Spoilers for major plot points of Resident Evil Requiem
[RE9!Leon / CIA Agent!Wife!Reader]
(You’re waiting for the call that will make you a widow. And then the front door opens.)
Word Count: ~ 4.7k
Rating: E - a lot of hurt, a lot of comfort, some very emotional smut in between
Author's Note: So this is me coping and my version of this scene we all apparently need. Love all the different takes I've seen so far, and all aimed to just give Leon the peace he deserves. I sat with a lot of unpeaceful feelings for quite a few days and am a little embarassed actually that this game had such a big impact on me. I really got emotional damage from this, from Leon's whole arc (no pun intended), from going through Raccoon City, from effing Victor Gideon writing that damn note what the helly...all the way to where we now stand. Writing it down and talking to some people helped a lot though 🥰 I don't know why but I see Leon being married to another Agent, it crystallized for me over time. Glad we can cope together. All the love, Milli 💕
Somewhere in that dim space between sleep and consciousness, your mind betrayed you.
It tormented you with the single worst nightmare your brain could conjure – showing you distorted faces of strangers, a revolver, blood. He was on his knees, holding himself upright for as long as he could, because he wouldn’t give up until the very last second. But what your mind wanted to show you was that last second.
You knew it was a dream. You fought against it with everything you had, trying to claw your way back to reality – the one where you had forced yourself to stay awake for over 24 hours, nerves strung tight like wire, your eyes glued to your laptop, searching for an answer.
Exhaustion had overtaken you. And the moment your eyes closed, something slipped in that your waking mind would never allow: hopelessness.
You were half there, half here. The presence of the computer mouse in your hand clashed violently with the horrific image behind your closed eyelids. The way he coughed up blood, the black markings now everywhere – his hands, his arms, his face.
It was as if he was looking at you one last time. When he spoke, no sound left his lips – but you knew the movement better than anyone. Three words, unmistakable:
“I love you.”
A gunshot – your scream made real. It tore from your throat and jolted your body upright. You looked around wildly, half-expecting it all to have been nothing but a nightmare, that your husband would rush into the room and ask what had happened.
It didn’t take long to realize that being awake wasn’t any better than the torment of sleep. The real world was hardly kinder. Your dry throat ached as you swallowed, your racing heart refused to slow, just like the panic twisting in your stomach.
Your laptop still sat open in the darkness of the ongoing night. Your desk was covered in stacks of folders – more or less illegally obtained and printed documents – and a long list of numbers. People who still owed you a favor or two.
Despite your position at the CIA, despite digging deep into the servers, despite giving Sherry every bit of access she needed – no matter the consequences – you had hit nothing but dead ends. And now you hadn’t heard from Sherry in far too long.
You expected the call any second. The one telling you that you were a widow. Those calls always came no matter what time it was.
If only you had gone with him. You were just as trained. Just as resourceful. Just on a different side of the government.
But he hadn’t allowed it. Said he wouldn’t be able to focus if he had to worry about you.
Not that you weren’t used to it. Not that you didn’t know the dangers. You had always lived with the risks of the job.
But this time was different.
This time, Leon wasn’t fighting something – not the next bioweapon.
He was fighting time.
By the time Sherry had given you the update about the Raccoon City Syndrome – ridiculous name – Leon had already been too far away. You never would’ve caught up to him. And Sherry had convinced you, far too skillfully, that the two of you could help him best by continuing to search for answers.
Rarely had you ever felt this helpless. If Leon died, you would die. You might both be trained agents, but when all was said and done, you were just two people. And you couldn’t live with the knowledge that you hadn’t saved your husband. You couldn’t carry the same burden he had all these years. You weren’t that strong. Not like him.
You were just about to reach for your phone – to call Sherry again, or try Chris, or Rebecca, anyone who might know something – when a familiar sound ripped your body out of the desk chair before your mind could even process it.
The apartment door.
You stumbled forward, bracing your hands against the doorframe, forcing yourself upright through a dizzy spell. Your vision was still blurred as you stared into the hallway.
With sheer willpower, you waited for your sight to steady – until you could finally focus on the figure standing down the hall.
A heavy breath left you.
He stood there. Holding a damn bouquet of flowers.
The contrast was almost absurd. The bouquet was full of bright, untouched blossoms – and he looked like he’d been dragged through hell. His clothes were dirty, his face covered in cuts – yet there was a careful smile on his lips.
One heartbeat passed.
“Hey honey… I’m home.”
There was hesitation in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay for him to be here.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, the last bit of air leaving your lungs.
You pushed off and crossed the distance between you as fast as you could.
Leon knew.
As you ran toward him, his shoulders dropped, his gaze melting into something soft – devotion, exhaustion – and he opened his arms just as you reached for him.
The paper around the bouquet crinkled as your bodies collided. His arms were strong, just like you remembered, wrapping tightly around you. He pulled you in with force, his large frame folding into yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder.
Standing on your toes, you pressed yourself into him, clinging to his familiar, broad shoulders, reveling in the fact that he was here – that he was breathing, that you could feel him.
“What happened?” you asked, trying to pull back, but he only held on tighter, didn’t answer.
“Leon,” you insisted, loosening your grip from around his neck and pressing against his upper arms.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss there.
“Why are you sorry?” you asked quietly, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re shaking.”
With his request that you stay behind – that you help Sherry search for a cure instead of going into the field with him – he had asked everything of you. He knew that. He could never tell you how close he had come to shaking hands with death. Never tell you how many times he had thought of you, how many times he feared he wouldn’t be able to make it right.
Only the thought that you were safe from the most dangerous virus in the world had kept him going. And in the end, even that reason would have been futile.
Leon could never tell you that this time, he hadn’t even been able to save himself.
“It’s okay.” You pressed gently against his arms again, and this time, Leon let you push him back.
Your gazes locked as your hands traced the contours of his arms, all the way down to where his hands now rested on your hips.
No gloves. His skin was smooth. You felt his wedding band beneath your fingers.
Your eyes flicked to his neck – to the spot that had already been blackened when he left.
No black marks. No Raccoon City Syndrome.
Relief flooded your entire system.
You guided his hands forward, took the bouquet from him, and set it down on the counter beside you. His palms were warm in yours – no trace left of the illness that had been consuming him, the reason he had to leave, the reason everything in you had been so certain there would be no way out this time.
“What happened?” you asked again, finding his eyes “The last thing I heard from Sherry was that you found ARK.” Your hand rose to his cheek, fingers slipping into his hair, your thumb tracing along his jaw – anything to make sure he was really here. “What happened down there, Leon?”
Leon caught your wandering hand, never once breaking eye contact – not even as he pressed a kiss into your palm.
Waiting for answers was becoming unbearable. You had to suppress the urge to shake him, while he simply looked down at you with so much love in his eyes that your chest tightened.
How close had you really come to losing him?
“A lot,” he finally said. “I’ll tell you everything… under the shower? Look – I got blood and dirt all over you.”
His hand brushed over your neck, trying to wipe away the mixture of blood and grime from your skin. Sherry hadn’t been able to reach you, your phone probably dead from not being charged as you somehow managed to forget regularly – so Leon hadn’t wasted a second.
He had come straight home.
Straight back to you.
“Yeah… okay,” you agreed quickly. You just wanted to feel him – to wash away what had happened to him, to wash away Raccoon City.
Even if that would never truly be possible… you would try. Again and again.
Leon let out a quiet, satisfied sigh as warm water cascaded over his head. He ran a hand through his hair, then over his face. Dirty streams trailed down his solid frame.
With careful fingertips, you traced the numerous cuts and bruises. Aside from the usual injuries after an intense mission, he looked… good.
Not just good – he carried himself differently. Straighter. Lighter, somehow.
“Elpis wasn’t a virus,” Leon began without preamble. “Pass me the shampoo?”
You reached behind you to the shelf, opened the shampoo – the one you had insisted your husband use instead of his beloved 5-in-1 shampoo, shower gel, industrial filler – and poured some into your hands.
“So it was a cure?”
Leon’s gaze dropped to you, soft, yielding – taking in the way the water beaded over your hair, the shine in your eyes as you lifted your arms and let your fingers slide into his.
“Yeah,” he confirmed your, quite obvious, conclusion. If Elpis wasn’t a virus, not a bioweapon, then it had to be a cure. “Actually… a cure for everything. Every virus out there.”
Leon closed his eyes, savoring the gentle pressure of your fingers against his scalp. Another low, content sound rumbled from his chest. His large hands found your body, gliding over your soft, wet skin.
God, it felt good to touch you. To know he had time again – time with you.
“Well, thank god.” You exhaled deeply, not even willing to begin unpacking what a universal antiviral would mean for the world. The only thing that mattered was that it had saved your husband. “How did you find out?”
Your hands slipped from his hair, down along his neck, over his shoulders, his arms, flattening against his strong chest – a silent cue for him to rinse.
The foam washed away everything on the surface. Dirt loosened from his hair, from his skin – but like always, so much remained. This time, even with Elpis offering a chance to make things right… the memories of Raccoon City clung stubbornly.
“I didn’t,” Leon said, tipping his head back into the stream of water. “It was Grace.”
“Grace?” you echoed, surprised for only a second before collecting yourself. Anyone in this line of work knew how quickly people could be pushed beyond their limits.
The FBI girl had saved your husband.
You gave a tired smile. “Guess I’ll have to write her a thank-you note, then.”
You swallowed the small pang of regret – that it hadn’t been you. You couldn’t have done what Grace did. Couldn’t have set the same chain of events into motion.
Leon chuckled softly.
“Come here,” he murmured, opening his arms, inviting you in.
You melted into him, skin against skin beneath the steady rain of the shower. The water drummed gently against your head, and a quiet calm settled in – until you felt the crushing exhaustion of the past day begin to catch up with you, adrenaline slowly draining away.
“Tell me what happened down there,” you mumbled anyway, your ear pressed to his chest, eyes closed, listening for his heartbeat.
“Mhm,” he hummed, his hands moving up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “Okay… but don’t get mad.”
You smiled faintly. “Try me.”
Leon couldn’t really refuse you, not when you asked like that. The least he could do was soften the edges. Leave out some amounts of blood he’d coughed up, the brief blackout in the dump – anything that might reveal just how close he had come to dying.
But it was enough.
Cold fear crept back into your body as he spoke. You knew your husband. He hid the worst of it behind cheeky remarks and bad jokes. He couldn’t fool you.
He had almost died.
And worse – he had been forced to relive it all. Raccoon City. The R.P.D., files you knew, too. You didn’t press him about what it had felt like, not directly – but your heart cracked when he made a passing remark about the West Office, the “WELCOME LEON” banner, and Gideon's note beside it. Just a throwaway comment, but you heard it.
“Jesus. If that asshole wasn’t already dead, I’d go and shoot him myself,” you muttered.
You were lying in bed now, facing each other, having done little more than dry off before collapsing naked into the familiar sheets, shutting the world out.
Leon let out a quiet laugh. “I bet you would, baby.”
You studied his face closely. The face you knew like the back of your hand, and yet… different. Softer, somehow. Some of the lines smoothed out, the blue of his eyes deeper again, his complexion healthier.
Strange, how used you had become to a sick version of your husband.
Strange, how much the virus had actually taken from him over the years.
It was unbearable to think about.
“You look good,” you whispered.
Your wedding ring caught a soft ray of the rising sun as you lifted your hand to brush a strand of hair from his face, the light slipping through a narrow gap in the heavy curtains of your bedroom, drawn tight to keep the outside from ever touching him again.
“Feel good.”
Gentle fingers traced along your upper arm, your bodies completely wrapped in the weight of the warm, fluffy blanket. Heat spread around you and between you. Now that he lay beside you – alive, breathing, and for the foreseeable future – you finally began to settle again. Not least because of his way of taking everything so lightly. It rubbed off on you, whether you wanted it to or not. His content expression rested slightly crumpled against his bent, strong bicep, affection in his eyes as you continued to touch each other softly.
With the calm, however, came concern, and you found yourself worrying more about his mental state than his physical one.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice stayed quiet, as if you didn’t want the world to hear words meant only for him in this moment.
His gaze grew a little more serious, but the soothing movement of his fingers on your skin didn’t stop.
“That you had to go back there,” you finished your thought. “I hate it. Even if it – right there –” you could hardly grasp it yourself, that the last piece of Raccoon City inside him could only be destroyed in Raccoon City itself, “ – even if there was no other way. Just the thought of it is torture to me. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”
Your heart felt heavy. There were so many questions on the tip of your tongue – questions that could potentially break you. First, you needed to calm down, to process Leon’s return, his healing. Then, maybe then, you could confront him with them.
A warm, living hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.
“It’s okay. I’m actually glad you weren’t there for it. It was ugly.”
“I can handle ugly,” you replied quickly.
“I know.” His face moved closer. “But I couldn’t have handled watching you suffer for me.”
You sighed. You understood. You really did. But you wished so much you had been at his side. Even with Grace, so you could have helped them both.
“I love you.” His hand slipped into your damp hair, resting at the back of your neck.
You let yourself be drawn in by the gentle pressure and his even gentler eyes, giving in as you closed the last distance between you.
His lips were as soft as ever as they met yours with a reverence you could only describe as worshipful. Feeling him again, after those endless hours of fear, was like breaking the surface for air – though with every movement of his mouth against yours, he stole more and more of that breath away.
His large body, which had lingered at a loving distance just to take you in, shifted closer until warm skin met yours – and it felt more like coming home than walking through that door ever could have. And suddenly, it was impossible for Leon to imagine a reality where he didn’t return to you. As always, after he had nearly lost his life.
But this time, something was different. This time, he had been healed of something that had plagued him all along, without him even knowing it, until it had almost been too late. The last piece of Raccoon City had been purged from his body. The memories remained, but the past no longer possessed him. Not in the way that made him chase something unreachable.
He felt you in an entirely new way – his beautiful, strong wife, who knew everything about him and had chosen to marry him anyway. Who gave him safety in a world where nothing was safe. His anchor – no, his harbor – where he could simply… be. No expectations. No hero. No agent. Just a husband who wanted to make his wife happy.
He would make it up to you.
His hand moved to the curve of your neck, gently tipping your head back. You followed, opening yourself to him, your arm draped over his solid body. Leon murmured softly against you – the kiss deepened, more sensual now, just a touch hungry. Skin brushed against skin, fanning slow-burning flames within both of you – that ever-present fire that would never go out.
It grew hotter, warming everything you were, until a burning longing rushed through your veins – the need to be close, to feel each other in the way only you could.
Leon’s hand wandered down from your neck, tracing slow, indulgent paths over your soft skin, never breaking your connection, only deepening it.
Those exploring touches tingled along your nerve endings, goosebumps rising wherever his fingers passed.
You drew in a breath at the growing pull in your belly, the soft throb at your core, anticipating Leon’s touch.
“Leon…” you breathed against his lips, making him real – well, more real.
“You are everything, you know,” he murmured back, his breath mingling with yours.
Your palm rested flat against his chest, feeling his heart pounding wildly – for you, for both of you.
“I love you,” you said, and for some inexplicable reason your heart tightened just before a quiet moan slipped from your lips against his, as his hand moved between your thighs.
Almost automatically, you rolled onto your back, opening yourself to him, giving him better access to the place he knew so well. His lips brushed your cheek, your jawline, your neck, while his skilled touch drew slow circles over your clit that made your breath hitch. He moved his fingers further down, slid first one, then two fingers into you, pushed deep, finding the spot inside you he knew you liked best.
He watched your reactions, noticing them more clearly than ever – the way your lips parted slightly, your eyelids fluttered closed to savor it, then opened again to meet his gaze. The small, adorable sounds that escaped you. He would listen to them until he died of old age, and not a second sooner.
“Turn around, baby,” he instructed gently, his voice deep and comforting.
You followed again, letting his presence guide you as you rolled onto your side, him settling behind you. With one smooth movement he freed your upper bodies from the blanket before his hand trailed down your form, over your thigh. He grasped it gently, lifting your leg as far as the covers allowed.
The air around you buzzed – not with reckless hunger, but with intimacy, with trust. That was what made you arch toward him.
Leon reached for his cock, already aching for you, searching for you, and aligned himself carefully. He pressed forward slowly, easing into you inch by deliberate inch, savoring every bit until he was fully buried inside you and a soft sound hummed from your throat.
He stretched out one arm to cradle your head, offering you the best pillow in the world, and drew you close with the other. His large, warm body wrapped around you like a living blanket – except the first slow thrust stole the air from your lungs before you pulled it back in again.
Leon groaned into the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss into your hair as he held you as close as possible and moved inside you again, and again. He knew your body so well it didn’t take much to send you both drifting toward that shared state of bliss.
His movements were deliberate, deep, almost reverent, aimed not just at pleasure, but at closeness, at dissolving into one another. Low, satisfied sounds rumbled in his chest whenever your velvet walls tightened around him.
They traveled straight to your ear, and you answered with eager sighs of your own.
More than anything, it was comforting to be here like this again – feeling whole, unified – while he whispered into your ear. Not just sweet nothings, but promises. Declarations of love. Vows that he would remain at your side.
“You saved me. You did, and you always will.”
The words rushed through you, and a choked sound escaped your lips. It overwhelmed you. The intensity of it. You had been intense like that before – but today something in Leon had shifted.
“Only because you saved me first,” you answered softly, affectionately, reaching back to take his hand.
Leon exhaled sharply.
Your fingers intertwined, skin sliding against skin as his rhythm faltered slightly. He tried to hold onto it, to keep taking you slowly, deeply – but your words had struck something possessive and tender inside him.
“Fuck,” he breathed hoarsely. “I married the perfect woman.”
He moved through you with what restraint he had left, drawing higher sounds from you, a soft whimper. His exhausted body began to betray him, chasing that place where you would both end up spent and tangled together. His hand found your hip, pulling you back against him.
You clung to the arm beneath your head, moaning quietly, not searching for the perfect climax, but for him. More of him. All of him.
“I’m gonna come,” he breathed against your ear.
A soft exhale left you. “Yes,” you whispered your consent.
His fingers tightened against your skin as a shudder seized him, running down his spine and through his entire body. His breathing turned ragged as he spilled inside you, giving everything his tired body had to offer, knowing it wasn't enough, but with all the will in the world to show you that you belonged to him, and he to you. As long as he could, he drew out the moment, letting the wave slowly subside with increasingly smaller, fading thrusts, until a deep sense of peace settled over.
“You okay?” he asked breathlessly, still inside you, his eyes searching for your face.
The aftershock of everything – the unbearable search for a cure; the fear; the relief that he was alive; the closeness you had thought, at times, you had lost forever – cracked your composure wide open. Where adrenaline had carried you before, your soul now lay completely exposed, stripped bare in front of Leon and everything he was.
The moment the question left his lips, tears flooded your eyes, unstoppable. For a second you tried to hold them back, but it quickly became clear it was useless. They blurred your vision, stealing your view of your fingers intertwined with his.
Your chest tightened, your heart aching. You squeezed Leon’s hand, searching for something to hold onto. A sob broke free.
“Hey, heyhey – ” Leon pressed himself closer, hoping you could feel his steady breathing against your neck, the kiss on your shoulder – that he was here, that he was holding you, that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Even as his own heart grew heavy, as he felt more helpless than he had in any moment of his infection. He had almost made you a widow. And he knew you knew that he would do it all again in a heartbeat. Maybe minus the wrongly made assessment. But he would take every measure to keep you safe.
His tenderness didn’t make it better. Quite the opposite. The tears streamed freely down your face. You hated how you looked when you cried. Covering your face with your hands, you let yourself sob harder, more openly, with every passing second – lost in that maelstrom of fear and overwhelming relief.
“I thought I lost you,” you sobbed into your hands.
Leon exhaled heavily, scattering small kisses wherever he could reach. He nudged you to turn around, breaking your position only to pull you into his arms as tightly as possible. Against his chest, he felt the dampness of your tears as your hands clutched at him, crying everything out.
Your mind fired wildly, your control gone – gone even enough to keep your questions buried.
“What if Grace hadn’t known the password?”
Leon tensed slightly, no answer ready.
“What if she had destroyed Elpis?”
He said your name softly – a warning, a plea not to follow that line of thought.
But you barely heard him through your sorrow. He would have died there. He had walked in willingly, like always, without asking for backup. And in the end, it had been Chris Redfield and his Hounds who pulled him out.
“You were ready to die, weren’t you?” The words sent panic surging through your body, your sobs turning harsher, shaking you. “Oh God, you expected it.” Your lungs tightened, breath coming in shallow, strained bursts, your face aching with the force of it.
“Look at me,” Leon said, gentle but firm.
“No.” You pressed yourself desperately against his chest. Even after all these years, you didn’t want him to see you like this.
“Please. Look at me.”
You didn’t stand a chance in that state. Leon created just enough space to tilt your chin upward.
He had seen you cry before, but not like this. Not so completely undone. You usually cried from anger, not from this kind of grief. The sight made his chest tighten – and before he could stop it, tears welled in his own eyes, blurring his vision.
He wiped at them quickly, but you had already seen.
Tears in your husband’s eyes were a rare thing – so rare it startled you enough that your own tears faltered.
“Leon…” He leaned into your hand against his cheek.
“I love you,” he said again, as if he could never say it enough. “And I’m here. And we have so much time.” A small, careful smile appeared. “No more T-Virus.”
No more virus – and with it, no more shadow of Raccoon City. Elpis would erase the T-virus and every other virus in the world. What that would mean for the world… you would face that together. What mattered more was that Leon’s guilt could finally come to an end. The villains of this world might try, again and again, to convince him he couldn’t save anyone…
He reached for a tissue on the nightstand and held it up to your nose.
“Hard blow,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
You blinked, then rolled your eyes. “Gimme that.” You snatched the tissue and blew your nose. “Bet this isn’t the hard blow you envisioned for your return.”
He chuckled, and you couldn’t help the small smile that followed from your own lips. “Ah, it was fifty-fifty.”
…even if Leon had believed it himself for a long time, you would prove to him that he was so much more than what people said about him. More than just someone who had to save the world.
Because he saved your world every time he came home.
And that he never had to bear the burden alone, and never would again.
(Watching your husband sleep so peacefully gives you an idea. Just how deeply is he really sleeping?)
Word Count: ~ 3k
Rating: E - Domestic smut, oral sex (m receiving), slice of life
Reader: Depicted as an agent in some lines
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a drabble, but oh well. Still counts! I got inspired the other day to write a little indulgent something for us, the readers 🤭 I imagine Leon has a much better sleep being married, more settled down and having that place where he can have nice things. And we just know our husband likes to be taken care of once in a while 🫦 Hope you enjoy! 💕
Your husband slept deeper and better than ever before. It was a realization that had crept in over time. The longer you had been Mrs. Kennedy, the more relaxed he had become.
By now, you knew that if you reached for him in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t jolt awake at the touch of your hand and ask what was wrong.
If you snuggled up to him, he wouldn’t angle his body in a way that let him spring up at any moment. Instead, he would let out a content sound and pull you close enough that his strong squeeze would leave you just a little breathless.
If you woke up before him, he wouldn’t abandon the sleep he so desperately needed just because of your quiet, waking energy.
And if you got up before him, the sight of the empty side of the bed wouldn’t send a sinking feeling through his stomach or startle him awake.
That he had managed to bring this kind of peace into his life over the years didn’t just satisfy you – it made you deeply, profoundly happy.
Even on this Sunday morning, when you had woken before him for once, you found yourself simply enjoying the sight of him breathing steadily beside you.
Warm morning light trickled through the fine gaps in your heavy bedroom curtains, just enough to let you see him clearly.
Leon lay on his back, one arm bent with his hand tucked behind his head, the other resting on his bare chest. He looked so peaceful – his face slightly turned toward you, completely relaxed, hair falling softly over his closed eyes, his breathing calm and even. His hand rose and fell with his chest, the soft blanket only just beginning at his waist – he always ran warm at night, while you pulled yours up to your chin to soak in every bit of comfort.
Propped up on your hand, you smiled, quietly blissful as you took in your handsome sleeping beauty. That the two of you had made it here – sharing a bed, a home, a life – felt almost unreal. So much had spoken against it: your lifestyle, your jobs, the constant danger that one of you might not make it home.
But you had tied the knot anyway. And it had been the best decision of your lives. Not only had Leon found a sense of peace in coming home – you had, too. You had gained a reason to return, no matter where you were. You had caught each other in a fall you had both willingly leapt into.
Carefully, you pressed your lips to his large bicep, perfectly angled in this position – a beautiful curve that always looked especially good beneath tight tactical attire. Even more so when he’d flash you that subtle grin and flex the trained muscle on purpose, coaxing a reaction out of you – somewhere between a nervous giggle and an appreciative hum. A lightness he had come to carry now, gifting you moments you cherished deeply.
You scattered soft, featherlight kisses across his firm skin, even placing a gentle one against his stubbled cheek.
Leon didn’t stir. He remained lost in sleep.
Part of you considered simply getting up and letting him rest – but at the same time, you wanted to stay right here. Ideally, you wanted to climb onto his big, comfortable, made-for-you body and make yourself at home there.
But then, another idea slipped into your mind. Why not? You could see how long it would take for him to wake up to a good morning blowjob.
A spark of excitement rippled through your body as the thought took root. Not that the two of you weren’t already familiar with slow, sleepy morning sex. On those quiet mornings, he would wake you with lingering kisses – soft and sensual against your neck, your shoulder, the curve where they met – pressing himself against you, hands wandering until you were awake enough to respond, to turn toward him and melt into his touch.
This time, though, you’d be sneaky about it.
You let your lips drift lightly over his skin, the touch barely more than a whisper of air – over his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.
Slowly, carefully, your body moved downward – the blanket rustled traitorously, but Leon didn’t seem to notice. He stayed exactly as he was, only drawing in a slightly deeper breath through his nose.
Encouraged, you placed one last kiss against his wrist before slipping beneath the covers, immediately surrounded by warmth – and the trapped scent of Leon, that unique blend of something like leather, metal, and wood.
His defined muscles, as always, offered strong contours beneath your touch. Solid abs greeted you – a blessing that he always slept shirtless.
And even if you liked to think you weren’t shallow, the reality of your ridiculously attractive husband certainly didn’t hurt. It only made you want to touch him more – to feel that firm physique beneath your hands, to trace every line… and eventually, to feel the way he softened under your touch, yielding so perfectly to you.
Here, in the middle of sleep, Leon was already soft. Not tense – just sunk into the mattress, at rest.
At least, except for one thing.
While you couldn’t resist tracing the contours of his six-pack with your lips, your hand wandered to his boxers – the only sleep attire he ever needed.
His morning wood pressed firmly against the soft cotton, a clear outline beneath your hand, perfectly tangible as always – long, straight, like it had been made for you.
A sense of satisfaction spread through you at the thought that you could start from a very… ready position today – even though it wouldn’t have mattered otherwise.
There was something especially intoxicating about feeling him grow fully hard in your mouth whenever you dropped to your knees for him unprompted – whether Leon was sitting at his desk at home, relaxing on the couch, or when you joined him in the shower.
He welcomed you everywhere.
This morning, your playful little idea seemed perfectly aligned with his cock – maybe he had already read your intentions.
You smirked softly before hooking your finger beneath the elastic of his boxers and tugging them down.
Even beneath the heavy blanket, barely able to see, you knew exactly how his tip looked as it was freed from the confines of the fabric.
A thick, beautiful head that always stretched you so perfectly when he pushed into you – maybe already glistening with a bit of precum now that you had started to work your magic on your handsome husband.
At the thought, you quickly decided on a small taste test, closing your lips around him in a brief but delicious kiss.
A few salty drops met your tongue as you let it glide over him, all while watching Leon closely for any reaction – was he already awake, waiting to see what you would do next?
As your tongue circled his tip, softening his skin with saliva, your fingers pushed his boxers further down, revealing more of his length – more for you to explore.
More kisses followed along his shaft, accompanied by small licks over the prominent veins – and he twitched beneath your lips. Whether the man himself was awake or not, his cock definitely was by now.
A quiet, pleased laugh slipped from you as you continued, savoring his reactions, tasting the salt of his skin, lavishing attention on him – a slow lick along his entire length, around him, your cheek pressing softly against him, growing wetter from your own watering mouth – all while you had to keep his boxers down so they wouldn’t get in your way.
Above the blanket, Leon’s irises moved rapidly beneath his closed lids as he drifted through a dream wetter than anything he’d had since teenage years.
Disjointed images of you in the most tempting little outfits flashed through his mind – then the memory of your first time, which had turned out so different from what he had imagined, yet far better than anything he could have dreamed of.
Images of him taking you on every available surface, his favorite place still the bed, where he could take his time with you.
“Mhm.” A low sound slipped from him as his body vibrated with growing arousal.
Somewhere at the edges of his hazy awareness, Leon realized he could easily come like this – like some teenager losing control in his sleep.
Slowly, sleep and dreams began to give way to something more conscious, his thoughts forming more clearly – though still entirely focused on you, his wife. If that floating feeling didn’t fade, he might just reach for you and whisper those dreams against your skin.
He shifted from the position that had brought on those vivid dreams, his eyes fluttering open as he searched for you beside him, his hand already reaching toward your shoulder –
But you weren’t there.
Leon frowned slightly, his mind still sluggish, trying to catch up with what was happening while he remained inexplicably aroused.
He almost sat up, ready to shake his head and bring himself down from the high – when it hit him that the heat had a very real source.
And it was beneath the blanket.
He felt it before his mind could connect the dots. Warm, wet heat against his hips, against his cock. Lips – movements he knew far too well. Fingers that had touched him countless times before, sliding soft and slick along his shaft.
A tongue circling the head of his erection – before a warm, perfect cave, your mouth, took him in completely.
Leon couldn’t see you – your entire body hidden beneath the blanket. All he could make out were the subtle, rhythmic movements of the covers.
And just like that, his brief confusion melted into pure, heavy relaxation.
His gaze drifted from the blanket up to the ceiling as he let his head sink back into the soft, heavenly pillow with a quiet sigh.
Married life was the best.
In moments like these, Leon sometimes regretted how long he had taken to propose to you. It was one thing when his girlfriend made him feel this good – but something entirely different when it was his beautiful wife.
When Leon adjusted his body, you realized he had woken up – and wasn’t stopping you. He lifted his hips, giving you the opportunity to pull his shorts all the way down so you wouldn’t have to hold the waistband anymore.
Both of your hands settled on his now thoroughly soaked length, fingers gliding along before wrapping around him, angling. You let him slide back into your mouth, taking him deep and purposeful, your lips closing firmly around him as your head moved up and down his perfect hardness – only to slow again moments later, letting him slip free as you exhaled.
The sloppy, breathless part was always the most fun about a good blowjob. When you were chasing your breath, soft sounds spilling from your throat, your mouth open, your tongue working as you made a mess of your face and his pelvis.
Leon’s hand settled on your back, just like it always did during longer sessions, showing his appreciation with light, wandering touches and quiet, breathy words.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice threaded with a heavy exhale. “Keep going for me.”
The sudden stimulation had lit his body up completely.
“God, you’re amazing.”
You knew him so well – knew exactly what he liked. The way you hummed softly around him, licked, sucked – so wet, so soft – perfect rhythm, perfect pressure. And most importantly: indulgent. Not rushed, but exactly the way you enjoyed it, too.
Leon loved it when you played with him like that – when your tongue wandered, when you kissed him. He could picture your watery eyes when you pushed just a little further, letting him slip past the barrier of your throat, making him see stars.
Every time he thought it couldn’t get any better, that you couldn’t possibly take him higher – you proved him wrong.
His eyes fluttered shut again, mind focused on nothing but you. Every single day with you felt like heaven – seventh, eighth, ninth, whatever – especially when you did things like this to him.
Without thinking, his hand moved from your back to your neck, gently massaging the soft skin there before his fingers tangled in your hair, searching for purchase, giving just the faintest nudge to keep going.
His lips parted for the heavy breaths his lungs struggled to keep up with, his heartbeat pounding hard in his chest.
You felt his fingers twitch against your scalp at the same moment his cock throbbed in your mouth, pressing against your slowly numbing lips. You knew he was enjoying this part the most, so you pushed through, keeping him firmly between your lips, your cheek hollowing, leaving no room for air.
Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, spilling freely down your already soaked face – mixed with spit from your messy, devoted attention – as you worked him with steady, purposeful movements, reading his cues, the pressure on your head telling you he was close.
God, how Leon wished he could see you right now – your perfect face, the way his cock disappeared into your mouth again and again. The thought alone sent heat crashing through his body, settling deep in his balls, ready to burst.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Doing so good, baby. I’m gonna come.”
In his sleepy state, his orgasms always felt different, somehow better. Like his body moved without his mind, driven purely by instinct, desire, need.
Leon couldn’t help but grab a handful of your soft hair as he came hard, the force of it nearly stealing his breath entirely – if not for the deep, chest-shaking groan that tore from him as his body tensed, releasing his load into the depths of your mouth. His hips lifted just slightly, an instinctive movement he barely managed to catch.
You took him like a champ, even continuing to move your beautiful lips along him, letting him ride out his climax, focused on not choking as he spilled hotly into your throat.
Only when his small movements eased and his grip in your hair loosened did you allow yourself to slow, carefully licking him clean and swallowing what he’d given you.
You followed the gentle – so very gentle – pull of his hand in your hair back up, emerging from beneath the blanket. The air above felt almost cold, no longer thick and heavy with sex like the cocoon you had just left.
Leon’s eyes settled on your face instantly, reverence and so much love in them as he lifted both hands to cup your cheeks, wiping away the traces of your effort with his thumbs.
Your tears fell victim to his touch while you quickly wiped over your mouth and chin, clearing away the lingering wetness.
Already, your still slightly dazed, heavy-breathing husband pulled you closer – half guiding you onto his chest as his soft lips met your sore ones, offering immediate relief.
He kissed you deeply, intensely, with so much fire meant only for you – everything you deserved in worship and devotion. He tasted himself on your tongue as he licked into your mouth, finally having your face close to his again.
Strong arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his large, welcoming body, grounding you in safety and warmth, just like he always did. The perfect man, who treated time with you as something sacred.
A soft, loving hum slipped from your lips against his, a smile forming as you pulled back just enough to look at him – his post-orgasmic haze giving way to that deep, steady contentment you loved seeing on him. You were sure it mirrored your own expression perfectly.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said softly, a warm smile on his lips. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, my love.”
You leaned into his hand as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You are –” Leon exhaled, granting your lips another soft kiss, “ – so, so amazing. I’m on cloud nine.”
Your chest swelled with quiet pride at his praise.
“Love when you have fun with him like that, too,” he added with a teasing smirk.
“Yeah,” you giggled. “I had fun. Wasn’t sure if you’d wake up right away.”
“Well, either way, it was a pretty nice surprise.” One of his large hands playfully slipped beneath your silky nightgown, caressing the soft skin at the small of your back. “Want me to return the favor?”
At a single word, he would have buried his head between your thighs and not come back up until his cock had recovered enough to take you again – slow, deep, filled with everything he felt for you. Another kind of heaven, as so many of them revolved around you.
“Actually – ” you drew some random patterns on his skin, “ – I was wondering if you could make me some chocolate chip pancakes. With orange juice? I feel like having a nice breakfast with you.”
There would be time for more intimacy later. Right now, you felt a little softer, a little more vulnerable, and wanted to be taken care of.
Leon understood instantly. His hand slipped from beneath your nightgown, instead tracing slow, comforting lines along your arm.
“Of course.”
With a sudden, playful motion, Leon rolled you onto your back and hovered above you, drawing out that light, carefree laughter he loved so much – so unguarded, so full of trust, knowing you were exactly where you wanted to be.
Your eyes told him the same, soft and full of affection as you looked up at him, one hand cupping his cheek, fingers brushing over his stubble.
One last time, he leaned down and kissed you, taking a few indulgent moments with your lips before finally pulling away.
“You stay here. I’ll get breakfast ready, and we’ll eat in bed, yeah?”
“That would be amazing,” you smiled.
“Anything for my girl.” His gaze softened even further – if that was even possible – his eyes completely free of the weight you always tried to help him carry. “My wife.”
(On a rare day off, you wake up before Leon, and even get up before he does. Not with your boyfriend.)
Word Count: ~ 1k
Rating: T - established relationship, short n fluffy, cuddly Leon meets not so cuddly reader
Author's Note: I accidentally posted this two days before the actual start of the event cause the app decided it was the draft's time lol. Did anyone see me being dumb? I hope not. ANYWAY! I had this idea in my mind that older Leon is so touch starved he would literally wrestle his s/o into a cuddle if he needed to. This is told pretty quickly as it turns out, cause this entry really is very short n sweet (unusual for me, but hey, the fics surprise me all the time). It's very cutie tho, so I hope you enjoy the light read! 💕
Languid. No thoughts. Just you, the couch, and the television. You yawned as you scrolled through the endless options Netflix and its many cousins had to offer. It was the perfect Sunday. No obligations today, no work – just a free, ordinary day.
That was why you hadn’t even bothered getting ready. You’d woken up, pressed a kiss to your boyfriend's sleep-creased cheek while he claimed the rest of his well-earned rest, then pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie before padding into the living room, leaving your bed hair exactly as it was.
When Leon woke up, you’d make breakfast together. For now, though, it was just streaming on demand and you.
That moment ended the second you allowed the thought to settle. From the hallway you heard the bedroom door open, followed by shuffling steps that, thankfully, didn’t put you on edge.
Then Leon appeared in the doorway, sleep-heavy and not entirely present yet. His eyes were still half-lidded as he leaned against the frame, one hand buried in his messy hair sticking out in every direction.
He always looked adorable like this, you often thought in the mornings – completely off guard, just your boyfriend in a loose sleep shirt and pajama pants.
“Hey, honey,” he murmured, the words more mashed together than clearly spoken. “Where did you go?”
That warm feeling spread through your chest, the one that always bloomed whenever he entered a room looking for you – usually with a soft smile, sometimes with one of his silly lines, just to make you smile.
“I woke up,” you explained.
Leon hummed in mild disapproval, though his gaze resting on you was soft. A gentle smile curved his features.
“You’re beautiful.”
You snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks that when I look like this.”
“Everyone thinks so,” Leon replied matter-of-factly.
He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward you slowly. You half expected him to collapse beside you on the couch and continue sleeping. That was why you set the remote aside and instinctively opened your arms to welcome him.
A small squeak escaped you when he simply bent down instead, grabbed you, and lifted you into the air with a strength you were tempted to call superhuman. To avoid immediately toppling out of his arms onto the living room floor, you clung to his neck.
“I hope you didn’t lift with your back,” you joked. He complained about it sometimes – usually after sleeping wrong.
“Even if I did. You’re light as a feather,” he replied with a grin. To emphasize his point, he shifted your weight in his arms and practically tossed you upward.
You giggled. “Okay, Superman. Where are we going?”
“Back to the bedroom. Where you belong.”
With you carried like a trophy, Leon stomped back into the hallway, ignoring your quiet protest.
“Leon, I stood up to get out of bed, not to get in again.”
“Thought this was your happy place,” he muttered as he pushed the bedroom door open again – the room where he’d woken up without you beside him just moments earlier.
Really, you should have known better than to get up without telling him. When he woke and realized he’d slept deeply enough not to notice your departure, a small ripple of anxiety still passed through him. You could still bring him peace so easily. And that peace deserved to be savored whenever possible.
You couldn’t exactly refute his argument. Your shared bed was the coziest place in the apartment. The soft, high-quality mattress you sank into like lying on clouds; the sheets impossibly plush. A nap in that bed felt like the sleep of gods. But you truly hadn’t planned on returning so soon.
You didn’t resist much anyway. Leon was a cuddlebug – especially on free days like this.
So you only made a small agreeing sound, followed by a soft laugh as he carried you to the side of the bed, sat down with you still in his arms, and then – in true Leon “I train five times a week” Kennedy fashion – swung you around and positioned you exactly where he wanted you.
You bounced lightly against the mattress, and the next moment Leon pressed himself against you. His broad left arm – big enough to cover half your ribcage – draped over you, the other slipping beneath your head and pillow, while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
Your scent wrapped around him and calmed him instantly, as though a mix of lavender and melatonin had been injected straight into his veins.
“That’s better…” he hummed against your skin, his warm breath followed by a kiss pressed right there.
You made a soft, fond sound, your fingertips tracing lightly over the heavy but comforting weight of his arm – at least for now. When you actually wanted to sleep, he was far too solid on top of you.
Leon gave another contented noise against your skin, and slowly, steadily, silence settled over you both.
You simply lay there, caressing your man, waiting patiently. Surely he would release you again in a moment. Surely he wouldn’t hold you captive like usual when you tried to get up. You tried every time.
“…Leon?” you asked eventually.
No response.
“Leon,” you said more firmly. “You can’t fall asleep again. We’re awake.”
You nudged his arm. Nothing.
The game played out like always. Somewhere between charmed and mildly exasperated, you turned toward him, face to face, studying his expression. Eyes closed now. Muscles relaxed. Breathing steady. He was just… sweet like this.
“Are you asleep?” you whispered, leaning forward to brush your lips against his.
A low hum answered you. Leon pulled you closer, catching your lips properly and wordlessly preventing any escape.
Your arm slid around his larger frame, and you melted into him – into his irresistible warmth, his soft lips. Maybe he sought your closeness more often, but you were always the one who let yourself be tempted into staying.
“I love you…” Leon breathed against your mouth, drowsy and gentle all at once.
“I love you, too,” you replied with a smile. “Wanna get up and make breakfast?”
“No,” came the immediate answer. “Stay. You’re so comfy.”
With that, Leon tightened his hold around you – and you surrendered to your fate as his eternal cuddle toy.
(Within government service, you transfer to the DSO. The training is brutal, but the new job definitely has its advantages.)
Word Count: ~ 5k
Rating: E - porn with some plot, late night training, shower sex, vaginal sex, light choking, creampie
Author's Note: You chose, I delivered 🫡 Funny how this is the only entry with smut for this event. But all in all I like the mix we have now. THIS WAS FUN! Thank you all so much and thank you Elsie for setting this up. I'm glad we came together for this countdown to Requiem 💕 Can't wait to play now and I guess we'll see us on the other side! All the love and I hope you enjoy this treat before the meal releases haha. Milli ✨
How the cards had fallen in such a way that you would make a career change like this again would forever remain a mystery to you. Just a small light in government service, you happened to know someone who knew someone who, in turn, had connections to TerraSave.
That was how you met Claire Redfield. Things took their course; she mentioned you to some contact she had within the DSO, and suddenly she approached you and asked whether you’d be interested in joining this line of work – the fight against bioterrorism.
Until then, you had never truly considered it. Of course, you were laterally aware of the numerous incidents surrounding the Umbrella Corporation, its downfall, and other pharmaceutical companies experimenting with viruses – but it had never been the focus of your work. Your service to the U.S.A. had been… minor. You had the training, yes, but you had rarely put it to use.
So you had hesitated. Why join an agency known for such dangerous fieldwork now?
It was Claire who said the sentence that shifted something inside you.
“You don’t strike me as someone who wants to settle for what the world hands her.”
Something clicked. You had only known Claire for a painfully short time, yet she pulled something long buried back to the surface: the desire for strength – and for a better world.
And so here you were. A trainee again. In a new division that was far more physical than you were used to.
Of course, they hadn’t sent you straight into the field, even with your prior experience. You weren’t unfit – but you weren’t as hardened as the agents moving through these facilities.
They moved with agility, flexibility, precision. In your first days at the academy, surrounded by other “trainees” – though none of you were truly inexperienced; you were all transfers – you repeatedly noticed seasoned DSO agents observing you.
While you were practically fighting for your life.
The training was harsher than anything you had ever imagined. It demanded everything from you – and then a little more. More than once, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. You even considered quitting.
After a few weeks, some of you did.
And somehow, that was exactly what motivated you to keep going.
Every time you thought you had finally reached the required level, the training became just a little harder. The sparring partners just a little stronger. Always just slightly stronger than you – to the point where it began to frustrate you.
As a soldier, though, you certainly weren’t going to complain.
You lay flat on your back on the mat of the training hall, which had become as much your home as the barracks where your group slept. Sweat ran from your forehead into your hair and down your temples. With every ragged breath, your lungs burned as if they refused to absorb the oxygen you desperately needed.
Your current training partner was faring slightly better – no surprise, since she had been the one to throw you onto the mat in the first place. She was breathing hard too, but she was still standing. Bent forward, hands on her knees, she took a moment before flashing you a grin and offering her hand.
Her palm was just as slick with sweat as yours, but you managed to grip each other firmly enough for her to pull you back to your feet.
“Again!” your trainer barked in your direction.
He never gave you even a second to rest. Not from the beginning, and he never would. In a strange way, you admired that about him.
You both saluted and faced each other again, slipping back into fighting stance to repeat the maneuver.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone standing at the edge of the mats, watching.
“Do you ever wonder who those people are who keep coming in here?” you asked your fellow agent curiously as you circled each other.
“You mean the hottie with a body standing over there?” she asked, stealing a glance while she had the angle.
You smirked. “Yeah. Him.”
You had noticed him before. A very well-trained agent, slightly older, dark blond hair, and a stern expression that could rival your trainer’s. He appeared in the training hall every now and then, observing – never speaking to anyone.
And then, eventually, he would just leave again.
Your colleague’s words hadn’t come from nowhere. Yes, this agent looked extremely good. Well-built, undeniably experienced – his presence was rough, somehow distant. If not for those tiny moments when his furrowed brows would relax whenever he observed something that clearly interested him. Then his features softened, the crease in his forehead smoothing, his eyes widening just slightly. In those moments he looked so handsome that you had more than once wanted to approach him – but hadn’t dared.
“Agent Kennedy!”
Both of you flinched when your trainer practically roared across the hall, his grim expression locked onto the bystander. The agent’s features took on an almost innocent note as he glanced left and right, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was the one being addressed, even pointing at himself in mock confusion.
“You’re distracting the recruits!”
You and your colleague exchanged a caught, embarrassed grin and hurried to refocus on your training while Agent Kennedy began his own retreat.
After that, you found yourself looking for him again and again.
Once you had heard his name, it hadn’t taken long to realize this was the Agent Leon S. Kennedy. The top-notch veteran of the DSO. Survivor of Raccoon City. Rescuer of Ashley Graham. Involved in some of the most dangerous bioterrorism missions in the world – Tall Oaks, China, New York, Alcatraz. He had been everywhere.
Why would such an experienced agent need to show up at the training center so regularly?
You certainly weren’t complaining.
On the contrary – the training, and your progressively strengthening body, were hardening your mind as well. You gained confidence. And that confidence convinced you to finally speak to him.
When you spotted him again, you gave yourself a quick internal pep talk and pretended to head for your water bottle and towel for a short break. You wiped the sweat from your forehead deliberately and took a sip before casting him a sideways glance – only to find him already looking in your direction, making you swallow a little harder while hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint nervous tremor running through you.
“Here to learn something new, Agent Kennedy?” you asked, amusement threading your voice.
He blinked as if surfacing from deep thought, then, leaning against a concrete pillar with arms folded, offered you a quiet laugh.
“It would seem so.” His gaze softened from its usual intensity as he began speaking with you – he looked almost… friendly. “Agent…?”
You gave him your name.
“Good to meet you,” he said, his voice slipping back into its stoic cadence. “Better get back to training before we both get into trouble again.”
He nodded toward your trainer, who stood with folded arms and a look that very clearly translated to What the hell are you doing?
You let out a short laugh. “Probably wise. Nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy.”
With an amused smile, you turned away, lifting a hand in farewell before heading back to the mats.
How you had managed to gather so much confidence in such a short time wasn’t entirely clear to you, but you credited the training – and the fact that Claire had secured you one hell of a job. Maybe the job that had always been missing from your life.
You made a mental note to invite her to dinner once you finally had a sliver of free time, just to thank her.
And so it happened that you began seeing Leon Kennedy more often – partly because you were suddenly very attentive whenever you walked through the facilities. At first, you took every opportunity to speak to him – much to the amusement of your comrades, some of whom openly joked that you had simply been quick enough to seize your chance – until eventually he started approaching you on his own to exchange a few words.
It was often nothing more than small talk, but you had the feeling you understood each other well. And maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of flirting woven into those conversations. At the very least, you didn’t deny yourself the occasional coquettish remark.
It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were building up a certain energy inside yourself – energy that made your new life at the DSO thrilling, but also dangerous. A different kind of dangerous than your first field deployments with your team. Different from the missions you would still go on.
This was the yearning for a colleague you probably shouldn’t find this attractive – given your status as a newcomer and his as a seasoned agent.
But the way his beautiful blue eyes lingered on you, the slow motion of his mouth when he spoke, how strangely captivating you found every line in his face – it made restraint incredibly difficult.
So difficult that you decided to see the attraction as something positive.
It was a complicated situation.
And a great way to yearn for someone.
You leaned into it and embraced whatever it was. And you grew bolder and bolder – until that one night.
It was late. Too late, really. You would regret it the next morning when you were exhausted, having stayed at the training center far longer than necessary to prepare for the upcoming mission. Again and again, you ran through the briefing in your head, considering what you might need in the field – even though this “mission” wasn’t particularly important or dangerous. More of a test than anything else.
“Up late.”
You flinched. Despite your sharpened awareness, you still couldn’t prevent someone like Leon from sneaking up on you. With a half-gloved hand, you steadied the swinging punching bag.
“Yeah,” you confirmed shortly, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand and taking the opportunity to tighten your ponytail.
Leon stood a few feet away, near the double doors to the center – where he usually lingered when you saw him. The soft training mats cushioned your bare steps as you moved. His gaze followed you. You offered him a slightly tired smile before focusing on your water bottle.
“You too,” you added after soothing your burning throat and catching your breath.
He looked faintly amused that you had thrown his own remark back at him. Then he surprised you.
“I like being here. Reminds me of the basics.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned. “Is that why you keep dropping by to watch us train?”
He nodded. He made no move to close the distance between you, just stood there, his ever-intense gaze fixed on you as though searching for something.
An impulsive idea formed in your mind – one that required courage. Luckily, you had gathered plenty of that over the past few months.
“Care to get back to the basics, then?” One hand landed casually on your hip. “I could use someone to challenge me before the mission.”
As you had seen before, Leon’s usually stern expression softened into something curious after your words. Despite what you took as a positive reaction, he took his time answering. He seemed to genuinely ponder whether he wanted to be persuaded.
Long enough that you felt the need to push.
“Does it help if I say please?”
That caught him off guard enough for his poker face to slip. He leaned forward slightly, a quiet laugh escaping toward the floor before his posture settled back into calm composure.
“Sure. Can’t hurt.”
Something deep inside you tingled – something you tried to suppress in light of the upcoming spar. Leon would show you no mercy. He would truly test your abilities. You forced yourself to focus.
He didn’t make it easy.
He unzipped his training jacket, revealing a tight tactical shirt stretched over toned, defined muscles. His upper arms were so big you almost wondered why the fabric didn’t tear.
A flicker of uncertainty passed through you – whether this had been a good idea. Too late now.
You set down your water bottle and adjusted your gloves with deliberate composure as you stepped toward the center of the mats. Leon simply rolled his broad shoulders.
He was massive. So much bigger than you. Imposing. You would never overpower him – not in this life, not in the next. The key was not letting that show.
“Want some pointers?” he asked helpfully, slipping into a fighting stance you knew well.
You mirrored him, feet pressing firmly into the mats, and nodded.
“Breathe.”
He was right. The moment he said it, you realized how tense you were, how shallow your breathing had become. You forced a long inhale, dropping your shoulders.
“Good,” he praised with a faint smile. “Now, stay sharp.”
That was his only warning.
He stepped toward you in one long stride. Only your trained reflexes kept him from grabbing you instantly. You sidestepped automatically.
“You’re smaller than me. Faster. Use it to your advantage.” His voice was utterly calm, as though this were a walk in the park for him.
Meanwhile, something wild and flickering ignited inside you – stubborn determination to walk away with some form of success. His tips barely registered; you were too focused on tracking his movements, reacting to them.
For what felt like an eternity, you circled each other, each searching for a weakness in the other’s defense. You darted forward only to retreat again, testing, measuring, resetting – a charged dance across the mats.
You parried the arm lunging toward you, intending to grab his wrist. What you hadn’t calculated was the experience of the more seasoned agent. He stepped straight into you, his entire massive body suddenly against yours, his chest right in front of your eyes. It startled you – and more than just the heat from training rose to your cheeks.
That brief hesitation was all Leon needed to spin you around, seize your wrist, and trap it. No way out – he could break your arm like this. So you stood pressed against his solid torso, panting once again from exertion – one would think you’d have built up more stamina by now. But this time, the breathlessness wasn’t only from training.
“Don’t let yourself get thrown off so easily.”
Leon’s warm breath brushed over your ear, low and somehow suggestive. Damn it – you couldn’t suppress the excited tremor running through your body. Had he done that on purpose?
You stayed still, and he didn’t release your wrist. He allowed you just enough movement to shift your body slightly, to turn your head and look at him. His sky-blue eyes burned into yours – searching and utterly certain at the same time.
“You’re trapped. What do you do?” he asked, leaning closer, close enough that your heavy breaths reached his lips.
“Um… die?” Your voice had dropped to a whisper. Your stomach twisted with anticipation – he was so close, you felt his presence, anticipated his lips. What was happening here?
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not the kind to say please more than one time,” you added defiantly – though there was unmistakable flirt in your tone.
That earned a quiet grin from Leon. “I see.”
The hand around your wrist tightened its grip.
“You gonna let me go?” you asked, even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted him to.
He glanced past you, toward the double doors of the training center.
“Maybe,” he answered.
His free hand slid forward boldly, coming to rest on your leggings-clad hip. His attention returned to you. “If you say please.”
You let out a theatrical sigh. “Guess I’ll die, then.”
His grin widened.
You held his intense gaze long enough that he exhaled, came even closer, and your breaths mingled. The hand at your hip pressed more firmly. Your lips parted gently, inviting him that final inch closer.
“I know another way,” he murmured, “if you’re up for it.”
Your bare back hit the cold tiles of the shower stall, pressed there by Leon’s flat palm against your chest. One step – and his glorious body was back in your space. Without breaking eye contact, fire running through his gaze, he pulled the shower door shut behind him, flicked the water on in one fluid motion, and pressed his heavy muscles against you.
Warm water touched you at the same moment his lips did – both tender and heavy at once. His broad neck offered the perfect anchor to sink into, to feel the passionate pressure of his mouth as he captured you, catapulted you into another world, washing away thoughts of training, missions, and everything else, just like the water slowly soaking you both.
This close, this raw against you, he felt even larger. Not an inch of him wasn’t hard, sculpted – almost unfairly perfect. You wanted to explore every piece of him – his wet hair, the strong shoulders, the impossibly big arms, so defined that under the heated tension and pattering shower, his veins stood out.
Unfortunately, the utterly superior agent, you had to admit it, had you pinned against the wall. His body covered yours from every direction, arms braced beneath yours so that his hands could roam anywhere, while yours were limited to above his shoulders.
Broad palms slid over your body, gripping wherever they pleased – your hips, your waist, softer at the sides of your breasts before giving a squeeze that pulled a moan from you straight into his mouth, your senses completely overwhelmed between his tongue and the steam swirling around you.
“You’re a real tease, you know,” Leon murmured, his face only the slightest distance from yours.
He couldn’t very well tell you that he had noticed your looks from the very beginning. At first, he’d only been interested in the new recruits – especially the one Claire had mentioned. You. The one who’d looked at him so adorably, who always had a sharp remark ready, disciplined and strong-willed.
He was far too old to be getting involved with a colleague like this – but damn, you were irresistible. And with the way you had practically invited him… Leon simply hadn’t been able to hold back.
“Me?” you asked innocently, your eyes half-closed from the delicious arousal brought on by Leon’s searching lips, his exploring hands – and mostly by the way his cock pressed against you, matching his body in size from everything you could feel.
“I’m no tease,” you murmured with a small grin and a slight tilt of your head. “You’re the one who kept showing up and distracting us.”
Leon gave a playful hum, kissing you again with a satisfied smile on his lips. This time it was gentler – so gentle you couldn’t resist giving his lower lip a small bite, earning a smirk from him.
“Careful. I might bite back,” he rasped.
His lips set off on a new mission – a soft kiss to your cheek, wandering down over your chin, to your neck, where he lingered, sucking at the delicate skin, tasting salt mixed with warm water on his tongue.
Let everyone see what you’d been up to late at night before missions.
You exhaled heavily, completely unbothered by any consequences this night might bring. If you were going to take on a job this dangerous, you might as well reap the benefits.
And Leon was one hell of a benefit.
He stayed at your neck longer and longer, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts, stroking back and forth, sometimes grazing your nipples just a little too lightly. A quiet gasp slipped from your throat, your back arching into his hand, searching for the touches he silently promised but didn’t give.
Your stomach tightened deliciously, and with the little leverage you had, you slid your leg up along his, inviting him closer.
“Hah–who’s the tease now?” Your breathy voice barely rose above the sound of the water.
A soft laugh answered you. “I’m not teasing.” His eyes found yours, the blue somehow darker now, deep and intense like the sea. “I’m just enjoying you.”
It wasn’t just the way he said it – laced with genuine honesty. It was the softness in his gaze that made you melt. Not only was Leon Kennedy unbelievably hot – he seemed to value closeness, intimacy, the charge of being together.
Excitement tingled between your legs – your body wanted his so badly that your mind had thrown caution overboard from the very beginning. Your lips found each other in a heated, open kiss, breath mixing, bodies merging – and finally, Leon pressed himself exactly where you needed him.
A small, adorable moan vibrated against his lips as he gave your nipples proper attention, taking them between his fingers, gently pinching, then soothingly rolling. A knee slid between your legs. Your mouth broke from his to pull in a sharp breath. Leon’s hard thigh rubbed against you, stimulating your softly throbbing clit – wet leg hair tickling, but firm muscle making the pleasure swell.
You stood there in front of him, eyes closed, against the tiled wall, mouth open in search of air between steam and him. You looked so unbelievably sexy that Leon briefly wondered how exactly this had happened.
“Look at me,” he murmured close to your face. He needed to see you, your eyes, needed to see how much you wanted him.
Wild electricity flashed in them as you obeyed instantly, your hands sliding from his neck into his wet hair, sensual, silently begging for more.
“Leon…” you breathed his name, and his composure slipped. He felt it – his body relaxing while his cock twitched, demanding.
“You okay to turn around?” It was more respect than a real question, but that was how it should be.
It took your fogged mind a moment to process the words, but once they settled, you nodded eagerly. His large hand steadied you, guiding you as his solid body moved away to make space.
The tiles were white and smooth – you knew immediately your footing would be tricky. But you’d manage. You wanted this.
“Come here.” His voice was low, coaxing you into bending forward a little more.
One hand slid between you, calloused fingers finding your clit, rolling over the throbbing spot, making you bite your lower lip and let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a moan.
Gentle pressure guided your pelvis into a deeper arch. You searched – and barely found – your grip on the tiles, rising onto your toes with the curve of your body, impatiently waiting for the promised fullness when Leon would bury himself inside you. You should have looked at him properly. You’d have to make up for that later.
The feel of his tip against you told you everything you needed to know. He was big. But not too big for you. The water didn’t make things easier. But the stretch felt so good that suspended moment before he would be fully inside you, connected to you, and you’d finally get properly fucked again after far too long.
“You good?”
Leon watched as his cock gradually sank into you, the resistance giving way more and more to your wet arousal. The sight was beyond hot. The feeling of you was more than he’d dared to imagine the first time you’d looked at him with those eyes. Damn – how had you managed to wrap him around your finger so quickly?
“Yeah.”
Your cunt tightened around him even though he wasn’t fully inside you yet – almost as if trying to pull him in faster. Leon let out a low grunt.
“More than good.”
Another sound escaped both of you as he finally bottomed out inside you.
The first thrust was experimental, meant to find what you liked. He hit it immediately. The second found that same spot again, and you let out a high sound that rang in his ears.
From that moment on, you lost yourselves in each other.
Leon’s movements were measured, every stroke aimed precisely where it needed to be, absorbing your eager whimpers like a sponge, learning your body quickly and skillfully. If water hadn’t already been running over your mouth, it would have been watering from the feel of him driving deep, hard thrusts into you, his full length inside, grazing your cervix just enough to intensify the pleasure.
Wet, slapping sounds mixed with the spray of water filled the shower room, echoing inside your small, private world – accompanied by your moans as Leon drove you higher and higher, his own breath coming in sharp bursts.
You were so tight around him, gripping him perfectly, pulling him in – one throbbing, overwhelming sensation of bliss. He decided then: he wouldn’t stop until he’d pushed you to the very edge.
Your arms began to strain under the weight pressing you into the wall and the repeated impact, your body tired from endless training. You held on for dear life, trying to angle yourself for the perfect pleasure while also not slipping on the slick tiles. Between high cries, small grunts of effort escaped you.
Though Leon was captivated by how well you took him – how almost surreal you looked, water cascading over your rocking body – he noticed your frantic shifting against the wall. Your hands searched for grip, slipped, found new purchase.
One hand released your hip from its iron hold, reaching forward to gently wrap around your throat and pull you upright. Your arms fell slack at your sides instantly, yielding to his every touch. The move ignited something inside you you hadn’t known before, and you moaned louder, impulsive and appreciative.
He held you there as he kept ploughing into you, relentlessly targeting your sweet spot with an endurance you hadn’t expected. Wet lips grazed your ear, his panting echoing through you, never once slowing.
“Oh god,” you gasped, growing more vocal. Between whimpers, words like “Shit” and even “Help” slipped out – not truly intended, just outlets when simple sounds couldn’t contain the intensity anymore.
Your entire body was on fire, flames the shower couldn’t extinguish. Your legs turned to jelly with every thrust, every delicious thrust you could no longer tell was too much or exactly right.
Reality became abstract. There was only his cock inside you and his hand at your throat, holding you up while delicate squeezes stoked the heat further. You had never been fucked this well. So well that you were catapulted beyond limits you’d thought possible.
“I can’t take it,” you complained anyway, though he held you, though all you had to do was take.
“You can, baby. You’re so good for me.”
Even Leon felt how limp you’d become against him, no longer able to hold yourself up, your body simply receptive and open. It was one of those rare fucks where there were only two people and a connection that felt impossible to break. He wouldn’t even consider coming until you had.
One hand remained at your throat, supporting you with careful pressure. The other slid down between your legs to your wildly throbbing clit.
You mumbled incoherent words, losing your ability to speak, your sounds dissolving into high-pitched whimpers. Your mind screamed that it was too much, but your body wanted more, more, more. It showed him through your rhythmic contractions, drawing a strained groan from Leon, followed by a sharp exhale and then a deep, guttural moan.
“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathed, the sensation ripping through him, his cock almost just a conduit for the electric pulses flooding his entire body.
It was the best fuck he’d had in a long time.
His fingers drew merciless circles over your clit, making your walls flutter around him even more.
You needed that sweet release, needed the climax more than the delicious torture, the overwhelming build. It was almost as if you were summoning it through sheer will, pressing his cock deeper, feeling him so consciously, every vein vivid in your mind.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”
“That’s a good girl. Come for me,” the words rushed into your ears.
Your body, limp moments ago, granted you one last surge of strength, tensing against his powerful frame, every nerve firing wild sensations through you as you came hard enough to leave you dizzy between breathless cries and swirling steam. You were fairly certain you would have collapsed under his unrelenting pace if he hadn’t been holding you upright – if he hadn’t driven your orgasm so far that you screamed his name into the shower, overstimulated, right at your limit.
“Wanna have me come as well, pretty girl?”
The fact that you even processed the words was a miracle, given that you were lost in complete ecstasy.
“Yes–yes, please, shit, please!”
That was all Leon needed.
He released your throat, demanded one final effort from you, gripping your hips as he let go. His pelvis snapped against you, grinding into you like a man on a mission, his cock wrapped in tight, wet heat.
Leon’s fingers dug into your flesh as a wave of pleasure tore through him, his vision going blurry somewhere between paradise and you, guided by your high, melodic cries.
Small and larger sounds escaped through his clenched teeth, but above all a long, drawn-out growl as his body told him it was time to spill inside you. His orgasm seized him, nearly shattering him with its intensity, his lower half on fire and ice all at once. God, if only the feeling of your pussy milking him could last forever, the pumping into you never stopping.
Leon gave you everything he had. A release that had been building ever since the first time you’d spoken to him. Again and again he thrust his essence into you until overstimulation forced him to stillness.
The aftermath felt like stepping down from clouds back to earth.
Leon remained inside you, unwilling to separate just yet. Strong arms pulled you upright against him, long fingers catching your chin and turning your face to his for a slow, lingering kiss while your racing hearts gradually steadied.
Your legs trembled. You were so warm that you fumbled for the shower handle, turning the water down to lukewarm. When you finally managed to focus, you saw Leon’s satisfied expression, his eyes fixed on you with devotion, droplets falling from the tips of his hair.
“I’d say the training paid off.”
He flashed an open, happy grin.
Your mind slowly returned to you, but you managed a smile of your own.
“Want to train some more when I’m back from my mission?”
He let out a soft laugh. “You bet.”
Another kiss landed on your lips. A small, beautiful promise.
The job at the DSO was the best one you’d ever had.
(Leon got a reservation at an exclusive, upscale restaurant. You make it a point to dress up for the occasion - Maybe a little too well.)
Word Count: ~ 5k
Rating: E - porn very little plot, established relationship, age gap implied but not explicitly mentioned, fingering, vaginal sex, car sex
Author’s Note: I am finally on year-end-vacay, yay! I paused my current WIP to write this and contribute my iteration of Requiem Leon and his Porsche after this great reveal at The Game Awards! Wrote and designed this in one sitting so please excuse some sloppy writing here and there 🫠 Otherwise, enjoy!
You felt like a foolish teenager, standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, hands scrunching your hair as you tried to simulate an updo. Indecisively, you pursed your lips, painted a deep, elegant shade of dark red – not only did the color suit the planned evening, the name had won you over just as much: Red Over Heels.
When you’d bought it, the name had almost convinced you more than the shade itself. You’d stood in the beauty boutique, quietly amused by the designation for a lipstick, before presenting it to your new boyfriend. First to draw his attention to the name – and only then to the color, which looked stunning on you. The lipstick had ended up in the shopping basket alongside a few other high-end products, paid for with a credit card that was, quite possibly, limitless. You earned your own money, and not a small amount – but the amounts he made were probably beyond anything you could even conceptualize. Seven figures, maybe.
That was probably why you’d gone all out tonight. Or maybe because a date night like this was rare. Full glam. The most expensive version of yourself. Your best makeup skills, your favorite dress, the sexiest lingerie you owned. You only hoped you looked as much like a million dollars as you felt. If only you could decide on a hairstyle.
You blew a raspberry and let your hair fall loose. Maybe just taming it a little would be enough. It would have to be enough. He surely liked you even without an elaborate hairstyle – the rest was elaborate enough already.
You were just putting on the final touch in the form of jewelry – also courtesy of him – when the doorbell rang. Both of you right on time, as you always seemed to manage.
“Coming!”
Still fastening your last earring, you hurried as fast as you could in your black heels, adorned with golden details, toward the apartment door. You opened it with a bright smile – only to be greeted not by his face, but by a bouquet of flowers. Your heart made a small, happy leap. You hadn’t been together all that long, but he clearly knew you well enough not to buy cliché roses. No – this was a bouquet of wildflowers, not too big, perfectly suited for your living room.
The bouquet shifted to the side, revealing a softly smiling Leon Kennedy – that endlessly attractive man who, through an almost impossible chain of events involving the White House, the FBI, bureaucracy, and finally, a question from Ingrid Hunnigan, had crossed your path and stayed there ever since.
You’d never thought that an agent his age – well-traveled without a doubt, and so easy on the eyes – wouldn’t be married with a family, or at least in a long-term relationship. In any case, you hadn't believed a word he said when he’d told you on your first date in an upscale wine bar that he was in his late forties. Born in 1977. You’d quickly swallowed your sip of wine just to ask, “Beg your pardon?” Not because he was too old for you – but because he was far too well-built, moved far too agilely.
You’d studied him more closely then: the broad shoulders beneath a long-sleeved, comfortable-looking cotton sweater, the way the fabric stretched lightly over his upper arms, hugging his body, his shape unmistakable – because it was hard to hide even under a sweater. The only thing that could have given away his age were the lines on his face, the darker skin beneath his rare blue eyes – like snow falling from the sky on a warm summer day.
“Deal breaker?” Leon had asked with a smirk into his wine glass.
You’d blinked, snapping yourself out of the spell of his appearance, and shaken your head a little too vehemently. “N-No. No!”
Quite the opposite – from that moment on, you’d needed more liquid courage, so you took another sip of wine and ordered a fresh glass. Leon had noticed, judging by the raised eyebrows and the self-satisfied grin forming on his face.
That night, both of you had thrown your good intentions of courtship out the window – and Leon had shown you exactly what a man his age had up his sleeve.
“Wow, those are beautiful,” you said now, accepting the wildflowers from him.
“They try,” Leon replied, “but they’re not as beautiful as you.”
He leaned casually against your doorframe, arms crossed. He, too, had dressed up – uncharacteristically so – wearing a tailored suit, his dark-blond hair neatly styled, his face clean-shaven. As so often, the clothes fit him perfectly: not too loose, not too tight, accentuating exactly the right parts of his body. He really didn’t look as old as he claimed to be. In his eyes sparkled a rare mix of affection and appreciation as he studied you in return.
“You look incredible.”
His gaze drifted over your lightly styled hair, your accentuated eyes, lingered for a few seconds on your lips before continuing – over the elegant sway of the off-the-shoulder black dress that reached just below your knees, the sheer black nylon on your legs – keen to figure out whether those were stockings, maybe even with lace – all the way down to your black heels. His lips parted slightly, a soft breath escaping them.
“Incredible…” he repeated, letting the word fade into the room.
“Likewise, Mr. Kennedy.”
Your sugar-sweet words were followed by a step forward and a gentle brush of your lips against his – the lipstick was expensive, but you weren’t quite sure how kiss-proof it was. Leon’s mouth curved even further into a satisfied smile. You couldn’t resist adding, “Better not get used to it”, with a mischievous glint.
“Ah,” Leon waved it off. His arms untangled themselves, fingers finding your chin to keep your eyes on him. “You know I much prefer you in my sweatpants. They suit you much better than me.” He seemed to understand your earlier gesture, planting a kiss on your cheek.
“They really do, don’t they?” you replied with a shy smile, turning away to quickly put the flowers in a vase. They smelled like meadow, fields, open land. “Do you want to come in for just a moment?” You opened a kitchen cabinet and produced a suitable vessel.
“Better we leave so we’re on time for our reservation,” came from the apartment door.
“Okay! Just a moment. Let me get my purse.” The flowers found their place on your kitchen counter between kitchen and living room. On your way to the door, you grabbed your clutch and a shawl for your shoulders. Leon’s hand settled between your shoulder blades as you walked down the hallway toward the elevator.
“How did you even manage to get such a last-minute reservation at such an exclusive restaurant?”
Ever the gentleman, Leon had opened the door to his Porsche – another clear hint at just how much he must earn – helping you into the passenger seat before the engine roared to life. Now you sat comfortably in the spacious, cozy car with its passenger console, tuning the radio.
“Had Hunnigan call for me.”
Your head snapped toward Leon, who was wearing a mischievous grin.
“You’re kidding?” Did government dispatchers make restaurant reservations now?
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, I’m kidding.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes playfully.
“Some guy on Hunnigan’s team couldn’t make his reservation and asked around if anyone wanted to take his place. She told me and… here we are.”
“Lucky coincidence, I’d say.” You sank deeper into the upholstery. You’d already looked at the menu beforehand and had deliberately not eaten much today – hopefully you wouldn’t order too much, given the prices.
Leon hummed in agreement. “You deserve a nice evening.” His right hand left the steering wheel and settled on your thigh, over the soft fabric of your dress. Your own hand covered his, skin rough and marked by years of service to his country. He’d have to tell you sometime what exactly it was he did. It had to be something important – Secret Service, probably. And likely not something he was even allowed to talk about.
“You do too,” you murmured. Leon traveled a lot. Was gone a lot. Sometimes you wouldn’t hear from him for days while he was away. Then he’d suddenly knock on your door as if nothing had happened, mumbling something about bad reception. But in the short time you’d spent together, you’d seen them – the cuts scattered across his body, fresh and old alike. His work was dangerous – and one day, he’d have to tell you about it.
His hand lay flat against you, moving in slow, calming circles over the fabric of your dress, messing it up where it rested. The silky material shifted back and forth, revealing more of the dark nylon, more of your leg. A change Leon could only feel – his eyes firmly fixed on the road.
“I’m already having a nice evening,” he chuckled. His hand traced wider paths over your dress, messing up the fabric even more as he subtly tried to feel what lay beneath. He thought he could make out the lace he was hoping for at your thigh, and drew in a heavier breath. “You look incredibly sexy in this.”
You watched his hand roam over an ever-growing stretch of your leg, and you’d be lying if the way he moved it wasn’t enticing – or if you hadn’t noticed the hunger behind it. It tugged at you, around you and inside you, and your hand slid off his, letting him have his way. Leon shifted in his seat noticeably.
“Thought you preferred me in your sweatpants?” you countered with a challenging grin he could only hear in your voice.
Another soft chuckle. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it when my girlfriend dresses up for me.”
“You can’t even see,” you teased, a soft giggle slipping out.
“Doesn’t matter,” came the retort. “I prefer to feel anyway. You know that.”
Oh yes, you knew. Leon was a man who acted on instinct. It was evident in the way he explored your needs instead of asking about them. It often felt like he interpreted every hitch of your breath, every ripple of goosebumps, every one of your touches perfectly – translating them into exactly what you needed in that moment: his tongue, his fingers, his cock. All of it delivered with such devotion and understanding of your body, as if you were the long-married wife he knew by heart.
And even now, you knew he noticed – the way his hand moved, the careful tug upward at the hem of your dress, made the heat rising inside you, your knees drifting apart without conscious thought. You knew he noticed… because that same hand slid from the fabric of your dress down onto your nylon stockings, just shy above your knee.
Tension built in your body as you braced your hands on either side of the wide seat, shifting in it, not quite sure where to put yourself.
“Eyes on the road, Leon…” You meant for the words to come out firm – he was still driving an expensive, fast car, after all – but they slipped from your lips more like a mumble as his fingers slowly but steadily glided under the hem of your dress and up your nylon-clad thigh.
“I have my eyes on the road, baby,” he assured you. And the way he said it – low and coaxing, paired with the pet name – lit a small fire inside you. You were torn between his calloused fingers, the tingling touches, and the fact that you were speeding down the highway. At least there wasn’t much traffic.
Leon’s fingers finally found what they were searching for, grazing the lace at the top of your stockings. He made an approving sound. Just a few inches higher, and he unexpectedly felt a clip. Another heavy breath escaped his lips.
“You’re wearing garters?”
You lifted your shoulders innocently. “Maybe.” All out meant all out.
The advantage of the situation was that you could watch him – while he couldn’t watch you. That’s why you saw how he adjusted himself in his seat just like you had, how his chest rose and fell a little more noticeably, how his hand gripped the steering wheel a few times. If that hadn’t already been proof enough that he was riling himself up, his next weighted words were: “God, you’re so hot.”
Pride bloomed inside you at how thoroughly you’d caught him off guard – usually, he was so composed, both in himself and in his touch. Maybe you should wear expensive lingerie for him more often. The cocky thought evaporated quickly, though, when Leon’s hand didn’t retreat but instead slid along the lace band to the inside of your thigh.
His fingers were so close to your panties now that you could feel their presence at your core. Your head tilted down, aligning your gaze with your lap – with where Leon’s hand was buried beneath your dress. Your breath rushed hot past your lips – damn it, you wanted him to touch you.
“What else does my hot girl have in store for me?”
Damn him. He knew exactly what he was doing.
He didn’t tease you. He never had been that kind of man. His fingers found the fabric of your panties and you gasped sharply. It throbbed between your legs, the pull growing firmer, more demanding, urging you to spread your legs wider for his exploring fingers.
“More lace,” Leon noted casually, masking the fact that his cock was pressing hard against the fabric of his suit pants – turned on beyond reason by your entire outfit, and this close to steering the Porsche off the highway and dragging you into the backseat. With his thumb, he applied gentle pressure to your clothed clit and was rewarded not only with a small, sweet sound slipping from your tongue, but also with the way your hips tilted forward, granting him even more access.
His hand cupped your pussy, prodding at the fabric at your entrance, feeling how much wetter you were getting – and with every passing second of this delicious torture (for him, probably even more than for you), it became harder for Leon to focus on the road.
He wasn’t done yet. He needed to feel you properly, no matter what it did to him. He had to ignore the hard-on straining in his pants, the demanding pull low in his belly, the light sheen of sweat forming in his palm from sheer effort to control. He could do this. Age came with patience, after all. Or so people claimed.
“Legs wide, baby,” he instructed softly, not yet satisfied with the position you’d taken – somewhere between lying and sitting, your legs spread only as far as the seat allowed.
You breathed heavily under his touch, your panties practically ruined for the rest of the evening, your body flooded with need – not quite how you’d imagined the night beginning.
“Wh–what if someone sees?” you asked between uneven breaths, your gaze flicking forward, eyeing the other cars on the highway.
Leon clicked his tongue. “You know the windows are tinted.”
Of course you knew. You’d just… forgotten, caught up in the embarrassment of the situation.
“No one can see. Now, legs wide.”
You did your best not to rub your head too hard against the seatback – you didn’t want to mess up your hair – as you braced yourself, shifted your weight, and carefully let your knee slide over the left edge of the seat toward the center console, hoping you wouldn’t accidentally hit any important buttons. Did this ridiculously expensive sports car have an eject button?
Your dress slipped down all on its own, the fabric pooling at your hips, and for a brief moment you felt far less glamorous than you had half an hour ago. But Leon let out a deep, appreciative sound from his throat, and all embarrassment vanished when his fingers moved from above the lace of your panties to the waistband – and underneath.
The moment his index finger brushed your clit with the lightest touch, electric currents shot through your body and straight between your legs.
“Fuck,” you breathed, unable to stop your head from knocking back against the headrest.
How did he do that? How did he make you ache for every touch, craving him the instant he so much as nudged you? Like wax in his hands, he always made you reach for him – even in a situation like this – the fact that you were in a moving vehicle barely registering anymore.
You’d actually planned all of this as a surprise for after dinner – the whole look, all of it – but now it was far too late for that, and you yearned for his touch.
“You can open them,” you sighed, while his finger traced lazy circles over your steadily swelling clit.
“Hm?” Leon asked, his gaze locked firmly on the road. At least he took the driving seriously.
Even though – for a man who preferred feeling – he’d very much like to see just how aroused you were from this little bit of touching. By now, he doubted he’d even make it to the restaurant.
“The –” you swallowed, “the panties. They have clips. Because of the garters.”
You nearly protested when the stimulation from his fingers stopped.
Leon shot you a brief, surprised glance. Just two seconds before his eyes returned to the road – but long enough to catch a glimpse of what you’d become. His cock twitched hard in his pants as the image burned itself into his retina: you draped across the seat, one leg spread as wide as possible for him, hands braced at your sides, glassy eyes fixed on him.
“You serious?” he asked, fingers probing the side of your underwear – only to find the clips you’d mentioned.
He chuckled, but the little surprise – you, laid out like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped – was almost too much. His cock was no longer merely suggesting anything.
It was demanding your pussy.
So much for wise patience.
“You really went all out,” Leon remarked, wasting no time freeing your heated core from the confines of lace underwear. The soaked fabric slid down your thighs. Leon grabbed the panties and pulled them out from beneath your dress.
“Well, look at that.” For a brief moment, he inspected the mechanics of the garment before slipping it into his pocket – which, for some reason, only turned you on more, already anticipating his touch returning. How far away was the restaurant, anyway?
Leon didn’t make you wait long. His hand slid right back between your legs. You drew in a sharp breath. His fingers, no longer restricted by fabric around your core, spread your lips, granting themselves better access to your hard, throbbing nub. A moan finally escaped you as he rolled his index finger firmly over you. Your hips lifted automatically into his touch, your body held up only by your hands braced against the seat.
“Leon…” you whimpered, his name followed by a soft “oh God” as he slid two fingers into you, coating them with your arousal. Your eyes fluttered shut, the sensation unbearably delicious.
Despite the task at hand – finding the next exit – and the unfortunate angle, Leon’s practiced precision led him straight to the spot inside your cunt that made you roll your hips into his hand, just as receptive to him as ever. You’d planned this whole evening, poor thing – and he couldn’t even keep his greedy fingers off you for two hours.
With his knuckles buried deep inside you, massaging your sweet spot and coaxing increasingly louder, shriller sounds from you, Leon finally hit the indicator and guided the car off onto a rest stop.
It probably shouldn’t have surprised him – he’d handled far more dangerous maneuvers with much heavier machinery – but still. As turned on as he was by you, with blood roaring in his ears and heat rushing through his body, it was impressive that he managed to park the car in a dark, unlit corner of the lot – all one-handed.
You only realized the car was slowing right before it came to a stop. Leon’s fingers had stripped you of any sense of reality – but when he withdrew them, leaving you with a strange emptiness, your eyes flew open in panicked belief that you’d arrived at the restaurant.
Mid-motion, pulling your dress back down, you quickly realized you were on a deserted rest stop. You gasped, disoriented, searching for something – anything – to ground yourself: the car door, the console, it didn’t matter.
“Wh–where are we?” you asked, confused, gently shaking your head to regain your composure.
Leon didn’t answer – you were smart enough to connect the dots yourself. Instead, he focused on pushing the driver’s seat as far back as possible, reclining it slightly, and undoing his belt.
You heard the mechanical whirr of the seat first, and as your attention drifted back to Leon – through a haze of lust – the metallic click of the buckle. The prospect of what he was offering sent another wave of tingling excitement through your body.
Wide-eyed and still a little breathless, you watched in the darkness as he freed his hard cock from his trousers. It practically sprang free, the tip coated in a glossy sheen of his own arousal, the shaft ready for you to just sit on it – sink down on it and fill yourself with the incredible feeling of him.
“Wanna hop on?” he asked, eyes hopeful as he looked at you. This hadn’t been your plan – he’d understand if you wanted to go to the restaurant and continue this later. Still, he was far too worked up not to at least try.
Luckily for both of you, you didn’t need to be asked twice. Carefully – so as not to kneel on your dress or hit any buttons – you climbed from your seat over the center console, straddling Leon’s lap. The black fabric spread over both of you, your heat and breath mingling together. The overwhelming urge to connect with him in every possible way gripped you fiercely – but you managed to resist at least one of them.
“Can’t ruin the make-up,” you breathed against his parted lips, right next to yours.
His mouth curved into a gentle grin. “Of course.” Instead of claiming your lips, Leon chose the next best alternative – tenderly nibbling at the skin of your neck while one hand slid beneath your dress and between you, guiding his cock into alignment with you. You let him catch your entrance and slowly sank down onto him. You fit together perfectly, and he’d prepared you so well that it only took a brief slide before his full length was buried inside you – a fact Leon responded to with a soft groan and a small love bite at the hollow of your neck.
He gathered the fabric of your long dress with both hands to give you the freedom of movement you needed, his lips never leaving whatever skin they could reach. Your hands found purchase on the seatback as your hips rolled forward, Leon’s tip gliding straight along the spot he’d teased and penetrated with his fingers earlier. You sighed, rolled your hips into him a second time, then a third – and Leon’s groans against your skin urged you to pick up the pace.
With every movement of your hips and every graze of his teeth, the pressure built – more heat, more boiling blood. You chased everything he had to offer, bouncing along his entire length, your breath soon ragged and uncoordinated from the effort and the stimulation of having sex in Leon’s Porsche, the rustling fabric quickly becoming more irritating than erotic.
Leon pulled back from your neck – from the feel of your pounding pulse – just to look at you. A sight for sore eyes: you, eyes closed, mouth open, riding him. Your sounds rang in his buzzing ears, your deliciously wet cunt wrapped around his cock feeling like a gift from the universe – or whatever higher power might exist – a reward for the life he’d lived so far.
“Wish I could suck on those tits,” he growled, the clothing a frustrating obstacle for him too.
“Wish you would fuck me,” you moaned back, your thighs straining against the restrictive situation you were in, your whole body desperate for release.
Leon grabbed your hips and forced you to slow your pace. He snorted, followed by a sympathetic sound.
“I spoil you too much.” A light kiss landed on your dark red lips. “I’ll fuck you later, princess. Promise.”
Really, it was his own fault. He loved fucking you – hard, deep, fast, slow, exactly how you needed it – until you forgot your own name and the two of you were slick with sweat, only to continue in the shower. In fact, he loved it so much that you’d never had to do the work yourself. He hadn’t thought about that when he started this little stunt. You needed some help.
“But right now,” he said, shifting his weight and sliding a hand between you, “I need you to be a good girl and get off like this. Right here, against my hand. Can you do that?”
You pouted – actually pouted – but you knew there was no other option in this car than to follow his instructions. So you nodded, grabbed his shoulders, and focused on moving precisely against his hand, his fingers finding your nub and pressing into you, moving with you.
You hadn’t expected it to work, but Leon surprised you once again, proving how well he knew you and just how expertly he could push you. With the new position – one hand on your clit, the other applying supportive pressure to your hip – your entire body relaxed, and the tension that had been scattered everywhere else pooled between your legs, sparking there.
There was less speed, less bouncing – more precision, more guidance from Leon’s skilled hands, the contrast of his calloused fingertips against your clit exactly what you needed alongside the slick heat of your shared connection.
At the first flutter of your walls, Leon groaned softly, satisfied. “There we go, baby. Take your time.”
If there was one thing he loved more than pounding into you, it was the feel of your clenching cunt around his cock – especially when you came and he got the best of both worlds. Fucking you senseless, buried deep in your pulsing pussy. Shit – this was the life. Just the thought sent a storm of searing fire through his body, his cock throbbing hard against your wonderfully spongy walls.
He helped guide your movements, his fingers taking thorough care of you, coaxing your pleasure to swell, your stomach to tighten, your skin to tingle. Your body bent forward, arching to where you needed his cock to hit, and Leon followed, his mouth returning to the tempting skin of your neck. He groaned against you, deep and rough every time your walls contracted and your hips stuttered.
You lost coordination the closer you came – still unbelievably so – to your orgasm, despite the rising high with the desperate wish for Leon to just take you already. And somehow, by whatever stroke of fate, Leon found some kind of leverage inside the Porsche to meet you halfway. His hips snapped against your ass and you fell forward with a sound somewhere between a yelp and a moan, crashing against his strong chest.
No wise patience here. He couldn’t stand making you do all the work anymore and simply found a way to press himself into you. Not the way he usually would – but enough to call it a fuck.
“Fuck, Leon,” you moaned into the back of the car.
Leon wrapped an arm around you, no longer caring about things like your styling, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling just enough to make it sting. His hot, panting breath spilled into your ear as he pumped into you with every bit of leverage the Porsche’s interior would allow. Your entire lower half flushed against his, the stimulation of his pelvis against your clit making it draw tight, pleasantly – announcing your imminent climax between your blissed-out sounds.
“I can feel you,” Leon’s voice rushed through your head. “Come for me. Come with me.”
More deep moans slipped from your throat – and then, with the final throb of your clit and the clench of your walls, a tingling rush tore through your body. It gathered in your stomach, bridged between your legs, and exploded in a flood of fire and ecstasy. You found purchase on Leon’s shoulders as you cried out into the Porsche, your orgasm so welcome you didn’t care about the overstimulation – you just wanted Leon not to stop.
“Leon – fuck – yes – don’t stop,” the words tumbled out of your throat airily and straight into Leon’s ear, and he answered with more of the delicious torture of his cock.
“Kiss me, baby. Kiss me,” he demanded, grabbing a fistful of hair, guiding your head and pressing his lips to yours, completely unconcerned about the fate of your makeup – and you couldn’t and wouldn’t object. The feeling of his lips on yours, the way you could moan against them and feel his hot tongue in your mouth, topped everything else.
You moved on him completely automatically now, and as your walls contracted around him, your bodies connected everywhere, Leon groaned against your lips as the rush hit him too. A searing heat shot through his body and down his cock before he spilled inside you – the sensation of shooting into you perhaps the best thing of all. He savored it for as long as he could, lips still tender against yours, giving as many small thrusts as possible, stretching out every second he could steal just to have those few extra moments.
And even as both of your orgasms slowly ebbed, as you came down from the shared high, you lingered in the aftershocks – ragged breaths, the buzzing air around you, bodies spent and minds satisfied.
Leon’s beautiful blue eyes, barely visible in the darkness of the rest stop, looked at you with open affection, and you smiled back just as warmly. Gently – as if you hadn’t just tested the Porsche’s shock absorbers for durability – you stroked his cheek, earning a contented sound from him. He pressed a kiss into your palm.
“Okay,” you began once you’d regained at least some of your senses, “how do I look?”
He made a thoughtful sound, pursed his lips, and tilted your chin left and right with two fingers.
“Incredible,” he concluded with a smile and a wink. He reached to the right toward the console, produced a tissue, and offered it to you.
You did your best to catch his spend with it to avoid stains. As you awkwardly climbed back into your seat, you said with a grin, “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Once seated, you flipped the mirror down to inspect the damage.
“Oh, look at that!” you exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. “The lipstick is kiss-proof.”
End Note: Yes, I studied the 360° view of the Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT for this meticulously, lmao
(Leon and you uncover the truth about the facility you’re in and, once again, bring a mission to a successful close side by side. This time, your paths don’t part afterward.)
Part 1 | Part 2
Word Count: ~ 10k
Rating: E - Canon-typical violence, sex pollen trope (so technically non-con, if you squint real, REAL hard; but in this it just serves as an amplifier of already existing attraction), smut as far as the eye can see; oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal sex, car sex, missionary, cowgirl, doggystyle, facesitting, spooning, light choking, light hair pulling, creampie(s); set four years before the events of RE9
Author's Note: There! *slams this massive thing (heh) on the table* You asked for it 💃 But hey, I managed to tuck away 1k words of what was my initial estimate. Idek what this is but it was fun! Also, shoutout to the diva that is Dave the CIA dispatcher. He was originally meant to be a nameless handler, but turned out to be a funny side character - I recently observed that there are a lot of Daves out there. Nothing left to say honestly than: Hope you enjoy 💕
On the lower level of the facility, the full extent of what had gone wrong here revealed itself.
The plant growths – or plants? – had spread everywhere. Walls, ceilings, floors. They had spiraled completely out of control, just like the test subjects.
You moved along the glass wall, partially shattered down here by thick, invasive vines, yet still offering a clear view into the vast greenhouse. Every now and then, a Flombie stumbled into your path.
Would that be your fate, too?
You fought your way down the long corridor until you found another staircase leading upward – straight into the greenhouse’s control room. After barricading the door behind you, you took in your surroundings.
“Deja vu,” Leon muttered, eyeing the rows of control panels and buttons.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
He shot you a brief glance before nodding ahead. “Seen something like this before. In Raccoon City. Genetically modified plants.”
As he spoke, he stepped forward toward one of the terminals – and finally gave in to the heat, shrugging off his leather jacket.
It revealed the tactical shirt beneath, long-sleeved like yours, tight-fitting like yours. The outlines of his broad upper arms were unmistakable, stretching the fabric like it was barely holding on, ready to give if he so much as flexed. His shoulders tapered down into a narrow waist, his hips shifting with surprising fluidity.
And his ass –
God.
Your eyes widened before you could stop yourself. Your heart picked up speed, matching the growing throb and pull between your legs.
“Get yourself together,” you whispered under your breath as Leon started typing.
He let out a quiet grunt.
“Found something?”
You stepped closer carefully. Leon noticed in time to take a deliberate step aside – giving both of you space.
You shot him a small sideways glance and a faint smile before leaning over the glowing screen to read:
SPECIES FILE – DESIGNATION: EUPHORIA VARIANT
Genetically modified plant organism.
Primary function: Release of airborne spores targeting the limbic system.
Intended effects:
Stimulation of desire
Increased suggestibility
Emotional dependency
Addendum:
The compound does not differentiate between forms of drive.
Desire and hunger are processed through overlapping neural pathways.
Mutation observed in latest subjects.
Need amplified. Desire uncontrollable.
You frowned, your vision blurring slightly. The words made sense – but your brain struggled to process them properly. You had to reread the text multiple times before it fully sank in.
There was more:
INCIDENT REPORT – RESTRICTED
Containment failure in lower level greenhouse.
Spore density exceeded projected limits.
Plant growth exponentially increasing.
Subjects lost all higher cognitive function within hours.
Subjects developed floral growth as part of mutation.
Remaining behavior:
Compulsive feeding
Aggression
Loss of identity
Facility compromised.
If exposure has occurred:
Leave immediately.
Do not remain in the greenhouse.
Leon watched you as you read through what he already knew.
He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t let himself be influenced like this by what had been created here. A twisted way to control human desire. To commercialize something as intimate as this connection, even further than it already was. It disgusted him.
And yet – there you were, bent forward, every curve of your agile body visible beneath the tight tactical clothing. What had once been a sweet distraction on the occasional mission now hit him like a truck.
The hard ache in his pants – the one he had been stubbornly ignoring ever since you’d shed those two layers – throbbed insistently at the sight of you.
The way you arched your perfect ass – he wanted nothing more than to grab you. Tear every piece of clothing from your sweat-slick skin. Twist your ponytail around his wrist and…
He dragged a hand over his face, just as damp, struggling for control of his thoughts. You were more than just a hot body. He knew that. Years of crossing paths had made that clear.
Understanding. Driven. Hardcore. In his darkest times, you had been that small light. That quiet motivation. Whenever he saw you and things were good, you noticed – and smiled. Whenever they weren’t, you tried to lift him up, steady and unwavering, guiding the mission to its end alongside him.
You had never truly gotten to know each other – why hadn’t you?
Because neither of you had ever made the first move?
He could fix that. Here. Now. But not like this. Not under the influence of something like this. You deserved more than that. So Leon clenched his teeth, jaw tight, forcing himself to look anywhere but at you.
“Holy shit,” you murmured once you had finally processed everything. You turned, your tingling body leaning back against the console for support. “So it is sex trafficking – but bio-style.”
Leon crossed his arms. A quiet laugh slipped past his lips, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor rather than you – because he knew exactly his eyes would land on your chest otherwise.
Now it was clear what was happening between you.
For you, it was attraction amplified.
For him… was it artificial?
You couldn’t quite tell, not with the way he avoided looking at you, his attention everywhere but where you stood. If anything, he seemed uncomfortable, not tempted.
It stung – your ego, your feelings – but you couldn’t blame him.
“We need to kill this plant and secure a sample,” you said instead, redirecting the focus back to the mission. “From what the report says, the effect isn’t permanent. If we get out of here quickly, fresh air and some time might be enough.”
“And if not,” Leon added professionally, “the sample will be used for an antidote.”
You nodded, pushing yourself off the console. Weapon raised, you moved toward the greenhouse entrance, Leon right behind you.
Had it not been built for such a vile purpose, the greenhouse would have been beautiful.
The air carried a distinct blend of roses and tropical notes – warm, fresh, and alluring. The colors were vibrant, the vegetation alive. If only it hadn’t grown out of control, and if the spores weren’t so dense, so clearly visible, drifting through the air. The concentration was too high. You’d inhale too much in no time.
You tried to keep your breathing shallow, but your focus slipped with every breath. Especially when Leon kept slipping into your peripheral vision. His arms – his damn arms again. His ash-blond hair framing that intensely focused expression. He stirred something primal in you, such overwhelming need, that before you could stop yourself, you took a deeper breath just to ease the heavy throbbing between your legs...
...which didn’t help.
Instead, you cursed yourself for breathing in even more of the stuff. Your vision blurred. Every inch of your skin burned. Panting followed soon after.
You felt as if even the slightest touch would push you over the edge of an orgasm.
You had never experienced anything this intense before – no matter how young or experienced you had been. It consumed you more with every passing second, and you didn’t know what to do with it. For a moment, you almost understood the desperate moans of the Flombies.
Your thoughts drifted – unhelpfully – to your vibrator back home. A dearly missed little companion right now.
How Leon stayed so composed was beyond you.
Then again, you could hear his breathing too – heavy, controlled – while both of you stubbornly kept your eyes forward.
“Focus. Don’t breathe it in too deep,” he instructed, his dark voice like a glass of water after two days in the desert.
“I’m trying,” you panted quietly.
“We’re gonna be okay.”
“Your word in God’s ear.”
You moved forward, searching for the plant shown in the report, hoping you’d also find a way to destroy it along the way.
Gunshots echoed through the massive greenhouse whenever you took down a Flombie. There still weren’t many, and you wondered if most of the staff and captives had managed to escape.
You raised your weapon toward the next mutation, but Leon stopped you, arm outstretched.
“Wait.”
You lowered your gun immediately.
“What is it?” you asked, but the figure ahead had already turned to face you.
Flowers had begun to sprout from him too, but something was different.
He was looking at you.
Aware.
“Who are you?” he asked calmly, completely unbothered by his mutation.
“We are CIA and DSO, sir,” you replied – maybe you could still help him. “We heard about the incident here and came to evacuate you.”
“Ah,” the man in front of you said. Like so many before him, he wore a lab coat – though his wasn’t yet torn apart by rampant flora bursting from his body. He was clearly in an earlier stage of mutation. An unsettling grin spread across his half-mutated face as he adjusted the glasses on his long, hooked nose. “I’m afraid you are too late, Agents.”
Leon and you exchanged a brief look – skeptical, blood rushing, pulling yourselves together even as your control hung by a thread.
“How do we stop this?” you asked the scientist in front of you. “Who are you?”
To your surprise, he introduced himself immediately. Sometimes it really could be that simple.
“My name is Richard Greene.”
You recognized the name instantly – from the initials on the reports.
“You’re the lead researcher on the project,” you realized out loud.
“I see my reputation precedes me.” He sighed quietly. “You shouldn’t be here, agents.” His gaze flickered upward with a slight jerk of his head – his body no longer fully under his control – toward the plants. “Then again… neither should I.”
With a crooked smile, he turned back to you.
“As for ‘stopping’ it –” he reached into his lab coat and produced a vial filled with a green liquid, “ – this is the only way to destroy Plant E.”
You inhaled another batch of spores drifting through the air.
“Give it to us. You can still stop this. The facility is doomed. Give us the compound and no one else has to get hurt.”
With an unsettling chuckle, the scientist slipped the vial back into his coat.
“I never really meant to hurt people, you know.” He tucked his other hand into his pockets. “All I wanted was to create something… elegant. And I needed the funding.”
“Hence you partnered with the right shareholders,” Leon said.
He nodded. “Unfortunate that my plant proved so interesting to the sex industry –,” confirming your suspicion that this was about sex trafficking, “ – when all I wanted was to build a bridge… between instinct and influence.” His gaze settled on you, intense and obsessive. “Desire.”
You swallowed. The man unsettled you deeply – and yet your body felt drawn to him. To his words.
To that disturbing smile.
Leon stepped forward, placing himself between you and him.
That only made the smile widen.
“You see, agents –” Greene said, taking a step forward, “ – people think desire is complicated. Personal. Emotional.” He paused at Leon’s imposing stance. “It isn’t. It’s chemical. The same pathways. The same signals. I could have used the removal of that distinction in any kind of medicine. Instead… it became this.”
He gestured around him, into the air thick with particles drifting like heavy rain.
“It became more,” he said, almost reverent. “It consumes you… before you consume.”
His gaze locked onto you.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
You flinched back – but forced yourself to hold your ground.
“Yes… you feel it.” His grin never faltered as he paced slowly. “It starts subtle. Heat. Breathing gets heavier. Restlessness. Noticing things more. Noticing him.”
He pointed at Leon.
“That’s enough,” Leon said, but Greene only laughed softly.
“Don’t pretend you’re above it. You feel it, too.” His voice dropped lower. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The desire.” His body twitched, new flowers bursting from him. “I only wanted people to be able to revel in it. You could, too. Revel in it. I can see you want to.”
He gestured shamelessly toward Leon’s crotch. Leon stood in front of you, but you could imagine exactly what was happening.
“Both your bodies have already decided.”
Leon tensed noticeably. Why he wasn’t shooting yet, you couldn’t quite tell. Then again – you weren’t either. It was as if Greene had you both under some kind of spell. You wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Understand this,” he continued, his gaze greedy as it lingered on you. “It’s not gentle. It doesn’t ask.” A hoarse, quiet laugh. “It insists.” One of his hands clutched the fabric over his chest. “It builds, layer by layer… until everything – thought, rationality, restraint…” His voice faltered. “…feels far away.” He inhaled the spores – his creation. “And then… you don’t want to stop.”
A sudden coughing fit shook the scientist, and he dropped to his knees. Your body jerked forward, insisting on helping him – but Leon still had enough control to hold you back.
You watched as the mutation overtook him, flowers bursting from his body, consuming him, until nothing remained of the man who had caused all of this.
The creature before you was larger than the others – massive, covered in vivid, dangerous colors.
“Now would be a great time for that flamethrower!” you shouted, as Leon and you opened fire into the mass of flowers, petals bursting into the air – but the mutant kept advancing, moaning obscenely, searching for flesh, no longer able to distinguish between hunger and desire.
“Get the vial!” Leon ordered, sharper than before. He pointed toward the steel walkway beside the creature – the pesticide had fallen from Greene’s coat during the mutation.
“Yes, sir!”
And for a moment, you were locked in as a team.
“Hey, Flowerboy!” Leon called out, drawing the mutant’s attention. “I might have the biggest hard-on of my life, but I can still take you down.”
“TMI, Agent Kennedy!” you shot back, ignoring your overheated body as you sprinted forward, slipping past the distracted creature, dodging a sweeping strike, sliding across the slick steel until you grabbed the vial.
“Now what?!” you called to Leon, who emptied his magazine into the flowers.
“Run to the control room! Sprinkler system – go!”
“Got it!”
You raced along the walkway, cutting down or dodging smaller plant-zombies along the way, until you made the loop and reached the control room entrance again – praying Leon would hold out long enough for you to find and activate the system.
You rushed inside, catching a glimpse through the glass of Leon dodging the mutant’s attacks – and hurried even faster.
“ShitShitShit,” you panted, fumbling with the very prominent input module until you finally got it open. A sudden realization hit you – something you had completely forgotten down here.
“Dave!” You switched on your intercom.
“Holy shit, girlie, there you are! Hunnigan and I already sent a unit your way since we hadn’t heard from you in so long. What’s your sitrep?”
“Can’t chat – giant bioweapon is chasing Leon! Help me with these controls. We need to activate the sprinkler system.”
Dave locked in immediately, his bright voice dropping into something lower, more serious. “Got it. Let me handle it. I’ll hack into this.”
“Thanks, you’re the best.”
With that, you hurried back toward the greenhouse to help Leon. The metal rang beneath your quick steps as you ran up behind the floral monstrosity.
“Hey!” You fired into the back of its blooming head. “Come and get me, horny.”
It turned toward you, a sound somewhere between a roar and a drawn-out moan echoing through the space. From behind the creature, you saw Leon moving along the side path – clearly heading your way.
Tense, you kept your pistol trained on where the researcher’s face had once been, now only recognizable by the gaping maw.
“Any second now, Dave…” you muttered.
You planted your feet, ready to fire again.
The monster lashed out.
Leon came to a stop beside you, his pistol raised right next to yours. Your eyes met – determined, trusting.
Then the sprinklers activated across the massive greenhouse.
Thick, green droplets poured down from above, drenching everything beneath the dome. Almost instantly, the vibrant blossoms around you began to wither – and with them, the ones covering the mutant. Greene – or what remained of him – howled and groaned as he shrank, his once-colorful body turning gray, decaying.
He collapsed onto the slick metal floor and dissolved, just like the growth surrounding you. Not just that – the air cleared, the spores vanished. What had once been a vibrant greenhouse slowly died away – and with it, the twisted ambition of its creator.
Silence settled over you. Only the faint hum of the lights above remained.
For a moment, with adrenaline still rushing through your veins, you wondered whether the pesticide had flushed the spores out of your system as well.
One glance at the man beside you proved otherwise.
Leon was soaked. From head to toe. And damn – it only made him more attractive. Wet strands of hair clung to his face, green droplets trailing down his jaw, along his neck. The damp fabric of his dark shirt stuck to him – the outline of his abs so clearly visible it should’ve required a permit.
You looked away as your gaze caught the unmistakable bulge in his pants, heat rushing back into your body – fast, demanding – adding a new, burning slickness between your thighs to the dampness already clinging to your skin.
“Fucking hell. I want out of here,” you said.
Leon let out a low sound of agreement. “Got a sample.”
He held up a piece of vine that had somehow survived the downpour.
“Color me impressed.” He was such a trained agent, it was almost unreal. “They’ll be able to make an antidote out of that, right? Before we start growing flowers?”
“Yeah.” Leon put conviction into his voice, and for now, you chose to believe him. The alternative was too much. Maybe it hadn’t progressed that far yet – maybe time would clear the spores from your system.
Leon lifted his hand to his ear, calling in to whoever he was connected to at the DSO.
As you made your way toward the exit, you did the same with Dave.
“Are you okay?” Dave asked, concern threading his voice.
“I –” your gaze lingered on Leon for a moment, “ – I’m not sure. This was… too much. I wasn’t exactly looking for a bio-organic case.”
In short bursts, you filled Dave in on the most important details of the past hours.
“We need to make sure they didn’t ship either the compound or any infected overseas,” you concluded, trying with everything you had not to think about Leon – just the fresh air above.
But your body still throbbed, every inch of it, your heart hammering in your throat, your core screaming that it had been far too long since you’d been properly fucked stupid.
“First we need to make sure you two don’t turn into flombies. Great wordplay, by the way – so funny. Maybe you and Agent Kennedy should try working some of that out with a little fun.”
“Dave!” you protested, scandalized – but your fried brain thought it was a fantastic idea.
Everything in you was screaming to pull Leon close and devour him...figuratively.
“I’m actually not kidding,” your handler’s voice came through again, more serious now. “You two obviously like each other. It’s not just the spores. And from the documents I pulled from their servers, it looks like the effects actually wear off over time.” He snorted. “Would be pretty stupid if they made a sex drug that keeps people permanently horny. No recurring revenue.”
“Wow, okay, Mister Capitalism.”
You rolled your eyes as Dave let out a dumb laugh. He didn’t seem worried about you. That was… something.
But he wasn’t in your skin.
Not in the fire that had been burning the entire time, that you’d been fighting from the very beginning. The thing distracting you, pushing you to the edge of losing your mind. How you’d managed to stay focused enough to take that monster down was beyond you.
You looked down at your hands, blood rushing hot through them, and you could’ve sworn you could actually see colors running through your veins.
By the time you finally made it up the long staircase and stepped out of the decoy container where it had all begun, you couldn’t take the tingling in your skin or the closeness to Leon anymore – you bolted forward.
Out of the hall. Into the open air of the harbor.
Right outside, you spotted Leon’s Porsche – the absurdly expensive model you’d heard about back at the office. The DSO veteran’s reputation obviously reached even the CIA floors.
It felt strangely familiar, despite never having seen it before, as you leaned against the cool chassis, focusing on your breathing.
Eight seconds in. Deep into your lungs. Ten seconds out.
Hoping it might flush at least some of the spores out.
The cool sea air hit your damp skin, but it didn’t cool you down. Of course, why would fresh air alone fix this? Instead, you found yourself thinking about how good it felt to be pressed up against the Porsche… and immediately your thoughts spiraled into how good it would be to use it.
The last bit of reason in you tried to summon shame, but only barely.
It didn’t help. You were still hopelessly hot for Kennedy.
Said Kennedy stepped out behind you, his stride steady, purposeful, directed right at you. He masked it so damn well.
Still panting, you watched him approach – the sway of his hips, the bulge in his pants, the way his large, strong hands checked the magazine of his gun before his gaze lifted to meet yours.
Those pale blue eyes drilling into yours, something burning behind them.
“Deep breaths,” he murmured, coming to stand beside you, leaning against the car as well, his body angled toward yours. One hand hovered slightly, like he wanted to touch you.
God. He couldn’t touch you.
“Is this how I go out?” you asked, breath uneven from his presence alone. “Horny?”
Leon’s eyes widened for the briefest moment before a low, hoarse laugh rumbled from his chest. “You’ll be fine.”
Everything had been said. Everything had been done.
The air here at the harbor should’ve been fresh – but it wasn’t. It was thick. Heavy. Charged. Silence settled between you, and this time, neither of you tried to break it. You just looked at each other.
His eyes lowered to yours – so soft, so sensual, so irresistible.
Everything that had happened down there – those moments, heightened and distorted – stormed through your mind. The looks. His hand. His voice. That delicious pull in your stomach. The throbbing between your legs.
Instinct.
Desire.
Urgency.
No rationality.
You don’t want to stop.
“You wanna have dinner sometime?” “Wanna give me your number?”
Your voices overlapped, the words slipping out impulsively.
You both froze.
Leon laughed again – freer this time, brighter, like something chained-up inside him had finally snapped loose. There was unmistakable affection in his eyes as he lifted a hand and brushed a drying strand of hair from your face.
The touch sent a shock through your body. You barely held back a whimper, forced into a sharp inhale instead as heat swept through you violently .
“Or maybe –” you swallowed, “ – maybe we just skip the first few dates?”
You looked up at him, fully aware of how needy you sounded. Because you were.
For a moment that stretched endlessly, his gaze sank deeper into yours, like he was searching for the answer there instead of within himself.
Then, finally, a quiet, open grin.
“Yeah… yeah, let’s skip ’em.”
You let out the breath you’d been holding in a relieved laugh, only for your body to move on its own, pressing into his broad frame, into his smile.
Your lips collided.
Your body ignited – wild, consuming fire. No putting it out without him.
He felt exactly as good as you’d imagined. Solid. Strong. The perfect anchor to lose yourself against. The scent of his sweat – clean, sharp – clouded your senses, somehow making everything even hotter.
His arms wrapped around you, massive and firm – one around your waist, pulling you tight against him, the other along your back, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeply.
You had expected urgency – wild, frantic desire.
But Leon had other plans.
Having you wasn’t meant to be rushed. It was meant to be savored. To feel your lips. Taste the salt on your skin. Discover every inch of you.
Leon’s version of urgency had never been about speed – it was about stretching the moment for as long as possible.
And he would stretch this one into infinity if he could.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind – he should’ve asked you sooner. Could’ve had this sooner. Your lips, your body. That it had taken a genetically altered plant to break through your professional restraints might be the greatest irony of his life.
But now that he had you – he wasn’t letting go. And he’d prove to you that whatever was happening between you… it wasn’t because of the spores. They had only helped along what had been there all along.
His weight pressed you back against the Porsche, larger body enclosing yours, every bit of friction almost too much. His damp hair felt incredible between your fingers as you threaded your hand through it, gripping, tugging slightly – partly for balance, partly to tease him.
The low growl you got in return vibrated against your lips, never giving you space to breathe. Hot breaths tangled together. Open, wet kisses. Tongues brushing. Lips everywhere.
You couldn’t hold back the whimper when Leon slid a solid-trained thigh between your legs, pressing oh-so-gently against your core.
“Careful –” you gasped against his lips, “– I’m so sensitive you can’t even imagine.”
Leon’s breath came heavy, his face so close you could barely make out more than the lines around his eyes.
“Oh, I can,” he murmured. “Believe me. And I can imagine how badly you need to get off.”
The words shot straight through you, settling deep in your stomach. Your fingers tightened in his hair before you pulled him back into another kiss.
One arm still wrapped around you, Leon reached back with practiced ease, grabbing the rear door handle of his Porsche.He guided you away from the car’s exterior, opening the door, keeping your buckling body upright as he positioned you in front of the back seat.
“Get in,” he instructed – soft, but firm.
His hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing slow, soothing paths along your jaw, blue eyes locked onto yours – demanding, expectant, devoted.
You let yourself sink down onto the soft leather seat, his hands lingering on your face until he had to let go to climb in after you, closing the door behind him.
Suddenly, in the confined space, you were too close. He towered over you, just on the edge of pressing you fully beneath him. Anywhere – here, especially here – you needed him. His touch.
If he didn’t touch you, you might actually lose it.
Luckily, Leon seemed to be thinking the same thing. He wasted no time, fingers finding the zipper of your tactical shirt, pulling it down – but slowly. So slowly. Indulgently. How was he still holding it together?
“Please, please – ” you breathed. “I need you to touch me.”
“I know, beautiful,” he husked. “I’ll take care of you. Promise.”
The slow rasp of the zipper mingled with your heavy breathing as more of your skin was revealed, your anticipation building with every inch, while he took his time taking you in.
That body of yours – fit, strong, always hidden beneath tactical gear, blazers, shirts. All those unnecessary barriers between him and you.
Something dark flickered in his gaze as he finally exposed your skin. The same desire that burned in yours.
“You are exactly as beautiful as I always imagined,” he murmured, low and heated.
You were a vision. Lean, defined, perfect curves, and so soft beneath his fingers when he finally touched you, his cock throbbing urgently in his pants.
A shiver rolled through your body as his fingers traced upward from your stomach – the wrong direction. Your hips lifted instinctively toward him, betraying exactly what you needed.
“Impatient…” he murmured, almost to himself.
“Touch me where it matters, Leon…” Your half-lidded eyes met his, pleading.
He answered with a tired, almost dazed smile, too captivated by the feel of your skin. If only you knew how much time he wanted to take with you.
His long fingers traced along the outline of your lace-trimmed bra, slipping just barely beneath the fabric, grazing your nipple.
Your body arched, a soft, broken sigh spilling from your kiss-swollen lips.
“So worked up from this alone?” he asked, something like reverence in his eyes.
He could hardly believe what the plant had done to you – because he was just as affected. Your body, your sounds, he could come from that alone, without you even touching him.
“T-Told you –” your voice shook, “– I’m sensitive as hell. Please… take the edge off.”
For a second, you almost offered to do it yourself, but you liked his teasing too much.
His touch.
You needed more.
More of him.
Leon seemed to be enjoying your reactions far too much. A self-satisfied grin crept onto his features as his finger kept brushing over your hardened nipple – far too soft, far too little – pulling an equally unsatisfied huff from you.
“Let me just… for a second,” he rasped low, dipping down toward you, his steely body pressing closer against yours.
A peck to your lips – so brief you almost pulled him back in – your chin, then lower, to your neck.
Your soft skin melted perfectly beneath his lips, tasted sinful as he dared a small nip – quickly followed by a soothing lick when you responded with an enticing sigh to his machinations.
An even louder sigh escaped you when large hands grasped your breasts, kneading them, stroking the skin your bra didn’t cover – this irritating piece of clothing.
Leon had let himself be carried away by your body, the way it arched toward him, searching for his touch, for his lips – just as he had been searching for you for so long.
He scattered heated kisses across your equally heated skin, lower and lower, over your collarbone – your breasts a perfect handful, at least until his hands were replaced by his mouth.
He hooked his fingers beneath the fabric of your bra, pushed it aside, exposing your flushed skin to the open air. The way your chest pressed toward him with every heavy breath nearly put Leon into a trance – but the pull in his body was stronger, the tension greater, the need to taste you, to hear you, overwhelming.
“Oh my god…,” you sighed as the tip of his tongue flicked playfully over your nipple.
You could only let him – far too desperate to form any kind of demand, your body a throbbing mess, the pull between your legs so intense it felt unreal.
Your lower lip caught between your teeth as Leon worked on you – one, two, three more kitten licks against your nipple, savoring the way your back arched into him.
“More –,” was all you managed, earning a low, wanting grunt from him before his lips closed around your nipple, sucking gently. The other side was freed as well, your second nipple teased by deft fingers.
It was easily too much.
If he kept going, you would come.
Not like this.
“Leon…,” you breathed, fingers gliding through his hair, nudging him down – unable to help yourself.
He stilled, looking up at you through hazy eyes, licking over his lips before nodding.
“I know. I know. You just taste so damn good,” he rasped, but he didn’t make you ask again. Not when you looked at him like that – completely desperate.
His attention shifted to your pants. Quick fingers undid your belt and button. You helped him push the tight fabric down over your hips and legs. Your panties went with them. Shoes, stockings, pants, panties – all pooled into the footwell – and finally, your lower half was free.
A small blessing, really, that you’d been soaked by the sprinkler system earlier. It made it impossible to tell how much of the warmth between your legs was your own and how much belonged to the pesticide.
But one thing was certain – you had never been this wet in your life.
Leon straightened.
The sight of you – spread across the backseat, eyelids heavy, breath uneven, clothes barely clinging to your body, exposed – stirred something wild in him. Something between possession, reverence, and the faintest edge of something softer.
“You are perfect.”
The words slipped from his lips, smooth and low, while his cock throbbed for you – and he followed its demand.
Calloused fingers traced over your bare skin, down into the bend of your knee, lifting your leg with gentle pressure. You followed instantly, the sight of Leon above you – hungry, reverent – more intoxicating than anything you’d ever known.
Your ankle came to rest on his shoulder, kissed by his soft lips, his eyes never leaving yours.
He moved lower, leaving no inch of your skin untouched. The closer he got to where your core called for him, the more he wedged his broad shoulders between your legs, adjusting your position until you were half suspended across the seats – just to give himself enough room to lift your other leg onto his shoulder and grip your thighs.
Searching for something to hold onto, your fingers dug into the seat beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his hot breath exactly where you needed him.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Leon simply took you in – memorizing every inch of skin, committing it to memory for darker days.
He licked his lips, knowing he wanted to devour you. Here, he would give you exactly what you needed.
A surprised squeak slipped from you when he pressed a kiss directly to your clit without warning – only to part his lips over your cunt a second later and send you straight to heaven.
Everything that had been indulgent before became consuming now – as if he took the phrase eating out very literally. His tongue spread wide over your most sensitive spots, dragging slow, deliberate strokes, dipping into you, drinking in your juices.
It was like he was in a wild make-out session with your pussy.
“Fuck–fuck–fuck,” you gasped, high-pitched, your body trying to arch – but he had you in an iron hold.
You pushed yourself up as far as you could, finding leverage against the headrest, driven by the overwhelming need to see him.
Your eyes met.
He looked up at you, studying your pleasure-dazed gaze, your parted lips, the way your face twisted under the weight of sensation – enough to drive him further.
A whimper tore from you as he shifted his focus to your clit, his tongue first teasing with its tip before pressing flat against it, dragging the throbbing bud back and forth like he’d done this a thousand times – like he knew exactly how to make you see stars.
“When we do this again, you have to sit on my face,” Leon rasped breathlessly during a brief pause for air, before diving right back in.
The image – him beneath you, face buried between your thighs, completely at your mercy – sent a jolt through your entire body.
So much so that your hand returned to his hair, gripping, your hips grinding against him, spreading your wetness further over his chin, his lips, his nose.
He groaned appreciatively against you, the vibration traveling straight into your clit.
The friction lined up perfectly, and something unfamiliar began to build inside you. Between the slick sounds of his tongue against your soaked core and your broken, breathy moans, a sensation surged through you, more than just an orgasm.
You exhaled sharply. “Fuck–oh my god I’m gonna come–”
You barely registered the low groan against you before your body was overtaken by a wave – higher, deeper, more consuming than anything you had ever felt before. It crashed through you, the delicious pull from your stomach down between your legs stretching on and on, a loud moan spilling from your lips as your orgasm hit with such force it made you dizzy.
Leon’s grip on your thighs tightened, almost bruising, holding you in place as your body threatened to jerk out of his reach.
Wet sounds filled the interior of the Porsche, mingling with your high, continuous cries as you squirted over his entire face. Never before had your body done that – and it felt so good you never wanted it to end.
Your fingers tangled in his hair weren’t necessary – Leon stayed right where he was, more than willing, drinking you in, pushing you further, chasing more from you.
It was heaven.
Normally, he wasn’t the type to think about dying – but if he did now, he’d be content with it, right here, between your thighs.
“Stop–stop,” you panted, the pleasure too much, overwhelming – yet your hips still ground against his mouth, searching for the friction of his stubble, for more of him, more of that feeling. “Oh my god–more–,” you whimpered right after.
And Leon chose to listen to that second plea.
His tongue swept over your clit again, gentler this time, easing you down from the edge. Your breathing softened slightly as he continued to kiss and soothe you, his hands no longer gripping tight but resting against your flesh, stroking in slow, reassuring motions.
He suckled and teased, eyes flicking between watching you and closing in quiet indulgence – until, almost unnaturally fast, the pleasure built again.
You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your body sinking back into the seat, fingers slipping from his hair, eyes falling shut as your hips began to move against him once more. He read you effortlessly, picking up the pace again – his tongue firmer now, flicking over your clit, feeling it throb beneath him.
All the while, his mind had already moved ahead, imagining how he’d fuck you senseless once you’d had your fill. God, he’d take you apart so thoroughly you wouldn’t be able to walk for a while.
His cock twitched in his pants, painfully hard…but just once more.
Just one more time having your pleasure soaking his face.
That wish was granted quickly.
You squirmed against him, your sounds growing louder. Your body tensed again, urging you to hold onto anything you could, driving you higher and higher.
“’m coming–holy shit, yesyesyes–” the words tumbled from your lips before you were overtaken once more, wild electricity surging through you, making you shudder as you came over Leon’s face again – this time pushing him away, overstimulated.
He resisted playfully, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your clit before finally pulling back and sitting up.
You almost didn’t dare look – but curiosity got the better of you.
Even after coming twice in such a short span, your stomach tightened pleasantly at the sight of him, desire flaring right back to life.
One hand braced against the seat beside him, the other wiped at the mess you’d left clinging to his stubble. Even then, the dampness still shimmered – and somehow, it only made you more feral.
Your breath hitched as his fingers found your skin again – and you realized everything beneath you was soaked. Not just damp from arousal, but completely, undeniably wet.
“Jesus,” you murmured, your senses slowly returning after the intensity of your orgasms. “I’m sorry about the upholstery. This never happened to me before.”
As you spoke, you let Leon guide you – he motioned for you to sit up, dropping back against the seat with a strained grunt before pulling you onto his lap. Now straddling him, your legs wide, your gazes met again – faces close, his carrying a soft, affectionate smile that nudged you to mirror it as your hands rose to his damp stubble.
“I’ll pay for the cleaning,” you whispered against his inviting lips.
He exhaled, taking your hand, looking deep into your eyes – wild, burning desire blazing in his own.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked, voice rough with need. “You’re so hot I almost want to keep it that way.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Just to remind me how you came undone like that. You really never did that before?”
Heat rushed to your cheeks as you shook your head.
“Gotta be the plant…” you muttered, prompting Leon to waste no time, pulling you into a kiss, your tongues meeting instantly, letting you taste yourself on him.
“Well,” he murmured back, “I intend to get you off like that without the plant. Now we know you can.”
The thought sent warmth spreading through your entire body.
Time to return the favor.
“Let’s take care of you first,” you whispered seductively, already working at his belt.
“Oh, yes please,” he purred, letting you take over as his cock finally got the attention it had been demanding for far too long.
He held you steady as he nibbled at the soft skin of your neck while you opened his pants, pulling his boxers down along with them. Leon lifted his hips to help, and a satisfied groan vibrated against your neck as his length sprang free, finally able to fully harden.
Distracted by his mouth on your skin – by the way he brushed your hair aside, tilting your head for better access, his hot breath against you – you only managed to push his pants down far enough before your hips instinctively rolled forward, pressing against the hardness of his erection.
A hot exhale spilled into your ear at the contact, matched by your own soft sigh.
He was so hard. So big. So wet – slick with precum in a way you’d rarely, if ever, experienced before.
You had to see him.
And you weren’t disappointed.
His cock was beautiful – perfectly straight, flushed at the tip, a thick, full head glistening, precum gathering and spilling freely.
“Mhm, you’re a big guy,” you teased, grinding against him with your own slickness – only to be quickly humbled by a love bite at your earlobe and his hands gripping your ass, lifting you slightly.
“That big guy needs you biblically,” he growled hotly into your ear. “Need to fill that pretty pussy up. That alright with you?”
Guided by him, you aligned yourself with him – his tip catching at your entrance, your slickness letting him slide into you with ease.
“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, your nerves lit up by his words, your desire surging again – that instinctive pull to be taken, to belong to him in this moment. “Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”
His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so your eyes met.
And now – there was more than lust in his expression.
Need. Raw, endless need. And something almost desperate beneath it.
His brows knit together in concentration, his gaze searching for you – only you.
“Fuck –”
Leon’s jaw tightened as realization hit him.
He was already too far gone.
There would be no slow, drawn-out session like he had imagined.
You were too sensual. Too beautiful. Too you.
Just as you lowered yourself another inch onto his cock, his nerve endings detonated into something uncontrollable. He felt it surge through his body, there was no stopping it.
“Fuck!”
His hands clamped around your hips as he slammed you down, his own jerking upward, both of you so slick that you slid together without the slightest resistance.
You gasped sharply at the sudden fullness, the stretch – small, but enough for your cunt to adjust to his size. The sound you made was the cherry on top, sending a powerful pull through his balls and his cock, wrapped so perfectly by you that Leon’s vision blurred. He came – hard and mercilessly – with a force he hadn’t known he still possessed. He could feel it, wave after wave, hot ropes spilling into you, so much that his entire body trembled. His mouth fell open in search of air, a deep groan rolling through his chest like distant thunder. His eyes fluttered shut, his head falling back against the seat as he pressed shallow thrusts into your warmth – nothing like he had planned, but desperately needed.
He breathed heavily once it was over, his gaze briefly fixed on the ceiling of the Porsche, your hot, sweat-slick skin still beneath his fingers. His lips pressed together before he lifted his head again.
You blinked at him, surprised – no wonder. Leon could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes before you masked it behind a practiced composure.
“Well, that was –” he swallowed, fingers brushing over your skin, “ – embarrassing.”
“Ah, well,” you said, making an effort to sound understanding. “We both were pent up. It’s okay.”
Leon grunted in response. That wouldn’t be the last time – he had to prove to you he could do a hell of a lot more than that.
“Is it… over?” you asked carefully, studying your own body’s reactions – his, too.
He let out a half-thoughtful, half-amused sound as he realized, “Still hard.” And as much as he hated to admit it, that was exactly the boost he needed.
This was far from over.
To test his claim, you rolled your hips against him – and sure enough, he was still rock hard, brushing against your walls. It made you realize the effects were still raging inside you too, every movement, every glide hit something perfect. Everything in you was completely receptive to stimulation.
An excited tingle shot through your body at the realization. Restraint was gone. Reason, thrown overboard.
“We should call the others and talk about an antidote,” you said anyway – already lazily bouncing on that perfect length inside you. “Or –” you sighed softly, and the fire flared back in his eyes, “ – we wait at my place for them. You know… with the effect wearing off over time.”
You both knew exactly what the responsible choice would be.
But maybe – for once – it wasn’t the time for responsibility.
“That’s one dangerous proposition,” Leon murmured with a low grin. “I think we should…”
Your naked bodies collapsed onto the soft, springy mattress of your bed, clothes discarded along the way from your apartment door to the bedroom in a trail of frantic kisses and uncoordinated make-out sessions against every available surface.
A startled hiss, a thud, and the frantic patter of paws broke through the moment.
“Sorry, Luna,” Leon joked. “I think she doesn’t actually love me like you said.”
You let out a hoarse giggle that melted into a content sigh as Leon was already back to exploring your skin, scattering kisses across it.
“You can give her treats later. No problem.”
God, he felt perfect. His skin so firm, his body so big above yours – comforting in a way, but also so, so enticing to hold onto. Beneath your fingers, you traced the subtle ridges of scars, ones not unlike your own. It only made him more attractive, knowing he understood what they meant.
“Gonna give you your treat first, gorgeous,” he rasped into your ear.
He settled over you, your soft body fitting against his so well it almost surprised him. Almost as much as the fact that you’d made it here without a speeding ticket.
Your breath hitched as he wasted no time, reaching between you to guide himself into place – your shared arousal still pulsing, between you, within you, around you, unyielding and insistent.
“Ye –”
The word broke into a satisfied, instinctive sound as Leon pushed forward, burying himself inside you. He let out a low grunt, taking a moment to savor your silky walls, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then he reached back, gripping the flesh of your thigh and thrust.
“Ohmygod,” the words rushed out of you as each of his movements electrified your body, every stroke pulling you closer to your next orgasm. Everything felt so sensitive – any thought beyond how good he was fucking you vanished completely from your mind.
The air in your bedroom turned thick, heavy with sex, the slick sounds of hard, deep, perfectly angled thrusts and the sharp snap of Leon’s hips against yours filling it, paired with your breathless sighs and moans of bliss and his low growls as he finally took you the way you deserved.
“You have no idea how often I thought of this.” Leon was dragged into a maelstrom of sensation, everything heightened – his cock felt so good inside you he could see stars, maybe even the stairway to heaven.
“Is this the spores talking?” you asked, vulnerable and curious all at once.
He answered with a hoarse laugh, meeting your eyes, slowing into shallower movements for just a moment.
“No. No, you’re too beautiful to ignore.” His lips claimed yours, demanding, showing you just how much he wanted you. “Mhm,” he murmured against you. “So fuckable.”
Okay – maybe that part was the spores talking. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this blunt on a first date, or this possessive in the way he took you. He’d imagined something very different for your first times all these years… but he wasn’t complaining now.
The next hours – days? – blurred together into tangled, sweaty bodies, lips exploring, fingers teasing, hands grasping, deep looks, voices growing hoarse, minds clouded, and perfect orgasms – again and again, in every position you could think of.
Missionary. He kept up slow, exploratory thrusts, learning your body while holding your gaze, reverence written in his, receptiveness in yours. He felt bold enough to let one big hand rest against your throat – not to hurt, just to hold you there, to make it more intense, so much more intense.
To his relief – and delight – you answered with an eager little mewl, prompting him to tighten his grip just slightly, his cock twitching at your responsiveness, your blind trust.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised, thrusting a little harder, watching your reaction. “You’re amazing.”
His lips claimed yours possessively, stealing even more of your breath – and with it, more of your mind.
Cowgirl. It didn’t take long before he pulled you down from your bouncing rhythm just to drive up into you himself, your pelvis pressed flush against his with one strong arm at your back – angling you just right so your clit dragged against the fine hairs of his happy trail, building you toward another deep, perfect orgasm.
Against your ear, his voice dropped, dark and sultry: “Taking me so good. What a good fucking girl.”
You moaned in response. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, beautiful.”
Doggystyle. Where Leon could finally give in to that daydream from the lab – gathering your hair, twisting it around his wrist, using it for leverage as he drove into you relentlessly. With every passing minute, he got more lost in you, his mind clouded with lust, barely holding onto control – as you took control over him in the best possible way.
Your slick walls fluttered around him as you came again, your body trembling, the faint sting at your scalp only making it better.
Leon never truly hurt you – only amplified what you responded to, what you welcomed. A perfect gentleman, in every way that mattered.
You wished you could see him like this – you could only hear his strained groans, imagine the way his strong arms flexed as he let your hair slip from his grip to take hold of your hips instead, pulling you back against each punishing thrust. The way his face must tighten with each series of grunts, in sync with the sharp snap of his hips – until it all broke with a groan and another orgasm.
“Wanna sit on my face?” he asked, his eyes hopeful, the question more of a command than anything else.
He sank back against your soft pillows, the scent of your home wrapping around him, more comforting than his own. For a fleeting second, the thought of simply staying here crossed his worn mind, before his focus snapped back to you as you positioned yourself over him.
He almost panted as your cunt – coated with both your arousal – lowered toward him, and then he dove in.
It was everything he’d imagined – and more.
You took the moment to rest your damp forehead against your arm braced against the headrest, looking down at him through heavy breaths.
The way his nose pressed against your mound, just above your clit, while his lips closed around you, sucking softly, his tongue circling – his eyes never leaving yours, burning into them.
It was so hot, you were already spiraling toward yet another orgasm.
Slowly, you rocked against his face, spreading slick warmth across his mouth and chin, soft moans slipping from your lips.
Leon steadied you, bringing you to a halt, just to breathe, just to worship you.
“You’re perfect,” he panted, and you weren’t sure if he meant you or your cunt. “Perfect pussy as well. Wanna come from my tongue again?”
“Mhm,” was all you managed, an eager sigh slipping from you, barely capable of forming words anymore.
Leon licked lazily over your clit, looking up at you with lidded, yet playfully sparkling eyes.
“What was that?” he teased, letting his tongue flick over you again, making your thighs tremble with need.
“Please, Leon, pleasepleaseplease,” you managed, the words blending together, language itself slipping from your grasp.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” he went on, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this game up much longer himself. His cock was already demanding you again, hard and upright like he was a teenager all over.
You huffed in mild frustration, gathering what little strength you had left. “Make me come…”
And come he made you.
Spooning. By the time you ended up like this, your body had gone limp, taking whatever Leon gave you – a babbling mess of moans, orgasms, more moans, overstimulated but utterly unwilling to stop.
He held your leg up, giving himself the access he needed to bury himself inside you, his body moving on pure instinct now, driven by something so primal he couldn’t think – couldn’t do anything but take you. Completely pussy-drunk, he groaned against your shoulder uninhibited – deep, loud rumbles – each thrust just a little too much, his cock raw, oversensitive, yet it felt so damn good.
And you took it. Took everything he gave.
The bed was soaked – sweat, cum, more cum – your bodies tangled together in a mess of heat and devotion. With every thrust of his aching hardness into you, he pushed his spill in and out, a white ring around his base bearing witness to how completely you’d given yourselves to each other.
“Fuck.” Leon licked over his dry lips, looking down at you as your body trembled and whimpered beneath him.
“Baby, we need to stop and ping the agencies about that antidote,” one single, clear thought broke through – only to be swallowed again as your velvety walls pulled him back in, replacing words with another downright desperate, needy groan.
You didn’t have nearly as much control as he did. Your hand clamped down on the arm beneath your head, pulling yourself closer against him.
“Pleaseplease, just one more, just one more,” you babbled, chasing that next climax, that perfect feeling only he could give you.
Leon’s synapses fired wildly at your need, driving him to act. To give you exactly what you wanted.
“Can’t resist you.” He let your leg fall, his hand slipping between you. “Never can again.”
Rough fingertips found your clit, rubbing in perfectly timed circles with his thrusts. You whimpered, moaned, squirmed. Almost… almost…
Somewhere deep inside you, something shifted – your tightly shut eyes snapped open.
“Leon…”
For a few seconds, your voice was calm, clear despite his movements. Your hand left its grip and reached back instead, finding his stubbled jaw, gentle, searching.
“I know, beautiful. I know,” he answered just as softly. “Kiss me.”
Your lips met in a devoted kiss that broke the final dam. Your moan into his mouth no longer carried the same overwhelming edge of climax – instead, Leon grounded you, guiding you through it, holding you close, moving carefully, keeping you afloat on the wave for as long as you needed before easing you back down when you were ready.
And suddenly – the tension broke.
The heat ebbed.
Everything… softened.
Silence settled between you, broken only by your breathless panting after the marathon you’d just run.
Blue eyes found yours – relief in them, and something softer, something tender. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your sweat-slick body against his, his heart pounding so hard you could feel it against your back.
You both needed a moment to realize it – just lying there, trying to steady your breathing, clinging to each other for grounding, for understanding.
“Is it… over?” you asked hoarsely.
Your throat was dry. You were so thirsty.
“Seems so…” Leon replied, thoughtful.
You both waited, half-expecting another wave of desire to crash over you.
But it didn’t.
At the same time, you both let out a heavy breath.
“You okay?” he asked after another quiet moment – the kind of quiet that suddenly felt… good.
You turned toward him on the soaked bed, his cock slipping from you, finally softening.
The longer the effects stayed gone, the more you became aware of what your bodies had actually been through – thirst, hunger, aches, exhaustion creeping in all at once.
“I’m okay,” you said quietly. “You?”
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he answered:
“Feel like a million bucks.” His arm reached out for you, tracing your contours – and thankfully, it didn’t spark those overwhelming, all-consuming sensations anymore. Just a quiet sense of contentment. “Come here, you.”
The tender words nudged you into his arms, and you settled against his damp but slowly drying skin. His heartbeat, too, was finding its way back to a steady, calm rhythm.
A soft kiss landed on your head as you both took in the closeness, the quiet.
“We should take a shower,” he murmured tiredly, fingers brushing gently over your shoulder.
“I need to feed the cat,” you replied, amused.
He smirked. “Maybe call our colleagues.”
“And replace my mattress.”
You both laughed, light and easy.
“If people ask how we got together, we’ll just tell them we like the same mattress firmness,” Leon joked. “Yours is really comfortable. We’ll get a new one – I could sleep here just fine.”
Your body tensed slightly at his words. A glance into his eyes revealed nothing but pure sincerity.
“What?” he asked with a smile. “Did you really think that was just the spores?”
Before you could answer, he kissed you – deep and deliberate, showing you that what had happened between you wasn’t just a side effect.
“I mean…” you started, but he cut you off.
“Had a thing for you forever,” he admitted.
“Oh really?” you asked, delighted, hiding it behind a playful tone.
Leon chuckled softly. “Yeah. Didn’t think it would turn out like this, but… if you’re up for it, I can take you on a proper first date.”
You didn’t need a second to think about it. “I’d love to.” A little shy – completely unnecessary after everything you’d just shared – you added, “Had a thing for you forever too.”
A satisfied rumble vibrated through his chest. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he kissed you again – familiar, like you’d been this way for years, like you always would be.
A loud pounding at the door tore through the serene atmosphere like a thunderclap.
“Open up! It’s Dave!” his voice carried all the way from the front door into your bedroom. A second later, the doorbell rang insistently. “We tracked your location. Got the antidote. Hey! Are you two flombies already?!”
There was rattling from down the hall.
“Guess honeymoon’s over,” Leon noted, as you both scrambled out of bed, throwing open a window for fresh air and pulling your disgusting tactical clothes back over your equally disgusting, but very satisfied bodies.
(Leon got you that expensive camera from your wishlist for your birthday, unaware that you'd get all sorts of ideas about your next motif)
Word Count: ~ 2.2k
Rating: T - established relationship, just appreciation for old man Leon's biceps
Author's Note: The first entry (I already teased) for Elsie's event! 💕 The release date of Requiem is so close now and with this, we celebrate 💃 I have four entries lined up as promised - so keep your eyes open in the next days (or, as spoilers are out there, I can just tag you if you'd like 👀). Hope you enjoy ✨ Also: Images of this Leon are still so rare I had the hardest time. The banner is all cutesy and he is just...gruff lol.
What Leon Kennedy had actually expected was that you’d be genuinely thrilled about the ultra-modern system camera he’d given you for your birthday. After all, you’d spent a long time – and with great enthusiasm – talking about handling, pros and cons compared to classic DSLR cameras, and every technical detail under the sun.
What Leon should have anticipated, but didn’t, was that the umpteenth still life in front of your lens would somehow feel… dull. The flowers that had come with the camera looked beautiful – and the camera captured every tiny structure in the petals – but they didn’t quite satisfy your craving for sensation.
With a huff, you dropped onto the cozy designer couch in the spacious living room, staring thoughtfully down at the camera as you weighed it in your hand. What in this ultra-expensive apartment, perched high in a D.C. skyscraper suite, could possibly do justice to an ultra-expensive camera like this? The costly art you’d convinced Leon to buy? The long-untouched whiskey bar with its purely decorative charm? The high ceilings and the spiral staircase leading up to the second floor? Or maybe just the view?
No.
There was something far better in this apartment – something truly worth capturing. It should have occurred to you sooner.
“Leon?” you called into the suite, searching for your boyfriend.
“Yeah?” he replied immediately, and you thought you could tell he was in the study.
With a small hop, you were back on your feet, strolling across the hardwood floor.
“Where are you?”
“In the study,” he confirmed, as expected.
So your path led you beneath the spiral staircase with its glass steps, through the hallway behind it, and toward the door on the left, left slightly ajar. The space felt less and less like a labyrinth to you. The last time you’d gotten lost had been a week ago. Progress.
You nudged the door to the study open. Leon’s taste in interior design had always been hard to pin down. Somewhere between rustic and modern – the desk dark, heavy wood, the rug beneath it cream-colored. A small leather couch – from which you sometimes watched him work, an alibi book in your hand – paired with linen curtains framing the floor-to-ceiling window.
Maybe an interior designer had taken one look at him and thought, Yep, this man is the embodiment of duality! You wouldn’t blame them. Leon was serious when it came to his job. In private moments, though, he was… simply Leon.
Right now, that same Leon sat at his desk with brows drawn together in concentration, eyes fixed on the screen in front of him, his hand resting thoughtfully over his mouth. He acknowledged your presence with a brief sideways glance and a wink – a silent request for a moment to finish his thought.
While he did, you already raised the camera to your eye, framing him in the viewfinder and zooming in. A composition already worth capturing.
Your boyfriend was absurdly attractive. The way his dark-blond hair, threaded with ashy strands, fell softly into his face – that iconic, nostalgic ’90s hairstyle – and honestly, you counted yourself lucky that a man his age still had such a full head of hair. One of these days, you’d just have to convince him to deep-condition the dry strands.
And then there was the focused intensity of his pale, sky-blue eyes – eyes that softened so tenderly whenever you became the center of his attention.
The shutter clicked.
“What are you doing there, love?” Leon mumbled into his hand, his gaze still on the task in front of him.
“Nothing,” you hummed sweetly.
His eyes flicked over to you again, and you quickly snapped another picture.
“Mmh-hm,” he rumbled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward behind his hand – not hidden at all thanks to the strong zoom of your lens.
Your viewfinder wandered over his face, down his neck, lingering on his prominent Adam’s apple, then following the edge of his collar to his collarbone.
Right beside it, wrapped in the dark gray, patterned fabric of his cozy sweater, his bicep dominated the center of the grid.
Before you could take another photo, Leon moved – apparently done with his last thought. He pushed himself back from the desk in his chair, his trained arms slipping out of the lens’s reach and forcing you to lower the camera.
You loved days like this, when Leon worked from home. He looked best like this – hair slightly messy, unstyled, clothes comfortable, sweatpants instead of suits. It carried a sense of normalcy, even though his job was anything but normal. He studied you with his arms crossed, but you caught that familiar, affectionate spark in his eyes.
“I wanted to show you something,” you said without preamble. Your once fairly harmless plan grew bolder.
His eyes gleamed, a small smirk joining them as he gestured toward your camera.
“Photos?”
You bit down on your lower lip, a playful gesture Leon knew all too well. You’d set your mind on something – fortunately, most of the time, it was something he benefited from. That was precisely why Leon leaned back in his chair, relaxed, fully aware that you probably didn’t just want to show him photos.
Your shake of the head and the invitation that followed confirmed his suspicion.
“It’s a photo motif I found. Better if I show you.” You stepped closer, offering him your hand. “That is, if you have the time.”
Just to tease you for a few seconds, Leon studied your outstretched hand as if he were genuinely considering not following you wherever you intended to lead him. Just as quickly, his arms untangled and his hand slid into yours.
He let you pull him along willingly, leaving the study behind for a few sweet moments with his girl.
As your direct path quite obviously led toward the bedroom, you chatted a bit about the motifs you’d had in front of your lens so far, and how you could definitely use an additional wide-angle lens.
Somewhere between the words “focal length” and “long exposure,” Leon let out a small laugh.
“What?” you asked, laughter coloring your voice as well.
“I love it when you get this excited about something.”
The affection in his voice was so deep, so sincere, it sent a warm little shiver down your spine. Leon was your biggest supporter in every endeavor – and if he were to drop to one knee right here and now, you wouldn’t hesitate for a second before saying yes. No one had ever supported you the way this man did.
“Oh, good,” you managed anyway, keeping yourself from getting sentimental. “Then you can surely help me.”
You’d reached the bedroom, standing in front of the black, upholstered king-size bed.
Leon raised an eyebrow.
“Thought you wanted to show me a motif.”
“Yeah,” you replied, grinning up at him. Your hand found its way to his steel-solid chest, pressing flat against it as you pivoted him toward the edge of the bed before giving him a gentle but decisive push.
Leon could have resisted without any effort at all – but where would the fun be in that? Instead, he let you lead, indulging your ideas, falling back onto the softly yielding mattress without hesitation. You followed, camera still in hand, climbing after him and settling astride him, exactly where he liked you best.
His hands immediately found your thighs, barely covered by your lounge shorts, slipping just beneath the fabric as his thumbs traced small circles over your silky skin. A sound escaped him, somewhere between a content purr and an amused hum.
“I have this feeling I’m the motif,” he said.
“Very right, Detective,” you confirmed with a smile, undeterred by his exploring hands. “This is the best view in the house.”
You lifted the camera to your face, catching Leon’s quiet smile through the viewfinder – his hair fanned out on the mattress, the way he lay beneath you, so tame, so surrendered to you. The hard shell gone, leaving only the soft core you’d fallen in love with.
“I agree,” he murmured, gripping your hips and drawing your center closer to him. Through the thin fabric of both your loungewear, you could feel him.
“Ha. Ha,” you deadpanned as the shutter clicked, Leon’s soft laugh filling the room. “Hey, babe, put your arms behind your head,” you instructed him, hunting for the shot you hadn’t been able to capture earlier.
“Reminds me of my wild days at New York Fashion Week,” Leon joked about his new modeling career, indulging your request.
He looked criminally good like that – hands laced behind his head, looking up at you with that quiet smile.
The lines around his eyes crinkled as he furrowed his brows.
“Are you zooming in on my face?”
“I’m not.”
Meanwhile, you studied the texture of his skin – the fine and deeper lines, the stubble along his cheeks and jaw. You snapped a photo of a particular angle between his mouth and jawline.
“Did you at least get my good side?” he teased.
“All your sides are good,” you replied matter-of-factly.
You couldn’t help but nibble on your lower lip again as his broad upper arms filled your lens once more.
In this position, his trained muscles were even more pronounced, the contours clearly outlined beneath his sweater. God, you loved those arms. And his shoulders. You loved watching him stretch, the way they tensed beneath his skin, or catching him shirtless in the bathroom mirror while brushing his teeth. If it were up to you, he’d walk around shirtless all the time.
“Flex your arms.”
The words came out hungrier than you’d intended. But who could blame you when he looked that good, his shoulders so full, so solid – practically made to hold on to, especially in the position you were currently in. Clothing optional, obviously.
Your request drew a slightly louder, faintly husky laugh from Leon.
“Are you trying to make a pin-up calendar of me?”
“You’re wearing way too many clothes for that,” you shot back, lowering the camera from your face. “Come on. We should document this.”
That soft grin stayed plastered to his face. “And what exactly is this?”
“Well – us. How handsome you are. We’ll look at the photo one day and remember what a beautiful day it was.”
Leon mulled that over for a brief moment before letting out an amused huff.
“Payment up front,” he demanded, tapping his lips.
You twisted your mouth playfully and rolled your eyes – but of course you leaned down anyway, paying the kiss tax for particularly silly behavior.
He smiled into your lips when they met his – a satisfied hum, and then his hands slid into the hollow of your neck. His thumbs stretched along your jawbone, applying gentle but unmistakable pressure, guiding you closer, pulling your body into his until you had to set the camera aside just to hold on to him.
Rough stubble brushed against your skin, just scratchy enough to spark something delicious beneath your fingertips – especially against the contrast of his soft lips, which lingered against yours with growing intent.
He parted his mouth just enough to coax you closer, deepening the kiss into something hungry, breath-stealing, and still capable of pulling a soft, content sound from your chest.
One of those sweet little sounds Leon loved so much.
He loved everything about you – more than that, even. He felt it in the way goosebumps spread wherever your soft fingers touched him; in how perfectly your body fit against his; in the way your hair smelled; in the heat that flared through him whenever you truly lost yourselves in each other.
Where your hips met, you could feel his desire clearly, and for just a split second, the thought of that pin-up calendar flickered back through your pleasantly hazy mind. You giggled against his lips.
He paused. “What’s funny?”
His eyes were half-lidded now, lips slightly parted, his face flushed a soft red – but he was still attentive, still Leon.
“Noth – ”
Your words dissolved into a laughing squeak as Leon used only a fraction of his considerable strength to roll you over on the bed, burying you beneath his larger frame.
“I decided my rates just went up,” he teased, a wicked grin on his face.
Before you could reply, he rose to his knees, grabbed the hem of his sweater, and pulled it up and over his torso.
The fabric landed somewhere in the corner of the room, but your attention was locked entirely on the always-impressive body in front of you. Shit. Your boyfriend was so solid it made you wonder every single time if this would be the time you’d never walk properly again.
His skin was taut, abs sharply defined, chest broad and proud – and those arms. Thick, strong, protruding veins tracing along. Maybe you really should follow those intrusive thoughts one day and just bite into it.
The sight sent heat racing through your body.
And you’d only wanted to take pictures.
“Oh,” you realized, scrambling frantically for your camera. You grabbed it and lifted it to your face, ready to snap the very first photo for the Leon Kennedy Pin-Up Calendar – but he clicked his tongue and plucked the camera right out of your hands.
(You land a highly coveted position at the FOS and are immediately assigned to Leon Kennedy. As you learn more about him, you begin to see what lies beneath the gruff façade.)
Word Count: ~ 4.4k
Rating: T - minor angst but mostly just sweetness with a sprinkle of a yearning, old Leon
Author's Note: This is more of a character analysis of our older Leon than anything, and I am a little insecure if this is out of character, but I got super inspired by another post (I can't find anymore aagghh) about how this Leon would just melt into a significant other once he feels safe to do so and I CAN SEE THAT (don't tell the other entries but this one is my favorite). Hope you enjoy 💕
As you settled into your chair in the HUB, surrounded by other information operatives speaking with their agents, you couldn’t help but wonder if you better should have met yours beforehand. Especially considering it was your first day in the FOS.
You’d been told he had declined the introductory meeting and gone straight to the new mission instead – but not to worry, you’d see each other afterward, and he was generally very friendly. A bit resistant to advice, perhaps.
That hadn’t exactly filled you with confidence. As a new information operative, you could have used an easy field agent. Not that you weren’t used to headaches from your previous government position – only that there had been a good reason you’d applied internally for the FOS in the first place.
Your supervisor for the first few days – and the woman who had hired you – Ingrid Hunnigan took the desk beside you. She offered you an encouraging smile when she caught sight of your nervous expression.
“Don’t worry, really. Leon is a great guy once you warm up to one another. And this mission doesn’t have high stakes.”
The corner of your mouth twitched. “Thanks, Ingrid. But that’s usually what people say when the mission absolutely will have high stakes.”
She let out an amused huff. “With that kind of insight, you’ll handle Leon better than most.”
You made a soft sound of recognition. A brief silence passed between you, and for a moment you wondered whether this had been such a good idea after all. But Ingrid didn’t give you the option of backing out – she gestured toward your headset.
“Leon’s in the helicopter approaching the landing zone near Inverness. You know everything about the mission. Just guide him through it.”
Your throat remained dry despite the heavy swallow that followed. Your nerves didn’t calm under your resolute – if slightly forced – nod. You put on the headset, activating not only the intercom but also your outgoing image to your field agent’s comms device.
“Agent Kennedy, come in. This is your new IO.” You added your name at the end – a small attempt to build trust from the start.
On the large monitor in front of you flickered a map of Scotland. A red dot marked the helicopter’s position above Inverness, near Loch Ness.
Silence on the other end. No incoming image, either.
Your eyes grew dry from staring at the screen. You shot Ingrid an uncertain glance, but she was already absorbed in a conversation on her own headset.
Nervous energy fluttered in your stomach. You swallowed the filler word rising to your lips to ease the silence and instead remembered your training – and your position.
“Agent Kennedy, this is your information operative. Come in.”
When there was still no response, you tapped increasingly confused against your state-of-the-art microphone.
“Did I even turn it on?” you muttered to yourself.
“You did.”
The deep voice in your ear made you squeak in surprise. So much for calm professionalism.
At last, an incoming image appeared on your screen – and with it, the face of Agent Leon Kennedy.
A veteran of the DSO. More than that – co-founder alongside the late President of the United States, Adam Benford. The fact that you’d been assigned to him at all had stunned you. But of course you had accepted the role. You’d wanted this position after all.
The agent was looking downward, clearly holding his comms device in hand, the roar of helicopter rotors audible somewhere behind him. He was already in motion. Wind caught the dark strands of his hair in the stormy Scottish air.
“Couldn’t answer. We just touched down at the arrival point. Proceeding to the lake now.”
Straight to business. It could have been worse.
“Right. If our intel is correct, the handoff of the smuggled goods should be taking place at this location.” Your fingers flew over the keyboard, the mouse clicking sharply under your hand. “If you can, get a visual of the area and assess.”
You transmitted the updated objective near Loch Ness to his device.
“Understood. I’ll report when I’ve secured the cargo.”
You froze. “You mean when you have a visual.”
“Sure. Let’s say I said that,” he replied, a strangely amused undertone in his voice.
And then he cut the connection.
“H–Hey!” you called out, pinging him again. No response.
You stared at the screen, mouth slightly open, needing a moment to process your first exchange with Agent Leon Kennedy.
“Is he always like that?”
Ingrid smiled – and her gaze softened in a way that suggested fond memories.
“You’ll get used to it,” was all she said.
If she remembered her time working with him that fondly, it couldn’t be that bad… could it?
It was worse.
On the screen, the GPS dot marking Agent Kennedy’s position moved steadily forward – but he didn’t respond to calls, effectively ghosting you, and with you any useful incoming information.
At some point you resorted to text messages, hoping he might at least read those. You reminded him to check in once he had visual on the site.
But… even this early on, you doubted he would.
With a sigh, you removed your headset for a short break. The chair tilted back smoothly, ergonomically supporting your head. You pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose and squeezed your eyes shut.
“Bit of advice,” Ingrid’s voice sounded beside you. She looked at you with understanding. “Try being a little more relaxed with him.”
“This is my workplace,” you replied dryly. What were you supposed to do? Crack jokes with the seasoned field agent?
“I know,” she said with smile. “But hear me out. Leon tends to make light of most things. That’s his way.” Her attention briefly flicked back to her own screen, something there drawing her focus. Her expression grew more serious as she began typing. “He takes his job seriously. But you have to help him deal with it.”
“Deal with it…?” you began, but Ingrid didn’t answer, already too absorbed in her own work.
You considered her advice. It wasn’t as though Agent Kennedy was eagerly awaiting your voice in his ear anyway.
Field agents in the DSO lived dangerously. And you had read his file. He had – to put it mildly – a complicated history. A survivor of Raccoon City. The man who had rescued the president’s daughter from a cult entirely on his own years ago.
Had those experiences turned him into a lone wolf? Someone who didn’t take kindly to orders? Maybe that was what Ingrid meant. Thoughtfully, you slipped your headset back on – and immediately heard your agent’s voice.
“Come in. Anyone there?”
“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry, I was –” You paused, then decided to follow Ingrid’s advice. “ – online shopping. Given that you stopped checking in, I got bored.”
Was that funny? Or the most catastrophic misstep imaginable?
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Leon activated his outgoing image.
He appeared somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, rain streaking through the darkness around him, his hair damp and clinging in strands. It was night – you still couldn’t see much – but you saw enough. A handsome face marked by faint lines of age, his expression looser now than earlier, curiosity flickering in his gaze as he looked at your image.
“Didn’t mean to drive you into a boreout,” he quipped, that amused undertone returning to his otherwise rough voice. “I’ve secured the cargo. Located and restrained the smugglers at the lake. Calling for extraction.”
You had half a mind to tell him that this was absolutely not how procedure was meant to go. But something told you that wouldn’t accomplish much.
You still had one card left to play.
“In Scotland, they’re called lochs.”
His eyebrows twitched upward – brief, but noticeable. You were a trained operative, after all.
“Alright, Miss Know-It-All. Didn’t realize they’d assign me another teacher like Hunnigan at my age.” The words sounded sharp, but the tone behind them had softened.
You smiled. “For more general knowledge and useless facts in the future, don’t ignore the intercom, Agent Kennedy.”
“Leon,” he corrected.
You gave him your first name in return.
A win.
“About that extraction…” he continued.
“Right. Economy class, correct?” you pushed it just a little further while already calling in the chopper.
“Didn’t know we were on a budget.”
You laughed, and Leon let out a low chuckle in response.
Whatever that small, innocent piece of advice from your supervisor had set into motion over the next months bordered on the supernatural.
The first time you met Leon Kennedy outside of field communications was immediately after the Scotland mission.
The coffee machine hummed as though mocking your clumsy attempts to operate it. Why was every office coffee machine in existence completely different from every other one? This one displayed a red triangle on its ultra-modern screen, drawing a frustrated sigh from you.
“The filter needs changing.”
The voice sounded right beside you.
You flinched. How had someone managed to approach you that silently?
One glance to the side answered the question instantly.
“Leon.”
Surprise colored your voice at the sight of your agent standing there in the FOS offices. You had assumed he would write his report and then be deployed to the next mission – that the next time you saw him would be on your screen again.
Only your extroverted nature saved you from simply staring at him as though you’d seen a ghost – which, frankly, would have been ironic. From now on, you were partially responsible for making sure he didn’t become one.
It was just… his presence was both intimidating and strangely magnetic.
A smile spread across your face – whether out of politeness or an effort to appear especially approachable, you couldn’t quite tell. “Thanks. I’ll have to call maintenance, I guess.” You extended your hand. “Nice to meet you in person.”
The very noticeable muscles of his arms rippled beneath a nearly criminally tight athletic sweater as he unfolded them to accept your handshake. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
Completely unexpectedly, a shiver ran through you – one you barely prevented from manifesting physically – when your skin met his. His hand was softer than you’d anticipated. His grip more careful than what you were used to from other agents.
Unfortunately, despite extensive training, you had never possessed a convincing poker face. That was precisely why you worked at a desk and not in the field. You could never run covert operations; every target would read you instantly. You would never be able to play a role that wasn’t entirely yourself.
Still, you were highly trained in reading microexpressions. So you didn’t just notice the way your eyes widened slightly or how your lips parted a fraction – you also noticed that he noticed.
And here was the twist: you were fairly certain something shifted in his far more practiced poker face as well. A subtle dilation of his pupils in eyes narrowed just a touch too tightly. The faintest twitch of his brow.
The way your hands lingered together two seconds longer than socially necessary.
Then you were both disciplined enough not to let the moment escalate.
Your smile remained firmly in place – perhaps a little wider now – while he maintained his gruff composure, though his frown had softened, his features relaxing ever so slightly.
“So…” you continued once your hands had returned to your respective sides, “to what do we owe this pleasure? Here to fix the coffee machines?” You gestured toward the stubborn device denying you caffeine.
Leon glanced at it. A smirk. “Just one of my many alternative career paths.” But almost immediately, his startlingly intense gaze returned to you, threaded with something you would swear was gentleness. “I wanted to reschedule our introductory meeting. If you’re available.”
Had you not already sensed that strange current humming between you, the way he stood there – tall, undeniably impressive, yet shaped by a history that had marked him in ways few could comprehend – would have charmed you on its own.
As it was, you simply wanted to know him better.
Remembering that part of your job was to help him cope, you crossed your arms and pursed your lips. “Let me check my calendar for a free slot – somewhere between mission prep and arguing with coffee machines.”
Leon responded with a smile that reached his eyes.
Your experience as a government-trained pencil pusher paid off in ways you never would have expected.
Leon Kennedy was a closed-off man. He didn’t reveal much about himself. Not exactly a chatterbox – but not silent either. He existed somewhere in between. And, above all, he always had a quip ready. For nearly every situation.
You noticed it during your first meeting.
You told him about yourself – how you’d entered government service, why you transferred to the FOS, that you loved musicals, that your favorite food was sushi.
Leon’s response? “So a musical adaptation of Finding Nemo would be your ideal night out?”
The question caught you so off guard that you snorted before you could stop yourself. “What?” you laughed, covering your mouth and giggling a little too brightly – you hoped it was amusement and not because you found him unprofessionally attractive.
What you did become sure of rather quickly was that he hid a significant portion of himself behind those kinds of remarks.
You had read his file. What he’d lived through did not leave anyone untouched. And through these small exchanges between the two of you, you began to understand what Ingrid had meant.
He took the job seriously.
But you were going to have to help him carry it.
It became clearer and clearer to you the more you stayed in contact with Leon. The way he was: focused, highly specialized, but – at least after the initial storming – very attentive whenever you reached out to him. After only a short time, he let you take the lead in nearly every situation, took your input seriously, and only disagreed when he had a genuinely good reason.
It wasn’t that Leon – and maybe all agents of the DSO – needed dispatchers solely for professional guidance. He needed you to process what he was seeing. The conviction behind that realization was so strong that you went out of your way to guide him through every situation – no matter how terrifying it became. And God, you saw terrifying things at the DSO.
“I’ve been thinking,” you heard his voice – more open now, always a little softer when he addressed you directly.
“Uh-oh, better not hurt yourself doing that,” you joked, focused on your grocery list for tonight. It already came naturally to you – helped by the fact that Leon was extremely capable and you rarely had to worry about him.
He huffed before continuing unfazed. “I know a pretty good sushi place – can I take you there sometime?”
Your synapses fired wildly through your brain; your attention snapped fully back into place. Not before the pen slipped from your fingers at your startled jerk and you had to catch the rolling thing on your desk. Had your agent just asked you out on a date? Or was this more of a business dinner? Was that even allowed? You almost wanted to ask Ingrid – but she wasn’t sitting next to you anymore, of course, busy somewhere else with her management duties. Wait, hadn’t she once mentioned that he’d asked for her number too?
“Like… a date?” you blurted out impulsively, biting into your fist a second later in embarrassment. Way to keep it cool.
“Nice scramble there,” Leon remarked, mildly amused.
That’s when you realized your outgoing image was still on. Your heart was pounding erratically, a faint unease pooling in your stomach. It took you several seconds to find your composure.
“There was a spider.”
He made a sound of recognition, mercifully not pressing further about your embarrassing reaction. “Should I pick you up at eight?”
“Uh… you’re on a mission two states away?”
“No problem. I’ll hurry up and ping you when I need extraction.”
Now you were charmed – evidenced by the soft warmth creeping into your cheeks. “First class this time?”
You had suspected that Leon Kennedy was a true gentleman. Your first date confirmed it.
He picked you up from the FOS in his Porsche – everyone knew it was Leon’s Porsche you were getting into. You braced yourself for the inevitable gossip. A small price to pay for going out with an attractive man and absolute sweetheart.
He opened doors for you, pulled out your chair, ordered sake for you and a lemonade for himself. You knew he didn’t drink – more than that, that he was a recovering alcoholic. You knew a lot about him, things he had either revealed casually in passing or that you had read in his file.
He probably knew everything there was to know about you, too. Still, you never addressed that directly. Instead, you told each other things you both already knew – within a frame that felt safe.
Leon had never spoken about Raccoon City.
“Ever been to Japan?” you asked, sipping your sake as your sushi was served. Leon didn’t just know “a sushi place.” It was the most expensive one in the city.
“Been to China,” Leon answered briefly. His gaze turned distant for a moment. You had heard – and read – about that incident as well. Back then, Leon had faked his own death through Ingrid to pursue the former National Security Advisor, Derek C. Simmons, all the way to China. Everyone knew the story. Leon knew that you knew.
“Can’t really recommend it,” he added smoothly, defusing his slip into the past.
“What were the most beautiful countries you’ve ever seen?” you asked curiously.
Leon studied the sushi in front of him, considering which piece to start with.
“Well,” he began, picking up his chopsticks, “one of them was definitely Scotland… with its lochs.”
He looked up at you, giving you an amused grin – followed by a wink that drew a soft, nervous giggle from you.
All that knowledge about Leon, all the familiarity you had built with him, and that final spark when he had asked you out – it was enough. For you. For both of you. Enough to somehow, naturally, almost supernaturally, keep ending up in the same room again and again, drawn together, drifting closer and closer.
You couldn’t know what Leon truly carried inside him – what he truly felt. But you could help him deal with it.
“You wanna come up for a nightcap?” you asked after your first date, almost completely without shame, without hesitation. It felt natural to want your agent in your space – to protect him.
Leon didn’t hesitate either. He parked the Porsche in front of your building and let you lead him upstairs. As an FSO agent, you didn’t earn poorly, so you could afford a beautiful apartment with a good view.
“Look, a coffee machine I actually enjoy operating,” you joked from the kitchen while preparing an espresso.
“I might not be able to give you what you deserve.”
Leon’s voice behind you was suddenly serious.
Surprised by the emotional shift, you turned to him as the machine hummed and whirred. He was leaning against your dining table, arms folded, head tilted slightly as he watched you. His brow furrowed as it often was, dark blond hair falling into his face – but his eyes carried something you hadn’t seen before. Was it worry? Pain? Whatever it was, it hurt him.
And you knew what he meant. He was a field agent. He had seen and endured things most people couldn’t imagine.
“Oh,” you said softly, leaving the coffee behind and taking a few small steps toward him. As you approached, his arms unfolded instantly.
“Why did you ask me out then?” you asked quietly, carefully – but confident there was something real between you.
He exhaled as you came closer. “Because…” he began, but the words caught in his throat. His eyes were fixed on you – your face, your eyes, your hair, your beautiful smile.
You stopped in front of him, your bodies barely separated, attentive to his reaction in case it became too much – in case he decided this was a mistake.
Leon looked down at you as his body, which had been subtly angled away, shifted forward without conscious effort, directly into your space. You both felt the energy between you – pooling, swirling, growing restless before settling into something steady and quiet.
A soft breath left your lips when he gently – cautiously, even – placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer. Your bodies met with the soft rustle of fabric. Your stomach flipped, your eyes unblinking as you searched his, whose irises moved slightly, unsure which part of you to focus on next.
“Honestly,” a flicker of amusement returned to his gaze, “I didn’t think that far ahead.”
You blinked, then let out a quiet laugh.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry.”
Even though you knew he couldn’t help but worry.
So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.
His hands at your sides stiffened at the sudden contact. More than that – his whole body went rigid for a brief moment. A moment in which he very well could have pulled away.
But then, as if crossing an invisible barrier, Leon released a long breath through his nose. His body relaxed, his shoulders lowering, his hands sliding from your hips to trace your shape. He pulled you firmly against him and leaned fully into the kiss.
From the second he did, everything you had suspected but never fully seen came to the surface. His movements were devoted. No pressure – only going as far as you were willing to give.
The way he searched for you made you lift your hands to his jaw, his stubble lightly prickling your fingertips – his soft exhale against your lips your reward.
The kiss deepened. Your perception blurred – there was only Leon. His closeness. His taste on your tongue. The quiet, instinctive responses of your bodies. Tingling. Shivering. Searching fingers. Deep looks when you finally pulled apart after what felt like forever.
“Espresso…” you whispered with a soft smile, “… or straight to bed?”
Leon’s mind – fogged by you, your scent, your steadiness – slowly returned from the trance you had drawn him into. His glassy eyes refocused. A beat passed as your words sank in – then a deep laugh rumbled from his chest.
“Bed sounds nice,” he murmured, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair. “I’ll probably kick myself for saying this later but… can we take it slow today?”
You almost made a joke, the way you usually did with him – something about the wisdom of old age, or whether he didn’t find you sexy. But your common sense stopped you. He looked vulnerable, so you would treat that vulnerability with care. You nodded in understanding, took his hand, and led him once more – guiding him into your bedroom.
You had realized quickly that Leon S. Kennedy was a special kind of person. Funny, always ready with a remark, content when you laughed – and someone who needed help just as much as he wanted to give it. A veteran who had seen everything, and so rarely received anything in return.
If you could, you would at least be a small comfort to him. A small harbor, if he wanted one.
Leon entered that harbor without hesitation the moment the lighthouse began to shine.
You lay in your bed, clothes having become obsolete for the kind of closeness Leon sought – and found – with you. Your wardrobe lay scattered across the floor; only your bra and panties remained, and his boxers.
The intimacy surrounding you was perhaps more overwhelming than anything you had witnessed during missions with Leon. He enveloped you in his toned body, holding you close enough that your goosebumps brushed against his own, your body heat rising together. You felt not only defined muscle, but the fluttering of his heart against your chest, the small shivers running through him in response to your touch.
He looked at you as though you were a beacon in a pitch-black night – a familiar landmark when searching for the way home. His gaze burned into yours as he studied you intensely, lips parted for more air, devotion and gratitude written across his features. You had to be careful not to fall endlessly just because of that look.
You had no sense of how much time had passed when he exhaled softly and captured your lips again, deep enough to steal your breath. Hands explored – faces, hair, arms, backs. Everything about him so strong it was almost astonishing how soft he became here.
Leon practically melted into you, responding to every touch with a closer press of his body, sometimes even with a content hum against your lips or a gentle squeeze of his hands against your skin. Again and again he sought to move against you, to remain within your space, to feel you.
Even though he had said he wanted to take it slow, his touches grew just a little more suggestive – enough to make actual heat bloom under your skin and draw a quiet moan from you when you felt his arousal against your thigh.
“Sorry,” he murmured only inches from your lips. “You’re very sexy. So soft…” The words faded into the thickened air of your bedroom while his fingers continued tracing their paths along your skin.
“Mhm,” you hummed contentedly, enjoying his touch. “You were the one who said you wanted to take it slow.”
Leon smirked. “Doesn’t mean I won’t react to such a beautiful woman lying almost naked in bed with me.”
Another kiss landed on your lips before he shifted downward, resting his head beneath your chin on the pillow. His lips brushed your skin a few times along your cleavage while his strong arms slipped around you.
When you wrapped your arms around him in return, he sighed in satisfaction. Your bodies fit together perfectly, the atmosphere turning quiet and serene. Your eyelids grew heavy, closing slowly, while Leon inhaled your scent as often as he could.
“You are one good dispatcher,” he rumbled against your skin.
