearly not wanting to but not deciding if he should fight you on it or not.
Eventually he nods, taking a few steps forward before going up the stairs, it steps creaking underneath his weight. You turn around, your gun pulled, ammo checked and flashlight up. You’re ready if anything dares to come closer.
Jonathan reaches the door behind you. His shuffling and pacing before the small window making you curious to see what’s inside.
“You see anything?” You whisper, before he turns around to look at you.
“No, it seems clear. It’s locked from inside though.” Another pause. “Let me get this door open.” He murmurs as he uses his elbow to break the glass. When that’s done, he puts his arm through it and reaches for the lock on the other side.
The twist of a lock is heard before the metal door screeches open. No sounds come from ahead of you, so you take a few steps back, gun still at the ready if necessary. You go up the stairs, turning around so you wouldn’t trip. Once you’re standing next to Jonathan at the top, you’re able to look into the room as well.
The room contains several desks decorated with various kinds of test tubes. The contents unknown to you as a result of it not being your field of work. Paper documents are scattered on the floor with a few lab coats and plastic gloves here and there. At least you’re sure now that you’re in the right place. At the end of the room, you can see an ever bigger desk with a large computer on it, its screen almost measuring six by three feet.
You’re the first to take some careful steps into the room, checking left and right for anything that might be out of the ordinary. Something that might look like the important piece of information the DSO needs. The air is cooler, more sterile than in the tunnels, but the awful stench remains.
Leon follows everything on the small iPad in his hand, staying a few blocks away from the entrance. This is a job meant for the two of you, as training. He can not interfere.
He can see you have reached the lab, your heartbeat quicker than normal as he checks your vitals. He listens to your steady breathing when you enter the room with your partner right behind you. Jonathan’s heartbeat however goes sky high, his breathing way more rapid than yours. Leon chuckles at the difference between you. The boy still has a lot more to learn. Compared to him you’re a natural. When a man and a woman go into the field together, you’d normally expect it to be the other way around.
Back down, you can’t find anything lying around. So you decide to start with the computer. The piece of information has to be connected to it somehow. Looking down at the keyboard, you type incoherent words trying to get the computer to work since you don’t see an on-switch anywhere.
You don’t have to try very long, the computer turning on at the first key you press. It’s not locked? How weird…
You take the mouse in your hand and go straight for the saved documents, searching for anything that might be valuable. And thank God you’re lucky. Various files were saved, starting from different kinds of chemicals to files about the test subjects they tried it out on. One particular folder takes your interest ‘The Connections Corporation’. You click it open.
Everything is in there. Their IP-adres, the people who carried out their work, reports from several top secret meetings… Guess you hit the jackpot.
You know what you have to do. Bending down, you look underneath the desk searching for the actual computer instead of looking at the monitor. When you find the black object, you take out your machete as you try to get the lid off. When you do, you look for the computer chip, carefully detaching it from the rest so you can take it with you.
You get back from under the desk. Your flashlight producing enough light so you can see it was still in good condition. As you go to put it in your pocket, Jonathan, who has been quiet all this time, steps up, snatching the computer chip out of your hand before putting it in his own pocket.
“I’ll keep this safe, thank you very much.” he cockily sneers.
Fed up with his childish behavior, you turn around, ready to give him a piece of mind. Who does think he is, letting you do all the work and then showing off after?
What you see next however makes your blood run cold and your breath hitch, quickly swallowing the words you were going to say before shouting something else. “Get down!”
He listens immediately, hearing the urgency in your voice. His body goes down by a fraction of a second before you raise your gun and shoot the zombie behind him right between its eyes, its body falling limp on the ground.
Leon’s ears perk up as he hears the gunshot through the little earpieces, his eyes now focused on the screen of his iPad more than ever, his body on high alert. You’re not supposed to run into any infected. He and Chris had scouted the perimeter before dropping you guys here. It’s supposed to be safe. He can see the two dots on the screen signaling where you and Jonathan are standing, but there’s no sign of a third person on the screen.
You’re shaking, your breathing now rapid as you stare at the lifeless body on the ground before you. The first zombie you have ever seen and also your first kill. You take a few steps closer to inspect it more carefully.
It’s the body of what once was a man, aged somewhere in his forties. It looks gaunt, caused by the lack of nutrition down here, its cheekbones pressing through its skin. Soulless, white eyes stare back at you, the skin between them torn by the shape of your bullet. Its jaw is what freaks you out the most, for it’s barely even there anymore. Half of it is still hanging from the upper part while the rest has been broken and torn off, smearing blood all over the neck, as the tongue hangs limply. That thing had been close enough to Jonathan to push him against the ground and kill him. How had he not heard something? How had you not heard something? If you hadn’t turned around…
The creature wears a labcoat, torn to pieces together with its shirt and trousers underneath. As you look better at the clothing, you start to realise one thing. Whatever kind of infected this thing was… It was already in this room before you first entered.
“I… I thought you said this room was clear?” You manage to get the first words out of your mouth when turning to Jonathan. He hasn’t gotten up, still bending forward as you see him trying to wrap his head around what’d just happened.
His lack of response angers you, so you take a step in his direction, now standing right before him as you make eye contact. “You hear me?” Now slightly raising your voice, still trying to be as quiet as possible. “Hey! Talk to me. You said this room was clear!”
His lips tremble when he speaks. “I… I did… It-it must’ve sneaked up on us back in the tunnels.”
“Bullshit.” You spit back. “I checked our backs right until we walked into this room and not once did I see or hear an infected. Look at his labcoat you fucking moron. He was in this room all this time!”
“I’m sorry. I tried- I really…”
“You could have gotten us both killed.” You silence him as you aim your flashlight around the room, going through it a bit more thoroughly, checking behind and underneath all the desks to make sure that one infected was the only one.
When you finish your round, you step back towards Jonathan. “Look… Accidents happen. Just… Don’t let this happen again alright?” You try to sooth him while stretching out your hand, helping him stand up again. Once he’s standing you check your ammo, ready to make your way back out. The sooner the better.
You only make it a few steps back towards the door, before you feel Jonathan grab your hand, stopping you. “That thing…” A tremor in his voice as he whispers “... It was so fucking close. If-if you hadn’t shot it down, I might have…” He can’t bring it in himself to finish that sentence. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I let you down”
You gave him a soft smile. "Whatever. Let’s just go. I think we’ve both had enough of this place.”
As he agrees, you both make your way out of the lab and down the stairs again, starting back through the almost endless looking network of tunnels.
Leon had moved considerably closer by now, being in the same street as the entrance you went through. There’s still no sign of any infected on his screen, so you both have to make it back without any problems.
You go in front of Jonathan as per usual, the water quietly sloshing around you, aiming your gun and flashlight straight ahead. To your relief, you don’t run into any more filthy bioweapons from Umbrella. Which is a godsend really.
Your optimism is short-lived though. WIth only a few more corners to pass, you suddenly stop as you see a figure standing about fifty feet ahead.
Another infected stands right in the middle of the narrow tunnel, its back to you. Your previous gunshot must have alerted it. You curse under your breath, quickly putting your fist up as a silent motion for Jonathan to stop as well. You look at him, quickly bringing your index finger towards your lips as a sign for him to be quiet. He was already distracted though, eyes fixed on the thing that’s ahead of us.
You see him slowly reach for the gun that is hanging from his right hip. As you’re trying to be as quiet as possible, a gun isn’t the best option here. This has to be done as quietly as possible, to not attract any attention.
You quickly grab his arm to make him look at you, head turning as you make eye contact. You shake your head ‘no’, pushing his gun away, before taking your machete where it’s held at your lower back. You point towards his stone hammer, gesturing for him to do the same.
Leon is getting more and more worried now. Why have the two of you stopped again? There’s nothing showing on his screen, nothing that should be in your way. The way back to the exit should be clear.
You sign to Jonathan to stay put and for him to help you when things go wrong. A basic form of military sign language was part of your training back at the DSO.
As Jonathan nods, you take a deep breath before looking back at the creature before you. Thankfully it hasn’t noticed you yet. As you gather all your courage, you grip your machete tighter as you make your way towards it.
It doesn’t make any sounds. It isn’t even moving, standing in the middle of the tunnel like a statue. The light of your flashlight and Jonathan's flare, not alarming it. Just like the one you’d killed back at the lab. Your heart almost pounding out of your chest as you near it, praying to every god above this would go well.
With only a few feet away, you can feel its rotting flesh starting to infiltrate your senses, almost wanting to gag at the repulsive smell. You take the last bits of distance in a hurry, raising your arm before sweeping it down with as much force you could manage. The blade makes contact with its neck, your cut clean, as in one full motion you’re able to cut its head off. The head falling to the side before the body tumbles into the water, the sound of the splash being something you could have avoided. Fuck.
As on cue, you hear a few gurgling moans coming from somewhere in front of you. You take some steps forward, seeing three infected coming from a nearby tunnel on the right that’s connected to yours.
They’re different from the ones you’d seen before, more active and way louder. They seem way more aware of their surroundings too, your flashlight doing nothing to hide yourself as their heads all turn towards you, gaze feral, screeching, raising their arms while making their way to you. Shit.
This hasn’t gone unnoticed by Jonathan either of course. His breathing uncontrollable as he shakes in his boots. “Fuck…” Clearly for him there’s no point in being quiet anymore “…fuck …we’re gonna die. We’re gonna fucking die!”
“No we’re not. Jonathan, man the fuck up. There’s three of them and there’s two of us, we can take them.” Why is it always you that has to encourage him?
The three infected have reached you within seconds, jaws snapping, out-stretched hands trying to get a hold of you. You dodge them and swing your foot into the chest of the first infected on your right, your strength enough to push him down, arms swaying. You don’t waste any time. Standing over it you lift your machete before swinging it down with all your might, planting the knife right into its skull, body going limp.
The reeking hot breath of the second infected tingles your neck. Before it has a chance you’re spinning on your heels, water splashing, as you swing your knife again, the blade finding home into its neck. Not enough to kill it but plenty to imbalance him. As blood seeps from the wound, you pull back your machete, foot kicking its chest so it goes down. You plan to do the same thing you did to the one before. Standing over it you raise your weapon again.
All of a sudden you feel an immense impact on your back, causing you to drop your flashlight and machete, your body being pushed harshly against the stone wall. You’re quick enough to turn around to prevent the flying hands from scratching you, instead grabbing the wrists and trying to pin them down. The third zombie that cages you in is enormous, towering over you by 6.6 feet, dwarfing you completely. Its broad chest and strong arms preventing you from getting away, its power momentarily too strong for your smaller frame. You grunt as you try to push it off, looking past it to see where Jonathan is.
He hasn’t moved yet, still standing a few feet back with his mouth agape, clearly in shock.
“Jonathan, don't just stand there! Help me out!” You shout, making him snap out of it.
He looks at you, then back at the infected on the ground, which is still moving, towards the infected that has you pinned against the wall. He’s shaking like a leaf.
That seems to knock him out of his stupor. Sadly, not in the way you had hoped. Instead of picking up his gun and shooting the brute that holds you hostage, he passes you, almost jumping over the half dead infected lying on the ground. He looks at you almost in shame. “I-I’m sorry.” Are his last words before bolting, leaving you to die and taking the flare with him.
Leon is sprinting towards the entrance, throwing all protocol aside. Technically, he isn’t supposed to help, but fuck that.
Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.
No, no, oh god no… The dread that fills you is almost enough to pull you down and lose the battle you’re having against the infected. But that can not happen. As long as you’re breathing you won’t go down without a fight. It’s just branded into you like that.
Think. Come on, think!
There isn’t anything around that can help you. You can’t reach for one of your guns either or you risk getting bitten. You have to use your body, your own strength, to get out of here somehow.
When an idea strikes your mind, you do a quick mental prayer, literally jumping into action, all in the matter of two seconds. Pushing your whole body up, using the wall behind you as leverage, you kick the infected right in its chest with both of your feet. The action causes it to take a few steps back, releasing you, giving you a second to recompose yourself. In the little time that you have, you reach for the shotgun hanging from your back, swinging it to your front so you can hold it better with two hands. A simple pistol shot isn’t gonna do the job you reckon.
You raise it, just in time, before the infected reaches for you again, its mouth open as it brings out a gurgling scream. You lift the shotgun right under its chin as you pull the trigger, not knowing what kind of damage it will cause.
The shot is loud. Its recoil pushes you back as you feel the pressure down to your core. The zombie’s face is blown off, blood and flesh splattering on the wall behind it, leaving only partial pieces of the head still standing. You almost gag as the body tips over, water splashing, mixing with blood as it makes contact with the ground. Pieces of brain and bone now scattered around it.
As you pant, you realize that the last infected, the one Jonathan had jumped over, was still alive. As you turn you see its body still wriggling in the water, face down. You pick up your machete again and make quick work of it. Pushing your foot down on its back you raise your weapon and bring it down with full force towards the wound you’d previously made. Flesh tearing and bone cracking as you end its life, fully decapitating it.
Meanwhile Leon has now reached the entrance to the tunnels, a weak Jonathan climbing out like the devil himself is after him. His gaze lifting as he hears the sound of running footsteps. “Mr. Kennedy…?”
Leon forcefully pushes him out of the way without a second glance, jumping straight into the darkness below, heart pounding and gun drawn, moving as fast as he could.
He almost flinches when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot reaches his ears, the loud noise reverberating through the tunnels. Dread filling his heart as he quickens his pace even more. He takes a detour to the right, knowing the tunnels better than anyone as he had gone through them countless times before on previous missions. He realizes you’re not too far away from the entrance. He just hopes he makes it in time before you get hurt.
You stand up straight again, legs slightly wobbly from the exertion you had to go through while also a bit shaken up. You had never seen an infected before and now you had killed 4 of them in the span of 30 minutes. All in your first ever mission as well. Would have been easier if your partner hadn’t left you behind though…
You would show him what you were made of once you got out of here. He would have to run if he wanted to avoid you killing him. That alone was a wonderful motivation for you to move forward.
Being under the assumption it’s finally over, you place your machete back on the straps at your back, before going to retrieve the flashlight lying on the ground a few feet ahead of you.
The splashing of water, moaning combined with screeching fills the air once more, making you stop dead in your tracks. Your eyes widen, not believing the things you’re hearing. You thought that had been it. That you’d get to walk out of here now unscratched. Oh boy were you wrong.
Five new infected turn around the same corner the previous three had come from, all equally disgusting and horrifying in their own way.
You abort mission, leaving your flashlight for what it is. It will only draw more attention. You duck into the nearest alcove on your left, knees touching the wet ground as you kneel down, sogging the material of your trousers. At least you think it’s an alcove... You don’t have time to check, as the infected are now standing in the middle of the tunnel. Your flashlight making sure you can still see their silhouettes in the dark.
You’re lucky enough to survive the attack of three infected all by yourself, but taking on five at the same time is impossible. You can take three of them, but not five… Not five.
There’s no way around them either. They’re blocking your path towards the exit completely. Keeping you hostage. Panic seeps through you again like a cold blanket. You have to think of an escape plan, and fast. The infected won’t be standing there forever. Hunting you down being their number one objective, to go after the noise they heard. They will follow the tunnel farther down in your direction and if one of them dares to look you way, you’re done for.
As you carefully peek around the corner you can see them already stumbling your way. You look behind you, pitch blackness greeting you like a meager solution. The alcove seems to be a narrow hallway of sorts, leading you to god knows where. You don’t have your flashlight on you either. You won’t be able to see a thing. Who knows what you might run into? And fighting something when you can’t see, is like walking up to the gallows. You have to get your flashlight back but that will risk you being seen.
You take another look around the corner. Luckily, they haven’t moved any closer. You figure that trying to fight the infected is your best shot at the moment. To get your flashlight quickly and use the dark hallway behind you as a plan B.
You reload your pistol and shotgun, getting yourself ready for what might be your last few minutes of being alive. Shotgun slung over your shoulder, pistol gripped tight in your right hand, you close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
You will try to get your flashlight first. After that your main goal is to hit as many headshots as possible. And if that goes wrong? You’re bolting.
A gloved hand suddenly covers your mouth, preventing the faint scream from escaping your lungs. At the same time a strong arm wraps around you, pulling you against a hard chest, preventing you from moving any further. Your gun falls to the ground, making too much noise for your liking.
Using your body you push back against the hard surface behind you, wriggling your arms as you try to get free. Your head is pushed back, hitting someone’s shoulder. As you try to look up, a familiar face comes into view, blue eyes meeting yours.
Leon releases your face, bringing his index finger towards his mouth, signaling for you to remain quiet. You quickly nod, a little perplexed as you realize he’s here. His grip around you making sure that you’re not just imagining things.
Moving around, he removes the arm that is slung around you and puts you behind him. As he slowly turns the corner he’s able to get a better look, seeing all the bloodshed you had caused, the infected slowly making its way towards you. He moves back, gesturing for you to come closer to him with his hand on your back so you’re squatting next to each other.
He communicates through sign language. Telling you to stay calm and to follow his lead, that everything is going to be alright. You believe him. With two agents against five infected the job will be more doable. When all of this is over, you have to think of a way to repay him. Repay him well.
Moving his hands he tells you his idea. The plan is to be stealthy and make as little of a mess as possible. Being the older and more experienced agent, he will move first with you right behind him. His axe and your machete at the ready. Before you turn the corner, he will throw a rock over the infected and into the other direction, trying to get their attention away from you. Then the two of you will move closer, each trying to take out one infected separately, two if you’re lucky. The rest will probably have to be done with a gun.
You sign back to the narrow tunnel behind you, to the way he came from. Wondering if that isn’t a better option than the danger that lies before you. Leon shakes his head as he brings up all ten fingers before pointing behind him. Your eyes widen, shock clearly visible on your face. Your hands start to tremble. There are ten more back there? Did he sneak past all of them? The thought makes you shiver.
Leon sees the worry in your expression. Quickly putting his hand on top of yours. He makes sure your eyes are back on him. Clear blue staring back at you, he whispers the words ‘we’re going to be ok’. The warmth of his voice feels like a warm blanket around you, emitting a protective and secure feeling. His hand touching yours, sending goosebumps up your whole body.
All of a sudden you realize how close the two of you are actually sitting. Your knees barely touching, his hot breath slightly caressing your face. For the fraction of a second, you allow yourself to admire him. The few strands of hair slightly covering his eyes. The few wrinkles there, around his nose and on his forehead, signaling his experience in life. The light stubble with a few grey strands going through it, down towards his neck. Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Down to the broad and muscular pectorals. His arms are a piece of art on its own, the muscles under his shirt bulging as he’s preparing for the fight that’s about to come. He is… beautiful. You feel safe with him even though the situation isn’t very bright looking.
To not let him notice you staring, you quickly take your hand away from under his grasp, signing back that you agree with his plan. You put your gun back into its holster and reach once again for your machete, keeping it ready. Leon does the same, his axe now gripped tightly in his hand, the blade still shining in the faint light that is given. You look at him and curtly nod, signaling that you are ready.
He picks up a nearby rock that lies neglected in the water, putting it ready at his feet. Raising three fingers between you, he looks into your eyes, signaling he’s about to count down. Another nod from you is the last assurance he needs.
One. Two. Three.
The rock goes flying. Straight over the heads of the infected, colliding to the tunnel wall with a sharp loud thud. As on cue the five heads turn in the direction of the sound, giving you and Leon exactly the opening you need.
Leon moves first, stalking the first infected on the left. You’re right behind him, your eyes on the one next to it. The two of you move as quietly through the water as possible. The wrinkles betraying your position, thankfully not too obvious for the infected to notice. You try to be efficient, knowing you’re only given a handful of seconds before their attention will fall back to you.
Leon doesn’t turn to look back, feeling your presence now next to him.
Like the two of you had practiced it a million times before, you both jump at the exact same time. Both of your weapons hitting its mark as you attack from behind.
The two creatures don’t stand a chance. Both being beheaded at the same time. The sound of body parts falling brings the others out of their stupor, all of them turning to inspect what happened.
They don’t get much time to act. The one closest to you is forcefully pushed back against the wall as you kick it in its chest. Leon racing past you to take care of the other two.
The one you had pushed against the wall, recovers quickly. Its arms sway as it tries to hurt you with strong perseverance. You swing your machete, the tip aiming down as you impale it right in the chest. A sound something between a gasp and screech falls from its lips as you pull the blade back out. Aiming it, you swing again. This time chopping both of its arms off. You finish with something that’s starting to become your signature move. Blade slicing through its throat, vertebrae and neck. The head rolls into the water as the body slumps down against the wall.
Panting, you turn around, your gaze searching for Leon. He had downed the fourth infected. Now standing over it, foot placed on its chest, he gives the final blow. His axe planting itself into the skull, blood splattering everywhere as pieces of brain fall onto the ground.
Behind him you see the fifth infected taking advantage of Leon being distracted. Its mouth hanging open, blood already seeping out of it, as it starts for him, reaching for his neck. Leon being completely oblivious.
You don’t have time to scream or shout his name. You raise your machete instead before aiming. With a groan you throw it. The blade swinging through the air before sheeting itself into the neck of your target. The strength of your blow causes the infected to fall to the side. Wriggling in the water with a strangled groan leaving its bloodied mouth.
You reach it in no time. Taking your blade out of its neck before lifting your foot. Bringing it down with full force you break the skull, crushing the bone. Its brain is a mash up underneath your boot as you hear the bone crunch. You quickly pick up the flashlight as you look around. Feeling the adrenaline coursing through your body, awaiting a new threat.
As your eyes fall upon Leon, you see him already looking at you, panting as well and eyes wide. A faint look of disbelief on his face, like he almost couldn’t understand how you’d killed the infected before he did.
“You… uh… Well done.” He nodded, casting his eyes to the ground. He takes his own flashlight out of his pocket before lighting it. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he takes a few steps forward, now standing directly next to you. He checks the way ahead before clearing his throat. “We need to get out of here.”
As on cue you hear an immense blast coming down the way you came from. The tunnels shake as dust and a few rocks come down from the ceiling. The two of you both bending over, Leon’s arm slightly hovering over you as a form of protection.
“What the…” you hear him whisper.
“Mr. Kennedy, what was that?”
The next thing you know, multiple screeches and moans fill the area again. The sound coming exactly from where the huge blast had come from. Not just the screeching of four or five infected. No… There are more. Way more. It almost seems as if the blast from before had opened up a gate of some sorts. The gates of hell, freeing its most horrendous kind of demons.
As you hear the thunder of footsteps and snarling getting closer, you realize this is not something the two of you can fight off on your own. Not even with all the guns you have on you. Leon seems to be sharing the same thought, quickly grabbing your arm and turning you around. “Run to the exit, now!”
You don’t have to be told twice. Aiming your flashlight to prevent yourself from falling down, you sprint through the tunnels. Leon right behind you. Occasionally looking behind him as he draws his gun. You do the same as you do not know what kind of surprises might still lie ahead.
The snarls get louder behind you, signaling the infected’s proximity. They are faster than you, you realize. Way faster, even though they don’t see a thing in the dark. Must be some weird type of mutation Umbrella cooked up in one of their labs.
As you round the final corner, you finally get to see the light of day. Literally. The hole in the concrete that you came through, being about two hundred feet up ahead. You run towards it as fast as you can. But sprinting slightly uphill with water to slow you down isn’t very ideal. Both Leon and you are having a hard time getting up.
You’re halfway when you look behind you. Seeing at least 6 infected rounding the corner you just passed yourself, with more to follow. You’re not as brave now as you were before, fear seeping into your bones again. Fear of not making it in time and having to die out here. “They’re getting closer!”
Leon ceases his sprinting and turns around. “Go! I’m right behind you!”
The first shot of his pistol rings through your ears as it hits its target. The one infected running at the front falling down, the rest crawling over its body like madmen. More shots follow as you hear Leon take out one after the other.
You look back down once you reach the top and see Leon still shooting as fast as he can. As the infected get concerningly closer. You take out your sniper rifle, aiming down and looking through the scope. “Mr. Kennedy c’mon, I’ll cover you!”
You wait as you analyze your targets. Waiting for the perfect shot as you don’t have as much ammo on you as you actually need for the rifle. You grin as three infected align perfectly. The red dot of your scope marking the first one's head. The other two running behind it. You take the shot. Your bullet bursting through their brains in one fluid motion, downing them in a mere second. Because of the silencer, your first shot is almost inaudible. But it does not go unnoticed by Leon as you hear him curse under his breath before turning.
As he’s sprinting up towards you, you do everything in your power to make sure he gets up safe. Only needing a handful of seconds to down the first litter. Sniping is something you’ve excelled at ever since you started at the DSO. Being often told your sniper skills are better than anyone else's, you take immense pride in the skill.
Well your training is definitely paying off now.
Leon reaches the top incredibly fast. Grabbing your hand he pushes you towards the ladder. “Hurry...”
You swing your rifle onto your back before grabbing the metals bars and climbing up. You hear Leon fire a few more shots before following suit. Reaching the top, you lean against the steep concrete wall, regaining your balance before bending down. Your hand reaches for Leon’s as you try to help him up. His warm firm grasp embraces yours. With one strong tug you pull him up.
Something counters your strength, Leon groaning as he’s being pulled down again. A loud curse escapes him. One of the infected has managed to gain up on him and grasp onto his lower leg. As it grabs him with both of its claws and tries to climb up, you know he’ll get bitten if you don’t act quickly. Freeing your pistol from its holster, you aim right between its dead eyes. Not hesitating as you pull the trigger. The blow causes the creature to fall back down, taking two others with him who were also trying to get up the ladder.
With Leon now free, you continue pulling him back up. As he gets up next to you on the concrete wall, you grasp for your shotgun again, aiming towards the next filthy infected that’s right behind him. You pull the trigger. The immense blast making it tumble back down in several pieces.
You hear Leon shout next to you. “There’s too many. Run!”
Climbing up the steep wall, you hear the sharp clinging of metal next to you. You look back at Leon. The metal pin of the grenade he’s holding, being the source of the noise. You see him pull out the pin before throwing it carelessly behind him. He pushes you forward. “Go! Shit’s about to blow!”
With a last look behind him, he throws the grenade back at the infected, before taking a final sprint. You see it land right at the bottom of the hole, at least twenty zombies now filling the area that you came from while some were climbing the ladder again. Leon wraps his arm around your middle and pushes you out of the tunnel as fast as he can.
Finally reaching the top, the two of you climb out, leaving the evil darkness behind. Now running on the street you only manage a few more steps before your body is catapulted. As the bomb goes off behind you, you hear the deafening sound of rubble coming down. Shaking the asphalt below your feet. You fall on your front. Your arms wrap around your head to prevent yourself from getting hurt. Leon falls on top of you. His body now involuntarily protecting yours from any flying debris.
After a few seconds the rumbling and screeching from the infected quiets down. You feel the pressure of Leon’s body slightly crushing you. The smell of sweat and dirt mixed with the smell of freshly washed linen fill your senses like a warm blanket that’s being wrapped around you. Oddly enough, you don’t mind his crushing weight.
A few more moments pass before you feel him shift above you. Slowly lifting himself up as a groan falls from his lips. One hand positioned at your waist as the other holds himself up. You dare look up yourself.
Smoke fills the air, providing an even more thick and impenetrable fog than there already was. Pieces of rubble and dirt all scattered around the place. As you look back at the hole in the ground that you came through, you only see a big pile of debris left. What once was an entrance to one of the Umbrella labs had now caved in, taking the infected with it. The grenade had sealed them in like a tomb.
You feel Leon’s firm grip as he lifts you from the ground. Once back on your feet, you’re turned towards him. One hand still on your shoulder as he starts inspecting you from head to toe. Brows furrowed as he’s looking for any sign of injuries. “Are you alright?” He asks hurriedly, his gaze now coming up to meet yours. Searching your eyes to make sure you’re not hurt.
You nod, slightly nervous because of his touch. “I-I’m fine…” You say before looking at your feet. The intense eye contact a bit too demanding for you to hold. Looking back at the destroyed entrance you huff in approval. “Good thinking, throwing the grenade back there. I thought we were goners.” You joke, trying to lift up the mood. His hand leaves your shoulder as he quietly hums. Looking back at the pile of debris, a frown is edged on his face. Still cautious that anything might come through the rubble and attack you. You admire that about him, just as much as you find it very attractive.
“Mr. Kennedy…” He looks back at you. His gaze making you slightly weak in the knees. “… I- Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve never made it out of there alive.” Your words seem to soften something inside of him. The frown on his face now slowly vanishing.
“No need to thank me really.” He says, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. Chris and I, we checked the perimeter for any danger before you guys even came here. If… If I had known there were so many infected, I would have never sent you down there. I’m so sorry.” You see the regret in his eyes, the immense disappointment in himself for failing you like that. As your superior it is his responsibility to look after you and keep you safe during training. To adjust your tactics and give you tips in any way he can. He couldn’t even do that.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen?”
Your eyes widen as he shakes his head no. You suddenly realize what kind of catastrophe you had just avoided. Your whole mission was to just get the computer chip back from the lab and return without scratches. No zombies blocking your path whatsoever. No wonder Jonathan ran off like a pussy.
You see Leon having difficulty with the situation he had put you in. Not daring to meet your eyes, he averts his gaze to somewhere slightly above you. His shoulders a little bit tense, as his hand goes behind his neck to awkwardly start scratching at the skin. You feel bad for him... This man, who saved you when no one else did, did not deserve to feel this distraught. According to the many stories from his past missions when he was younger, he’d already felt enough of that.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty. No one can predict something as horrifying as what has just happened.” Your words are honest and warm as you try to gain his attention.
Leon curtly nods, looking for the way ahead. “Let’s go.” He mumbles before taking a few steps through the mist, discarding your words.
Having none of it, you quickly follow his steps. Reaching out to grab his lower arm, you make him turn, forcing him to lock eyes with you before saying your next words of truth. “Mr. Kennedy… Please believe me when I say it’s fine. Really. You did everything you could. If it weren’t for you I’d be dead.”
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be in this situation right now.” He grumbles, eyes cold.
“But I am.” You take a step closer before continuing. “And that’s not because of you, but because I chose to be here. I chose to become a DSO agent and to do this mission with you. I chose to step into that tunnel and continue the mission. If I wasn’t prepared to face any danger, I would have just dropped out of the program.”
Leon sighs before clenching his jaw, not very much convinced. “Still… I should have known.”
“But you didn’t. And that’s ok. Mistakes happen. Look, Jonathan didn’t check the lab for threats very well when we were down there and I still forgave him…”
You’re interrupted as Leon’s gaze fixates on something moving behind you. “Speaking of which…”
You turn around, a gasp escaping you. There, sitting on a withered metal bench, was none other than Jonathan. His hunched over form taking shape through the mist. He notices you at the exact same time. Eyes wide and mouth agape as he sees you’ve made it out alive with Leon standing right next to you.
You inhale sharply, eyes narrowing as you feel your head getting warm. You grind your teeth as he stands up. His lips forming a small smile, hand on his chest almost like he’s relieved. Like he forgot what he’d done to you. How he’d abandoned you. A strange feeling of rage flows through you, blood pumping through your veins as you march towards him. You roll up your sleeves before clenching your fist, holding it steady at your side. With only a few feet away, he opens his arms in mock gesture, inviting you in, believing you to be a dumb rookie agent. “Oh thank God, I was so worr-“
You don’t give him time to finish his sentence. Your fist colliding full force against his upper jaw, nose breaking as you give him the hardest punch you could muster. A cry, that sounds anything but manly, bursts from his lips. His body tumbling over as he falls to the side.
“Tell someone who actually gives a shit.” You snarl, desperately trying to stay calm before you do anything worse.
Blood seeps from his nose, his hand reaching for it as he inspects the damage. A look of dismay is thrown at you when he sees the blood coating his fingers. His eyes search for your superior. Leon, standing only a few feet behind you, who’s been watching you the whole time. He doesn’t interfere. You’ve earned it.
“Hey! You’re just letting her get away with this? You got nothing to say about that?” Jonathan says in disbelief. Voice raising as he throws the words at Leon.
You have to do your very best to hold yourself back. Your hand itching to punch him again. You hear the sturdy footsteps of Leon’s boots behind you as he comes closer. Turning your head to see him stop right next to you, you notice the tiny smirk he’s holding. His eyes turn as cold as ice before fixating on Jonathan. “You’re out.”
Jonathan scrambles to get up as his brows furrow and his mouth falls open in shock. “What?”
Leon doesn’t miss a beat to repeat himself. “You’re out. When we get back to the DSO, you take your bags and leave.”
“What? Wait! No-no-no…” He panics, hand reaching inside his pocket, taking out the computer chip he had taken from you. “... I got the computer chip. The important piece of information you guys were searching for. I completed the mission!”
Leon chuckles while shaking his head, staying very calm. He takes the chip out of Jonathan’s grasp, collecting it in his own pocket. “You didn’t do shit kid.” He takes another step closer. Looking Jonathan dead in the eye. “You abandoned your partner in a situation where she needed you most. Running off like a little bitch you left her there to die. The number one rule in a partnership is you both complete a mission and leave no one behind. She-” he says while looking at you for a split second “-has more courage and intelligence in her than you could ever fathom. If it weren’t for her you’d be fucking dead. And that’s how you repay her?”
You see Jonathan’s Adam's apple bob. Probably swallowing the last remnants of pride he has left. A look of betrayal is shot at you. “You told him?”
As much as you want to reply, Leon beats you to it. “She didn’t have to tell me anything. I heard everything that was said between the two of you.”
As both you and Jonathan stare at him with a questioning look, he raises his hand and points towards the little earpiece. You chuckle as Jonathan curses. “Son of a bitch…”
You have to refrain yourself from laughing too hard. Instead your lips part as you smirk, staring back at Jonathan with a satisfied look on your face.
Leon grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him forward. “Now get back to the dropping site and after that I don’t want to see you ever again.”
A low grumble falls from Jonathan’s lips as he starts walking, shoulders slumped, his head bent down in shame. You and Leon follow suit. Just a few feet behind him. With the adrenaline slowly wearing off and your skin still sweaty, you start getting goosebumps. Even now with the sun at its highest peak, it’s still not enough to keep you warm.
“You ok?” A little bit startled by his question, you look back at Leon, his eyes already on you.
“Yeah…” You nod quickly, not wanting him to worry. “Just a little bit cold, that's all.”
He frowns at your words, gaze dropping towards your bare arms, seeing the hairs on your skin standing up. He moves a bit more towards you as you’re walking, dropping his voice a little so only you can hear him. “Just a little longer and we’ll be back at the car in no time. You can warm yourself up there.”
He doesn’t know why he tells you that. Why he says those words of comfort or why he suddenly feels the strange need to look after you. Is it because you’re a woman? Or is there something more? Something hidden. Something buried deeper within himself that he’s desperately trying to ignore.
When he’d found you back in the tunnels, he was impressed at how well you were able to hold yourself up. At how well your resilience was in the midst of danger. The massacre you had caused all by yourself was something on the level of more experienced and seasoned agents. The way you had moved and used your machete, like you had been doing it for years. The way the faint light of your flashlight had reflected the sweat on your pale skin. How your biceps, which were considerably smaller compared to his, had moved when you parried every attack. And don’t get him started on that precision kill you did with your sniper rifle. Killing three infected with just one shot? You had outdone yourself, immensely. It had triggered his attention.
And when you got up to punch Jonathan in the face? He hadn’t moved. On the contrary, he had found it very amusing. Seeing your smaller frame march up to him like a little pitbull before breaking his nose. He even found it a bit attractive as well, though he didn’t want to admit that to himself. You were twenty years younger for goodness sake. You probably thought he was an old creep you had to train with.
Despite his worrying, he can see your eyes soften at his words. A warm smile now covering your face that manages to shake something in him. You also lower your voice. “Thank you again Mr. Kennedy. For everything, really.”
He wants nothing more than to tell you that you can just call him by his first name. To be more familiar with him. But he’s your superior… He has to stay professional. So he answers in the best way he can. “It’s nothing. I’m glad I was there.” Offering you a warm smile in return, you continue your way back to the dropping point.
He feels guilty. So immensely guilty. There’s no way to describe it. He should have known better. Should have seen the bioterrorism pop up on the scanners when he and Chris had first scouted the area. Years of being in the field, facing danger and managing to survive every single day, years of training… and he’d still failed. Had failed you. He tells himself he’s no better than Jonathan. No better than the men at the DSO who think less of you just because you’re a woman. He doesn’t deserve your kind words and compassion. If anything he should be thankful you’re still looking at him with such respect.
With you walking slightly in front of him now, he lets his eyes wander to your smaller frame. Resting on your hair, slightly dirty from all the dust and debris, neatly woven into a French braid. A couple of strands have come loose, framing your face. The color of your hair is a pretty contrast to the dark navy blue of your shirt. As he looks up, he admires your youthful face. Adorning a few little freckles, mostly around your nose, with eyes that shine bright even in the darkest of places. The pale skin of your arms and neck, decorated with a few beauty marks here and there.
The black harness holding your weaponry is tight around your chest, showing off your slim figure and small waist. He notices the zipper of your shirt had come down a bit, revealing the sheen of sweat on your chest caused by all the exertion. A single drop running down, disappearing between the swell of your breasts. He lets his gaze drop lower. To the shape of your hips. To your machete that’s carefully placed above your gorgeous behind. The knife softly swaying from side to side with each step you take.
And when the grenade went off… When he lay on top of you… When he felt your warmth pushed against his crotch…
Jesus Christ.
“What do you think of me?”
“What?” Leon says, startled by your voice. He shakes his head, almost like waking up from a dream. Eyes coming back up to meet yours with a faint blush already starting to form.
“The mission…” You say. “How did I do?” Fuck. Focus Kennedy. Get your act together.
He clears his throat, swallowing the last bit of spit, his mouth going dry. “You uh… You were great. Amazing in fact.” Is that too much for him to say as your superior? Does it sound weird? A simple ok as Chris always says to the rookies won’t do you any justice. He can tell you the truth, right?
You look at him with these big doe-like eyes, almost knocking the air straight out of him. He has to admit it to himself. You are… beautiful.
“So… I passed then?” You question him. “Oh you did more than just pass.” He chuckles, keeping the double-sided meaning of that sentence as a joke to himself.
“What do you mean?”
He sighs. How do you not realize how good you are? “Let me put it this way. Out of all the agents back at the DSO… There aren’t many with as much resilience as you, who would have faced a horde of infected alone on their first ever mission. You held your own back there. Aiding me and complementing my strategies. Following my directions, moving the way I wanted you to, like you’ve been doing it for years. You’re the perfect partner I have missed for so long. So no, you didn’t just pass. If anything I would almost say you’re a full fletched agent who doesn’t need any more training.”
You stop dead in your tracks. “What are you saying Mr. Kennedy?”
“I’m saying that as far as I’m concerned, you have passed your training. Let me have a talk with Chris. Let’s see what I can do. Maybe… I could secure you a good position at the DSO. Give you security.”
You smile at him. “Thank you sir, and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but… I don’t think an office job is really it for me.”
He returns your smile. “No… I don’t think it is. But I didn’t mean a position at the office. Sadly enough, it is clear you were made for the field.”
It should feel weird to have someone tell you you’re good at killing. That you’re ‘made’ to fulfil missions in very dangerous circumstances. Instead, his words feel like a compliment to you. A feeling that’s so refreshing after the various laughs and sneers from your fellow male DSO colleagues.
“Thank you Mr. Kennedy. For everything. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“You never have to.”
After a small hour of walking, the three of you make it back to the dropping point. Chris and his two rookies are already waiting.
At the sight of Jonathan’s miserable expression and bloody nose, Chris’s smirk starts to form. “Well well well… Seems like the mission was a disaster after all. Where the hell have you been Kennedy? We already finished an hour ago.”
You huff, a little irritated by his remark. If only he knew how Jonathan got that broken nose. What you have been through…
Leon walks up to him. “Shut up Chris.” His gaze flickers to Jonathan then back to you. He lets it linger there for a second. Blue eyes demanding your attention. Sending shivers down your spine. There’s a message in them. One of certainty, of protection… of dominance. He sends you a comforting smile before looking back at Chris. His voice is deep and steady as he speaks.
“We need to talk.”
Thank you for reading. <3 I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors. Please feel free to comment so I can correct them.
Summary : Leon makes sure, your first date with him is perfect, so you can agree for another date...then another...then...you got the gist right?
Genre : sfw, fluff, rookie leon, cute leon, language, leon being sweet lol
Note : its way too sweet, you might get a sweet tooth from it, maybe its cringe...? Idk, badly written, grammatical errors and quite longer than I expected lmfao
• Honestly, Leon didn't know how he ended up in this situation. Don't get it wrong — it was more than he had ever asked for, but come on... it was terrifying to him, because imagine asking out your first love on a date — aka you — and then having them agree instantly for the date, with that sweet smile of theirs? Yeah. Leon, was absolutely terrified, anyone would be.
• the dilemma though? — Leon was fucking panicking because he could swear on his R.P.D uniform he wanted this day — the date, he meant, to be absolutely perfect: because for him 'first impression is the last' and also the main reason was, what if he did something unknowingly which makes you see him differently, so no he wasn't going to risk it. Not a fucking chance.
• for a date he won't really ask what you had like to do on the date — simply because he didn't want to seem dumb by asking you what you wanted. No. He wanted to make sure he did it all by himself, even if it came out imperfectly. After all, he'd known you for over a year now, and having every little habit of yours, every hobby, every tiny preference you had was quietly engraved itself into his memory, and it was enough for him to plan a perfect day — not because he was stalking you, God, no but because he paid attention to you.
• So he came up with what he believed was the perfect day, not a day centered around him, but one centered around you, a day you would genuinely enjoy.
• First, he'd take you to that little bookstore you always wandered into whenever you passed by, the one where you'd spend far too long reading the backs of books before deciding which one to buy. After that, he'd take you to your favorite café — the same one he'd seen you walking out of more times than he could count, always with the same cup in your hands and that peaceful little smile on your face. Then, as evening settled in, he'd drive you to the quiet riverside, the one place he knew you loved because you'd once told him how calming it felt to sit there and simply watch the water drift by.
• And also because he wanted everything to be just right, he'd already prepared sandwiches the night before, carefully packed away in a cooler in the trunk of his car. He figured the two of you could eat by the river while the sun dipped below the horizon. He knew it wasn't extravagant nothing 'wow' or 'over exaggerated thing', but still he had wanted to make sure, he would be true to himself and to you too, by letting you see his true self, which he rarely showed to others, so there were no expensive reservations or grand gestures but he wished, you had see how much your — happiness — matter to him, how much you matter to him, and even if you don't see it — or could not — he had just be happy that you decided to spend the day with him.
• After finishing up the planning for the entire day, he wouldn't sleep all night before the date. Then again... how could he? When it was something he had wanted from his entire soul? So pathetically he had spend entire night awake, and will only sleep for an hour before the date until his alarm rings, waking him up and this time? He wont snooze it.
• Leon would be an absolute nerve-wrecked potato on the day of the date. He'd spend an embarrassing amount of time choosing his outfit — not that he'd ever admit he was spending such an unhealthy amount of time on it. Still, the pile of discarded clothes scattered across his bed would tell an entirely different story. Eventually, he'd settle on something date-appropriate, something casual yet nice: baggy wide-leg jeans with his favorite belt, a plain white T-shirt, and an oversized hoodie —which he usually never wore, but somehow it pulled the whole outfit together. He'd even spray on cologne, something he almost never bothered with, style his hair a little differently than usual, and shave the stubble from his face, staring at himself in the mirror for far longer than he'd ever care to admit, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you'd feel the same too.
• Leon on your first date would arrive thirty minutes earlier — first because he is impatient to meet you — second he doesnt want to make you wait and it genuinely bothers him, thinking you had stay there thinking he would not come, so no he had rather wait then let you wait.
• Though he would be so nervous he would restlessly glance at watch on his wrist for like the hundredth time, counting each second until you appear in front of him.
• And the minute you walk toward him, the poor blond-haired rookie would completely forget how to breathe. And the only thing that would go through his mind would be — She is beautiful — not simply beautiful, but like how it feel seeing the moon on a mystical night, you know how it feels right?
• oh lord dont start on seeing you all dolled up and so different than usual, looking somehow even more breathtaking than you already did, will make his heart do something entirely unfamiliar to him. More than that, it made him feel something he didn't even have an answer for yet but somehow he still knew the name to, it was love. And the minute you closed the distance between the two of you with a few quick steps and smiled, "Hey, rookie," he had absolutely, fuckingsolutely — was that even a word? No? That's fine, anyway — he would melt into an actual puddle right there inside his own body. "...Uh... I... you look absolutely beautiful today. No—I don't mean you don't usually—" He squeezed his eyes shut, already convinced he'd ruined his chance, and you couldn't help but giggle at it, noticing how genuinely nervous he was. Then you smiled a little wider and said softly, "Rookie, don't be nervous... and thank you. You don't look bad yourself." And somehow, that simple reassurance from you becomes everything to him. "Yeah." He had murmur tilt his head like a whipped golden retriever for their master.
• Leon on your first date, would instinctively open every door you walk through, his car, cafe, book-store, he had pull out the chair for you first then only settle on his, once you settle on yours, not because he is trying to impress you — because genuinely that's how he is.
• Leon, on your first date, would listen far more than he talked. He'd quietly observe every little thing about you — how expressive your hands became whenever you got excited, how your eyes lit up the moment you spoke about something you genuinely loved, and how your smile somehow reached your eyes without you even noticing. He'd be completely content just watching you exist.
• Then, somewhere in the middle of your rambling, you'd pause and glance at him nervously. "Am I boring you?" you'd ask. Leon would simply shake his head before answering with complete sincerity, "I love listening to you talk." The words would turn you absolutely crimson. They came so naturally from him that, for a second, you'd wonder if you had heard him correctly. Seeing your reaction, he'd rub the back of his neck with a small, almost bashful smile before quietly adding, "I mean it." And he would. Every single word. The way you blushed only made something warm settle inside his chest, so instead of teasing you, he'd let the moment linger, because, to Leon, and in reality too, you deserved to feel special every single day.
• He had pay for everything on your first date, (or every date to come), he had be offended if you even think he had let you pay.
• Leon would be so attentive and genuinely caring all day long , and actually he would seem excited to spend each second with you.
• Then, at last, on the final stop of your date, Leon felt a pang of dismay settle over his entire body — a quiet dread that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with not wanting the day to end. Still, despite that ache, he was grateful — that he had spent the entire day with you.
• As the two of you settled by the riverside, the picnic basket resting beside the blanket, you both sat quietly, watching the sun begin its slow descent across the water. And after a comfortable silence, you smile softly and murmur, "It's so beautiful, isn't it?" And Leon turn towards you; instead of the view, and his lips curving into the faintest smile, as he noticed the orange and midnight hues catching in your hair, and at the moment he wanted to ruffle your hair, and hold you super close until all you could feel his breath and breath, he shakes his head at his own thoughts, "Yeah," he replied quietly, he paused for a second and breathed, "Very beautiful." Though his words were meant for you more than the scenery.
• When your gaze finally lifted to meet his, you found him already looking at you, and heat rushed through your entire body, and instinctively your eyes dropped to his hand, resting painfully close to yours, so taking a deep breath and gathering every ounce of courage you had, you slowly reached over and wrapped your fingers around the back of his hand. Then, with your heart pounding wildly against your ribs, and mindlessly you shifted your weight a little closer to him, but leon didn't or would not move instantly. Instead his entire body would stiffen for the briefest moment, his breath catching almost imperceptibly, but he never pulled his hand away, instead he find himself leaning into you.
• Without thinking, Leon's gaze drifted down to your lips before slowly returning to your eyes again, by then night took over completely and in the pale glow of the moonlight, you could see the faint flush spreading across his entire face, while the tips of his ears turning a deep shade of red under your gaze, you smile at this ridiculous man, who was supposed to be a cop, he is but like, hardened demeanor and yet, he looked like a lost puppy, and his blue eyes? however they, held a different story altogether, shimmering with quiet longing as they searched yours, and even then, he was still painfully shy, because the last thing he ever wanted was to make you uncomfortable. So he swallowed hard, thinking if you say no for what he was about to ask, that would be okay, what matters is he tried, and finally he works up the courage while his throat bobbing visibly before he spoke. "Can I..." His voice almost failed him, as the words came out were broken at the edges, "Can I kiss you?" As soon as he said it he immediately began to ramble, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I mean — only if you're comfortable. You don't have to. I just... I thought..." You smiled widely and before he could finish, instead of answering him with words, you closed the distance between you both, and your lips met his softly, beneath the glowing moonlight, which filtered through your lashes and settled upon you both.
• For a heartbeat, Leon seemed too stunned to react. Then he smiled against your mouth and his hands rose almost hesitantly, cradling your face as though you were something impossibly precious, while your own arms slipped around his neck, pulling him just a little closer to you. The kiss was so slow and tender, filled with every unspoken feeling neither of you had been brave enough to say aloud. When you both finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless.
• then Leon smiled again and rested his forehead against yours, and he felt his cheeks were still burning as he struggled to catch his breath and each exhale coming out as a sharp wheeze. And you couldn't help, but laugh softly because how absurd all of it felt, absurd but still peaceful. "Was that answer enough?" You cooed , and his blush somehow deepened as you said it, "...Yeah it definitely was," he mumbled sheepishly, making you laugh again.
• Instead of saying anything else, he leaned in again and pressed the gentlest kiss against your cheek before pulling back and relaxing back and lying onto the blanket with a contented sigh.
• You smiled to yourself before following his lead, lying beside him beneath the open sky, then together, you counted the stars scattered across the darkness, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. After a while, you instinctively rolled onto his side, turning toward him, and Leon mirrored the movement without a word, and the two of you simply stayed there, gazing at each other beneath the moonlight, while neither of you feeling the need to fill the silence, instead your gaze said everything you both wanted.
• An hour later, Leon would drove you to home, and the car was filled with comfortable silence while neither of you spoke, but you knew the feelings were there and after what felt like an eternity, the car finally came to a stop outside your place, but you didnt hurry to get out, neither he asked you to do so, because himself he didnt want you to go, eventually, you smiled, turning towards him and squeezed his hand one last time, before planting a soft kiss onto his lips, leaving the blonde rookie completely speechless, while Leon all could manage was a low squeak at your sudden movement, thought the sound was way too low pitched that you almost didnt hear — thank to god for that, you didnt hear him, and then after a moment you turned and stepped out of his car, and threw him a gentle smile and waving your hand, and he does the same finally you walked towards your place, and Leon waited there until you reached your front door safely before finally pulling away from your drive-way.
• He drove home after dropping you off, with a ridiculous smile that he couldn't seem to wipe off his face, replaying that first kiss over and over again, already certain it would remain his favorite memory for a very long time — perhaps even forever.
• When he finally reached his place and walked inside his apartment, locking the door behind him, his face was flushed. He knew he would not sleep tonight. Instead, the minute he stepped into his living room, he pulled out his phone and opened your chat thread. His thumb hovered there for a moment before he finally texted you, "Today really... was everything. Thank you for agreeing to do it with me." Maybe if you had said there could be a next time... he thought, it would be everything, then without letting another thought restlessly wander in his head, He hit the send button, and then your reply popped up instantly. "We would do it again, and soon." He smiled at it then, another reply popped up, "Thank you. I enjoyed it too, and goodnight, Rookie.", he was about to type something but three dots to your texts popped up, "Don't stay up too late thinking about me." He laughed, already knowing he was doomed. "I will try," he replied. You didn't answer anymore, but he clutched the phone to his chest and walked over to his couch before settling onto it, his eyes fixed on the ceiling until sleep finally enveloped him, and in his deep sleep, all he muttered was your name while your face flooded his entire dreams.
I have a fic idea. It’s one where you’re cuddling RE9 Leon in bed, and you’re telling him how much you love him, with some kisses here and there. The poor man is so hard on himself, he needs someone to tell him how lovable and sweet he is since he clearly can’t see it.
A/N: Thank you so much for this wonderful request! And at the same time, please forgive me for taking so long, but unfortunately, there just haven't been enough hours in the day lately >_>
Summary: When Leon comes back from a rough mission stuck in his own head, you remind him exactly how much he means to you with a little help from a forgotten treat hidden under the pillow.
Not on My Watch
You stood in the middle of the bedroom, staring at the perfectly made bed and the equally meticulously arranged pillows. Behind the wall, the hum of water – which had been ringing regularly in your ears for the past good hour – finally ceased. Leon had recently returned from a mission and insisted on showering alone, claiming he had been swimming in "substances of unknown origin." You knew, however, that it was just an excuse. You knew this pattern by heart. You had only made sure he wasn't seriously injured before letting him off to the bathroom.
Returns from missions varied; sometimes Leon came back incredibly homesick, never leaving your side, sometimes he returned so turned on that you couldn't even make it to the bedroom, other times he could barely stand on his feet from exhaustion or from the wounds he had sustained. This time – Leon was simply sad.
You walked over to the bed and adjusted the pillows that didn't need any adjusting, then sat cross-legged on the mattress and took a few deep breaths. You tried not to look worried, knowing that Leon would only pick up on your state. You didn't want to pry more than necessary, but you were ready to find out what was on his mind. After all, that's what he had you for.
Finally, the bedroom door creaked and Leon slipped inside, wearing black boxers and a grey t-shirt. As he sat on the edge of the bed on your side, the scent of body wash washed over you, along with a note you could never mistake for anything else – simply Leon.
You looked at him closely. His shirt was damp in places, meaning he hadn't dried himself thoroughly; his hair confirmed it too, damp and disheveled, with a droplet of water preparing to leap from the tip of his bangs. Leon reached out and placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it. But he didn't look at you. He was slouching incredibly, staring blankly at the rug.
You placed your hand over his – large, warm, and heavy – noting:
"Leon, you broke the rule," you said softly, forcing your tone to sound gentle and neutral despite everything.
Leon flinched minimally, then slowly turned his head toward you, his exhausted gaze piercing right through you instantly. Only a quiet grunt escaped his throat.
"Didn't break it."
In response, you expressively folded your arms over your chest and tilted your chin up.
"The shirt. Just like we agreed. Take it off," you replied possessively, in a tone that brooked no argument.
This was part of your routine whenever Leon insisted on "solitary showers" – he wasn't supposed to put on shirts until you had looked him over carefully, as he had tried to hide some nasty gashes before. Not on your watch.
Leon sighed and – knowing he wouldn't win – pulled his shirt off with a slightly heavy movement, while you expressively patted the spot next to you, letting him know to sit further back on the bed, which he did, scrambling over and sitting with his back to you.
"I'm telling you, I'm fine, sweetheart."
You moved right behind him to take a look with your own eyes. His broad back, still slightly damp, was covered in the scars you knew so well, and between them, various bruises and scrapes were beginning to form, along with a few minor cuts, but luckily nothing serious.
The only thing that worried you was a massive, purple-and-yellow bruise just beneath his ribs. Carefully, you pressed your warm palms against his sides, checking if he’d hiss in pain under tighter pressure. Fortunately, he only winced, reacting solely to your touch.
So you got up and settled yourself in front, right in his lap. Your hands landed on his well-defined abs, then gently slid higher up to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin flex instantly as he let out a breath through his nose. His hands instinctively found your hips and squeezed you lightly.
"I missed you so much," you said at last, reassured that you didn't see anything serious on the front of his body either.
"Me too, honey." Leon smiled at those words, sweeping his gaze across your face, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Oh, yeah?" you began playfully. "Usually, when you miss me, you hold me a little tighter," you teased, tipping up the corner of your mouth meaningfully.
In response, however, Leon's gaze only dimmed further, then drifted to the side. He couldn't have made it clearer that something was weighing on him.
You gently caught his chin and turned his face toward you, before brushing his lips in a light kiss.
"Leon, I know I have great taste, but you don't need to study the pattern on the duvet quite so intensely," you smiled at him warmly and brushed a strand of hair out of his eye. "Tell me what's going on, or I'll tickle the information out of you by force."
"I'm not ticklish," he grumbled, clearly caught off guard.
"I guarantee you I'll find a spot," you countered resiliently, raising your hands to poke them under his armpits, but Leon intercepted them with a quick movement, catching them in his own, then pressed two kisses to the palms of your hands, one on each. And then he closed his eyes for a few long seconds; when he opened them again, he was slouching even more.
"It's just," he began, and you held your breath, "sometimes when I look in the mirror, I wonder why you even bother waiting for this. For me. Instead of having a normal evening, you have to check if I'm missing any limbs."
The tone in which he said it squeezed your heart. This wasn't the first time you had heard these words, and likely not the last. You knew that despite your sincere and frequent assurances, doubts crossed his mind regularly, most often laced with guilt and a sense of inadequacy.
You slipped your hands from his grip and placed them gently on his cheeks, caressing him with your thumbs.
"I'm waiting for the most handsome man I've ever met, who moves heaven and earth for me every single time he's around. I don't need anything more, it's worth everything, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world, Leon."
The beautiful blue of his eyes, previously dull and tired, now grew slightly glassy. His face involuntarily yielded to your touch. He needed this.
"I wish I could be around more often and give you even more," his voice was just as quiet and raspy, a note of guilt sounding in every syllable.
"I get everything I need from you." your hands now moved to his shoulders, pressing your thumbs into the skin by his neck; the sheer amount of knotted muscle you felt beneath your fingers genuinely startled you.
"It's just that..."
"I need you exactly like this." You cut him off unceremoniously. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be my Leon, the one I love so much." to reinforce your words, you kissed him hard on his right cheek.
Leon stared at you in silence for a few long moments, and then, to your inner delight, you noticed the corners of his mouth twitch.
He leaned toward you and kissed your bottom lip, then pulled back to an almost imperceptible distance.
"Can't outtalk you, can I?" he murmured against your lips.
"Learning from the master," you shot back innocently, nudging his chin away with your finger so you could look him in the eyes.
And just like that, you had him; your touch and your voice were enough to – at least for a moment – distract Leon from his intrusive thoughts. You noticed him release the last of the air from his lungs, his entire body visibly going slack.
"Okay, you can put your clothes on," you finally decreed.
"Can I?" he mumbled, a half-smile blossoming on his face.
Before you could even reply, though, Leon grabbed you firmly by the waist and went down on his back, pulling you with him. He landed right on your pillow, but the moment he hit the soft fabric, a strange, crinkling rustle reached your ears.
Leon froze completely, then slowly arched an eyebrow. As you pushed yourself up, propping your hands against his chest, you could see genuine bewilderment written all over his face.
"I really hope that wasn't my spine," he grumbled, not moving an inch.
Heat rushed to your face as you remembered what you had hidden there. Instinctively, you reached under the pillow to track down the evidence, but Leon, seeing your reaction, was quicker. He anticipated your move and dove beneath the fabric, fishing out a slightly crumpled, colorful bag of gummies a moment later.
"It's just... for a rainy day," you began, blushing even deeper as Leon watched you with pure amusement.
"So these are the kind of wicked deeds going on here while I'm away..." he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then he rolled you to the side and propped himself up on an elbow, tearing the bag open and rummaging through its contents.
"Leon, you literally just brushed your teeth!" you pointed out, trying to deflect from what you had hoarded in the bed.
Leon merely shrugged and popped two gummies into his mouth at once. Before he even had time to chew them properly, his face contorted into a hideous grimace, he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the sour treats with difficulty.
"And they're sour, too?"
You laughed quietly at the sight. "My beloved agent, the bane of the most terrifying creatures, just got defeated by a fake lemon."
In response, Leon only looked at you from beneath half-lidded eyes and shoved another two into his mouth.
"They don't stand a chance against me."
"I thought you didn't like them."
"I have to make sure I don't like all of them," he grumbled, giving you a faint smirk. You joined in on the brief feast, trying to snag some for yourself as you watched the bag's contents dwindle surprisingly fast.
When you finished the "meal," you sat astride Leon's hips, mindlessly tracing patterns on his stomach with your hand. He watched you in silence for a moment before blurting out:
"Next time, I'm requesting a different flavor."
"It can be a different flavor, honey, but they're still going to be sour," you replied in an innocent little voice.
"And why is that?" Leon's gaze, though questioning at first, very quickly began to sweep over your figure.
"Because I already get enough sweetness just by looking at you, Leon."
Leon's face went completely blank with surprise in a split second.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked at last, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well... that you're sweet. Cute." you mumbled shyly, unable to suppress a genuine half-smile.
Leon watched you in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"Not true. I'm fierce. And dangerous," he mumbled with feigned seriousness, his eyebrows almost meeting.
"Of course you are, teddy bear. If you say so," you replied, unable to stop yourself from laughing.
"Talking back, too..."
Before you could even realize what was happening, Leon bucked his hips, causing you to lose your balance and fall forward onto him in surprise. He caught you with his hands just before his face and, locking you in a strong, tight embrace, kissed you hungrily.
Leon slammed his lips against yours so hard it knocked the wind right out of your lungs. For a fleeting second, you tasted the sour tang of the gummies again, but it quickly dissolved into the steady warmth of his breath. You could barely keep up with returning the kiss – Leon kissed you heavily and possessively, every single inch of your mouth belonged to him in that moment, and the slightest parting of your lips was enough to feel his wet tongue inviting you to dance.
His large hand gripped the nape of your neck in a powerful hold, while the other roamed from your hip to your backside, as if he needed to re-memorize every piece of your body after being away for a week. He pressed you against him so tightly that you could clearly feel the thudding of his heart.
Every time you tried to catch your breath, Leon deepened the kiss, a low hum rumbling against your lips, his vibrations instantly sending shivers through your body. You knew that in this desperation and in every movement of his mouth was everything he couldn't put into words, everything he couldn't name. You felt gratitude in it, a reassurance that you were truly here, and a promise. He sucked on your bottom lip and nipped at it gently, only to soothe the bite a moment later with a swipe of his tongue, completely taking control of the rhythm of your mouths. You surrendered to him, knowing that in this moment you didn't need anything else, that everything you needed was right there in your arms.
When Leon finally pulled his face away for a second, you were both panting heavily. You rested your forehead against his, seeing that his eyes were still closed. His fingers against your neck were trembling slightly.
Once your breathing evened out, Leon let his head fall limply back onto the pillow and looked at you from beneath half-lidded eyes.
"I missed this," he murmured softly, his voice slightly hoarse.
You leaned down and gently kissed one eyelid, then the other, forcing him to close his eyes. "Time for bed. You need to rest." With those words, you tried to untangle yourself from him to reach for the lamp and turn off the light. Leon only looked at you, opening one eye in a suspicious gesture, before reluctantly loosening his grip on you.
As soon as darkness flooded the bedroom, you immediately slid right back to Leon, pressing into his arm and the crook between his neck and collarbone. He smelled almost entirely like home now – soap, Leon, and your fresh bedding. He wrapped his arm around you instantly, pulling you to his side so tightly that you couldn't have slipped a single finger between you. You wedged your leg between his thighs and planted a kiss on his neck.
"Is my fierce chosen one comfortable?" you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice.
Leon laughed quietly under his breath and kissed the crown of your head.
"Not complaining."
You lay there in silence for a couple of minutes at most.
"Leon?" you started again.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" his voice was already incredibly low from the oncoming sleep.
"You know I love you?"
There was a moment of meaningful silence during which you actually wondered if he had fallen asleep along the way.
"Yeah, I think you mentioned something."
You couldn't help it – you cracked him in the ribs with your elbow.
"I didn't know you were already having memory issues..." you teased.
Leon only laughed throatily and turned his head to kiss you hard on the cheek, returning the gesture you had graced him with not long ago.
"I know. But unfortunately, I love you more." to confirm those words, he squeezed you even tighter, if that was even possible.
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"And are you going to argue with me about this now?" you asked, beginning to run your fingers through his rough stubble along his jawline, slowly and unhurriedly.
"Always," though you heard resolve in his voice, it was clearly growing weaker and weaker.
So you continued, running your fingertips over his cheek this time and scratching him gently. With every passing moment, you felt the tension vanish from his face, his body relaxing further. His jaw was already slack, his eyes closed, and his breathing steadier.
"You are the most important person to me, Leon. You're my lottery win," you said softly, to which you received only a quiet grunt. Leon buried his face deeper into your hair, and though his breathing was growing heavier by the second, his hold on you never wavered.
You merely reached down for the duvet you had – contrary to all logistics – overruled by lying on top of it, pulling it over your legs as much as you possibly could. You knew that in the sleep that came so quickly, Leon had surrendered himself to you, along with his nightmares and his doubts. That even though he sometimes battled his own thoughts, subconsciously he gravitated toward you, ready to give you everything with absolute trust.
And you, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your hand and his steady, slow breathing, knew that you had managed to banish his demons. And though you knew they would return one day – you would always be ready to fight them.
Leon Kennedy refuses to ask for directions. It’s beneath him. He will peer at road signs, drive in circles, even if it means being lost in the same neighbourhood for 40 minutes, & still refuse to open up his GPS. He insists he knows where he’s going, before you have to intervene.
Leon makes the exact same breakfast each morning, without failure. This is a man who survived multiple instances of bioterrorism, attempts on his life, cults and government cover-ups, but trying a new recipe is where he draws the line.
Leon doesn’t want a dog. In fact, he insists on repeating it every time the conversation comes up. But you’ve caught him buying top-of-the-line dog treats and raw food for your new puppy that he definitely didn’t want. He is currently building a dog house himself.
Leon spends twenty minutes looking for the glasses that sit on his head, then brush it off with an air of nonchalance when they do end up falling off his head.
Leon insists he doesn’t snore. He has never once been correct about this.
The older Leon gets, the less concerned he is about saving the world, and more concerned about arguing with customer service over the phone about the $4.99 charge on his credit card.
Leon doesn’t think twice about spending $3,499 on a practical jacket.
Leon “I’m just resting my eyes” Kennedy. This is code for ‘I am about to fall asleep in the next sixty seconds.”
Leon reads every warning label. Every single one. Years of being around bioweapons have convinced him that one a day a shampoo bottle really will be trying to kill him.
Leon has an entire drawer full of random cables. He doesn’t know what most of them are for. Throwing them away feels irresponsible. Sorting though them takes hours. He ends up keeping them all. “You never know when we’re going to need to recover data from an old system. We need this RS-232 cable.”
Summary: You, a young DSO agent filling in for an injured superior, find yourself trapped in the snow-banked wilderness of boreal Canada...with is partner, Leon Kennedy.
A safe house in the ice-capped woods, a bottle of bourbon passed back and forth, and the primal need for warmth leads you and Agent Kennedy to make use of all the cabin's amenities.
Tags: hurt/comfort, massage, v fingering, p in v sex, mating press, wax play, open ending (lmk if I'm missing anything important), name from a Webkinz game put me out of my misery
WC: 4.5 yikes
Masterlist
“Welcome home.”
Leon’s voice is plump with sarcasm as he pushes open the door. It slings wide with a shrill creak, the stiff hinges croaking from disuse. You barely have a moment to forget to laugh when he cracks another one of his jokes.
“Don’t happen to have any WD40 on ‘ya?” He snarks. It makes you wonder if it’s a coping mechanism–the way the quips roll off his tongue, one after another–a shield to protect the gummy meat beneath the big, strong shell.
He did lead you to safety after all, and though you consider it reparations for saving his life, it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a little. He looks so pathetic, standing there, waiting for a reaction.
A forced smile–one that doesn’t meet your eyes. “Oh shoot, I knew there was something I forgot.”
He exhales a strained sigh, his shoulders dipping an inch, like he’s relieved you finally gave in, because if you hadn’t, that would mean he really did do something wrong, and that would hurt more than the sting of you not finding him funny.
“Well, here it is.”
You blink hard, pupils flaring to adjust to the dismal darkness enshrouding the cabin. Plaid curtains undrawn, lights–if there are any at all–shut off, the only illumination breaking into the space being the white sheets of snow blanketing the ground outside.
Now that shelter has been found, the freezing fluff plummeting from the sky doesn’t look all that daunting. In fact, if your legs weren’t still numb from sludging through it for three miles, you’d be tempted to run out and play in it, make a snow angel or two, throw a few balls compacted so tight they’d fly like bullets…right at the man who got you into this situation in the first place.
If he had just gone with you when you told him to, both of you would be on a jet back to D.C. by now, and you’d be spending the night in your own bed, in your pajamas, under a cozy blanket of your choosing.
An abandoned Umbrella facility–abandoned on the surface, that is. Inside the rotting corpse of steel buttresses and termite-gnawed wood, the building was still being used to house servers and data depicting their next moves to destroy the planet, one virus at a time.
Kennedy and his partner, Agent Reed were supposed to go in, extract the codes, load them onto a USB, and get the hell out of dodge. Except, Agent Reed was served a minor head injury on their last assignment together, and was out of commission. You volunteered to take his place. It would make you look better after all, less like a newbie who didn’t know her left from her right, and more like a real agent, ready to be put to good use.
The only set back was supposed to be the weather, not the fact that the facility was armored with mangled beats ready to attack once the wrong sequence of numbers was entered into the security system too many times. Apparently, three was the magic number.
“Home sweet home.”
You cut your eyes at him in clear warning. If he makes one more joke, you’re going to stop being polite and tell him how you really feel.
“I’m kidding,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Kidding. Just until the snow stops.” His eyes find your face and he winces at your unamused expression. “Or at least until the roads clear and someone can come and extract us.” A shorter time-frame–one that’s small enough for you to swallow.
“Come inside,” he ushers with the wave of his hand. “You’re letting all the cold in.”
Too little too late, you think. The cabin is an ice box. A Siberian chill nips at your feet as you make quick work of unlacing your boots and kicking them off by the closed door behind you. Socks soaked, the wet wool encases your feet in a tomb that promises hypothermia if you don’t yank them off soon and place your frozen toes by a fire…maybe in the fire. Waterproof, they said.
The long-disconnected comms device in his ear comes out. His wool cap is tossed down, a hand coming up to fluff his flattened hair.
“Take your clothes off–just the top layers,” Leon commands softly, already yanking the sopping leather jacket off his back, throwing it onto the raw oak table beside him, along with the long-sleeved compression shirt beneath it. There’s nothing playful in his voice now, all business. The seriousness of his tone gets you to move, mirroring the man in front of you as he works the metal buckle of his belt, the button and zipper of his tactical pants. He strips down, standing in nothing other than a pair of DSO-issued thermals, the waffle fabric, slightly damp, sticking to his form, covering his body from ankle to wrist.
He notices that your long-sleeve is soaked through, the wet fabric transparent against your abdomen, highlighting every line and bump of muscle. “That has to go too, sorry.”
“What?”
“No time to be modest. You’re asking to freeze to death if you keep it on.”
By some merciful being in the stars, your pants are dry, lest you have to drop those too. You’re left standing in your knit thermal pants and a sports bra, that also, thankfully, is somewhat dry. Leon doesn’t seem to mind or care, quickly turning around to search the cabin for supplies.
“Fuck,” you bite between sivers that roll through your body. Chillbumps rise beneath the waves of ice that travel through your veins like river Cocytus, lighting your limbs on fire–a white-hot fire, blue-tipped and deceitful. “It’s freezing in here.”
Leon glances over his shoulder. He’s crouched by the fireplace, loading cylinders of chopped wood onto the grate, fishing a box of matches from a metal lockbox by the brick surround. “Sorry. I’m going as fast as I can here.”
“It’s alright,” you say, biting your bottom lip in an effort to quell the uncontrollable tremble of your chin. “Take your time.”
And just like that, the wood ignites beneath the flicker of the match. The heat radiating from the hearth is slow to warm the room, quick to illuminate it. Finally, you’re able to get a better look at the cabin, all the fixtures, less utilitarian and Spartan in their design than you imagined the furnishings of a safe house to be. You pictured steel benches and scratchy blankets woven with threads of plastic fishing line.
There’s a bed beside the fireplace, a mattress cradled by an old mahogany headboard and footboard, engraved with swirling flourishes. It’s made up with flannel linens and two stuffed pillows encased in plaid cotton, a pattern akin to the one on the curtains.
“Come sit down,” he says in a cautious command. He’s sitting by the fireplace, patting an open spot next to him.
You settle yourself onto a pelt that once belonged to whichever animal has the warmest fur. Fox or bear or wolf. You’re not completely sure, just grateful.
The hearth glows orange, casting the room in a glow reminiscent of juice-bearing tangerines in the summer, of burning sunsets that melt into the horizon of the sea, of sticky peaches.
“Here you go.”
So caught up in the hypnotic fire, its flames dancing in front of you, you nearly squeal, and definitely jump, when Leon approaches from behind, handing you two packs of charcoal and iron, shaken to activation. They warm your palms.
You didn’t even realize he had left your side.
“You’re so tense,” he states. “Relax.”
Gulping hard, you remind yourself to breathe as he reclaims his seat beside you, bringing his knees into his chest. “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little shaken up. I’m not used to those…things…the way you are.”
“No worries. Can’t say it gets any easier, though.” He smiles and it makes you melt in a way the heat from the fire can’t. You take the time to really study his features, not sure you ever have before, not that you’ve had the time or the proximity. When he’s not swept away on assignments, he’s rarely roaming the halls of headquarters, rarely lingering in conference rooms, never to be seen serving himself a cup of burnt coffee in the break area.
“Good to know.”
His white-blonde hair takes on the color of the blaze. Blue eyes sharpen as they gaze back at you, trying to decipher the intensity with which you stare. He cocks his head, the dimple of his chin smoothing as he pulls in his bottom lip.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, sure,” you reply with a shrug. Bad idea. A band of muscle in your shoulder catches and you wince. “Just my shoulder. I think I tweaked it today…not like it was doing well before that, though.”
He hums in agreement, or observation, or understanding.
You lean forward into the fireplace, hoping the flames will singe the nerves that keep you jolting at every breeze and change in the air. Its flickering tongues warm your wind-burnt cheeks, the frozen button of your nose, your chapped lips.
Leon grows unusually quiet, and before you can respond to your observation, a pair of hands lightly graze your shoulders. You jump again beneath a set of fingers, sturdy and sprawled across your trapezius muscles.
“Let me.” It’s more like a question, begging for permission. You nod in silent allowance, and Leon’s hands begin to knead the decade-old knots in your shoulders. Your nose wrinkles, your lips purse, face contorting into a grimace until the initial pain blurs into relief.
An embarrassingly lewd sound escapes you, and you whole-heartedly expect him to laugh and give you a hard time for it, but he doesn’t. He just lets you feel the release in whichever way you need. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you prevent any other shameful gasps or groans from fleeing from the safe space behind your teeth.
“You really missed your calling, Leon,” you spit out through labored breaths, finally trusting yourself to speak.
No response, just an unbroken channel of concentration from his palms to your shoulders. He works the muscles on either side of your spine with his thumbs, the tight knot at the nap of your neck. Then, he retreats, and the absence of his hands on your body makes you physically ache.
“Wha–”
“Give me your feet?”
“W–what? No.”
He finds a spot beside you once more, leaning back on the heels of his palms, too smug of a smirk on his face. “Fine then.”
After a moment, and once you realize he’s not joking this time, you relent. “Fine,” you sigh with a roll of your eyes, shifting on your seat, kicking your legs out at him. He catches one foot in his hand with the swift reflex of a man that can aim, shoot, and kill with his eyes closed.
The pads of his fingers dig into your heel, the ball of flesh beneath your blistered toes. They knead and massage, pressing deep circles into the center of your foot, tenderizing calloused flesh.
You close your eyes, staticky constellations flickering behind your lids like the lights of a city’s skyline. Maybe you groan again, you wouldn’t know. The pleasure is all too loud in your ears, thumping like a heartbeat on a monitor.
“Do you like that?” He asks in a low gruff. The timbre of his voice sets your soul ablaze.
You’d be amiss to ignore the sexual undertones of this situation, the honeyed words he speaks, his hands hot on your skin. So, so eager to please. Your cheeks flush sanguine at the realization, beads of sweat pooling at your hairline, your brow. Maybe you’re sitting too close to the fire after all.
Before you can take another second to read further into Leon’s touch, he pulls you by the ankles until your seat is all the way at his knees and you’re on your back, staring up at the plastered ceiling, broken up by wooden beams. There’s no time to resist, not that you’d want to anyway. No, no. You want this. You want him. A moan escapes you, a sound belonging to someone far too willing and not at all hesitant for what’s about to happen next.
“Too tense,” he coos, clicking his tongue in disapproval. You rise up on your elbows to see Leon tugging at his shirt as though he’s about to dive into a pool. Gawking at the sight, you’re unaware that your jaw has fallen slack until Leon looks up at you and laughs breathily. “Like what you see?” He says with raised brows.
“Mhm,” you hum, taking in the curves of his biceps, the corded muscle that lies beneath pale skin, glistening white under the sheen moonlight that seeps through the windows. The veins in his forearms throb as he flexes, holding himself up as he hovers over you, planting peckish kisses up and down your abdomen, a love bite at the curve of your waist.
He murmurs sweet nothings against your flesh. Praising your beauty, your scent, your skin, and you melt under each one, a puddle of putty on the rug. Your fingers find his shoulder, balled and strong, and you dig, leaving half-moon indentations in the sinewy muscle. He shirks beneath the touch, chuckling.
“Ouch,” he says with mirthy sweetness, feigning pain, as if someone whose entire body has the muscle mass of one of his thighs could do any real damage to him.
“Sorry,” you squeak, reclining all the way down onto the floor so he can come up further, his hands cradling your head as he licks the line of your lips, from corner to corner, to cupid’s bow and back down again.
Allowing him entrance, you open your mouth slightly, giving an inch as he takes a mile, thickening his whole tongue past your teeth, inviting yours into a waltz. He tastes like mint and ash.
The two of you kiss for what feels like hours, but was realistically only a few minutes. His hands skim your body, fingertips traipsing up and down your arms, your sides, one groping your breast through the fabric of your bra. His brows furrow when he realizes there’s a stretch of fabric in his way, and he grips the elastic band above your rips, peeling it away from your skin. You shirk beneath the lack of a barrier between you, just skin on skin leaving you far too exposed.
Once he whimpers at the sight of you bare before him, all embarrassment and shame leave your body in one cleansing breath. The tip of his tongue makes pardon from your mouth and licks its way down your neck, your décolletage, to your nipples, lapping the hardened bud. You could deny the effect he has on your bodily functions, blaming it on the cold air sweeping through the cabin, but you’d be lying. The windows are fogged with condensation from the juxtaposed temperatures of the cabin and the blizzard outside it, and your brow is soaked with sweat. You’re burning up beneath him, yet you’re shivering under every touch.
“Should we take this to the bedroom?” He rasps, voice tight and strained. His breath is hot at your ear. It tickles.
In an effort to keep up with his quips, you chirp, “You mean the mattress that’s two feet away?” You feel him nod against your cheek, his lips still warm and gentle at your jaw. He nips at the tendon beneath your lobe, a sensitive spot that leaves you breathless. “O–oh okay,” you agree weakly, all inhibitions thrown out the door the moment he reaches a hand down to cup your throbbing cunt teasingly before he removes it.
Leon sweeps you up into his arms as he stands up from kneeling, his bare feet slapping the hardwood beneath them. You stay lying across his crooked forearms while he makes the trek to the mattress, plopping you onto it. The springs bounce beneath your weight.
“Hips up.”
He needn't tell you twice. You buck your pelvis upward, allowing him room to grab the band of your thermal bottoms, yanking them down your thighs in a swift swoop, tossing them somewhere on the floor. The only fabric left on your body is a thin pair of plain panties, soaked, but not from the storm. Leon licks his lips at the sight of the damp patch on the cotton gusset, so obscene a gesture you think he might be kidding. That’s before he drops to his knees, pushing yours apart.
You yelp at the sudden suction of his mouth on your clit, already a squirming mess beneath his mouth, hips bucking, thighs squeezing against his head. He presses your knees apart again until the sides of your thighs meet the crisp fabric of the patchwork quilt. A silent command to keep yourself open for him.
His tongue widens, lapping at your bud like a kitten at a bowl of milk. The sounds are disgusting, wet and sloppy, as they reverberate against the cabin walls, announcing your climb to pleasure.
Moaning his name, he takes it as an order to not stop what he’s doing for anything. In fact, he takes it as an order to do more. He pulls back for just a moment, long enough to make you whine for his return, slicking ring and middle with spit. He teases the tip of his fingers at your entrance, already primed with slick arousal, just circling and flicking until your head comes up and your face just looks so pretty and pathetic, he can’t resist.
He dives back in, this time working your pussy with his fingers, crooking them at the knuckle, waiting to hear your moans quicken so he knows he’s hit the spot. It doesn’t take you long to cry out for him, confirming his suspicions that he’s found your sweet spot, the button behind your pelvis that makes your abdomen tense and contract, your walls clench around him.
“That’s a good girl,” he groans against your clit, the vibrations exiling your soul from your body. “You’re so close, huh? I can feel it.”
Your hand finds his hair, fingers weaving through icy blonde strands, pressing him closer to you. He growls in pleasure beneath the pinch.
“Let go for me.”
And you do.
His tongue–those lithe fingers–works you through your climax, continuing to lap and suck like there’s still work to do. He doesn’t stop until your desperate cries begin to wane, replaced by labored breathing and mumbles of gratitude. He smiles against your clit before giving it a kiss, so tender and soft like the wings of a butterfly flapping against your hand, or the light flicker of eyelashes on your cheek.
Crawling onto the bed to meet you, Leon wears a proud grin. You take a moment to study the features of his face, now under a different light–one of affection and attraction, a n
“Are you alright?” He asks. The glossy look in his baby blue eyes is nothing short of sincere as he draws tight circles on your leg, holding them tight to his side.
You giggle. “More than alright. You really know how to use your hands, Leon.”
The corners of his mouth rise into a grin as he props himself up on his elbow, eyes still glued to your shape, drinking you in–every inch, every curve, every freckle. His chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. You study the metronomic rhythm.
“So are we going to…” your voice trails off into timid nothingness. You can’t even bear to look at him for fear of turning red, but you force yourself to. “Have sex?
He laughs, the sing-songy sound jubilant amid the dour, wood-paneled walls. “Yeah, yeah, we will,” he assures. “Just let me catch my breath, ‘kay? I put in a lot of work down there.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” A wink. “That was just as much for me as it was for you.”
Before you can respond, though you’re not sure what you’d have even said in response to such a raw admission, Leon’s mouth finds yours, once again sucking and nibbling at your bottom lip, tongue swiping across your teeth. The two of you kiss for a while, exchanging moans back and forth, hands finding the curves and dips of each other’s bodies. His skin is smooth, though striped with scars, some transparent and long-healed, others pink and freshly won.
“Please, Leon,” you plead against his lips.
“What do you want, baby?” His hands stay tangled in your hair as you tip him onto his back, climbing atop his lap, thighs encasing his hips beneath you.
“I want you. Now. Inside me.”
He chuckles mirthily into your mouth. “I can do that.” Hands moving to the band of his pants, he tugs them down along with his briefs, freeing the erection that has pained him since you stripped down to your bra. He tried to quash the mean dog of lust nipping at his heels. Your shirt was soaked. You would have faced countless degrees of hypothermia if you had stayed clothed. He was a man, after all, and whether or not you had to strip out of necessity, you were a beautiful, half-clothed woman standing in front of him, and his body did the rest.
“Inside,” you repeat in a half-moan, half-gasp, fingernails clawing at the sinewy muscles of his biceps, too perfectly sculpted to belong to any human.
“Yes ma’am.”
Suddenly you’re on your back, Leon hovering above you, his eyes focused on the cock he’s pumping with his hand. It’s long and thin, like the neck of a swan. You have half a mind to tell him how beautiful he is. Such a pretty man. He fists himself until fully stiff, and you can’t help but watch as he lines himself up with your slit and slides the first of many inches inside.
Leon groans, throwing his head back. It’s been a while.
“Fuck, baby,” he hisses, retreating for fears he might actually finish on the spot. “Just give me a moment.”
After two seconds too long, he enters you once again, the walls of your pussy stretching to accommodate his girth. “Please, Leon,” you whine. “All of it.”
“Okay, okay,” he obliges, thrusting all the way into you, eliciting several cries of desperation and ecstasy, sounds too pornographic to be shared between two co-workers.
A few swears are huffed under his breath as he presses down on the backs of your thighs, bringing your knees into your chests, using the leverage to angle himself deeper inside. Every time he draws back an inch, the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock slides against a spot you didn’t even know could sense so clearly. It’s your turn to swear, a string of curses leaving your lips. He catches them with his mouth, coming back down to you.
“Harder, Leon. Please. F-fuck me.”
“Any harder and this isn’t going to last long, baby, and I wanna take my time with you,” he says, every couple words punctuated with heavy breaths. Pulling back, he looks down at you with crooked brows. “Will you let me do that?”
All you’re able to do is nod, giving him a tight smile in an attempt to hide your disappointment.
“Thank you,” he replies with such sweet sincerity it makes your stomach jump.
A couple more thrusts and you can feel the coil tightening behind your abdomen, a tell-tale sign of guaranteed wreckage. Those muscles tense and release, over and over, the sensation growing stronger by the second. You shiver beneath the pulsations, electric shocks vibrating beneath your skin.
“You’re still so cold, baby.”
You laugh through another wave of shivers, your teeth chattering, deciding not to correct the misinterpretation. “Then you should warm me up.”
He pulls his lower lip in between his front teeth, sucking, nodding. “You’re right.” He thrusts himself back into you, all the way, to reach beside your head for one of the lit candles on the bedside table.
“W–what are you doing?”
A wicked grin appears on his face. “Warming you up.” He tips the candle over your chest–sticky beeswax rolled into a pillar–lining up the mouth so the molten wax can pour down onto your sternum, dripping down the valley between your breasts toward your collarbone. It burns so good, eliciting staccato gasps and whines from your lips as you shiver beneath the paradoxical chill, so hot it’s cold.
He moves the candle to pour more down the line of your stomach, all the way down to your navel. It dries like splatters of milky acrylic on a canvas.
Your back arches off the mattress, your skin aflame beneath the sensation of something so oddly intimate. His hand comes down to massage the wax deeper into your skin like it’s an anointing oil. Then, with the same hand, he presses down on your stomach as he dives back into your gushing cunt, heavy palm making sure both walls feel each and every thrust.
“Come with me, Leon,” you beg, pulling him down to you, chests glued together with spit and sweat, and the molten wax splashed up and down your torso. He groans into your ear, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. “I’m so close.” A promise. A warning.
“Keep clenching me like that,” he commands in a deep growl. Who would you be to deny him? “Goog girl, that’s it, baby.” His hand comes up to your jaw, fingers splayed across your cheek. “Open up.”
You part your lips slightly, just enough for him to spit a glob of saliva down your throat. You willingly swallow, desiring to have every part of him inside you. His lips meet yours again before he detaches to send an ursine growl into the air, tossing his head back in euphoric pleasure.
He fucks you through your second orgasm like a man determined, pistoning into you until the very last moment, when your climax grips him so tight, he can’t help but spill into you, giving you every last drop.
When he finally rolls over, only because you begrudgingly admitted you couldn't breathe, Leon looks over at you, capturing your gaze. His eyes are bright beneath the glow of the fire, of the candles, the snow falling relentlessly outside the window. Oceanic blues sprinkled with flickers of gold. You’re utterly entranced.
For a few minutes, the two of you just stare at each other, committing the other’s features to memory, neither one wanting to forget a single single freckle or dimple. And finally, for a rare moment, neither of you are cursing the storm that trapped you here.
(special thanks to @finneganstravels for the divider)
☁︎⋅ (18+) rookie!leon eating you out and creaming his pants
“l-leon, I don’t know if I can go again,” you cried out, your voice catching in your throat as your hips twitched helplessly above him.
you weren’t sure many times you’d come. it was hard to keep track after the third orgasm. but leon wasn’t ready to let go, he kept going, his broad hands gripping your thighs tight to keep you anchored in place. he thrusted into the air, desperate for some sort of friction.
“you just taste so good,” leon groaned against your skin. his face buried itself back between your lips, his tongue dragging in thick, heavy strokes through your folds. he sucked down on your clit, letting your arousal drench his lips and coat his chin. “one more, please, just one more…”
you looked down, your hands trembling as you braced yourself against the headboard. your gaze met his soft blue eyes. they were wide, glassy, and so sweet they looked like they might spill over with tears at any second. his cheeks were flushed a crimson red and his damp hair stuck messily to his forehead. he was completely at your mercy.
“you’re so pretty like this,” you breathed out, your heart hammering against your ribs. you reached down to brush the damp hair out of his face.
leon let out a soft whine at the gentle touch, the vibration of it causing you to jolt. “my pretty boy,” you whispered.
“oh fuck-”
leon sucked down hard on your clit, his tongue swirling in a frantic, demanding rhythm. you gripped the headboard for dear life as the sudden sensation sent you crashing into another violent orgasm. your sweet release coated his lips and his tongue moved eagerly to catch every single drop.
as your body settled, you noticed that leon was panting incredibly hard. you shifted, looking behind you, only to see a very prominent dark wet spot across his gray sweats.
a soft gasp left your lips. “did you just…?” you giggled.
leon groaned, a pitiful sound escaping his lips as his ears turned bright pink. he pulled away from your lips to nudge his nose against your inner thigh.
“you taste really good,” he mumbled defensively, his voice muffled as he tried to hide his blushing face from view.
wish everyone could perceive the Vague Concepts in my head because i just know you would looove my Vague Concepts. you would think im so smart if you saw the misty clouds of Vague Concepts floating around in my head. #MyVagueConcepts
SMUT! You've been anxious and overthinking lately, crushed by the expectations of others. You go to the Abbe, the one who gave you a new life, the only one able to make your mind quiet. But through unspeakable means.
The halls of Charenton were unnervingly quiet, the usual cacophony of mad shouts and distant weeping having subsided with the late hour. But your own mind was a storm. Another letter from your family lay crumpled in your pocket, its words about duty and expectation searing into your thoughts. You had been pacing in your small room, the walls closing in, the weight of your life pressing down on you until you could barely breathe. You needed something to anchor. You needed him.
Without a clear plan, your feet carried you through the dimly lit corridors. You found yourself outside his study, the light from within spilling into the darkness. The door was slightly ajar. You hesitated, your hand hovering, a tremor running through you. It was late, improper. But the thought of returning to the suffocating solitude of your room was unbearable. You pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.
The Abbe was at his desk, hunched over paper, the scratch of his quill the only sound in the room, he was concentrated. He looked up as the door clicked softly shut behind you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it was replaced by a warm, knowing concern.
"I'm sorry, Abbe." you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn't have troubled you… I can come back." You opened the door again, ready to leave.
"Nonsense." he said, his voice gentle as he slowly put down his quill, his gaze never leaving yours. It was not the gaze of a superior to a subordinate, but of a friend who saw the fracture in your composure. "Close the door."
You obeyed, the click of the latch echoing your own finality. You remained standing awkwardly near the door, unsure of your place.
"What troubles you?" he asked, though it felt as if he was seeing right through you. You couldn't form the words. You just shook your head, your throat tight with unshed tears.
"Another letter?" He stood, moving around the large desk. He didn't approach immediately, giving you space. You nodded, clenching your jaw briefly.
"They don't understand. They think I am wasting my life here. They want me to come home, to marry… to be someone I am not." you replied, your eyes fixed on the floor.
"And what do you want?" he pressed softly.
"I don't know anymore." you confessed, the admission making your eyes humid. "I only know that I am tired. Tired of being strong, tired of fighting, tired of carrying everyone's expectations and my own failures. I feel… I feel like I am disappearing under the weight of it all."
The Abbe was silent for a long moment, letting your words hang in the air between you. He stepped closer, his presence a solid, comforting force.
"You have been fighting battles on all fronts." he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "You try to be a dutiful daughter, a diligent worker, a moral woman in an immoral world. You hold yourself to impossible standards, and when you inevitably fail to meet them, you add the weight of that failure to the burden you already carry."
You looked up at him, your eyes wide. He saw everything; he saw the ugly, tangled mess of your anxieties and named them without judgment. And what always surprised you, was how he made it turn beautiful. He was an angel in this world of madness.
"What if you didn't have to fight anymore?" he continued, his gaze holding yours. "What if, for just a little while, you could lay down all your weapons? All your responsibilities, all your worries, all the expectations that crush you from all sides?"
He straightened up and walked to the study door. With a deliberate, almost ceremonial slowness, he turned the heavy iron key. The click of the lock echoing in the silent room was deafening, a sound of finality that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through you. You knew what was going to happen.
He returned to the center of the room, standing before you. His gaze held yours as his hands rose to his throat. His fingers, long and elegant, worked at the small, white tab of his clerical collar. He unfastened it with the same measured slowness he had locked the door. He pulled the starched linen from his neck and laid it carefully on a stack of books. The sight of his bare throat, vulnerable and exposed, was shockingly intimate. It was the shedding of his public persona, the removal of the symbol that separated him from other men. In its place was just the man, with his raw, unfiltered intensity.
"You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders." he said, his voice thick with a dark, sacred purpose. "A weight not meant for you. What we do here tonight remains between us, and God. I will not have your soul tarnished by worldly stress. I will not have your spirit broken by pressures you were never meant to bear."
He closed the distance between you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed against your skin, and you leaned into the touch with a desperation that shamed you.
"So I will take this burden from you…as I always did." he vowed, his eyes burning into yours. "I will take your anxieties, your fears, your very thoughts upon myself. I will commit this sin so that you may be cleansed. Your release will come through my corruption." His other hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, not gently, but with a firm, possessive grip that sent a wave of heat through your body. He tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"You will surrender control to me." he commanded, his voice leaving no room for refusal. "You will not think. You will not worry. You will only feel. And I will be the one who decides what you feel. Do you understand?" He asked with a tenderness that was impossible to oppose.
You could only manage a weak, breathless nod. The knot in your stomach was loosening, not from relief, but from being replaced by a different, more potent tension, anticipation, of dark and thrilling surrender.
"Good." he murmured, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Then let us begin your penance." His grip on your neck was firm, a possessive anchor in the sea of your uncertainty. With his other hand still cupping your cheek, he used his thumb to part your lips, a silent, demanding gesture. Your breath hitched, and you obeyed the unspoken command, your mouth falling open slightly.
"No more thinking." he murmured, his dark eyes scanning your face as if committing it to memory. "Your mind has been your prison. Tonight, it will be quiet."
He leaned in, but he did not kiss you. Instead, he pressed his lips to your forehead, a gesture that was both benediction and brand. It was searingly intimate, a claim being laid upon your very soul. Then, his mouth moved to your temple, his breath hot against your skin.
"Kneel." he whispered, the command a soft puff of air against your ear.
Your body responded before your mind could protest. The grip on your neck guided you down, not forcefully, but with an unyielding pressure that allowed no resistance. Your knees met the thick rug, the plush fibers a soft cushion against the hard floor. You were looking up at him now, at the man who had shed his collar like a serpent shedding its skin. He loomed over you, a figure of shadow and fire, his expression unreadable yet utterly commanding.
"Good girl." he approved, his voice a low rumble. "You see how simple it is? How much lighter you already feel?" The frantic buzzing in your head had quieted, replaced by a singular, thrumming focus on him. The weight of your worries had not vanished, but they had been pushed to the periphery, muted and distant.
He circled you slowly, like a predator assessing its prey. His hand trailed from your neck down your spine, his fingers tracing the line of your shoulder blades through the fabric of your dress. You shivered, your body arching involuntarily into his touch.
"You are so beautifully tense." he observed, his voice laced with a dark appreciation. "Every muscle coiled tight, ready for a fight that will not come. We must unwind you."
He stopped behind you. His hands settled on your shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the knots of muscle there. You let out a soft gasp, a mixture of pain and relief. He began to knead, his touch firm and knowing, finding every point of stress, every hidden ache. You melted under his ministrations, your head bowing forward, your body going pliant.
"That's it." he encouraged, his voice a hypnotic murmur. "Surrender to it. Let me take this from you." His hands moved lower, down your back, his touch becoming more possessive, more exploratory. He found the laces of your dress, his fingers toying with them. He didn't pull, didn't undo them. He simply traced their path, a silent promise of what was to come. The anticipation was a delicious agony that made you forget all worries.
"Every worry, every fear, every expectation," he whispered, his lips close to your ear now. "You will give them all to me. I will be your keeper. Your confessor. Your angel."
His hands moved to your throat, not squeezing, just present and feeling your pulse. The vulnerability of the position sent a fresh wave of heat through you, pooling low in your belly.
"You will not move unless I command it." he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You will not speak unless I ask you a question. Your only purpose is to feel what I give you. Do you understand?"
"Yes." you breathed, the word barely audible.
He released your throat and moved to stand in front of you again. He looked down at you, kneeling before him, and a slow, satisfied smile finally graced his lips. It was a terrifying and beautiful sight. Then, he knelt in front of you, slowly, still taller than you. His proximity a shield against your worries.
“We must break the cage you have built for yourself.” He reached out, his hand steady, the tip of his fingers cold like a blade against the neckline of your dress. You flinched, but his eyes held yours, a silent command to be still. He worked methodically, his expression one of intense concentration, as if performing a sacred rite.
Soon, you were naked before him, kneeling on the rug, the firelight warming your exposed skin. The air was cool on your flesh, raising goosebumps. You felt a moment of profound vulnerability, but it was quickly replaced by a heady sense of freedom. The physical shedding of your clothes felt like a shedding of your burdens.
"Beautiful…" he breathed, his gaze sweeping over you. "Free of worldly burdens.”
He stood and offered you his hand. You took it, and he pulled you to your feet. He led you not towards his bed, but to a plush chaise lounge positioned to face the roaring fire. He guided you to lie on your stomach, your head turned to the side, your hands resting palm-up near your head. The velvet was soft against your skin.
He disappeared for a moment, and you heard the soft clink of glass. When he returned, you felt the sudden, shocking chill of liquid being dribbled onto your back. The oil he usually used to celebrate the mass. It was scented with lavender and something else, something dark and musky. Then his hands were on you, slick with oil.
His touch was sure, strong, and utterly possessive. He began at your shoulders, his thumbs digging deep into the muscle, working out the knots of tension that had been your constant companions for months. You couldn't suppress a moan as a particularly tight bundle of nerves released under his expert touch. His hands glided down your spine, spreading the oil, warming your skin. He kneaded the flesh of your buttocks, his touch possessive and thorough, before moving down the backs of your thighs. Every ache, every point of stress, he found and soothed it into submission.
You were melting, turning into a puddle of sensation under his hands. The frantic thoughts in your head had ceased completely, replaced by the rhythmic slide of his palms, the pressure of his fingers, the scent of the oil and the fire. You were floating, adrift in a sea of pleasure he was creating for you. Surrender felt so good.
He turned you over with surprising ease, his hands still slick. The firelight danced across your bare breasts and stomach. His eyes roamed over you, dark and hungry. He poured more oil into his palms, the liquid catching the light. He started at your collarbones, his thumbs tracing the delicate bones before sweeping down to your breasts. He circled your nipples, avoiding the tight peaks, teasing the sensitive flesh around them until you were arching your back, a silent plea for more.
"Patience." he chided softly, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Take the time to feel.”
Finally, his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and a jolt of pure electricity shot through you. He rolled the sensitive nubs between his slick fingers, pinching just enough to walk the line between pleasure and pain. Your breath hitched, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. His hands continued their downward journey, over your stomach, your hips, your thighs. He bypassed the place between your legs that throbbed with a desperate need, instead massaging your calves, your feet, leaving no part of you untouched, unclaimed.
When he finally finished, your skin was glowing, every nerve ending alive and humming. You were relaxed, yet wound tighter than a violin string with anticipation. He knelt beside the chair, his face close to yours.
"All the negative tension has been washed from your body…" he murmured, his voice a low caress. "Now, we must replace it with bliss. Would you like me to continue?"
"Yes." Your voice was a breathless, whispered but it was the arch of your body, the way you shifted your hips in a silent, desperate plea, that truly answered him. A look of profound, almost scientific fascination crossed his face. He was watching you, studying you, like the Marquis must have studied his own depraved manuscripts, searching for the truth within the sin.
"Fascinating…" he murmured, his gaze fixed on the subtle movement of your thighs. "The body, once freed from the tyranny of the mind, speaks its own language. A language of pure, unadulterated need to be loved." He seemed to be testing the words, finding his footing in this new, uncharted territory. One where he was a novice who ruled by his learning capacities.
"The Marquis wrote that the greatest pleasure is not in the act itself, but in the surrender that precedes it. I see now… he was correct." He stood and moved to the foot of the chair. Instead of joining you, he simply looked down, his eyes sweeping over your oiled, waiting form. He was savoring the sight, the power. He was learning that anticipation was a tool as sharp as any blade. He seemed pleased by your obedience, his confidence visibly bolstered.
He finally moved, he placed his hands on your knees, his grip firm. He pushed your legs wider apart, opening you completely to his gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the feeling was intoxicating.
"Look at me." he ordered. You lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. They were dark, burning with an intensity that was both terrifying and thrilling. "Your emptiness will be replaced by me. Your aches will be soothed by me. You will think of nothing else. Is that what you want?"
"Yes…!" you cried out, the word torn from your throat. "Please, Abbe." You wanted to be a puppet, no thoughts, just control and the care of your owner.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. He had his answer. He leaned forward, his body hovering over yours, his cassock brushing against your slick skin. He braced himself on one arm beside your head. With his other hand, he reached down, his fingers tracing the slick folds of your sex. You bucked against him, a desperate gasp escaping your lips.
"So responsive." he murmured, his voice thick with wonder and desire. "Every touch, every reaction… it's a revelation." He slid one long finger inside you, and your internal muscles clenched around it instinctively. He groaned, a low, guttural sound. "And so welcoming. So eager to be filled."
He began to move, his finger stroking your inner walls, finding a rhythm that made your toes curl. He watched your face intently, cataloging every flutter of your eyelids, every parting of your lips. He was learning you, mapping your pleasure, and the knowledge was making him bold.
"More…!" you begged, your hips rising to meet his hand.
"Patience." he chided again, though there was a smile in his voice now. He added a second finger, stretching you, filling you more completely. His thumb found the sensitive nub of your desire, circling it with a maddening, deliberate pressure. "We must build the cathedral before we can pray in it." The pressure inside you was building, a coil of tension winding tighter and tighter. Your breaths came in ragged pants. He was watching you, his own breathing growing heavier, his control clearly wavering as he became lost in the power of your response.
"That's it…" he urged, his voice a low growl. "Let go. Surrender to it. Give me your pleasure." With a final, flick of his thumb, the coil inside you snapped. A wave of pure, unadulterated bliss washed over you, so intense it was almost painful. You cried out his name, your body arching off the chair, your hands gripping the velvet. He slowly withdrew his fingers, and you felt a moment of loss at the emptiness. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted your essence. It was a scandalous sight, yet how good it made you feel.
"Ambrosia…" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "The first taste of true creation." He leaned down, his face inches from yours.
Then, he rose slowly, his movements fluid and deliberate. With his eyes locked on yours, he began to undo the buttons of his cassock. His fingers, still slick with your essence, fumbled with the first few, a rare betray of his own escalating desire. He noticed your gaze on his hands, and a flicker of something, pride, perhaps, or a renewed sense of control, hardened his features. He finished the rest with a steady, practiced grace.
The heavy black garment pooled at his feet, leaving him in his simple linen trousers and a loose, untucked shirt. The sight of him, disrobed from his clerical vestments, was more potent than if he were fully naked. He was no longer the Abbe, the holy man. He was just a man. He was the man who had read the Marquis and understood, the man who was now making those words his own reality.
He stepped out of the puddle of black cloth and came on top of you once again. He placed his hands on your hips, his grip firm, grounding. He leaned over you, his hair brushing against your forehead.
"The Marquis wrote of the body as a vessel for sensation." he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. "A temple to be desecrated in the name of a higher truth. I understand now. He was not writing of debauchery. He was writing of worship."
He shifted his position, aligning his hips with yours. You could feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of his trousers. The anticipation was a physical ache, a desperate need that eclipsed all thought. He reached down, undoing the tie of his trousers. He freed himself, and your eyes widened at the sight of him, thick and heavy in his hand. He gave himself a slow, deliberate stroke, his gaze never leaving yours, a silent, arrogant display of his power.
"Look at me." he commanded again, his voice a raw whisper. "Watch as I claim you…as I fill you." He guided himself to your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick, sensitive folds. He didn't enter immediately. He teased you, sliding himself through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal. He was watching your face, drinking in your reactions, the way your lips parted, the way your hips rose to meet him.
"Please…" you whimpered, the word a desperate, broken sound. A slow, triumphant smile touched his lips. He had you, surrendered fully to his care. He positioned himself at your opening and, with one slow, inexorable thrust, buried himself inside you.
The sensation was overwhelming. A sharp, intense stretch that bordered on pain, followed by a profound, bone-deep sense of rightness. He filled you completely, stretching you to your limits, erasing the emptiness that had plagued you for so long. You cried out, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his shirt.
He stilled, buried to the hilt, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding back. He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenched. When he opened them, they were burning with an intensity that stole your breath.
"All of you…" he growled, his voice a low, possessive claim. "You are mine now." He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, a deliberate, punishing rhythm that was designed to claim, to conquer. He was learning your body, finding the angle that made you gasp, the depth that made you moan. He was a scholar, and you were his most fascinating text, and he was determined to read every line, to decipher every secret.
"Tell me…" he panted, his pace increasing slightly. "Tell me what you feel…"
"Full!" you gasped. "So full…it's… it's almost too much…ah…I…you are my salvation…" He shifted his angle, and the head of his cock brushed against a spot deep inside you that made you see stars. A loud, unrestrained cry tore from your throat.
"There…" he breathed, a look of triumph on his face. "There it is…so beautiful…!" He began to target that spot with each thrust, his movements becoming more forceful, more demanding. His words were as potent as his actions, a dark, intoxicating poison that you willingly drank. The pressure inside you was building again, a storm gathering on the horizon. Your hands scratched his back, trying to anchor yourself against the overwhelming pleasure. He leaned down, his mouth finding your ear. "Let go..!" he urged, his voice a rough, desperate command. "Surrender to me… Give me everything..!"
His words were your undoing. With a final, powerful thrust, the storm broke. A blinding, deafening wave of ecstasy washed over you, more intense than the first. Your body convulsed around him, your inner muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythmic, desperate dance. You screamed his name, a raw, primal sound of pure, unadulterated release.
He followed you over the edge with a high pitched moan, his body stiffening as he poured himself into you, his hot seed claiming you. He collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing and the crackling of the fire. You were limp, boneless, your mind a blissful, empty void. The weight of your worries, your burdens, your very identity, had been scoured away, replaced by the solid, undeniable reality of him.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, his gaze searching yours. The fire in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a softer, more contemplative light. He reached out, his hand gently stroking your hair, a gesture so tender.
"I see your bliss…" he whispered, his voice husky. "You are free." He remained inside you for a long moment, his weight a comforting anchor in the sea of your satiation. The frantic energy that had driven him had dissipated, replaced by a quiet stillness. He gently brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch impossibly tender as he murmured gentle prayers.
With a slow, careful withdrawal, he left you, and you couldn't suppress a soft whimper at the sudden emptiness. He heard it, and his expression softened with an emotion that looked remarkably like concern. He stood and, without a word, walked to a small chest of drawers against the far wall. He returned with a soft, clean cloth and a pitcher of water, which he poured into a basin.
Kneeling beside the chair, he dipped the cloth into the cool water and wrung it out gently. "Be still." he murmured, his voice now stripped of all command, leaving only a quiet, caring warmth.
He began to clean you with a reverence that took your breath away. His touch was impossibly gentle, his movements slow and deliberate as he wiped away the evidence of your joining. It was an act of such intimate care, so far removed from the dominant force of moments before, that it brought a fresh sting of tears to your eyes. He wasn't just cleaning your body; he was tending to your soul.
When he was finished, he covered you with a heavy, woolen blanket that had been draped over a nearby chair, tucking it around you with care. He then dressed himself quickly, pulling on his trousers and his shirt, but he left the cassock where it lay, a dark pool on the floor. He did not retrieve his clerical collar.
He moved to his desk and returned with a glass of water. "Sit up, slowly." he instructed softly. He helped you, his hand supporting your back as you rose, the blanket clutched to your chest. He pressed the glass into your hands. "Drink." You obeyed, the cool water soothing your dry throat. He watched you, his gaze no longer one of a predator or a scholar, but of a friend. A concerned, caring friend.
"Are you… are you alright?" he asked, the question hesitant, as if he were unsure of his own role now. You nodded, setting the glass aside.
"I feel… light." you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "The noise is gone."
A small, genuine smile touched his lips, a smile you had seen many times before, in this very study, over discussions of books and life. "Good. That was… the intention." He sat on the edge of the chair.
"I must confess…" he began, his gaze dropping to his hands, "the Marquis writes of many things. But this… this quiet after. He never speaks of this. I find it… more profound than the act itself." He looked back at you, his eyes open and vulnerable. "To see you at peace. To know I could give you that, even through such a… transgressive means. It changes something in me. I did not expect to feel… tenderness."
You reached out, your fingers finding his. He flinched slightly at the contact, then relaxed, his hand turning to lace his fingers with yours. "You have given me a great gift, Abbe." you said softly. "A relief I desperately needed."
"And you have given me a… revelation." he countered, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "A new understanding of the texts, of the human heart. Of my own heart…"
You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling, your hands linked. The power dynamic had shifted, softened, settling into a new, more equitable space. He was still the Abbe, and you were still his friend, but you were now something more, something forged in fire and sin and tenderness.
"You should rest." he said finally, his voice gentle. "The world will intrude soon enough. But for now, you are safe here. With me."
He stood and pulled a heavy armchair closer to the chair. He sat down, not returning to his desk, not resuming his work. He simply watched over you, a silent guardian in the flickering firelight, his collar still discarded on the floor, a symbol of the man he had chosen to become, if only for this one night.
Leon hates having his hair (and back) touched by anyone who isn’t you. Only you could dip your fingers into his locks or drag your nails down his back and turn him into a carnal, heaving mess.
Leon loves having you wrapped around him like a backpack. He carries you around the house on his back with your arms wrapped around his neck. Whisper into his ear and you’ll soon be under him.
Leon secretly wants to be under you, letting you take charge of him. Tell him how good he feels. Tell him how much you love him. Then use him like a toy.
Leon knows his ultimate weakness with you — his hair. Mess it up, play with it, tug on it, just weave your fingers in his hair. If you’re making love, he’ll wait for you to pull his hair before he slides himself into you. It drives him absolutely crazy, eyes rolling back into his head as he nearly sees stars. He’ll bury his face into the crook of your neck and whine until you play with/pull his hair. And when you do, it spurs him on, pushing your hips down into the mattress with his weight. What comes after is pure ecstasy.
Leon will pull out if you ask, but prefers to finish inside. Less of a mess, he says. His sweat-streaked hair will fall over his eyes when he lifts himself off you, looking at his masterpiece. He’ll roll out of bed to get you cleaned up, but not before placing a gentle kiss on your temple.
Because the older he gets, the less interested he becomes in pretending he has any dignity left.
You're standing in the kitchen talking about something. Maybe it's important. Maybe it's not. He's listening. Probably.
He's sitting at the table with his first cup of coffee, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair sticking up in six different directions, reading glasses mysteriously absent despite the fact that he was wearing them ten minutes ago.
You are halfway through a sentence when he reaches out one hand. No warning. No explanation. Just a vague grabby motion in your direction.
The moment you're within range, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you directly into his lap then continues listening as if nothing happened.
You were standing over there. Now you're sitting here. Problem solved.
The thing about older Leon is that he becomes increasingly affectionate in direct proportion to how tired he is.
Fully awake Leon still remembers social conventions.
Half-asleep Leon operates entirely on instinct.
And his instincts, unfortunately, are embarrassingly transparent. He doesn't ask. Asking requires energy. Words require energy. Negotiation requires energy.
Simply making you his problem requires significantly less effort.
You'll be trying to do dishes and suddenly there's a large warm man leaning against your back.
You'll be reading a book and discover he has quietly placed his head on your shoulder like an exhausted golden retriever.
You'll get up to grab something from another room and hear a disappointed noise behind you so pathetic it sounds medically concerning.
Not a word. Just a noise. The noise of a man whose favorite piece of furniture has developed free will. He doesn't even realize he's doing it.
You tell him later.
"You're clingy when you're tired."
And he immediately denies it. With complete confidence. While actively holding your hand. While sitting close enough that personal space has become a historical concept. While looking at you over the top of a coffee mug because he still hasn't found his glasses.
"Am not."
“Sure, Leon. Whatever you say. Now move your arm. I need circulation back in my hand.”
A/N: the audacity of making reader point it out. Hush little lady, let it be your happy little secret forever
*visibly distressed* im so normal i swear @secretratboy - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
