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Leon woke to the sun beaming down on his face and a warm body pressing to his side. His arm was numb, the other person’s head having cut off the circulation for God knows how long. He blinked his eyes open and immediately winced, feeling groggy and confused, and his room definitely had no business being this bright. His head throbbed in agony, and a vague taste of bile lingered in his mouth. He couldn’t remember throwing up.
In fact, he couldn’t remember a single thing that had brought him to his current predicament.
With a sense of dread, he recalled the last time he felt like this, one of them being the morning at the motel, right before he went to Raccoon City.
He vaguely remembered returning home after a week in Sweden for another job. Compared to some of his past missions, this one had been a walk in the park. The job itself had been completed in three days, and the rest he had used for sightseeing. Well, less sightseeing, more… mushroom picking. It was a rather popular activity in Sweden, apparently, and he’d gotten rather curious. What better way to kill time and relax than walking through a beautiful forest and picking edible mushrooms? Though, he had made the mistake of asking some locals where he could find some good picking spots, only to be met with rather tense silence and awkward laughter. Asking about other people’s mushroom spots was a big No-No in Sweden, as it turned out. Noted.
Months of being clean, and one measly job made Leon relapse to the point of throwing up and not remembering how he even got into bed. Fucking pathetic. So much for thinking “one bottle can’t hurt, right?” Well, turned out it could and would.
Managing to squint down at the person sharing his bed, he felt both immense relief and immense anxiety upon seeing your sleeping face. He was glad it wasn’t some stranger, or, God forbid, Ada. But what were you doing here? And why was Leon—
His heart stuttered in his chest as the realization hit him like a truck; he was naked. No, wait, he was still wearing his socks. But… yeah, no, that was about it. Just his socks. He took a deep breath. Cuddling you wasn’t exactly something new, nor was sharing a bed with you, but never before had anyone been… naked, during the whole thing.
Were you also…?
He should probably check, but— No, no he shouldn’t.
Deciding he didn’t want to be awake anymore, Leon fumbled for one of the unoccupied pillows and put it over his head to block out the sun, not wanting to wake you up, unsure if he was ready for that conversation just yet. He passed out in a matter of minutes.
Later on, Leon was rudely awoken by the sound of someone aggressively honking outside his apartment, followed by two people yelling at each other. Nothing unusual, just highly annoying. Ironically, whenever he spent some time away because of work, he found himself actually missing the city noises, as chaotic as they often were.
The pillow he’d used to defend himself against the sunlight with was gone, and so were you. Opening his eyes, two things were immediately made clear: One, you had closed the curtains and taken his pillow barrier away. Second, your legs were very much bare, and unlike him, you weren’t wearing socks. Instead, you were wearing a shirt. Leon’s shirt.
“How’re you feeling?” you asked as you stretched out your arms, as if nothing in the world was amiss and— Leon had to avert his eyes as he noticed your stretching was making the shirt ride up a little too high for his comfort.
“Not sure,” he managed to reply, “not horrible, just…”
“Hungover?” you asked. So you knew he'd gotten drunk. For some reason, you didn't look half as disappointed as he thought you were going to be. Maybe you'd already been over this the night before, and he just couldn't remember. At his nod, you grimaced. “Well, do you have any ibuprofen? I can bring you some.”
Leon had a lot of questions, but they could wait until his headache was gone.
It was during (late) breakfast when Leon finally gathered his courage and remaining functioning brain cells to ask. “So,” he started, mentally and emotionally bracing himself, “about yesterday—”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you interrupted him gently, tone soft and expression understanding. “It happens. I know your job isn’t an easy one, especially for your mental health, so I understand. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, alright?”
Leon opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was obvious that he must have gotten drunk, so you were probably talking about his relapse, but… considering the state of clothing you had both been in earlier, well… Leon hated to make assumptions, but the indications were pretty clear, right? Perhaps— Perhaps you weren’t only talking about his relapse. Perhaps Leon hadn’t been able to— to perform. It was a possibility; it had happened before. Sometimes he couldn’t shut off his head, couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in, couldn’t stop worrying. It was only natural, he knew that, but it was still embarrassing and kind of a mood killer at times.
But, even so, Leon still wanted to know—
“Fuck, sorry,” you said, putting your phone away and rushing to get up from the chair, pushing your plate towards him. “I gotta go—some emergency at work, and we're kinda understaffed right now. You can eat the rest if you want.”
“Uh—” He could only watch as you hurriedly put your jacket and shoes on, before pausing and turning around to press a kiss to Leon’s cheek.
“I’ll text you, okay?” Leon nodded dumbly, croaking out a weak “see you” as you left his apartment. Warmth was quickly spreading across his entire body and insides, heart fluttering like a goddamn hummingbird. He cleared his throat, trying to get it together as he started to chew on the rest of your omelet.
Leon didn’t know what to do.
The logical thing, of course, was to straight up ask you about what happened and confess he couldn’t remember anything. But what if, the illogical, emotional and rather anxious part of his brain said, what if admitting I can’t remember anything will make things awkward?
Given the evidence, you and Leon had apparently decided to take the next step and at least attempted to have sex. Things were a little confusing right now, but you seemed happy and content as ever, perhaps even more so. Leon would hate to make things awkward by talking about his memory gap. Perhaps you would backpedal—maybe you’d feel guilty. He knew you had the tendency to overthink, you’d probably assume you had somehow taken advantage of him, that perhaps he had been too drunk to give proper consent.
Jokes on you, having sex with you would have been the best decision he’s ever made in that state. He just… wished he could remember it. That was another problem; what if you wanted to have sex with him again? You would probably be able to tell that something was off. Or… what if Leon wanted to initiate something? How would he even go about that? He wasn’t new to seduction and foreplay, but God, he really didn’t want to make a fool of himself and mess up, not with you.
Besides, he still wasn’t 100% sure that The Sex had actually really happened. So if he were to suddenly come onto you like that and act like it was natural, there was the risk of making you uncomfortable and things even more awkward.
Leon groaned and buried his head in his hands, feeling old and tired. There was the all too familiar itch of craving a glass of brandy, or even just a beer. There was nothing in his home, he’d already gone through the safety-check. He couldn’t remember where he got the bottle that broke his streak, but knowing himself, he probably swung by the same store he usually got it from on his way home.
It was probably best for him to just sit back and observe, wait for you to make the first move and adapt accordingly.
This feels wrong.
Leon stood in the shower, staring down at himself in shame. You were in his kitchen, casually cooking dinner for two. He liked having you here, but it was getting… a little difficult, having you so close, yet also trying to keep you at an arm’s length just to make sure he wouldn’t overstep any boundaries. Especially now, with all the uncertainty surrounding your relationship.
Of course, that didn’t stop his damn dick from hardening whenever you so much as kissed his cheek or held his hand. The whole reason that got him here in the first place was even more laughable than that. You were just standing there, cooking, back turned towards him, and the fantasies had started out innocently enough; Leon putting his arms around you, burying his face into your neck, kissing your neck… bending you over the counter and—
He let out a groan, feeling like he was going through puberty all over again and it was honestly getting pretty ridiculous.
So he stood there, hanging his head in shame and letting the hot water soak his hair and run down his shoulders and back. Mmm, he should probably switch the temperature to something colder, but… Maybe, just this once, he could take the edge off a little? He felt dirty knowing you were right outside, unaware of his current predicament—definitely not his proudest moment. But if he did it now, the chances of popping a sudden boner again any time soon were rather low.
He slowly reached down, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his hand around himself—the mere sensation of simply holding his dick already providing some relief, albeit rather short lived. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this sensitive to his own touch.
Leon tried to not let his mind wander too much, tried to keep it quick, but his touch alone just wasn’t enough by itself. He’d like to say he put up a fight when his thoughts began to drift towards you, that he at least tried to fantasize about something or someone else, but he really, really didn’t. As soon as he remembered the way your arms would feel as they wrapped around him, your fingers playing with his hair, your lips pressing against his cheek, your head burying into his shoulder or neck, your scent enveloping him like a warm safety blanket…
It was over embarrassingly quick.
He managed to keep most noises to himself, but he couldn’t bite down the low moan that escaped his throat as his orgasm washed over him in surprisingly strong waves, dazedly watching the evidence of his sins quickly being washed down the drain.
God, he really hoped you hadn’t heard anything.
“I really don’t need any houseplants,” Leon argued, yet he did nothing to stop you from adding a few to your shared cart anyway. You’d called him the day before, saying you were planning on buying some new furniture and asked if he would like to tag along. Leon couldn’t imagine any better way to spend his day off, so he had agreed. “Sometimes I’m gone for weeks, maybe even months. They’d all just die from the horrible neglect. Besides, I don’t have a green thumb at all.”
“Not to worry,” you reassured him with a playfully confident smile, “I can take care of them for you when you’re gone. We basically live at each other’s places anyway, right?”
You’re right. Leon swallowed, a strange mixture between warmth and anxiety settling in his chest. He spent most of his free time at your place, and when he wasn’t, you came over to his instead—you had each other’s keys. That was almost like living together, wasn’t it?
“On that note,” you went on to say, thankfully not noticing Leon’s inner downward spiral of thoughts, “wouldn’t it make sense if we brought some stuff to each other’s apartments? Like hygiene products and clothes, a toothbrush—stuff like that. It’s kinda ridiculous to always bring that big bag over when I could just leave it there instead.”
Another good point.
“That would be the next logical step to make, I guess,” Leon shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant. You chose a succulent for your own home, then paused and turned to look at him.
“Well, yeah, but are you really okay with it? I know you like to keep things casual…” You winced, “Besides, what if you want to bring someone to your place for, uh, activities, or something serious, and then there’s just… my stuff everywhere. That would look kinda bad, huh?”
That pulled Leon right out of his head, and he couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh. Leon hadn’t had any one night stands in a long time, and the only serious relationship he could speak of was way back then, before Raccoon City. Things hadn't been going so well, with Leon being so focused on his police training and organizing his move to Raccoon City—it hadn’t really come as a surprise when they parted ways, but that hadn’t made it hurt any less.
Besides, whether you did end up having sex that he couldn’t remember or not, Leon thought it was pretty obvious how much he cared about you and treasured your company. He guessed it was your own anxiety and insecurities kicking in—he just hoped you hadn’t been worrying about this too much.
“Trust me,” he said, “that’s not gonna happen.”
“Hm.” You didn’t look very convinced, but didn’t push further on the topic either. “Well, I still feel like I’m just kind of moving in with you without even asking. Be honest, are you actually, truly, one hundred percent okay with me coming over so much? Even when you’re not at home?”
You weren’t wrong about Leon wanting to keep things casual; he was admittedly a little scared of committing to any sort of relationship, which is why, despite how much he cherished you, he still felt a small, cold shiver of fear running down his back.
But being afraid didn’t mean he didn’t want you around. “I am okay with it,” he said, and he meant it. “Truth be told, my place has never felt much like a home at all until you started visiting.” He gestured at the houseplants inside the cart that he was pushing around with a small smile. “I never bothered much with decorations either. You’re contributing, and now it’s actually starting to feel like a place I can call home.”
He rarely allowed himself to become too attached to anything or anyone, including the place he lived at. Leon always felt as if everything was only temporary—even more so than normal. There was a small part of him that, upon waking up every day, warned him that everything he owned and everyone he loved could be gone with the snap of a finger. One big undetected fuck-up from the wrong people with the wrong intentions, and his whole life as he knew it could be over.
It was like he was waiting for something bad to happen, mentally preparing himself for it, and ultimately not allowing himself to simply live.
“Anyway,” he said, deciding he would rather not think about all this in the middle of an IKEA. “You can stop worrying about intruding or whatever. I like having you over. Besides, I visit you all the time too. So,” he picked out a blooming cactus, its little flower a beautiful shade of pink, and held it up for you to see. “I’d also like to make one small contribution to your home, if you don’t mind.”
You’d been listening to him ramble this entire time, looking just as thoughtful as he felt, but just then your face broke into a smile and you chortled. “Alright, Mr Kennedy. Fair’s fair.” You took the cactus from him and carefully put it into the cart. Then you reached out to give his hand a quick squeeze. “Thanks for reassuring me. I’ll try to worry less.”
“Me too,” he sighed a moment later, too quiet for you to hear.
When he returned home with a basket full of little plants, he immediately started looking for a good place to put them all. His mind was still brimming with thoughts that he’d tried his best to push away for hours now. Sometimes he wished his brain would work like a computer; that way, he could dismiss unwanted notifications and tell them to come back and remind him later.
The reality of the situation was starting to really settle in, soaking into Leon’s skin and making him feel chilly all over. Why was he, quite literally, getting cold feet now?
About a year ago, this would have been the exact moment he would have pulled out a bottle of brandy, perhaps vodka, to drone out these sorts of thoughts and make himself numb to any pain or stress he might be feeling. But Leon was trying to leave that behind— had left it behind. Now he had to deal with complicated feelings head-on and actually try to take a closer look at them, even though more often than not, he really didn’t want to.
He’d felt fear before, he realized. He had been afraid of becoming too dependent on you, of hurting you, and of getting hurt. The thought of losing you in any way was scary, and so was the thought of getting closer to you.
When he was younger, Leon had been too focused on his studies and becoming a police officer to really have a serious relationship. He’d tried it once or twice, but it never really worked out. After Raccoon City… things just weren’t the same anymore. His job made it difficult to start anything serious with anyone, potentially putting the other person in danger, and also putting himself at risk with every mission. He didn’t want to put you through that kind of stress.
It was easier to stay distant, play around, not get too attached to anyone. Ada had provided the sort of distraction and fun he wanted; she had been someone he could never have, with there being too many factors that made a serious relationship practically impossible. It was a dance, a back-and-forth game, and for a long time it had been enough to keep Leon satisfied. He’d shied away from anyone closer to him, afraid of what could happen, afraid of becoming attached.
And then, as he got older, his game with Ada had started to make him feel more and more miserable, leaving him craving for what he’d been starving himself off his whole life. He wanted more, wanted a deeper connection, something less fragile, something warm and safe and long-lasting, though he’d only truly started to realize this once you came barreling back into his life, giving him a taste of what he could have.
And now that it was right in front of him, now that he could have it, his fears were once again holding him back.
Now that his mind was clearer and some of the dust had settled, his bitterness towards Ada had too. Her actions made more sense now that he was aware of his own past behavior, how he had been chasing after her, seeking the thrill of it, enjoying the sort of safety it brought—the safety of distance.
Getting close meant the cuts would be deeper and bleed longer. Leon knew this; he’d lost friends before, people he had let close to him. With every loss came a new scar, each of them aching for many years. No matter how many times it happened, it always hurt just as much as the first time.
Losing you, though? Leon wasn’t sure if he could ever fully recover.
You were so bright-eyed, so full of hope and warmth and light… He would hate to expose you to the darkness of the world, the sort of darkness he had faced in 1998 that had continued to follow him around to this day. Realistically, it would only be a matter of time until you would get a front-row seat to what Leon was dealing with during missions. Sooner or later, the horrors of his job would follow him home and endanger everything he cared about.
But… he couldn’t shut you out—not now, not anymore. It would be unfair to you, and he wasn’t sure if he could go through with it even if he wanted to. He had a right to be paranoid, but he didn’t want to let his fears keep denying him of the pleasures in life.
He was scared of what could happen, but he was even more afraid of going back to the way things were before. Besides, it wasn’t as if you had ever forced or rushed him into anything—Leon was pretty sure you would understand his fears and give him the time and space he needed.
Leon took a deep breath, deciding that he’d done enough thinking for one day, and turned on the TV to rewatch The French Connection for what had to be the hundredth time so he could unwind. His eyes wandered over to the windowsill in his living room, smiling at his new green friends soaking up the afternoon sun rays.
It was hard for Leon to relax, even when he wasn’t working. Because he knew the things he kept fighting to rid the earth of never truly disappeared. A mission accomplished only meant that another crisis got averted, while a different one was already brewing somewhere else, and it would only be a matter of time until Leon would be sent to deal with that one just like all the rest. There were other agents, talented ones, experienced ones—but Leon wasn’t stupid; he knew he was one of their best. He survived hell, then got hired to survive it over and over again, professionally, so that other people, their children and their pets could sleep well at night.
While Leon had been on leave physically, mentally he’d still been at work. He kept on wondering what cases the others were working on while he was sitting at home, downing bottle after bottle, waiting for his phone to ring and be asked to come back into work because they needed his help.
(His workaholic attitude had been a pretty big factor for his leave, actually. People had gotten worried about his mental well-being and gently forced him to take some time off.)
If it hadn’t been for you, things would have probably stayed that way. Though, of course, some habits were hard to shake—once Leon had gone back to work, enjoying his free time became a bit of a challenge.
A few hours after returning home from yet another job—this time in Chile—he found himself standing in front of your door, hair and clothes completely soaked from the sudden heavy downpour he hadn’t cared to protect himself from. At least he’s had half a mind to take a duffel bag along this time.
Naturally, it was four in the morning, meaning the lights inside your place were out. This didn’t discourage Leon from standing on your doormat like a wet and confused golden retriever. Then he remembered the spare key you had given him a while ago so this exact situation could be avoided. With cold, numb fingers, he fumbled around in his pockets until he could hear the jingle of his keychain, knowing he’d put yours right next to the key to his own place.
It was dark and quiet inside. Leon winced, his unannounced visit disrupting the peace of your home, his soaked form already forming small puddles with every step he took. After putting his shoes and jacket aside, he took the duffel bag along to get changed in the bathroom. He still felt weird about simply entering your home without asking or warning you beforehand and then using your home as if it was his own, even after spending so much time here and having your explicit permission to do so.
Once he was (mostly) dry and ready to drop dead on your couch, he was quickly stopped in his tracks by your yawning figure that came wandering into the living room.
“Sorry,” he grimaced guiltily. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“‘S fine,” you mumbled sleepily, casually stepping into his personal space to give him a hug, your warmth seeping into his bones faster than the cold rain had on his way here. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, let alone see you. Are you okay?”
He leaned into your embrace, his muscles finally starting to relax. “Yeah, more or less. Just felt better to come here after…” After two weeks of investigating another Las Plagas cult and barely stopping the parasites from being shipped into at least ten different countries with so many near-death experiences that he’d stopped counting after the first five.
You hummed, not pressing him to continue, though he knew you were curious and he really did owe you a lot of explanations, but… he just never knew where to start. How to start. Some part of him feared that as soon as he so much as mentioned what was going on out there he would be putting a big target on your back, unintentionally getting you involved in the next big crisis.
“I missed you,” you said suddenly, hands rubbing soothing circles over his back. “I’m glad you’re back. I don’t care about being woken up in the middle of the night if it means I get to see you safe and sound, as cheesy as it sounds. I gave you my key for a reason, so I’m glad you’re finally using it.”
Leon didn’t know what to say—he was exhausted and overwhelmed with warm mushy feelings, all of his usual clever comebacks and jokes out for errands until further notice, so all he could do was give a tired little laugh and hold you closer, gently squeezing you and relishing in the way he could feel your heart faintly beating against his own chest.
And then he yawned, so widely his jaw creaked uncomfortably, which in turn made you yawn even louder.
“Bed,” you decided, and Leon strongly agreed. He didn’t even have the energy to politely protest when you started to guide him along to your bedroom, allowing himself to sink into your mattress and enjoy the weight of your blanket settling over his tired, aching muscles. He didn’t hesitate to shuffle closer and into your waiting arms when he felt you hesitantly reaching out to him, sighing contently at the way your fingers were carding through his hair.
For the first time after he returned from his mission, Leon’s mind cleared, his worries temporarily put to rest, and he found himself drifting off almost immediately.
Leon woke to something banging against your window.
His knee-jerk reaction was to reach underneath the pillow his head was resting on, searching for his Matilda, before remembering that he wasn’t in his own bed and you certainly weren’t keeping any guns in yours. Disoriented and bleary-eyed, he pushed himself up by his elbows and looked around. Your clock told him it was already past 11 AM, meaning he’d managed to sleep through the whole night and early morning.
“The weather is acting a bit weird.” Your voice startled him out of his daze, noticing you were already awake and sitting up, back and head propped up on your pillow as you stared outside. The few trees around your home were being swayed side to side by the howling wind, a small, detached thin branch clinging to your window—Leon assumed it was the culprit that had woken him. Thick snowflakes flew past, being carried whichever direction the wind blew next.
Then, the sound of thunder, its loud rumble making your windows vibrate just enough to be heard.
“Damn,” Leon murmured, voice rough with sleep, “thundersnow?”
His eyes wandered to you then, taking in your awed expression, an excited grin forming on your lips. And then he noticed the tear tracks on your cheeks, which made him sit up completely.
“Hey, you okay?” The question seemed to pull you out of your thoughts, and Leon watched with regret as your smile fell, eyes welling up again. He shuffled closer to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“I’m okay,” you said, brokenly. “I’m just feeling a little… under the weather.” You chuckled at your own joke, then shook your head. “It happens sometimes. I just… woke up feeling sad. There isn’t really any specific reason for it. If it’s okay, I don’t… I don’t really feel like doing anything today. I just want to stay here.”
Leon adjusted his position to something more comfortable, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and putting the other over your stomach, his thumbs drawing slow, gentle circles over the warm fabric of your shirt. You relaxed into his hold instantly, closing your eyes and enjoying his company.
“Of course it’s okay,” he soothed. “I have days like this too. As you’re, uh, probably aware, since you’ve seen it firsthand. Several times.”
You hummed. “Yeah… Don’t feel obligated to stay though, I’m not gonna get mad if you’ve already made plans or would rather go do something else other than just… watch me lying around and having an existential crisis all day.”
“Nah,” he said. “Staying here with you is all I could ever hope for.”
A broken sob wrestled itself out of your mouth and you buried your face into his chest, but when he looked down he could see you were also smiling. “Thanks, Leon.”
He stayed in bed with you for about half an hour, only leaving when his bladder started screaming at him. Now that he was up, he felt weirdly motivated to care for you. It was always the other way around, with you gently checking in on him whenever he didn’t text or call you for a while, caring for him when he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
His toothbrush was right next to yours inside a yellow plastic cup, his and your toothpaste on either side of it. There were little animal stickers decorating the sides of your bathroom mirror, plus some colorful post-it notes with reminders. As he brushed his teeth, his eyes wandered over your handwriting, already knowing most of your reminders by heart because he’d read them so many times before; Did you water your plants? How about tea instead of an energy drink? Stop procrastinating and just read the gosh darn book already!! (He smiled because he knew you still hadn’t read it.)
And then he noticed the new, little blue post-it note that read: Pls figure out how to put up your new IKEA furniture.
Well, that seemed like something Leon might be able to do for you. It had been a while since he last had to put furniture together, but he was up for the challenge.
When he exited the bathroom a few minutes later, it looked as if you’d fallen asleep again, eyes closed and breathing slow. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, and the weather seemed to have calmed down a little. His gaze wandered to your window again, then did a double-take.
There was the little cactus he’d picked out for you, the early-blooming flower even more vibrant than before. There was a nametag sticking to the gray pot, and Leon had to squint to read it.
Scotty.
“Hey,” he poked his head into your bedroom. You were lying on your side, facing the doorway with your gaze focused on your phone, the light of its display illuminating your features enough for him to see your eyes looking up and at him. “You hungry? I could make us something.”
“Hmm.” You looked around the room, humming thoughtfully. “I don’t have any ideas, but I guess I’m getting kinda hungry…”
“Alright,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll think of something.” He was just glad you were hungry at all.
Some time later while he was still busy in your kitchen, he could hear the bedroom door opening and your footsteps padding towards him. He turned his head around, chuckling softly at the sight of you wrapped up in your blanket, barefoot and still sort of bleary-eyed. “Smells good,” you declared, voice quiet and thick with sleep. “What is it?”
“Spaghetti with tomato sauce.” He turned down the heat on the stove. “It’s almost done.”
“Mmm, nice.” Leon jumped slightly when he felt you leaning into his back, rubbing your head against his shirt. “Thank you for cooking. You didn’t have to.”
“Thank me when you know it’s actually edible,” he joked.
You leaned sideways to glance past his arm. “Looks edible to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“You’re awfully insecure about your cooking, Mr Kennedy.” You stepped away and pulled out a small spoon from one of the cupboard drawers. “May I have a taste?”
He made some room for you, watching intently as you scooped up a small amount of tomato sauce and brought it to your lips, gently blowing on it before slurping it up. He waited, watching your eyes narrow in concentration, smacking your lips a bit as you let the sauce wash over your tastebuds.
“...And?” he asked, getting a little nervous.
You took another spoonful. Then, you smiled. “It’s extremely edible.”
His shoulders sagged with relief, stopping you from taking a third spoonful. “Hey now, we still need some for the spaghetti.”
When Leon came to visit you again a few weeks later, you’d opened the door with flushed cheeks and slightly dazed eyes. Despite your wobbly stance, you greeted him with surprising enthusiasm, “Oh hey, it’s the boy! The Man, the Myth, the Legend!”
Leon let out a startled laugh, letting himself be dragged into your home and taking off his shoes after closing the door behind him. “I guess that’s me, yeah. Are you drunk?”
He felt your lips pressing a loud kiss to the crown of his head while he was still bent over to untie his boots, making him pause and blink up at you.
“I absolutely am, Mr Kennedy,” you said, grinning widely, not finding it necessary to explain your actions. “Hey, has anyone ever called you by your second name?” And then, as if you felt the need to remind him, you added, “Scott?”
Leon barely had any time to recover from one thing before you threw yet another surprise his way, so he let out a rather intelligent caveman grunt before being dragged into the living room. It seemed you had already forgotten about your earlier question, because you were babbling something about ordering pizza when Leon knew you had frozen pizza in your freezer.
“So, uh,” he started, “what’s the occasion?” He rarely saw you this drunk before, and especially now that he was a recovering alcoholic you were very cautious about even mentioning alcohol around him.
“There was this amazing book sale going on,” you gushed, eyes wide and excited, “Four books that would usually cost like thirty dollars each, right? And I got them for nine in total! I saved so much money and got four whole, thick ass books that I’ve been eyeing up for years! I was so happy I just felt like celebrating a little.”
Seeing you this ecstatic, even if it was just because of a good sale, reminded Leon that especially the small things in life were what made it so beautiful. Amidst all the darkness in the world, the smallest flicker of light could bring great joy—sometimes it was hard to see that. After all, to him, simply seeing you smile was enough to bring Leon a sense of peace.
“Well, don’t let me stop you.”
Thankfully, you’d finally remembered the pizza in your freezer, grinning at him as you took it out. “Thanks, Scott.”
He grimaced, “Don’t call me that, it sounds weird.”
You chortled and put two pizzas in the oven, miraculously getting the temperature settings right without too much effort, even though you were having some difficulty concentrating on the small symbols and numbers. “Leon, set a timer for fifteen minutes.”
“Do I look like an Amazon Echo to you?” he asked, but took your little chicken-shaped kitchen timer in hand anyway.
“Sorry,” you chuckled, “I saw my chance and had to take it.”
“Very funny.”
The casual back-and-forth banter kept going until the timer rang. Leon stopped you from taking the pizza out of the oven because he didn’t want to risk you burning yourself, and while you did put up a bit of a fight at first, in the end you were too drunk to stop him from stopping you.
You did, however, insist on at least cutting one of the pizzas yourself. And you did, although in a rather… abstract way that was reminiscent of a Picasso painting.
Once you and Leon were both seated at the dinner table, shortly squishing your slices of pizza together in cheers, Leon finally noticed the opened bottle of Lambrusco and half-empty glass beside it. He hadn’t tried that one personally, but a few women at work swore by it. Well, not that it mattered anyway—he wasn’t planning on trying it.
“What’s it taste like?” he asked and pointed at the bottle, admittedly a little curious.
“It’s like watered down wine, I guess?” you said, staring at it with furrowed eyebrows, as if the label would give you all the answers. “It’s kinda like juice, but with alcohol. I like it; it doesn’t have such a strong, bitter taste like normal wines.”
You lifted the glass to your lips to take another sip, then suddenly froze. Leon watched as your wide eyes slowly wandered from the bottle over to him, then down to the glass in your hands, going slightly cross-eyed to make that work. You let out a loud, scandalized gasp. Next thing he knew, you quickly downed the rest of the liquid in one, big gulp, then abruptly stood from your seat to sprint into your kitchen with bottle and wine glass in hand.
Leon stayed seated, already on his second slice of pizza, watching you with rapt attention. “What are you doing?”
You threw the glass into the sink—he was amazed it didn’t shatter upon impact—and then put the bottle into a cupboard that it definitely didn’t belong to—he guessed it was where all your kitchen cleaning supplies were stored.
“You didn’t see anything,” you said as you turned around. He raised an eyebrow. “I got rid of the evi—” you hiccuped, “evidence. The bottle never existed, and—”
He raised his other eyebrow as you slapped a hand to your forehead. “Fuck, I’m drunk!” ‘I’m the evidence!’ your face was basically screaming.
“You sure are,” Leon nodded, unable to hide his amusement any longer. “As we have already established earlier.”
You let out a loud, dismayed groan. “But you’re here!!”
“I am,” he confirmed, nodding again.
“I can’t be drunk!! What was I thinking— I wasn’t thinking, obviously. Arghhh—” You shortly banged your head against the fridge with a soft thud, then walked back over to sit and instead bang your head on the table. Miserably, you mumbled, “I’m sorry, Leon.”
His smile softened. Admittedly, it had been pretty funny to watch your little freak-out just now, but knowing it came from such a genuine place of care warmed his heart. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”
You tilted your head to glance up at him. “You sure? Does it not make you… uncomfortable? Like, I feel like it’s kinda insensitive of me to be like this and just have a— a bottle standing around when you’re…” you made a vague hand gesture that he knew was meant to imply when you’re still a recovering alcoholic.
“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled, “It’s not affecting me negatively in any way. I thought it was rather funny, actually. Kinda cute, too.” He gestured to his pizza, “You should eat, it’s gonna get cold.”
You let out a sigh. “Well… alright. If you say so.”
He smiled playfully, “I am saying so, and my word is law. Be drunk and eat.”
That earned himself a laugh, which always made him feel as if he just won some big nobel prize—not that he would care about something like that, but if he did, this is what it would probably feel like. “Yes, Scott.”
He groaned.
Leon walked by the alcohol aisle, taking in the all-too familiar bottles he used to frequently buy. He was pushing the cart, so it didn’t take long for you to walk up behind him and drop something into it (it was chamomile tea). “You’re not thinking about getting any, right?”
Your tone was light, but when he looked at you he could see the worried frown on your face. He shook his head. “Nah, I just… I guess I just wanted to remind myself of how far I’ve gotten. I don’t even feel the itch anymore. Especially not after last time’s hangover…”
With a start, he realized he hadn’t brought up the topic of that fateful day in a while. He still wondered just what had happened—
“Oh, yeah,” you grimaced sympathetically. “I remember you were already puking when I came over, had to hold your hair outta the way—it got kinda close to the splashing zone.”
“Urgh.” He pulled a face, remembering the taste of bile when he awoke that morning. He took a deep breath, then, deciding it was time to check on Schrödinger’s cat. “Honestly, I… I can barely remember anything from that night.”
You put some scented candles into the cart, eyeing him with surprise. “Really? Damn, you must’ve been more drunk than I thought.”
“Yeah…” Leon looked at you expectantly, until you eventually got the hint that he wanted you to elaborate.
“Oh,” you said, smiling. “Okay, uhh… It was pretty late, probably like two or three in the morning when you called me. I could immediately tell something’s off; you were slurring your speech, and, well, crying. Kept apologizing over and over. So I came over to check on you, and you were bent over your toilet, puking like crazy. I could tell you were feeling super bad about relapsing, which is why I didn’t give you a hard time about it afterwards.”
Leon waited a few seconds longer. When you didn’t add anything else, he hesitantly prodded, “Sooo, we didn’t…?”
You tilted your head at him. “Didn’t… what?”
Might as well go all the way, he thought, then sighed. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
You made the cross-my-heart-gesture across your chest. “Of course.”
He opened his mouth, then remembered his surroundings. A grocery store wasn’t exactly a great place for such a personal conversation. “On second thought, let’s wait until we’re back home.”
An elderly couple walked by, and you chuckled softly. “Yeah, good call. Hey, so, anything else you need?” You looked around, then made a sound that Leon could only describe as a villainous laugh, walking over to a shelf with reading- and sunglasses. “Maybe some reading glasses, Mr Scott?”
Leon gave you what he hoped to be the most deadpan stare he could muster. He barely even moved when you picked one out and carefully put them on his face. “I don’t need any,” he said, and he really didn’t—but the way you stared at him made him start to reconsider.
“Wow,” you breathed, a wide smile lighting up your features, “You look really good with glasses. Makes you look even more like a DILF.”
“A DILF— ?” He quickly ducked in front of the mirror to catch a glimpse of himself, frowning slightly. Okay, yeah, you weren’t exactly wrong. He did look pretty good. But they also made him look older. Perhaps… that was part of the appeal…?
He slowly turned back around. You had taken out your phone, holding it to your chest with a hopeful look in your eyes. “Just one picture?” You grinned innocently.
Leon sighed loudly, unable to fight down his own smile. “Fine. But only because it’s you. Don’t show anyone else, got it?”
“Got it!” You saluted with the wrong hand, then quickly corrected yourself with a chortle, before taking definitely more than just one picture of him.
Setting down the two bags of groceries in your kitchen, you huffed out a breath. “Thank God that’s over.”
“That bad?” Leon asked, taking one of the bags and pulling everything out bit by bit.
“Yeah. I just don’t enjoy shopping very much. But it was definitely better having you tag along.” You stepped closer and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, which made his breathing hitch. “Thank you, Leon.”
Pull yourself together! He cleared his throat. “No problem. Always happy to help a damsel in distress.”
“Ha, ha.” You playfully rolled your eyes, then took the other bag to get to work. “Anyway, now that we’re back home, what did you wanna say earlier?”
His heart dropped for a second. Right. That.
“Right. Uh. That morning, when I woke up…” He hesitated, at which you gave him an encouraging nod, so he went on, “I don’t know if you were aware, but I wasn’t wearing any clothes. And then I saw you wearing one of my shirts. So I assumed…”
You blinked slowly. Then, your mouth fell open, eyes widening as you started to understand what he was getting at.
“Oh. Oh, damn. Yeah, that—” You chuckled, “I only realize now how that must’ve looked.” You paused for a second, then gasped loudly. “Wait. This whole time, you thought that we…?”
Leon stared down at the bottle of olive oil in his hands, looking over the listed ingredients as if he were actually interested in them. “...Yeah.”
“Jesus.”
“Uh-huh,” he snorted. “So, what actually happened?”
When he looked back up, you were holding your head in your hands, still dumbfounded from Leon’s admission. “Well… After you calmed down, we went to bed, but you kept muttering that it’s ‘too hot’ in your room so you kept taking off more of your clothes, and I borrowed one of your shirts to sleep in since I forgot to bring my bag along. Aaand… that’s about it.”
“Oh.” A weight he hadn’t been aware of carrying dropped away, making him feel lighter. Somehow, Leon had expected something crazier. He was glad it wasn’t. He was also glad he didn’t have drunk sex with you and then forgot about it. You deserved better than that, and frankly, Leon would really want to remember it.
You let out a sudden, rushed breath, “But— But why didn’t you ask?”
Leon shrugged. “I don’t know! I tried, but then you had to leave for work and you were acting so nonchalant about everything so I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I just…”
“Leon.” He tensed slightly and felt his face grow hot in embarrassment when you stepped closer, only to take his arm and lean against his shoulder, burying your face into it. “You think I would just have sex with you—while you’re piss drunk, might I add—and then never ever mention it again?”
Realizing that saying “yes” would make him look really stupid, Leon kept his mouth shut. Of course, that still told you what you needed to know, and you sighed. “I wouldn’t. And I know you wouldn’t, either. But, to be fair, I get it. Sometimes your head just gets in the way. Still, promise me you’ll talk to me sooner next time something like this happens?”
He let out a slow breath and allowed himself to relax, wrapping his free arm around your back. “I promise.”
You shoveled more cake into your mouth, then suddenly pointed your fork at the TV when Neo came walking on-screen. “Now I know who he reminds me of,” you mumbled out between chewing. Leon made a questioning noise, waiting for you to continue. “There’s a guy who came by the animal shelter recently to look at our cats. Apparently he’s been coming by several times already since a few years ago, always adopting one of the cats no one else wants—mostly the black ones, because apparently people still believe they bring bad luck. And he looks exactly like that.”
“What? Like Keanu Reeves?” Leon asked, snorting.
“Well, no, not like Keanu Reeves,” you frowned, squinting in concentration like you were trying to remember. “He had blond hair and looked a bit older, but his outfit was basically the same; sunglasses, black clothes, long coat… When I first saw him, I thought he was a Matrix cosplayer, but he was a bit too intimidating for that.”
“Hm,” Leon hummed, smiling to himself as he stole the rest of your cake while you weren’t looking. “Can’t be that bad of a guy if he adopts the unwanted kittens, huh?”
“That’s what I think, too,” you agreed. “It’s kind of adorable, because he looks so strict and scary, like he has a stick up his ass, y’know? And then he picks up the kittens like they’re made out of glass and coos at them when he thinks no one’s looking. He probably pampers them at home.”
You finally looked down at your little plate and let out a scandalized gasp upon finding it empty, then gasping again when you saw Leon innocently chewing. “You thief. I trusted you.”
Leon couldn’t say anything, his mouth was still full, so all he could do was laugh (with his mouth closed).
“Only traitors wherever I go,” you muttered, but you were grinning too. “Betrayed and robbed in my own home. I can’t believe it.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.” Leon waited until you set your plate and fork down, then wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your neck. “Sorry, it just looked really good. Will you forgive me?”
You gave an exaggerated sigh, one hand wandering up to stroke Leon’s hair in a way that had him melting against you immediately. If humans were able to, he would be purring right now. “Just this once, I shall forgive you,” you generously decided.
“How kind,” he chuckled, “thank you.” And then he pressed a kiss just behind your ear, freezing slightly when he realized what he was doing. His current position and your ministrations sent a wave of heat straight into his belly, pants immediately feeling a little tighter. Goddamnit.
He heard you inhale sharply, your fingers that were still buried in his hair curling inward just a tad, before resuming the massage on his scalp, this time more slowly—sensually.
He hadn’t moved his head away from your neck, his warm breath gently blowing over your skin with every exhale, and with every inhale of your scent he felt more and more tempted. Hesitantly, he leaned closer once more, pressing another careful kiss behind your ear. Testing the waters. You let out a shaky breath, not moving away, instead gently pressing his head closer with your hand.
Leon’s heart was pounding inside his chest—was he really doing this? Were you actually encouraging him?
He decided to test further, half expecting you to laugh it off and shove him away, or tell him to stop, but when he started to hesitantly nibble on your ear, all you did was give a full-body shiver, tilting your head slightly to give him more room. “Oh,” you breathed. He wanted to see your face, but he didn’t want to break the spell you were both under, so he kept pressing gentle kisses along your exposed skin, giving a little nibble here and there. The arm that he’d wrapped around your front moved so he could put his hand on your hip, while the other was stroking slow circles across your shoulder blades.
After about a minute, he pulled away. “You’re trembling,” he noticed, trying to meet your eyes to gauge your reaction. “Are you okay?”
You let out a small, shaky laugh. “I could ask you the same,” you whispered. “You’re shaking just as bad.”
With a frown, he realized you were right. “Huh. I guess I am.”
“I’m okay,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. “Are you?”
You were obviously nervous, but your pupils were blown wide with desire, looking up at him expectantly—hopefully. Despite his own nerves, Leon smiled. “Me too. It’s just…”
“Too soon?” you suggested when he didn’t continue.
He shook his head. “No, it’s— I guess it’s just hard to believe this is actually happening. I… Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve been thinking about this for… quite a long time, to be honest.”
“...How long?” you asked.
He grimaced. “Remember when it was raining like crazy back at the police academy and we were both soaked from head to toe?”
You frowned for a second, then your eyes lit up. “Oh, man, yeah. We spent hours waiting for our clothes to dry and I had to wear some of yours while we were drinking hot chocolate together.” You smiled fondly as you thought back, then you looked at Leon, eyes going wide. “That long?”
He nodded, feeling bashful.
“Leon,” you breathed, awed, “I— God, I… I always had the biggest crush on you. I was always so worried that I was being super obvious and that there was no way you’d ever be interested in me like that.”
He swallowed. “I can be a bit of an idiot when it comes to feelings.”
You laughed, relaxing slightly, and Leon beamed upon hearing it. “I guess we’re both idiots. I mean… Since we met at that grocery store, we weren’t exactly being subtle, but… I could tell you weren’t doing well, so I didn’t want to be pushy. Besides, you could have already been taken, I was surprised to find out you weren’t.”
He chuckled, “You’re one to talk.” Whenever you’d crossed his mind over the past few years, Leon had always been utterly convinced you had found yourself a partner to marry and settle down with. Never would he have expected for you to still remember him, let alone think about him like he thought about you.
You lifted your hands to his face, cupping it gently and letting your thumbs stroke over his cheeks, feeling his stubble. “Can I kiss you?”
He thought he was going to combust on the spot. “Yeah,” he managed to choke out, already feeling breathless.
He met you halfway, swallowing down a groan upon feeling your soft lips pressing against his. Finally, finally.
Before he knew it, you were resting on your back with Leon on top, barely parting to breathe. His tongue was in your mouth, making you moan and shiver against him. Leon felt like a starving man, hungrily drinking up every part of you, sighing when he felt you spreading your legs so he could rest between them. As soon as he did, your legs wrapped around him like a safety belt, and he groaned because he could feel every single inch of your body that touched his, burning into his skin in the most delicious ways.
Somewhere along the way, Leon had started to move his hips, slightly rutting against you, and fuck did that feel good. Judging by the sounds you were making, you were probably inclined to agree with that statement.
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuuuck,” you chanted into his mouth, before finally parting from his lips to take a breath.
He kissed your jaw. “How far do you wanna take this?” he asked, wanting nothing more than to devour you right here on your couch, but he needed to make sure you were on the same page. He would understand if things were moving too fast for you, and he was more than ready to wait however long you wanted, even if it meant going back to masturbating in the shower.
“Mmmm,” you hummed appreciatively, tilting your head up and sideways to give him more room to explore, “Not sure, but I don’t wanna stop. Though we should probably— mmhh— take this to the bedroom instead…”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, good idea.”
So he wrapped his hands around your back and told you to hold on tight, mentally begging his aging bones to not fail him now as he lifted you up and carried you to your bedroom. Once he set you down on top of the soft mattress, you spread your legs again and he quickly crawled back between them, going back to kissing along your jaw.
“Just let me know if you want me to stop,” he said.
“Okay. You too.” He smiled, appreciating the sentiment. You wrapped your arms around him, shivering and gasping at his touch. “I don’t think I wanna go all the way yet, as in— Well, you know. But I wouldn’t mind… Uhm…”
He pressed one last kiss to your throat, then sat up a little to look at your face. You let out a bashful chortle, averting your gaze, still embarrassed about saying what was on your mind despite the current position you were currently in.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll like it,” Leon said with absolute certainty. He kissed your cheek, like you had done to him so many times before, trying to ease your tension. “Don’t feel forced to say it, but I won’t laugh at you, I promise.”
You hummed, leaning into his kiss slightly before nuzzling his jaw. “Alright. Fine. I— For the longest time, one thing I’ve always kind of really wanted to do with you is… I really, really want to blow you.”
Leon froze. A wave of heat washed over him, which then once again settled inside his lower belly, making his dick twitch in his pants.
He must have been quiet for just a few seconds too long, because you hesitantly asked, “Is that… something you’d want too, or…?”
“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Very much. If you’re absolutely sure—”
“I am very sure,” you quickly interrupted him, so vehemently he could tell you meant it with your whole being.
“Okay,” he said, leaning back into a kneeling position. “Okay,” he repeated, the excitement currently coursing through his veins making him feel like he was back in his twenties again.
You laughed and pushed yourself up. “Okay! Uhm, maybe we could switch places? The pillows are more comfortable.”
Leon was pretty sure he’d do anything you told him to at this point, but leaning back and letting himself sink into the soft pillows was definitely a relief for his limbs. All that training didn’t change the fact that he was getting older and that, eventually, his body wouldn’t be quite so forgiving anymore. It wasn’t that he was old, just older than he used to be, and there were times where he could really feel it.
Your fingers were on his belt, and all thoughts about aging quickly left his brain in a rush. He had half a mind to reach down and help you, only to have you swat his hands away, stating that this was part of the appeal.
“It’s like unwrapping a present,” you explained, successfully opening the belt, fingers quickly moving to undo the upper two buttons on his pants and then the zipper. “And, well, I’ve thought about this—” you stopped yourself, then tried again, “...from time to time. What it would be like. What I’d want to do. What, uhm… what you would sound like…”
“Oh,” he breathed, face warming at the prospect of you imagining doing these things to him, wanting to do these things to him—for him. It was really damn arousing to hear. And it also made him feel a little better about jerking off to thoughts of you.
Speaking of…
“I was also thinking about you,” he confessed. “I tried not to because I felt kinda guilty about it, but…”
“It just happens, right?” He looked down to see you smile sheepishly. He nodded, relieved to know you understood and didn’t mind. “But also, wow. Knowing you thought of me while doing that feels so unreal.”
“Yeah—” You’d pulled down his pants and underwear just enough to reach your goal, and the words quickly died on his tongue and got stuck in his throat when his dick got exposed to the cool air and, well, your rather hungry gaze.
Oh dear fucking God, he begged in his mind, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying it out loud, please touch me.
You hesitated for a moment, then licked your lips and leaned forward. Your warm hand wrapped around him, and usually, Leon would have held back from making any noises, but knowing you had wondered about it, he let out a relieved groan upon contact.
That seemed to encourage you quite a bit. Your lips parted and he could feel the shuddering breath that escaped your mouth on his cock.
“So, uhm,” you started quietly, “you might have to guide me a little. Just let me know if something hurts or doesn’t feel good.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he rasped. He didn’t mind a little bit of pain—he could handle it, and if done right, could even feel pretty good. But that would be a topic for another time, maybe.
You started off slowly, testing the waters and warming up to the act. Leon was happy to give you the time you needed—there was no need to rush, after all. He was enjoying himself quite a lot already, evident in the way he was twitching in your gentle yet firm grasp. You moved your hand up and down slowly several times, watching his face and listening to his noises. Whenever Leon’s breath hitched or whenever he would get a bit louder, you would immediately repeat the motion that had caused it.
Then, seemingly noticing the lack of lubricant, your gaze wandered slightly upwards and to his tip. And, yeah, he was already leaking quite a bit of precum. You reached up and—
“Fuck.” Leon’s head fell back against the pillow at the same time as his hips twitched upwards to thrust into your hand. You didn’t stop him from moving, looking more aroused by the action than anything.
For a short moment, Leon remembered what sex had been like with Ada—she would always have the upper hand, even when he was on top. She would edge him to the point of orgasm several times, only letting him cum when she thought he had earned it. She would tell him to hold still, meaning that if his hips would move by their own accord, she would give a disapproving tut and punish him in some way—a stark contrast to what you were doing. It was always enjoyable, of course; he’d been very much into the whole dom/sub play.
But it had never felt like this. He felt warm and safe—loved, even. That, he realized, is what he’d been missing for a very long time.
Just as quick as the memories and realization had set in, they left almost twice as fast when he suddenly felt your warm, wet tongue licking him from the base and up to the tip, giving it a little flick at the end. A startled groan wrestled itself free of his throat, which in turn made you repeat the motion, again and again. And then you wrapped your lips around the head, your tongue licking, flicking and rubbing the underside of it.
Unwilling to startle you, Leon had to use all of his willpower to keep his hips under control, wanting nothing more than to thrust up and into the inviting heat of your mouth. His hands were gripping the sheets so hard at this point that his knuckles turned white.
He breathed out your name, surprised when that made you moan in turn, the vibrations of your voice stimulating him even further. You adjusted your lips a little, then you took him in deeper. You took your time, learning your own limits and how much of him you could take at once—moving down, pausing, moving back up, then further down. Leon held himself still the whole time, hands itching to reach for your head.
And then you actually managed to deepthroat him. You had your eyes closed, probably concentrating on relaxing your throat and keeping your gag reflex under control. Leon felt you swallow around his cock a few times and he whined. “Shit, that’s good…”
You hummed, and this time the vibrations were stimulating his whole length and it was quite fucking intense. Noticing this, you hummed again, a bit longer.
“Oh fuck!” He reached up, his control slipping along with his pleasure rising, holding your head in place with both hands. Don’t move, he kept telling himself. Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move—
After a long moment, you moved your head back, and he immediately pulled his hands away. There was a lot of spit on your chin, strings of it still connecting you to his twitching cock when you went up for air. You wiped it away, then gave him a sheepish grin. “Good?”
Leon stared at you in wonder. “Uh-huh,” he nodded. “Kind of an understatement, but yeah.”
You chuckled, still somehow managing to be shy despite what you’d just been doing to him. “That’s a relief.” You started stroking him again, the generous amount of lubrication making it feel better than before. “I would like to try something. I think I should be able to handle it.”
“Mmm— Yeah? What— ungh— What is it?”
“I noticed you were holding back, like, a lot.” You met his eyes, giving him a small grin. “I’d like you to, uh, do the opposite.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You— Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Again, the reply was immediate. “While I was, uhm, going at it, I kept thinking about how hot it’d be if you just… used me however you wanted.”
Your words and the hand still stroking his dick made him throw his head back with a groan. “Fuck, okay. Just— Just tap me when you want me to stop, alright? Twice to slow down, once to keep going, three times to stop. That okay?”
“Yes, got it.”
You took him back into your mouth and got comfortable. Leon’s hands were shaking a little when they reached for your head a second time, both from excitement and nerves. He really didn’t want to hurt you, so he’d take it slow and see how far he could allow himself to go.
He pulled his legs up and angled them a little for better support and to make hip movements easier. Apparently, he hesitated a moment too long, because you gave him one single tap on his thigh. Go ahead. Leon took a deep breath and forced himself to relax a little, then gave one, slow thrust. You slackened your jaw a little more, but other than that, everything seemed fine. So he did it again. And again. And again.
He was building a steady pace, and when all you did was moan in approval, he finally allowed himself to go faster. One hand kept a firm grip on your head—more for his own sanity than anything else—while the other kept wandering from your neck to your shoulder, then to your face to stroke his thumb over your jaw which was most likely already getting sore.
“Ahh, shit, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Feels so fucking good…” The praise earned him another loud moan, and with a start, he realized you were touching yourself. Leon taking control and using you for his own pleasure like this seemed to really cater to your kinks. He could relate; he could hardly wait to do the same for you, but knowing you were enjoying this at least as much as he was made the whole thing feel even better.
His movements became sloppy, desperate. He was getting pretty close pretty fast, and you kept making all these sounds, only encouraging him to keep going and to go faster…
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” he chanted, voice rising higher the closer he got. He was holding your head in place with both hands on either side of your jaw, fingertips pressing gently into your neck. “Yeah yeah yeah, just like that… So good, you feel so good, mmm—”
You let out the loudest and longest moan yet, and Leon could feel you shudder.
“Oh shit,” he breathed, “did you just cum?”
You hummed your affirmative, looking so utterly blissed out yet still so eager and happy to let him use your mouth—the knot in Leon’s stomach tightened immediately, and with a strangled groan he felt his own orgasm wash over him. He didn’t even have time to react and warn you, he could only lessen his grip to give you the option to pull away, but you stayed put, swallowing every last drop with only a little bit of coughing.
Leon’s hands fell back to his sides as soon as his muscles relaxed, legs slowly straightened out. You waited another moment, then pulled off of his softening dick and crawled towards the other side of the bed, opening a drawer and pulling out a box of tissues, which you used to clean your face, then to gently wipe down his cock until it was mostly dry again.
“Thanks,” was all he could say, still a little breathless, shuffling closer to you when you went to lie down beside him.
“No problem.” For a while, there was only the sound of breathing as you both stared up at the ceiling, holding hands, still in awe of what just happened.
“That was great,” you finally said, voice raspy.
He could only grunt in strong agreement.
“We should definitely do that again.”
He grunted again. Then, he said, “I could have done the same for you. You didn’t have to do it yourself.”
You shrugged. “Eh, next time. I really enjoyed myself. Maybe a little too much…”
Leon snorted, pulling his boxers back up and kicking his pants away until they landed on the floor with a not-so-gentle thud (whoops, his wallet and keys were still in there), then turned to his side to nuzzle into your neck. “Well, that’s good, then. I really enjoyed myself too.”
You turned your head a little, waiting until Leon took the hint to look up, then moved closer to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Noticing you were a little hesitant, either because you still weren’t used to it, or because you literally just gave him a (really awesome) blowjob and didn’t know whether he would be grossed out by touching lips afterwards, he easily deepened it, this time without tongue. The afterglow was setting in, meaning a lot of warm, lovey-dovey feelings were flooding his brain and chest, so all he wanted was to hold you close and not let go for a while.
You sighed, smiling against him. “I’m so happy we can do this now,” you whispered, parting from him.
“Me too.”
The weather was finally getting the hint that spring was coming (or, well, it was already here, winter just wouldn’t let it stay), meaning no more snow and sudden drops in temperature. The birds were coming back, plants started to grow anew, and the sun supplied everyone and everything with some much needed vitamin D.
Because of this, you and Leon had spent a few hours at a nearby park, enjoying the warmth the sunlight brought. You’d brought some food and water to survive the outdoors while you walked and talked, eventually sitting down on a bench. Leon had managed to convince you to bring one of the books he’d watched gathering dust on your shelf, and then he’d somehow managed to coax you into reading it. Out loud, too, so he could listen to your voice instead of simply watching you read in silence.
You kept reading for about an hour while Leon fed some pigeons, until the sun started to set, turning the sky a beautiful shade of orange. The both of you bid the pigeons farewell (several of them had taken quite a liking to Leon and you, sitting on your legs to preen and take a nap) and started going back to Leon’s place, when—
“Hey, isn’t that the Blue Bar?” Leon’s gaze followed to where you were pointing, and he stopped.
“Yeah, it is.” It was the very same bar he used to frequent about a year ago. He hadn’t visited it again ever since, one reason being they’d announced it would get renovated to make it more modern, and the other that Leon had stopped drinking. But… he was feeling a little nostalgic. “Let’s have a quick look.”
Once across the street and standing in front of the bar’s windows, Leon noticed that it actually didn’t look as bad as he had expected. The lights were still a warm color, most of the furniture was still made from wood… It still looked quite similar to what it used to be, just sort of… freshened up a little. Cleaner, more organized, and the bartender was wearing a different outfit.
Leon did a double take. “Oh, hey, looks like Jerry still works here.”
“Jerry?” You followed Leon’s gaze.
“Yeah, the bartender. He’s been working here even before I became a regular.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memories. Jerry had always been great at giving advice and offering a listening ear to whoever needed it, but then again, that just seemed to be a thing most bartenders did.
“Do you wanna go in?”
For a second, Leon wasn’t sure whether he’d voiced his thoughts out loud, before realizing it hadn’t been him talking. He turned his head to stare at you, surprised.
You had a fond smile on your lips, eyes warm. “I can see that you want to. Besides, I’m kind of curious too.”
He thought about it for a moment. It would probably be all too easy to fall back into some of his old habits once inside, so he would have to be careful and not let himself be tempted. But you were with him, so he knew it would be fine.
“Alright,” he nodded. “I remember the food was pretty good too, maybe we can have a bite to eat before we go home.”
Turned out that the staff and some of the old regulars still recognized Leon. He was greeted by smiles and full glasses raised in cheers, even some pats on the back. He had a short talk with Jerry, who told him they’d lost about forty percent of their regular customers because of the renovations (though they also got some new ones), hence why the bar was emptier than Leon remembered it being at this time of day.
When Jerry had asked whether Leon wanted “the usual,” he was quick to shake his head, briefly explaining he’d been doing his best to stay sober for a while now and wasn’t planning on changing that. The bartender seemed pleased.
“You had me worried sometimes,” Jerry confessed, pouring a glass of whiskey for someone. “I’m glad to hear you’ve decided to make some changes.” Then, Jerry’s brown eyes fell on you, and he smiled knowingly. “I take it you were perhaps inspired by some outside influence…?”
Leon cleared his throat. “You could say that.”
“Hi,” you waved at Jerry, smiling a little awkwardly as you shortly introduced yourself.
Eventually, Leon decided to sit at one of the free tables in the corner—mostly because he’d never done so before, and because he knew sitting by the bar and talking with Jerry would tempt him into ordering some brandy.
Once the food and drinks arrived, Leon’s shoulders relaxed a little. “You sure you don’t want any alcohol for yourself? You don’t have to hold back because of me.”
“I’m sure,” you said, almost with the same intensity you had a few days ago in the bedroom, “I’m not gonna drink in front of you. Again.”
Leon snorted. “Alright.” He really didn’t mind you drinking around him, nor did he want to keep you from doing so, but he was admittedly a little relieved.
The food was just as good as he remembered. Leon had ordered what he would usually get (good ol’ burger, you couldn’t go wrong with that, especially not when they were this good), while you ordered something else that piqued your interest, giving him a bite when you caught him staring at it.
“You and your puppy eyes,” you muttered, shaking your head with a sigh.
“Hey, it’s out of my control,” Leon defended himself, mouth still half full. He swallowed. “It just happens. I don’t even know what I look like.”
“Like a little puppy,” you said, like that explained everything. “Golden retriever puppy.”
“Hm.” He frowned. Surely, you were exaggerating?
Something red and hauntingly familiar caught Leon’s eye. He ignored it at first, thinking that there was no way she would be here, of all places. The timing would be too weirdly coincidental, but then again, she always seemed to have a weird talent for suspiciously perfect timing (although now would be the worst possible time for her to show up out of nowhere).
The curiosity ate at him until Leon couldn’t stand it anymore, finally turning his head and— “Shit.”
It was Ada. He wasn’t imagining things. What was it with her and her goddamn red dresses, anyway? Even when she wasn’t wearing a dress, she was wearing something else that was red. Rather unhelpfully, his brain chose that moment to remind Leon that, yes, even Ada’s underwear often happened to be red.
He buried his face in his hands, fighting the urge to hide underneath the table.
“You look like you’re going through all five stages of grief right now.”
Your voice made him peek through a small opening between his fingers. You were looking at him with a mixture of worried confusion and amusement, tilting your head to the side as you waited for him to recover enough to explain himself.
“I just saw my ex” wasn’t the right way to explain his current predicament. In some very simplified way, perhaps it was, but nothing about Ada nor their past relationship had ever been simple.
But he owed you an explanation. Several of them.
“I’m about to face my demons,” Leon mumbled into his hands, yet somehow loud enough for you to understand. “I’ll be right back, and then I’ll explain everything.”
“Okay…” You watched him get up with a frown. He continued to feel your gaze on his back as he made his way over to the demon in the red dress, sipping on a glass of red wine (of course).
“Didn’t expect you’d actually come over,” she said before he could even so much as open his mouth. Ada tilted her head in your general direction with a small smile.
Leon sighed. “Why are you here?” He sounded more exasperated than he intended to.
She put her hand over her chest with faux offense. “Am I not allowed to have fun, Leon?”
“I didn’t say that.” Leon took a deep breath, then sank down on the barstool next to her (he was tired). “I just find it weirdly coincidental for you to show up at the same time and in the same place as us, that’s all. You don’t usually go somewhere without a good reason.” Shady reasons.
Ada sighed, shifting in her seat into a more relaxed position, before finally relenting. “You’re not wrong. But I’m not here for either of you.” She paused, looking at Leon as if truly seeing him for the first time. “You look better. Got your act together?”
“Sort of.” He had to stop himself from glancing your way.
He didn’t know what Ada saw, but something must have shown on his face that made her gaze soften just a bit. “You’re good for each other. I’m happy for you.”
Leon relaxed at that, allowing himself a smile. “Thanks, Ada.”
“That doesn’t really explain why you’re here, though,” he continued to press a moment later, unwilling to let himself get distracted. If Ada was here, she had to have a reason, but every reason he could think of off the top of his head meant bad news.
She rolled her eyes as if he was the one being difficult (maybe he was, but he didn’t care). “Fine. There are rumors circulating—intriguing ones. I had some spare time, so I decided to meet with an old, trusted contact to investigate further, then decided to stick around a little while longer.” She frowned, glancing down at her wine glass, one finger gently tapping the bottom. “Sadly, I hit a deadend. Not enough information to either confirm nor deny whether the rumors are true.”
When she didn’t elaborate further, Leon leaned forward and continued to press. “What rumors?”
Ada looked up, then, directly into his eyes, as if to gauge his reaction. “That Wesker is still alive.”
Leon felt the blood drain from his face. He’d never had to deal with Wesker personally, never met the bastard face to face, but he’d never envied the people that did. He’d read the reports and heard enough from Chris to know that Wesker was a big deal, both respected and feared amongst people who knew him.
It had come as a big relief when the bastard died, especially after he got so close to causing a global outbreak that would have most likely killed at least ninety percent of the world’s population.
“That’s—” Leon shook his head. “That’s not possible. I’ve read the report on how he died. Even Wesker wouldn’t be able to survive taking two missiles to the face while drowning in lava.”
Ada sighed, almost wistfully. “That’s what I thought, too. But who knows? We’ve seen the impossible happen several times now, haven’t we?”
Leon thought back, exhaling slowly. “You’ve got a point. Still, seems more plausible to me that the rumors are based on either paranoia or hope.”
“I suppose we’ll find out some day,” Ada nodded. Then her eyes wandered to the side, past Leon. “I believe you’ve made your special someone wait long enough.” She gave his knee a quick, friendly pat, something he couldn’t remember her ever doing before.
He turned around with a guilty wince, realizing that, yeah, he’d made you wait for longer than intended, quickly meeting your gaze. Your eyes were filled with uncertainty and worry, and he could tell you had a lot of questions. You gave both of them a wave, which made Ada chuckle.
“Well, it was good seeing you,” Leon said, standing up. I guess, he decided not to add.
“It was,” Ada agreed, lifting her wine glass in cheers before taking another sip. “Here’s to hoping next time won’t be under the usual circumstances.”
The usual being catastrophic events and life-or-death situations. Leon strongly agreed, but decided to leave the conversation at that, instead making his way back to your shared table.
“Your food’s cold now,” was the first thing you said. Leon pressed two fingertips to his burger as if to check for a pulse.
He sighed sadly and sat down. “Oh well.” It still tasted phenomenal, but it just wasn’t the same as when it was still warm and fresh.
“So…” You cleared your throat. “Was that your demons?”
Leon smiled slightly. “Some of them.”
“... Very beautiful demon.”
He glanced up, seeing your frown as you stared down at your empty plate. Leon could be pretty stupid when it came to feelings, but he’d gone through enough police and agent training to be able to read people’s facial expressions—you were jealous, your insecurities catching up to you despite your best efforts. He had a feeling this was going to happen, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to. Making you compare yourself to someone and feeling inferior to them was about the last thing he’d want.
He reached out to you over the table, relieved when you met his hand halfway so he could hold onto yours. “It’s in the past,” he said. “A past I wouldn’t wanna go back to. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am right now, with you.”
You met his eyes hesitantly, searching his gaze for a moment before he saw your shoulders sag a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it…”
“It kind of is a big deal, though. It’s okay.” Leon rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand, hoping it would help soothe you. “I’m sorry I made you feel this way. It’s not what I wanted.”
You shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. “It’s kinda out of your control.” You moved your hand a little so you could lift his up to your lips, pressing a small kiss to his knuckles. Leon melted a little at the gesture, smiling fondly.
“Anyway,” you went on after a long moment, “you said you’d explain? I am pretty curious.”
“Right.” Anxiety settled heavily inside Leon’s stomach like a big stone, making it sink. He swallowed, sitting up a little straighter and looking around. The Blue Bar wasn’t very busy at the moment, most people came with a friend or a small group, others were sitting at the bar and talking to Jerry, or watching the small TV screen playing the sports channel. Your shared table was a bit further away from everyone, meaning it was quiet enough for a hushed, private conversation.
Ada must have left while Leon had been talking to you, for she had completely disappeared (she had a talent for that, too). He hadn’t even noticed until now.
“There are several things I want to tell you,” Leon managed to say, feeling his hands getting clammy and his right leg bouncing nervously beneath the table. “I feel like it’s about time I also told you about… about my work.”
Your eyes widened. “You don’t have to—”
“But I think I should,” he interrupted you with a half smile. “You deserve to know. It’s a big part of my life, and I feel it’s important you know about it.”
You bit your lip, then nodded slowly. “Okay, but… What does your work have to do with her?”
“You’d be surprised,” Leon sighed. “Ada was involved in a lot of things.”
You mouthed her name slowly, repeating it for yourself as if to test out how it felt on your tongue. From the reluctant look on your face, Leon guessed that you liked it more than you wanted to admit to yourself. He could relate.
Leon opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Would you rather go home? We’ve been out for a while, and it’s… kind of a long story.”
You hummed, looking at your phone to check the time, then looking around the bar. “I kind of like it here. Maybe we can order more to drink? I’m kind of thirsty.” You eyed your empty glass wistfully, making Leon laugh.
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He thought about getting a plate of fries you could share, but… his work wasn’t exactly a very appetizing topic.
A few minutes later, two big glasses with cold apple juice were placed on the table, the cool, sparkly liquid refreshing to his dry throat. He felt a bit better, more awake. He hesitated a moment, then reached out across the table once more, palm up. His chest warmed at your chortle, and you quickly put your hand in his, letting him hold and squeeze it gently. You didn’t say anything, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.
“Alright then.” Leon took a deep breath, and for the first time in a while, willingly thought back to how it all began. “It all started back in 1998. I was late to my first day of work…”