free
Summary: retired and living on a ranch, Leon finds a way to warm you up after working in the snow.
Pairing; retired!leon x reader
WC/Tags: 3,756 / established relationship, pinv, shower smut, Leon’s a sap, doggy, oral (reader receiving), L bomb, fluff & smut, MDNI
A/N: for day 5 of the CWMCC2026 🐎 prompt ‘silver’ @come-what-may-challenge and part of my Softly’s Locket series; enjoy!
The farm lies quiet under a blanket of snow. Fields stretch wide and white, and bare trees stand dark against the pale sky. Frost coats the fences, and the horses’ breaths rise in clouds as their hooves crunch over the frozen ground. The barn glows warmly, light spilling onto the snow, offering shelter from the cold. Every corner of the farm, from the paddocks to the hay bales, feels still and calm, wrapped in the hush of winter.
The door clicks shut behind you and the warmth of your house hits like a sudden wave. Your shoulders sag, boots heavy with snow and your hair damp from the flakes melting into it. You can barely feel your fingers even inside your gloves, and your nose is still numb from the wind as you peel off your scarf.
Leon is still getting used to farm living. Retirement hadn’t been the easiest transition, and you try to help him. The horses have been restless with the storm moving in, and that means a long, cold day. While Leon was out at the town, you took it upon yourself to make sure they were fed and covered, their thick coats still needing extra help. As you worked, the cold had settled into your bones. You’re still rubbing your hands together when you hear him, and you blow air between your fingers.
Leon kicks the snow off his boots by the door, then shrugs out of his coat, still damp at the shoulders. The house smells like firewood and something sweet, maybe cinnamon? He doesn’t say anything right away, just steps into the kitchen, eyes scanning for you.
He spots your red-tipped ears and how you are still working warmth back into your hands. Without a word, he grabs a clean dish towel from a drawer, dampens it slightly under warm tap water, not too hot, and walks over to where you stand.
“Hi baby.”
Leon gives you a soft half smile. “Hey honey.”
His hands, warm and rough, close around your cheeks. You shiver at the difference of body heat. His thumb brushes the side of your jaw and he frowns.
“Jesus,” he mutters softly, his thumbs warm. “You’re freezin’.”
“Stables were chaos today,” you mutter, leaning into his touch without realizing you’re doing it. “Horses were acting up.”
He hums as his thumb continues to run against your cheek. He steps closer, casting out the cold in your skin. His body heat radiates through your layers and you feel another kind of shiver slip through you, and you look up at him from your lashes.
“What kind of way are you trying to warm me up, Kennedy?” You hum, playfulness seeping into your tone.
Leon’s frown softens at the sound of your voice, lighter now, teasing. He exhales through his nose, a quiet laugh that only you ever get to see.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, tugging off your coat gently and setting it on the hook. “You’re shakin’.”
Then he does something predictable and gentle: leans down and kisses you. Not deep or demanding, just slow, sweet pressure on your lips, warm breath mingling with yours as his hands slide from your cheeks into your hair beneath the messy bun you’d hastily tied earlier. His lips are cool at first from being outside but quickly heat up against yours.
When he pulls back an inch or two, still close enough that noses brush, he presses another small kiss to the corner of your mouth like a punctuation mark. “Missed you today.”
“Yeah?” His mouth meets your throat and you feel him nod.
“Yes,” he licks at the space below your jaw. “I did.”
His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting slightly to slide underneath. His warm fingers meet the cool skin of your abdomen and you shiver as his head comes back up, nose nudging your cheek. Leon’s touch is careful, always so deliberate, like he's mapping you out by memory. His palms glide up your sides beneath the soft fabric of your shirt, calloused from years of gun maintenance and farm chores now tinged with winter grit.
You feel his breath hitch just slightly as his fingers brush over chilled skin, contrast sharp against the heat of his palms. He nuzzles into your neck again, lips parting to kiss a slow trail upward, to your jawline and then your earlobe before he stops there for a second.
Leon breathes you in.
The storm outside howls faintly through cracks in the windowsills. Snow taps softly against glass like tiny fingers begging entry, but inside, warmth builds between you two fast and quiet, a fire catching wood perfectly stacked after weeks of preparation.
He kisses behind your ear next, a spot that always makes you melt, and one hand drifts higher under your shirt to cup one of your breasts. You hum, feeling electricity run down your core.
It doesn’t matter how many times Leon takes you, how many times he stretches you open. He still makes you nervous.
“Warm yet?” He murmurs, making you hum again as he straightens. You smile at him, feeling his thumb swipe over your nipple. You lean up, pressing your cheek to his so you can whisper in his ear.
“Almost,” your breath ghosts over the lob. “But I know you can do better.”
Leon’s breath hitches at the whisper against his ear, your voice low, teasing, daring, and something feral flickers behind his usually guarded eyes. He likes that, he loves it. Without a word, he captures your mouth again, deeper this time, hungrier, and backs you slowly toward the bedroom door down the hall. One hand stays on your waist; the other cups your face as he kisses you with more insistence now.
When your shoulders bump gently into a wall near your room, he doesn’t stop walking. Just angles himself to keep kissing you while steering both of you forward like navigation is second nature.
The bedroom light casts soft gold over rumpled blankets and an unmade bed, you hadn’t made it this morning because Leon was up early checking fences before heading into town.
He finally breaks from kissing you only to pull off his sweater in one smooth motion and toss it aside without looking away from you once. His hands are on you instantly, tugging at your jeans and you shimmy them down your legs as his tongue swipes at your lower lip. You hum, jumping when his fingers brush over the cotton of your underwear.
“Shower or bed?” He murmurs against your mouth. You tug at his wrist, needing him closer before pulling him towards the bathroom.
“Quick shower.” You reply, and he raises a slow brow.
“If I have my way, there’ll be nothing quick about it.”
You giggle, turning on the shower head as you tug your shirt over your head. “We’ll make it one. I want to have you pressing me into the sheets.”
Leon grins. “Yes ma’am.”
You tie up your hair out of the way as you step under the spray. The warm drops make you jump, and Leon kicks off his boxers, his length already hard and wanting. When he steps in behind you, he presses a light kiss to your shoulder and you turn around, running a hand up his chest. The water thrums into your back, warming your muscles, the cold slowly seeping from your finger tips.
Leon exhales as your palm glides up his chest, warm water sluicing over both of you. The steam starts to rise, fogging the mirror and curling around the small bathroom like a hug. He watches you, your face relaxed now under the heat, cheeks pink from cold earlier but softening with comfort. Your fingers trail higher to his shoulders where tension lives even in peace, the soldier never fully sleeps.
You tilt your head into him and he kisses you again: slow this time, lazy with affection instead of urgency. One arm wraps around your waist while his other hand lifts to untie that messy bun in one smooth motion; dark strands fall loose down your back.
The shower spray hits between you as Leon ducks down slightly to press kisses along your collarbone, small pecks that turn into open-mouthed ones when he finds sensitive spots on either side of it. You reach to the side and grab your bar of soap, haphazardly washing yourself as he slowly assaults your neck. The bar of soap slips from your fingers but you ignore it, your now free hands curling into his dirty blonde hair. It’s more silver than blonde now, and as Leon straights your fingers move to his face. There are silver hairs in his scruff too, and your brows raise a fraction.
“You’re getting grays, old man.” You hum, your nose knocking his. He smirks, a small pull of his mouth, his hand moving up your sides to wash away the suds.
“So are you,” his thumb brushes over a smile line by your lips. “Not like me but, there’s a few of them. And yet you’re …no less beautiful.”
You grin, the soapy water circling the drain before Leon turns the faucet off. He reaches outside of the curtain and hands you a towel, stepping out so you have space to dry yourself. Leon wraps a towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair as he ruffles it with one hand. The silver streaks catch the soft light, more noticeable now that he’s not hiding under a ballcap or shadow.
He watches you step out, body glistening slightly from steam and warmth. You wrap your own towel around you tighter, catching all the water.
There's something quiet between you two, not awkwardness, but tenderness. The kind that comes with years of knowing every scar on each other's skin and loving them anyway. Without speaking, Leon leans in again when you're both mostly dry, kisses the corner of your mouth first then captures it properly: warm lips meeting warm lips after being cold all day. It feels like coming home twice over.
When he pulls back just enough to look at you fully, the gray strands catching light on both your faces, he brushes damp curls behind your ear and smiles.
“Come on baby,” he murmurs, and tugs at the hem of the towel. You let it fall, revealing naked, damp skin and he licks his lips. “Let this old man get you warm.”
He bends, grabbing your thighs and picks you up in one fluid motion. Legs wrapped around his waist, your mouth finds his, kissing him over and over until he drops you unceremoniously to the bed. He’s grinning, and runs a hand up your jaw.
“C’mon,” he murmurs. “All fours for me.”
You swallow, turning on the bed on your knees so that your backside is facing him, and your palms are pressed into the sheets in-front of you. You hear him hum, and then his palm is flat against your tailbone. When he crouches so that he’s eyelevel with your center, his knees pop but he doesn’t complain or bother to change position. Instead, he leans forward and kisses the back of your thigh. You exhale, the action shaky, and you nearly jump when his thumb slides down your slit, the wetness already there making the action easy.
Leon exhales against your skin, slow and warm, the heat of his breath ghosting over your inner thigh before he kisses higher, deliberately teasing. His thumb drags through you again with no rush at all; just mapping.
He’s on his knees like a man in prayer, not worshipful exactly, Leon never was that poetic, but reverent in the way only someone who loves deeply can be: quiet devotion laced with hunger.
The bed dips under him as he shifts closer. One large hand spreads across your lower back to steady you while the other keeps exploring, fingers parting you gently before that same calloused thumb circles right where it counts. A low hum rumbles from his chest when he feels how ready you are for him already, and then without warning, because Leon likes surprises, he ducks down and presses an open-mouthed kiss directly to your center.
You gasp, hot pleasure shooting up your spine and the hairs on your arm stand at attention. Leon must be smirking, must be enjoying this because he does it again, a hand braced on the back of your thigh. Eyes closing, your hips push back against his face, seeking more, and this time you do hear him smirk. A low, muffled sound vibrating against your clit.
That vibration sends a shockwave through you, and your hips buck instinctively, chasing the sensation. Leon doesn’t pull away; he growls , low in his throat like a pleased predator, and suddenly his mouth is everywhere.
Kissing. Licking. Nipping with just enough teeth to make you whimper but not hurt.
One hand grips your thigh tighter while the other slides up to press firmly on your lower back again, not pushing down hard, but keeping you right where he wants: arched for him perfectly.
He takes his time at first, teasing flicks of tongue over sensitive skin before finally sealing his lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking. Not gentle anymore, nor very patient either.
You gasp, his name tumbling from your lips and suddenly it’s gone. The pressure, the wet heat of his tongue, and you whimper.
“Still here,” Leon leans down, his lips brushing your shoulder. “Right here, sweetheart.”
He glides the head of his cock through your folds, wetting his skin with your slick and your fingers tighten in the sheets. His hand splays between your shoulders, smoothing down your spine as he aligns. The stretch is familiar but never easy, Leon’s always been big, broad everywhere, and you both know the first inch is a slow burn. He eases in with that same patient control he uses for everything: shooting targets, mending fences, soothing spooked horses.
A quiet groan escapes him as your body takes him, tight heat clenching around his cock, and his forehead drops to press between your shoulder blades. For a second he just breathes there, warm puffs of air against your damp skin.
Then he moves.
Not fast or rough, a slow roll of his hips forward until he's fully sheathed inside you, buried to the hilt in warmth and wetness that feels like home after cold nights outside. He stays like that for three heartbeats, four, then leans forward slightly and kisses the back of your neck softly before murmuring: “Okay?”
“Better than okay,” you reply, your eyes closing as Leon’s hand slips around your shoulder, cupping your jaw so he can tilt your face. His mouth finds yours just as his hips begin to move again and you sigh, arching against him.
Leon kisses you deeply, his lips moving against yours with slow, deliberate rhythm as his hips begin to rock, gentle at first, testing the give of your body around him. Each thrust is controlled: not shallow or hurried like a younger man might be;, this is him, someone that knows you inside and out. His hand stays on your jaw for a second before sliding into your hair again, not pulling hard, just gripping to twist your head as he deepens the kiss. When he finally breaks it to breathe, he nuzzles along your cheekbone and down to press soft kisses under your ear.
The room smells like steam from earlier and sex now, the musky sweetness of skin warmed by effort, and outside the storm has quieted into gentle flurries. Leon’s tongue licks into your mouth and he tastes like coffee, making your back bend even more.
“Fuck,” you whisper and his hand moves downward, palming over the meat of your ass before squeezing the flesh. Leon grunts at the sound of your voice, like a switch flipped. His grip tightens on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with his large hand before sliding lower to spread you slightly.
It’s possessive. So Leon.
He angles himself just right and picks up speed not reckless, but with more purpose now, deeper strokes that make the bed creak softly under you both. Each thrust rolls through him into you,he's not bouncing or slamming but each movement is full-body intention, hips forward, back arching to drive in deeper.
His other arm wraps around beneath your breast, hauling you to stand on your knees and suddenly pulls you flush against him so there's no space between bodies at all—chest to back. You moan, and it feels so good that you nearly topple forward.
“Oh Leon.” you whisper, raising your arm to card your fingers through his hair. It’s a clumsy movement, jarring by his thrusts but you need to feel him, touch him as much as possible. He hums, his mouth at the back of your neck and the fingers in your hair loosen, sliding down your side and palming at your breast.
His touch is careful on your breast, his thumb brushing over the peak in slow circles, teasing, testing how sensitive you are. The other arm stays locked around your waist like a steel band, holding you up as he drives into you with that steady rhythm.
His lips return to the back of your neck, soft bites now and kisses that follow each one. He nips at the tendon there and then soothes it with his tongue. He adjusts slightly, the angle changes, and suddenly every thrust hits *that spot*, deep inside where pleasure coils tightest. You gasp loudly this time, and your eyes squeeze shut as you clench around him.
“Fuck.” He chokes out, and there’s a warmth in your gut that you barely register as your own orgasm ripples through you. He squeezes your breast as you pull on his hair, harder than you mean to but you can apologize later. Right now, you simply need your anchor.
Leon feels you clench around him, tight, pulsing waves, and his breath stutters like a gunshot misfire. He doesn’t stop moving, but the rhythm fractures for half a second as your body milks him through the crest of your orgasm.
Your fingers in his hair? The sharp tug? It sends white-hot electricity down his spine. A low groan rumbles from deep in his chest and he presses closer, mouth open on your shoulder now, teeth grazing skin without breaking it.
His thrusts are erratic until he’s spent, his sweat slicked chest sticky to yours as you bend forward, and crawl up the bed a bit, his cock bouncing as you move away. You glance over your shoulder at him, your farmer, and you smile.
Leon is still breathing hard, and sits on the edge of the bed before flopping onto his back. He runs a hand through his hair and you giggle.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mm,” he exhales through his nose. “That tells me it’s somethin’.”
You crawl over to him, his seed sticky between your thighs but you’re too tired to care. Your cheek presses to his shoulder, and he turns his head, his angle upside down in your vision. Leon blinks at you upside down for a second before turning his head the rest of the way to press a slow kiss to your forehead.
One arm lifts automatically and drapes over your shoulders like an anchor line. He pulls you closer until your chest rests against his side completely. His heartbeat thuds steadily under your ear, strong but slowing down now as adrenaline fades into contentment. Outside, snow keeps falling quietly over fences and fields he’d checked twice that morning before leaving for town.
“Think I need to marry you,” He murmurs and you laugh. “Before you slip away. I’m never letting that go.”
“Marriage is overrated,” you hum, sitting up slightly to look down at him. “Besides, we’re too old at this point, and we both know I’m your old maid.”
Leon’s face does something complicated at that, eyes narrowing slightly, not in anger but offense. He reaches up and flicks your forehead lightly.
“Old maid?” he repeats, voice dry as corn husks. “You’re thirty-five.” He sits up too then, ignoring the soreness in his back because this is important now, a correction. He grabs your chin in a firm hold and kisses you. Not soft or sweet like before; this one’s claiming. When he pulls back an inch, he murmurs. “We’re getting married next spring.”
He says flatly, like it's decided already by God and farming calendars alike. No question mark there either.
“Oh yeah?” You raise both your eyebrows and he nods. You smile, shifting forward to cup the side of his face. “Leon, I don’t need all that to know I love you.”
Leon exhales through his nose, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as you cup his face. His skin is warm, stubble rough under your palm.
“I know,” he says quietly. “I know that.” He leans into your touch for a second before turning to press a kiss right in the center of your hand. “But I wanna do it right. Want you walkin’ down an aisle toward me in front of everybody we know. Want rings and vows and cake that tastes like crap but everyone eats ‘cause they’re happy.”
His thumb brushes over your wrist where it rests against him, calloused fingers gentle despite their strength from years of labor. You watch the action, your lips twisting before you nod.
“Alright.”
Leon grins, his thumb pressing into your wrist. “Yeah?”
Still naked, still warm from his skin on yours, you lean up, and brush your lips softly against his. “Yeah Leon. I’ll marry you.”
Leon’s grin widens, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and shows a flash of white teeth. It's rare to see him this openly joyful, usually it's quiet satisfaction or stoic pride. He kisses you back, slow and sweet this time, pouring all that I’m-getting-what-I-wanted attitude into it. Then he scoops you up suddenly, effortlessly, and rolls so your back hits the mattress with him half on top of you.
One hand finds yours beside your head and laces fingers together while he stares down at you like you're his miracle, not land restored or a good harvest, but this. You saying yes, choosing him forever.
“Love ya,” he murmurs, stooping to kiss your nose. You giggle, eyes crinkling before opening them again to look up at him.
“Love you too, Kennedy.”
x
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