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Crawling back to you

Darling we both know — that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you show up injured at your coworker’s door, but you hate each other.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, cursing, mentions of blood, enemies to lovers: lots of teasing, p in v, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, mild choking, quite long await maybe..? but BARE WITH ME OK it’s good

a/n: I had this idea for ages but this cover of hozier being trending really got me on it..so as your host, I recommend listening to it while reading, along with the og song *drum roll* from arctic monkeys. I guess (hopefully) it goes along with the vibe.

wc: 6.1k

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cause you couldn’t show up at his door in such a vulnerable state…but right now it didn’t seem like you had any other choice; you didn't want to be there, but being abducted by some shady ass guys wasn’t on your bingo card for tonight either. You took a deep breath and knocked three times with quite enthusiasm, the door opened almost instantly.

“Where the fuck have you been?, do you know what time it is?” and there stood Leon with all his charm and warmth.

You sighed and looked away, avoiding the icy daggers his gaze shot, but also making sure no one had followed you so far.

“Look, I know, alright? Just—Let me in?, please?” you managed to say, clenching your teeth, looking up at Leon with a mix of sickness and plea. A wave of bewilderment hit him due to your attitude, instantly understanding that something was very fucked up for you to be standing there. He opened the door fully and moved out of the way, you mumbled something similar but not quite the same as a thank you and walked in with your head bowed.

You and Leon had been paired up together for a while now, it was hell and you couldn't make out your mind on how you were still working together, but the company thought you two were a “Good team”. Yeah, you wanted to rip each other’s throat open with a knife every time you saw one another, but you sucked that up and got the job done. Great fucking team. Anyway, after the first few months of knowing him you decided to set a couple of boundaries for yourself, a short and simple list of rules that you had to follow in order not to fall into the black hole that was Leon Scott Kennedy.

First rule?, don’t ever come near him on a tough night. Too late now.

You made your way into his house, heading straight for the couch and practically collapsing on it, feeling the instant weight of fatigue on your shoulders as you lowered the barriers. He walked behind you and leaned against the frame separating the living room from the kitchen after locking the door, keeping his distance and still looking at you up and down, arms crossed “Did you get it?” he inquired in his—increasingly—usual husky voice. God, he had to quit smoking. You looked up at him incredulously and clicked your tongue “Who do you take me for?” you spat out, taking the flash drive out of your pocket and tossing it to him along with an “asshole” under your breath.

His reflexes acted quickly, as expected, and his arms stretched to tackle the device “Yeah, whatever, just throw the valuable information like that…it’s not like it could cost us our salary or anything” he always had to have the final word, arrogant piece of shit. You rolled your eyes and settled into your seat while he placed the thing inside the reader of his computer to crack it later “What took you so long anyway?”

“Well, for starters, there were hella more dudes than we had been warned about” you replied cutting him up front, not in the mood to deal with his bullshit.

“What?” he looked up from the computer and back to you, weighing your words for a moment “W-How many were there?” he finally asked, stumbling between his own words.

“Careful, that almost sounded like you give a shit” you were proud of having caught that glimpse, but then you felt a stab of pain that distracted you from your point and made you wince a bit “Shit—I don’t know, like ten..maybe? Sorry, I didn’t stop to count their heads.”

Leon's frown dissipated when he saw you flinch and his eyes widened when you responded, realization making him stand up from his desk and walk towards you “You’re hurt” he declared in a strangely lower tone.

“Definitely not” you said, shaking your head and waving your hand as if sweeping away the possibility “I mean, I am kind of sore under my ribs, but I think that’s pretty normal after beating up a couple of giants”

Leon stayed like that for a few seconds, standing there, scanning you. You were just about to point out how stupid he looked— “Okay, let me take a look” he ordered, coming closer to you.

“Piss off” you retorted right away, snuggling further into the couch. He stopped dead in his place, his approaching arm falling back next to his side in what seemed defeat, yet you knew, deep down, it was an act. There couldn’t be surrender when it came to Leon.

“Oh, sorry…” he started off nice” “I meant that I will take a look.” then corrected himself, not a trace of banter on his face “So either you lift up that blouse of yours or make me do it” he crouched down to your knees, locking you up, so you were now facing each other.

You were overworking yourself by holding that urge of actually spitting on his greedy pretty skin. No, really, how did he manage to kill people and have that cutis?

“I am fine”

Leon tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, and for a second, you thought he might actually back off. But then, his fingers twitched, and a smirk ghosted over his lips—just a flicker of amusement before it was gone.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered.

“And you’re nosy” you shot back, sinking even further into the couch as if the cushions could swallow you whole.

“Yeah” he leaned in just a fraction closer, the air between you shifting “and wicked, too, so much that if you don’t let me check I’ll assume the worst and call the 911 on your ass”

Your glare could’ve melted steel “You wouldn’t dare”

His smirk was slow, deliberate “I thought you knew me better”

Your stomach twisted—partly from the pain, partly from the way he was looking at you. Like he was enjoying this too much. Like he was waiting for you to push him away just so he could push back harder.

“God, you’re the worst…” you sighed, grabbing the hem of your blouse and lifting it just enough to show the bruises along your ribs.

Leon’s jaw ticked. His expression didn’t change much, but you caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his hands flexed before he reached out—slowly, hesitantly, as if waiting for you to push him away. But you didn’t, and his fingers brushed over the mottled skin, his touch being far gentler than you expected.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter “You should’ve told me” you hated how the sound of it made something tighten in your chest.

“It’s just a few blows” you insisted, sighing and looking away; the sight of him so close, the feeling of his touch—it was stirring up something inside you “nothing I haven’t survived before”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick, pressing down like a weight. And somehow, it was worse than his usual sharp remarks. You didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate it.

“There is a cut” his voice dropped even lower, more to himself than to you.

You sat up straighter “What?” you heard him, but it didn’t make sense.

“Down here” he murmured, fingers brushing over your skin again, slower this time. Then—A warmth. A burn.

“You’re bleeding”

He pulled his hand back, and you saw it—red staining his fingers, stark against his skin.

Fuck.

Your breath hitched as you looked down, your pulse spiking when you finally spotted the wound hidden between the black and blue. How had you missed that?

“Don’t look at it”

Leon’s hand was on your chin before you could react, tilting your face back up with his thumb and forefinger—firm, but gentle. The heat of his skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at me,” he said, low and steady. “Breathe slow, ‘kay?”

You swallowed hard, stunned into silence.

“Hey,” he pressed, his grip not loosening. “Are you hearing me?”

You nodded. Barely.

His gaze stayed locked onto yours for a second longer, as if making sure you wouldn’t crumble. Then, with one last lingering touch, he pulled away.

“Stay here. I’m getting something to patch you up.”

And just like that, the warmth was gone.

You gritted your teeth, fingers curling into the fabric of your blouse. When you came back to your senses you wanted to yell at him that you didn’t need his help, but he already disappeared — Then it hit you…what were you doing just sitting there? Panic churned on your stomach. You had to get up and leave the fuck out.

Shoving down the pain, you pulled your blouse back into place and pushed yourself up, already moving around the couch to escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Leon was standing in the hallway, right by the door, watching you like he’d been expecting this.

“Jesus—Fuck, could you not do that?”

He raised a brow. “Not my fault you’re sneaky”

You exhaled a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’m leaving. You keep the damn flash drive, I’ll handle this myself” you grabbed the doorknob, but before you could twist it, his hand clamped over yours.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“Let go of the damn door,” you snapped, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

He didn’t flinch. “You’re not walking out of here, not like this”

You clenched your fists, the sharp pain on your side was impossible to ignore now, but what pissed you off more was how certain he was that you couldn’t handle yourself. He would always behave like that, he would go through fire and save everyone—and they would give him a standing ovation, calling him a selfless hero, but you saw underneath that crap…and you sure as hell didn’t buy it.

“You’re not my savior, you know,” you muttered, looking right into his blue eyes, letting go of what itched you from the beginning. “I get it—you're used to being the knight in shining armor, but you don't have to keep up that act with me, cause I don’t want it.”

He didn’t move, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly as if the words caught him off guard. The silence between you grew thick. He let go of the door, but his stance remained solid, unyielding.

“You don’t know me,” he said quietly, his voice low and sharp, almost like a warning.

“Don’t I?” you tilted your head, taking a step closer. Your chest burned with something you didn’t want to name—it was deeper than rage. “I think I’ve put up with enough of your shit to get to know you at least a little…” the words just kept spilling out, too fast for you to stop them. “And you know what? You’re full of it, Leon.”

He tensed, just barely. His eyes flashed with something that could’ve been anger, it was hard to tell. But it didn’t stop you.

“You walk around, acting like you’re the only one who’s ever had it tough, like you’re the only one who knows how to fix things. But you’re just covering your own ass.” you felt your throat dry, your pulse quickening. “You’re so fucking scared of being real that you rather play this pathetic hero. Let me tell you something; I’m not fooled.”

His jaw ticked, his fingers flexed at his sides. But his voice? still too damn calm. “You done?”

You blinked. “What?”

“With the speech. You finished?” he sounded…strained?

“I—“

“Just, sit down! please. God” it wasn’t the sharpness in his tone that made you freeze—it was the way it cracked at the edges, frustration bleeding through. He was exposed, raw in a way you’d never seen before.

Leon Kennedy didn’t do vulnerable. It was part of the costume; always put together, always in control. But right now?

Right now, he looked like he didn’t know what the hell to do. And honestly, neither did you.

Your fingers twitched against the doorknob. You should leave. You should tell him to fuck off. Keep pushing. Walk out.

But you didn’t move.

Instead, your fingers slipped off, and you let out a slow breath. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” you muttered.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep himself together. “Then don’t do it for me,” he said, exasperated. “Do it because you’re bleeding all over my goddamn floor.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sharp sting in your ribs reminded you that he wasn’t wrong. “Fine.” Begrudgingly, you turned back toward the couch, sinking onto it with a wince.

You thought you saw a smile drawing on his face before he disappeared down the hallway again. You could hear him rummaging through drawers, mumbling to himself unintelligible things.

You leaned your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. What the fuck was wrong with you? You didn’t do this. You didn’t let people help you—much less Leon—. You didn’t stay.

But you no longer found the strength to go away.

A few moments later, he came back, a first-aid kit in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Without a word, he tossed the bottle at you and knelt down, flipping the kit open.

You catched it and scoffed. “What, no dramatic monologue about how reckless I am?”

He didn’t even glance up. “I’m too tired for that shit.”

You raised a brow but said nothing, taking a sip.

He pulled out a gauze pad, then looked up, eyes meeting yours. “Lift your blouse.” the situation was so ridiculous, you chuckled.

“Jeez—Buy me a coffee first.” you teased.

He gave you a dry look. “You’d have to let me take you somewhere without running off first.”

Touché.

You clicked your tongue, lifting your blouse just enough for him to see the damage. He exhaled through his nose, then grabbed the fabric himself, tugging it higher. His fingers were warm against your skin, surprisingly careful.

“Jesus,” he muttered, inspecting the wound “you don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“Wouldn’t be as fun.”

He didn’t smile. Instead, he simply said “This might sting” and then pressed the antiseptic against the wound. You hissed, shifting instinctively, but his other hand found your waist, steadying you “Hold still.”

You hummed in response, biting the inside of your cheek. His grip was firm but not rough; he was quiet, focused. That got you restless. You needed to take your mind off this moment, think about something—anything—that could distract you from the way Leon's breath landed on your skin, from the sounds he made while concentrating, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. You tried to put your attention on something else, the dull ache in your muscles, the distant hum of traffic outside, even the faint creak of the floor beneath you or the peeling paint on the ceiling. But none of it worked. All you could think about was how close he was, how easily you could turn your head and—no. You needed to snap out of it.

You exhaled slowly, turning your head just slightly, peeking through the process of him cleaning the wound—but you accidentally met his gaze; piercing, unreadable—and immediately looked away.

Then a voice, barely above a whisper “You’re thinking too hard…”

“And you’re running your mouth.” you shot back, more defensive than you meant to be.

He placed the bandage, a fleeting contact that left a lingering warmth, like an ember pressed too close. It felt nice.

“You always do that,” he said after a moment.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Deflect.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Stop acting like you know me.”

Leon snorted. “Oh, so you get to fully psychoanalyze me, but I can’t call you out on one little thing. How is that fair?”

“It’s not.” you said, flashing a smirk as you grabbed the water bottle. “Fair is overrated.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for half a second—so quick you almost missed it. Almost.

He sighed, running a hand down his face like he was regretting every decision that led him there. “I should’ve let you bleed out.”

“Too late for regrets.” you shrugged, your smirk deepening. This was more familiar territory.

Leon shook his head, grumbling something under his breath as he packed up the first-aid kit. But you caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a smile.

And for some reason, that made your stomach flip worse than the wound ever did.

You lost yourself for a few seconds watching his back stretch, his shoulders roll back, his tongue dart over his bottom lip. As he started to stand, his hand found your thigh, using it for leverage—pressing just enough to leave a phantom warmth behind. Like he burned the touch into you on purpose. Like he wanted you to remember.

“I think you should spend the night here.”

You almost choked on your water. “What—?”

“Yeah,” he looked down at you for a moment, towering over you, the sudden shift making you feel off balance “Get some rest. Leave in the morning..” he leaned against the desk, speaking with such a careless attitude.

You blinked at him, still thrown off.

“Don’t want those guys ruining my work and finishing you off” he added, like it was an afterthought. Like he was trying to regain some footing.

“I think I’ll take my chances”

“Come on. It 's just a night crash”

You narrowed your eyes at him, finding the situation strangely amusing. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t” he insisted “But if you get yourself killed right after I went through the trouble of patching you up, that would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

You bit your lower lip, rolling the thought around in your head. Every reason you shouldn’t do this flashed through your mind—pride, common sense, the unspoken tension humming between you. But options were lacking; you were exhausted, sore, and didn’t exactly live nearby. Even if doing this probably broke every rule on your list, you considered accepting the offer.

“Well, I’ll take the couch.” you stated, looking elsewhere.

“When I have a perfectly good bed?” he retorted, tilting his head slightly.

Your eyes snapped to his, searching for some hint of mockery. But he just stood there, calm, unreadable, effortlessly annoying.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Not happening.”

His gaze flickered over your face, his brows lifting, that grin showing “Didn’t think you’d scare so easily..”

Your jaw clenched. “I’m not scared.”

His smirk deepened. “Then take the bed”

You swallowed, forcing your voice steady, putting a smile on your face. “Couch is fine”

He let the moment stretch before shrugging and turning away. But as he moved past you, his fingers ghosted the back of your shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

You stayed silent, listening to his footsteps retreat, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingled where he touched you while you lay your head and closed your eyes.

You weren’t sure what exactly pulled you out of sleep—the stiffness of the couch, the exorbitant amount of quietness of the dawn, or the rhythmic tick of a clock somewhere in the room that almost seemed to be getting louder every time.

It was him. Down the hall. Sprawled out in his bed without torment at all.

You sighed, shifting onto your side, but the couch dug into your ribs in all the wrong places. You tossed, turned, huffed. Now the springs were digging in your back.

Next thing you knew, you found yourself standing at his half open door, heartbeat a little too loud in your ears, fingers hovering over the handle.

This was stupid.

“Gonna come in, or just stand there?”

Of course he was awake.

You pushed the door open, exhaling sharply in the process, already regretting your actions. The room was dimly lit by a warm light lamp on a nightstand; it was cluttered but not overly messy—notes and books scattered around—. The bed sat in the middle, and a window allowed the soft breeze through. You might have called it cozy, but with Leon there, that would be a lie.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his hair more unruly than usual from its tussle with the pillow, shirt bunched up just enough to show the sharp line of his hip bone.

“That couch sucks,” you muttered.

“Shocker.” he replied, his voice raspier, a corner of his mouth lifting.

You lingered in the doorway, not willing to give him the satisfaction of stepping in just yet.

“So, couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his tone softer now.

You shook your head once.

Then, completely out of the blue, “Come here.”

Your stomach twisted—equal parts anticipation and stubborn defiance.

“You wish” you answered quickly, leaning against the doorframe.

Leon let out a quiet hum, dropping back onto his pillow, stretching like he hadn’t just thrown that into the air between you. His shirt lifted a little more, the movement lazy yet captivating. “Couldn’t care less. But if you’re not coming in, at least go haunt some other part of the house. You standing there like that is giving me the creeps.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a dry, sarcastic chuckle…not that he’d notice. He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, just laying there, eyes closed, arm resting over his stomach.

What message would you be sending if you left now? In the silent game the two of you played, the one only you seemed to care about keeping score in, would it count as a win for him?

You pinched the bridge of your nose, irritation curling in your chest.

Screw it.

You stepped forward, shutting the door behind you, and crossed the room “Scoot over” you spat, arms crossed, standing over him like you still had the upper hand.

Leon cracked one eye open, and for a second, he almost looked peaceful—his lashes brushing against his skin, the soft rise and fall of his chest. Almost.

Then you caught the way his lips quirked.

Smug bastard.

He moved, dragging the sheets aside, making just enough room. You swallowed, then slid in, immediately turning your back to him.

“Good girl.”

Your grip tightened on the pillow. “Say that again and I’ll smother you with your own pillow.”

He laughed. A real, genuine laugh. From Leon Kennedy.

The sound of it was practically mythical, you didn’t think it could be possible. And for the first—and God, hopefully the last, because the feeling was quite unpleasant—you didn't mind. You didn’t mind that he had taken care of your wounds, nor the fact that he was next to you right now. In a fleeting moment isolated from your reality, it all felt familiar, safe.

Then, the mattress dipped, and you felt it—his hand, warm and slow, brushing the curve of your waist.

You tensed, and your breath hitched. “Leon”

“Hm?” lazy, unaffected, like he wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

“What the hell are you doing?”

His fingers drifted higher, unhurried, until they reached the base of your neck. “Funny. You usually catch on quicker.” he leaned closer, his hand slipping beneath your hair, pushing it aside like it belonged to him.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets.

“I will strangle you.” you warned him.

“Mmm. Later” he hummed. A quiet promise. A dare.

His breath was warm against your skin, his lips hovering over the back of your neck “Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You parted your lips, but the words tangled somewhere in your throat, caught between defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. Then, you felt his lips against your neck, the touch so light it was almost a question—more breath than pressure, testing. Waiting. You still didn’t speak.

That hesitation must’ve been answer enough, because his mouth pressed more firmly, a slow drag tracing the line of your spine. His hand finding the way back to your waist, drawing himself closer.

His lips found the spot just behind your ear “Tell me” he whispered softly before resting another kiss there.

Your breath stuttered, something completely unknown had taken over you.

“I hate you” the words should’ve come out stronger, rougher.

He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating straight through you. “Liar”

He continued to kiss your neck, you realized he had raised himself up on his elbow again, and now had more access. His fingers began to lift your blouse, just enough so that his hand could slide, the path strategically avoiding your wound.

You let out a gasp when he covered one of your breasts in his hand, and in consequence of your daze you pushed yourself with both arms, switching places and surrounding him with your thighs, ending on top of him.

Your hand rested in his chest—partly for support, mostly to pin him down. Your breath was choppy, your cheeks probably flushed. Beneath you, he looked defeated, in a bewildered state. It almost felt good.

“We’re not doing this” you rasped, unsteady.

“You sure? Cause it kinda feels like we are”

He grabbed your forearm and yanked you back, making you fall onto the bed, turning the board over again. The mattress bounced at the sudden change. His knee slotted between your thighs, his breath heavier, his hands anchoring your wrists. You were wrong to underestimate each other, every move was instinct, sharpened by years of training—of knowing when to push, when to strike, when to let the other think they had the upper hand.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be that rough” he said, eyes trailing off where you’ve been injured “I—didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You blinked. He actually sounded concerned.

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—dry, breathless, completely at odds with the situation. You didn’t notice the way his eyes sparked at the sound.

“What’s next? Gonna kiss it better?”

“I mean…if you asked nicely”

You laughed harder at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

And then, quieter, like it had slipped out before he could think better of it “God, you’re beautiful.”

Your laughter faded, not abruptly, but in a way that made it clear you hadn’t expected that. It was just the way he said it: low, almost absentminded, sincere.

Your heart probably skipped a beat, but you masked it with an eyeroll. “You’re disgusting”

Leon huffed a quiet laugh, his grip on your wrists loosening just slightly. “Well, you keep coming back to me”

“Unfortunate oversight”

His smirk widened, but he didn’t say anything, just let the moment be. His knee was still slotted between your thighs, his breath still fanning over your face, and suddenly, his fingers flexed against your skin, like he was debating something.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured after.

Your brow borrowed for a split second before realization settled in. His knee started moving upwards, rubbing against your sensitive area, his body weight being slightly more noticeable.

There wasn’t escape from it this time, you couldn’t turn your back on him.

You wanted to keep it together, but when he reached a spot a strangled breath gave you out. He smiled and kept pressing further, stimulating you more.

“Mmh—Fuck” you turned your head and shut your eyes closed, wanting to escape his eyes.

“It’s okay, baby..” he said while bending over, resting gentle kisses on your collarbone. “Just let yourself go”

You would’ve punched him, but your body had other plans; your legs clenching and your hips moving, seeking more friction. It got worse when you heard that grunt from him, and the kisses transformed into sucking and biting.

You were sick of resisting.

You opened your eyes, shifting your head slightly, caressing his hair with your chin. “Stop.”

He looked up agape, his lips wet. Even if disappointment crossed his face, he nodded and let you go without a word, releasing the grip on your wrists. But just when he was pulling away, you grabbed his neck and pushed him into a kiss—causing a surprised groan from his side that made you smile in the process of it. “Don’t call me that”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, he didn’t object. In fact, it didn’t take long for your breaths to become ragged and uneven, huffing into each other’s mouths; nor the movements desperate, loaded with need. You should’ve gotten this done with so long ago—you couldn’t get enough from it now. Leon grabbed the end of your blouse, parting from the kiss enough to ask you with his eyes if he could take it off, you nodded. He threw it on the floor and got rid of his own shirt as well. Your heart pounded in your ears.

He stared at your bare chest for a few seconds, getting drunk on it—catching his breath before diving right into it. His lips traveled your form, being particularly careful with the bruised skin, his hand pressing your tit while his mouth claimed it—blooming a trembling hum from you. You permitted your hands to wander across his back, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips, the way his muscles tensed because of your touch.

He began to descend, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses, both his hands sliding around your curves…until they reached your pants. He undid them swiftly, dragging them through your legs with a certain craving, tossing them aside. He paused then, disheveled hair framing his face, eyes dark with longing, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. A silent ache stretched between you, contemplating each other before giving in.

“You sure?” he whispered, panting.

“Now you’re asking?” you arched a brow.

“Look, I fucking want you, ‘kay?” he pulled his hair back “But I won’t do this if you don’t feel the same, I just can’t”

You leaned on your shoulders.

“Leon..I'm pretty soaked right now”

His gaze slowly lowered your body and his hands parted your legs gently, a spark in his eyes.

“Fuck...you are” he said in a low, strangled voice.

“I need you” it was basically unnatural you said those words to him, but it happened, and you were damn serious.

His hands slid down your legs, grabbing the corners of your underwear, pulling it off. You plopped down, sighing in relief at the sensation.

“Maybe I’ll just leave you like this” he coaxed “You haven’t been too good to me”

You looked at him, frustration growing and throbbing inside you. He smiled mischievously, placing two hands at your sides again, lowering his head until his lips met your thighs.

“For Christ’s sake..Leon” you pulled your head back, biting your lip. There was nothing more annoying than not being able to satisfy yourself in these conditions; you could feel yourself contract, your legs pleading to close, your clit swelling.

“Use your words, love” he murmured, still kissing your thighs, biting occasionally, grabbing your ass.

You remembered why you hated him so much.

“Please..?” you muttered.

“What was that again?” he breathed against your skin. Teasing son of a bitch.

“Fuck—Please, Leon” you repeated, whining in frustration.

“That’s it, gorgeous…wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he put an end to your suffering and pressed his mouth against your core, grunting while he was at it, tasting your liquids.

“Ah, shit!” you cursed pleased, holding onto the sheets.

Leon kept working, sucking and licking, focused on satisfying you properly. He looked up for a moment to see you, finding your flushed face and arched brows totally motivating. He didn’t like the way you bit back though.

“Don’t hold back” he said after parting his lips from you, continuing the stimulation with his fingers, circling your clit “I want to hear you”

You hummed in response, nodding, noticing the way he looked at you so mesmerized; how saliva ran down his chin, how he licked his lips. You arched your back slightly. He enjoyed every little reaction you had, he loved the way your body responded to him.

“You like that, huh?” he said before slipping a finger inside, thrusting tenderly between your walls.

“Mhm, yeah. Fuck..” you cried out, squirming.

He leaned over you, hovering over your mouth with his own barely open. His tongue teased at the edge, coming out and tracing your lips, opening them. And then—the overwhelming rush, the kiss turning into something violent, urgent. He slipped one more finger in and swallowed your moans.

Teeth clicked, your tongues collided with each other; he swirled yours around his and sucked your bottom lip—you bit his and made him pull back, stopping.

“Did you just..?” he stared at you and checked his lip with the same fingers he had inside you seconds ago.

You chuckled and pushed him onto the bed, reaching for his belt. “Maybe”

“Oh, I like where this is going”

“You better”

You finished unbuttoning his pants and he pushed them away on his own, revealing the prominent bulge in his boxers. You swallowed and pulled them off, straddling him, but not fully sitting on him yet.

“You can take it” he reassured you, noticing your hesitation, brushing your cheek. “Here, let me help you” he grabbed his cock with one hand and your waist with the other, making you go down slowly, until he reached your entrance. You went down his length carefully, getting used to it and taking it all in, eliciting a low groan from him.

You started moving, forward and backward at first, rubbing your clit with his abdomen—then he grabbed your waist with both hands and made you go up and down, burying himself deeply inside you in one quick thrust.

“Mmh—agh, Leon!” you shrieked, punching his chest “What the fuck”

“Sorry, princess” he breathed out, smirking lazily at you “Fuck, you feel so good”

“Oh, yeah?” you kept riding him, eventually quickening your pace and bringing out all kinds of sounds from him.

In one thrust he tilted his head back, closing his eyes shut and biting his lip “Ngh..yeah, baby…Ah, fuck”

He leaned onto you, kissing you urgently, and you grabbed his neck, whispering against his lips “I told you I’d strangle you” you pressed, but just enough, and he whimpered huskily—surrounding you with one arm and pulling you closer.

You were both sitting now, your bodies slapping against each other, glistening with sweat. Your hand eventually let go of his neck and his kisses started lowering on you, sucking on your breast again while your hips made circular movements.

“I need more” he growled, putting you underneath him and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rammed into you, hips snapping. You grabbed his hair and dug your nails into his back, embracing him with your legs, breathless.

His pace grew rougher, more erratic, each thrust sending a shudder through your body. His breath was hot against your neck, a mix of ragged groans and curses spilling from his lips as he fucked into you, deep and relentless.

“I can’t..I’m gonna—” your breath cut-off.

He looked up at you “Yeah..? Come for me, sweetheart” his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider beneath him, desperate to get even deeper. Your nails dragged down his back, leaving burning trails in his skin as you arched into him, meeting each snap of his hips with your own.

The heat between you coiled tighter, tension building unbearably fast. Your body trembled beneath him, every nerve alight, every sensation overwhelming. He felt it too—his rhythm faltering for just a second before he caught himself, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Ahn..Aah!, Leon, I..”

“I’ve got you, you’re doing so good” he praised you, his breath labored by his own thrusts, his fingers brushing your lips forcefully, devouring them in a desperate kiss. “Give it to me, cum all over me, princess..Aah, fuck!” he couldn’t help a strangled shout when he felt you squeezing around him, driving him to the edge as well.

You let out a trembling cry, shuddering against him once you found your release, letting your arms fall over your sides. He came undone with you, collapsing on top of you, resting his chin against your shoulder. You both were a sweaty, panting mess.

“Leon” you called out to him, barely lifting him with the rise and fall of your chest.

“Hm?” he shifted his face towards you, his cheek laying on your collarbone, eyes still hazy with pleasure.

“I fucking hate you” you muttered, staring at the ceiling, where the first rays of sunlight were beginning to creep in.

His brows knit together, a flicker of indignation tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m literally still inside you”