On The Clock

by V1LLANELLA

Summary:

Leon is dealing with the fall out of Las Plagas. Instead of a hospital stay, he’s cleared to stay with you - his best friend and a nurse of the DSO - under close supervision. As his symptoms grow worse by the day, so does his attraction and need for you. There’s only one cure… and you’re going to give it to him.

Notes:

wanted to try something new… got this in my head and decided to give it a try! i’d like to write more one-shots so if there’s a specific trope or plot or character you’d like to see, just let me know in the comments :)

Chapter 1: I

Notes:

so this was supposed to be a oneshot and now it’s three chapters LOL soz

also i forgot the dso doesn’t exist in 2004 my bad

—

 

Leon is sore, and he is tired, and he is hungry. He is in need of a drink and a hospital specifically in that order, and above all, he has a terrible craving to see you. 

 

So he turns to Chris in the back of the SUV with him. “Is she-“ Leon starts.

 

Chris groans. ”My God, you’re addicted to my sister and it’s creeping me out, man. Yes, she’s coming. Keep it in your pants.”

 

Leon turns away to lean his head against the window and smiles. As one of the DSO’s resident nurses, you’re on call to care for any agents, hostages, or prisoners brought home from missions. As the youngest Redfield child, you’d obviously had to follow your siblings in their work. You’re more than ten years apart from both of them - the baby of the family. When you’d started on at the DSO, both Claire and Chris had tasked Leon with looking out for you. 

 

Something they had also said to you, about him, he’d later learned. Nonetheless, the two of you had become fast friends. And now you’re the only one that Leon will allow to treat him - mostly because he trusts you in his vulnerable state, but also because it gives him more excuses to spend time with you.

 

(And for you to touch his body, but that’s neither here nor there)

 

Your hands on his bare chest and your hair tickling his nose as you stitch him up or pick debris from his wounds or put giant needles in his body helps distract him from the pain. If he’s really banged up, you’ll nap in his hospital bed with him and drag him back to your place to keep watch over him. Despite the injuries, these days are the happiest of his life. He so badly wants to live with you permanently, but it’s definitely an inappropriate question to ask - so he’ll savor the few nights he gets.

 

You’re there at the door to greet him, pacing back and forth and chewing on your nails while you wait. You’re in your dark blue scrubs with your hair in a high ponytail and a sweatshirt zipped halfway up your chest - one he’d gotten you for Christmas.

 

It’s nearly two in the morning, and he wonders how you felt to get the call that he needed you. Were you annoyed, or were you excited to see him? Were you sleeping? Were you wearing one of his t-shirts that you so often stole, with a pair of those lace panties he likes? You must trust him an awful lot to walk around in front of him like that. Especially because he’s thinking such dirty thoughts about you.

 

Leon is opening the car door before it’s even come to a full stop.

 

”Jesus, Leon-“ Chris groans. Too late, he’s gone. 

 

Your face lights up when you see him stumble from the car. “Are you huggable?” Instead of responding, he crushes you to his chest and drops his face to your hair. The height difference between you drives him absolutely insane, putting you at the perfect spot for forehead kisses and smelling your hair.

 

(Not that he… does that)

 

He imagines that he’d have to lean down to kiss you on the mouth, or - even better, lift you to him. He’d wind an arm under your ass to support you, or grab your hips and pull you to stand on his feet. He thinks about sitting you on your kitchen counter and kissing you that way. You’d be face to face in bed, too. That sends a chill down his spine.

 

You notice, and pull back to look at him. “You okay? Where do you hurt?” You poke and prod at his chest, causing him to wince. 

 

Everywhere, he thinks.

 

”I’m fine,” he says.

 

You snort. “Yeah, okay. C’mon.” He simply follows along as you pull him into the building and down the hallway to the medical wing. Chris follows behind, but you don’t seem to notice him.

 

You unlock the door to the bay with your keycard, and Leon groans when he comes face to face with a team of doctors. For the next hour, he sits on a hospital bed while they undress him, inspect him, and manipulate his body parts to check for pain. There’s question upon question about Las Plagas despite his insistence that he’s cured. He grumbles and snaps at them as they work, despite your repeated pleas to be nice. He’ll be nice when they stop treating him like a lab rat. 

 

In the end, he has two broken ribs, a concussion, and several muscle sprains. Could be worse.

 

They finally leave, and Leon visibly relaxes despite the fact that you’re currently shoving a needle in his arm. You’re gentle about it, at least. ”Your veins are diminished,” you say. “I can tell you’re dehydrated. I’m going to give you some fluids.”

 

”Mhm,” he says, blinking sleepily up at you. “‘m not going anywhere.”

 

”No,” you laugh. “You’re not. Do you need a sedative to sleep?” You know him a little too well. Despite his body being tired, his mind is always wired after a mission. Especially when he’s seeing you for the first time in a long time. His brain doesn’t want sleep, it wants you.

 

He nods sheepishly.

 

”Way ahead of you.” You reach in your pocket and pull forth a syringe, uncapping his iv and injecting it in the tube emerging from his arm. The taste of alcohol fills his mouth and his brain instantly goes fuzzy.

 

”Stay?” He slurs, reaching his free hand out to grab your arm. You sit on his bed and cup his face with gentle hands, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

 

“‘Course,” you say, and Leon smiles as he drifts away.

 

As usual, Leon dreams of you. 

 

—

 

When he wakes, you’re speaking with the doctors from earlier. Chris is there, too.

 

 “Redfield,” he mumbles. His mouth is dry, and he really, really has to pee. You must have slept next to him at some point during the night, because your ponytail is messy and he’s got a hard-on. 

 

Your head snaps to attention, and you smile at him. Chris looks up, too, and when he realizes he’s not being addressed, rolls his eyes affectionately. “Hey,” you say, shuffling over to him. You brush sweaty hair from his eyes and ghost your thumb over his cheek. You’re so close, and your scent hits his system like drugs. Your strawberry shampoo and expensive perfume that he brought you from France, traces of disinfectant on your hands and gum on your breath. There’s something else, something stronger and deeper. Something he can’t name. 

 

“What’s going on?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up.

 

Chris sighs. He motions for the doctors to make an exit, and then comes over to the opposite side of his bed. You suddenly become very interested in his bag of fluids.

 

”We detected hints of the disease still in your system, Leon.” He looks… nervous?

 

”It will work its way out,” you interrupt. “But the doctors are concerned about any symptoms you might experience in the meantime. We know so little about it - we have no idea what’s going to happen.”

 

”They want to keep you here for a week, Leon.” Chris cringes, like he can already see the reaction coming.

 

”No. Absolutely not. No.” Leon argues. “I’m fine. Look at me!” He throws his arms out in frustration.

 

”I know,” you say. You look up at Chris, and Leon can tell you’re having one of your weird sibling mind-conversations. 

 

“Fine,” Chris huffs. 

 

“I’m gonna take you home with me, okay?” You smile at Leon and rub his arm. “I’ll watch over you instead. Is that okay with you?”

 

”Yes. Please.” Leon pleads, looking between you and your brother.

 

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two have to stay on top of this, understood? I want detailed notes on vitals, symptoms, behavior, everything. You don’t blink without it being written down. You don’t take a shit without it being documented. Got it?”

 

”Got it,” Leon says. He looks at you, and you exchange a smile.

 

When Chris has gone and you’re helping Leon pack the medical supplies, you turn to him. “You know, you’re going to have to document your own shits, bud.”

 

He snorts. “Can do.”

 

—

 

Leon inhales the sweet smell of your townhouse when he opens the door - and is nearly knocked to the ground by your beloved dog.

 

”Cannoli!” He drops to his knees and wraps his arms around her and she wiggles excitedly. The golden retriever whines and licks his face. You often push the dog away when she does this, but Leon doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have someone so excited about his presence. Besides - he’s been covered in worse body fluids.

 

”I swear she likes you better,” you grumble, locking the door behind you.

 

Cannoli flops to the ground and exposes her belly for Leon to scratch. He does, overjoyed to give her affection. “That’s my girl, daddy is here to see you. I love you, I love you, yes I do!”

 

Leon had found Cannoli while on a mission down south, abandoned on the side of the road. As much as he’d love to have a dog, he just didn’t have the time. So he’d brought her to you - someone to keep you company while he was away. You were happy to let him be her other owner, even letting him take her for a few days at a time for sleepovers. You’d accidentally called Leon her “daddy” once, and it had stuck. Unfortunately, it did turn Leon on terribly when you called him that.

 

”Yeah, whatever. I’m chopped liver.” You huff, opening up the refrigerator to fish out drinks for the both of you. “Go make your bed.”

 

Leon climbs from the ground with a grunt - his damn ribs - and trots up the stairs with Cannoli at his heels. He fishes around in the hallway for some fresh sheets, and hands the dog some pillowcases to carry. She’s ecstatic to be of use. 

 

When Leon finishes up, he leads Cannoli back downstairs and flops down on the couch with her. You wander into the room and tuck your phone in between your ear and shoulder to scratch both your best friend and your dog on the head. Leon sighs happily, finally relaxed for the first time in weeks. Cannoli pants, tail swishing in excitement.

 

You set your phone down after ordering pizza and plop down next to Leon, throwing your legs in his lap. He takes your feet in his hands like it’s second nature. “How many episodes of the Bachelor did I miss?” He asks.

 

”Three, I think. I didn’t even watch them this time!”

 

He tickles your foot. “Gee, thanks.”

 

You kick at him with a glare. You hate being tickled, and he knows it. He’d once watched Chris try to tickle you, and you’d kicked him in the balls. Leon gets special tickle privileges, apparently.

 

You both settle down to watch your show with Cannoli snuggled between you, and Leon’s breaths come slow and deep as he holds you close to him. He slouches into the cushions and turns his brain off, the only things that stream through his consciousness being the feel of your feet and legs in his lap, the scent of your hair in his nose, and the weight of you against his side.

 

It lasts all of five minutes, when the doorbell rings. Too early for the pizza - who could it be? Cannoli springs from the couch and howls her lungs out at the intruder waking her from her nap.

 

”Stay here,” Leon says, pushing you back on the couch as he rises. He grabs his gun from the entryway table and cocks it quietly, hiding it behind his back. 

 

You’re behind him in an instant, grumbling at his overprotection. “It’s David,” you say. “Go sit down. I’ll handle it.”

 

Leon frowns. Fucking David, ruining his day again. That asshole has been dating you for a year already, and is still in the way. He’s sick of David. He’s a harmless guy - Leon and Chris both had done a thorough background check on him. Spotless record, nary even a parking ticket. Leon might have followed him around for a week, but uncovered nothing apart from the fact that he attends a poetry slam every Wednesday at 6 PM.

 

Leon hides his gun up on top of the refrigerator, and leans up against the sink to listen in to your conversation. When you open the door, your boyfriend is already jumping into conversation. 

 

“You haven’t been answering my texts, I got worried-“

 

”I know,” you interrupt. “I’m sorry. Got called into work.”

 

”Can I come in?” He asks. Leon scowls. Say no, he thinks. Please say no.

 

“I’m still working, actually. I’m looking after a patient.”

 

David pauses, and then lets out an annoyed sigh. “Leon?” He asks. 

 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “He’s banged up. I need to keep an eye on him. It’s confidential, you know that.”

 

Leon can hear David’s foot begin to tap impatiently. “You know I hate when you do that.” Leon smiles to himself - David is so insecure about him. Mine. Mineminemine

 

”Yeah, well. It’s not your decision.” You snap. 

 

Time to strike.

 

Leon stalks up behind you with quiet steps, looking over your shoulder as if he’s noticing David for the first time. He settles a hand on the small of your back, and you relax into his touch. “Everything okay?” Leon asks, voice deep and scratchy. He looks down at the other man, who could practically be Leon’s toothpick.

 

David turns red. “What the hell, seriously? Give us a minute.” 

 

“Woah.” Leon throws a hand up in surrender. “No need to be rude.”

 

“Okay, both of you, knock it off.” You huff. “David, we’re watching the Bachelor. Would you like to join?”

 

Leon frowns and turns to look at you. You elbow him in the ribs as a command to behave, but you’ve forgotten in that moment that two of them are broken. When Leon winces in pain, you cringe and place a hand on his chest. “God, I’m so sorry. Shit. I’ll get you some ice.”

 

Leon can practically see the smoke coming out of David’s ears.

 

Leon retreats back to the couch as David joins you in the kitchen, whispering something to you as you fish around for an ice pack. Leon can only grin. It’s obvious who you actually belong to, here. Who’s better for you. 

 

“I’m sorry. Really.” You kneel on the couch as you press the ice to his chest, and he rests his hand on top of yours.

 

”I know,” he smiles gently at you, tugging you down to lay your head in his lap. You obey. David sits on the other side of the couch, as far away from Leon as he can get. He shoots Leon a nasty glare, but the agent can only smile back as he gently pets your hair. Leon has won.

 

The pizza arrives, and the three of you eat in silence. Leon closes his eyes and allows himself to drift off as he holds you; staying awake enough to listen to the fight when David inevitably picks it.

 

“How long is he staying?” David asks, softly.

 

You shift uncomfortably. “A week, give or take.”

 

”Jesus.”

 

”Drop it,” you warn.

 

”You have no idea what it feels like to share the person you love with someone else. You might not even realize you’re doing it, but you’re feeding into his delusions.”

 

Delusions? When you’re laying in Leon’s lap over your own boyfriend’s? Sure.

 

”I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” Your voice is an exhausted grumble. “If you don’t want to be here around him, you can go.”

 

”So that’s it? You’re choosing him over me?” David’s voice rises just slightly.

 

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I am prioritizing my sick and injured best friend because he needs someone to take care of him, and he would do the same for me.”

 

”He’s trying to get rid of me!”

 

“Are you that insecure?” You hiss.

 

”You’re not seeing it. He’s possessive of you.” Leon can feel the other man reach out and grab your knee, and his lip twitches in annoyance.

 

”Of course he is! He’s my best friend! He’s looking out for me.”

 

“He’s possessive because he wants you!”

 

You snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. No he doesn’t. Besides, he likes my sister.”

 

Leon feels like he’s just been punched in the gut. You think he loves Claire? Sure, he had a crush on her when they first met. She did, too. But they’re better as friends, and she’s like a sister to him. No, he doesn’t love Claire. He loves you.

 

David is quiet for a moment. “I don’t think that’s it, honey.”

 

You sigh dramatically. “Just go, David.”

 

He rises from the couch and snatches his jacket up, silent in his fury. When he gets to the door, you stop him. “David?”

 

He turns, and Leon can imagine the hope blooming in his chest. Are you going to change your mind, ask him to stay? Will you apologize?

 

You don’t. Instead, you say, “Don’t make me choose between the two of you. Because you won’t like my answer.”

 

—

 

Leon wakes the next morning with your body draped over his own. Your hands rest on his pecs, your legs tangled with his own and your head tucked under his chin. His ribs ache where you’re laying on them, but he doesn’t care. Your breaths are slow and deep as you mumble something about loose sheep. Leon grabs his phone to check the time - 6:31. Usually he’d be up by now, taking Cannoli for a run or checking in to the gym. He doesn’t want to wake you, though, so he sets it aside and closes his eyes once again. Sleep comes easy.

 

He awakens again when he feels you stir. “Morning,” he grumbles. You smell like sleep and warmth and home - it’s overwhelming his senses. He can feel every spot where your body touches his. It… it burns. Suddenly he realizes just how unbearably hot he is, clothes drenched in sweat. The worst of it, he realizes, is in his pants. He is so hard it hurts. He winces in pain as his cock throbs. The fabric of his boxers is excruciating against his skin, and he needs everything off. Now.

 

”Mm,” you say, rubbing at your eyes. You blink as you start to notice something is wrong, and your nursing instincts have you reaching up to press the back of your hand to his sweaty forehead. You pull away like he’s shocked you. “Jesus,” you say. “You’re burning up.”

 

Leon whines in protest when you scramble off the couch and into the kitchen. Suddenly he feels empty, itchy, sick. Why did you leave him? What did he do wrong? 

 

When you return to his side and look up at his face, you let out a soft gasp. He knows, in that moment, that you’re seeing what he saw back in Spain - Las Plagas flowing through his veins. 

 

“Shit!” You swear, grabbing your phone from the table with shaking fingers. “I’m calling Chris.”

 

”Wait-“ Leon reaches out to take it from you. “Don’t, I’m fine. It’s happened before.”

 

”You’re fine?” You choke. “Leon, your veins are black.”

 

”I know, I know. But it’s not an emergency. If something changes for the worse, I’ll tell you.” He doesn’t say that his senses feel heightened, that he can smell the panic coming off of you in waves. He doesn’t tell you that he’s hungry. Starving, actually. He’ll die if he doesn’t get his hands on you. Surely it will kill him?

 

You stare at him for a moment, eyes flickering between his face and his body. You approach cautiously to flip his arms over and trace the raised, angry veins pulsing with the sickness. “Jesus,” you gasp. 

 

Your fingers on his sensitive skin has him on fire once again - but at least it’s better than the cold you leave in your wake. His dick twitches. Better, he thinks. Come closer. Let me touch you. Let me taste you. He grabs onto your waist to anchor himself. He needs more of your touch, more of your skin touching his. 

 

“How are you feeling?” You ask, so gently.

 

Leon opens his mouth to lie, but thinks better of it. “I… I feel everything. I feel you.”

 

”Yeah. I’m touching you.” You narrow your eyes at him like he’s just made a bad joke.

 

”Not like that. It’s like I’m tuned in to you specifically. Everything about you is turned up to a hundred percent. When you touch me, it hurts. I can smell your emotions, your fear.” It’s making me feral, he wants to say. I need you. Needneedneed

 

You scratch at your neck as you think. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know how to help you. I think we should take you back to the DSO.” 

 

The thought of going back to the hospital enrages him. This is where he needs to be, in your space, with you. He can’t be away from you. He needs you. Leon’s hands are suddenly on your waist and he’s backing you up against the wall. “No,” he says. “Please. Let me stay here. I can’t leave you.”

 

You blink up at him with wide eyes, and he expects a new wave of terror to flood his nose and mouth. But you’re scared for him, not of him. You know he would never hurt you - not even when his pupils are black and his body isn’t fully in his control. You cup his face and pull him in to your neck, and the feel of your pulse point under his nose has his heart race slowing instantly. His breathing calms, and the fire in his body fades to a quiet blaze. He’s got you. He’s fine, and he’s got you. You’re his. 

 

“What the hell did they do to you?” You murmur, hands fisting in his sweaty clothes. 

 

Leon can swear he smells something new on your body - excitement, maybe? No… arousal.

 

—

Notes:

david being gaslit as fuck😭

this fic is dedicated to that one person who noticed the “you cheat on your boyfriend with leon kennedy” tag i put in Five Times and ended up not including that plotline. here it is boo. just for you. enjoy.

Chapter 2: II

—

 

Leon watches you nervously as you work around the house. The symptoms have retreated - for now. He’s afraid he’s scared you and you’ll pull away from him. He can’t have that.

 

”Maybe…” Leon wets his lips. “Maybe you should take me back.”

 

”Leon,” you groan, Slamming the dishwasher closed. “I know what you’re thinking.”

 

Do you? Do you actually? Do you know he’s thinking about grabbing you and bending you over the counter to sink his teeth in your neck and finally relieve the horrible craving you’re causing him. He feels like if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now, the wanting might kill him. But he says nothing - he only looks away in shame.

 

”Whatever this is doing to you, however it’s effecting you… I’m not afraid of you. The whole black eyes and veins thing kinda threw me off, I’m not gonna lie, but you’re not scaring me. You’re not scary, Leon. You aren’t that person to me.”

 

He remains silent and staring at the wall. You’re pretty spot-on. 

 

You sigh, marching over to him and grabbing his arms. “If you’re afraid, and you’ll feel better at the hospital, I’ll take you. But if you want to go back because you think I don’t want to take care of you, you’re wrong and I’m mad that you would even think that. Look at me and tell me you understand.”

 

He nods sheepishly. 

 

“No. Say it.”

 

He finally locks eyes with you. “I want to stay here.” His voice is quiet and nervous - something you don’t often hear from him.

 

”Good.” You squeeze his biceps and give him a smile. “Now go shower. Cool water, please.”

 

—

 

Leon feels slightly better after his shower, despite the itch beneath his skin that started up the moment you left his sight. He rushes through it and throws his clean clothes on as quickly as possible - he needs to get back to you. 

 

You’re at the stove making some soup, and the gesture makes his stomach ache. You don’t know how to treat his symptoms, so you help him in the only way you know how. Affection and chicken noodle soup.

 

The moment he presses his body up against your back, nose at your pulse point and hands splaying possessively over your belly, the itching in his blood stills. He relaxes.

 

You rub your cheek against his stubble with a giggle. He laughs, too - genuine and deep in his chest. To touch you like this, so intimate and loving, and have you respond in the way that you do… it’s part of the reason he’s never even considered trying to get over you. You’re dangling his biggest dream in front of him and allowing a taste every now and then, and that’s fine with him. He loves you so much that even a crumb of your love will hold him over. 

 

“Needa shave,” he grumbles.

 

”What if I like it?” You pull your wooden spoon from the soup and position it in front of his mouth.

 

”Then it stays.” He drinks from the spoon. “More salt.”

 

You lick the spoon for yourself, humming in approval. The salt is just outside of your reach, so Leon grabs it for you and presses the bottle in your hands - he shudders when your fingers touch. You look up at him for a moment with a hint of heat in your eyes, but he blinks and it’s gone.

 

”I need to change your bandages,” you murmur. “Can you grab my backpack by the front door?”

 

”Mhm,” he says. He buries his face deeper in your neck. You smell so fucking good. Surely, he could have a taste? Just one? You’d let him, wouldn’t you? His cock is stirring, and he prays you won’t notice.

 

“Leon,” you say.

 

”Fine,” he huffs. He peels himself away from you with an annoyed sigh as he makes off for the front door, swiping your backpack up and bringing it over to the sofa. Leon pulls his shirt off while you wash your hands, and sits on the couch to wait. Cannoli jumps up next to him, licking at his palm.

 

You fish around in your pack for the necessary supplies, sitting down between Leon’s spread legs before he can think to close them. Well. Shit. Then you’re getting up to your knees and straddling his thigh, and he’s fucked. Leon’s adam’s apple bobs and he looks away as you pull the old bandages from his skin. Leon’s dick jumps to life.

 

And then, when he’s thinking there’s absolutely no way this can get worse, you rest a hand on his pec and tell him that he’s “Sitting like such a good boy.” 

 

Leon bites his lip to keep the moan from escaping. He can feel the stirring in his blood, the indication that he’s about to lose himself to Las Plagas. “Redfield,” he mumbles. 

 

“Mm?” You say, your attention fully on cleaning the wound above his heart. He’s hot. He’s so damn hot. 

 

Leon licks his lips. His vision is starting to blur. “Stop.”

 

”I know, I’m sorry. This one looks like it hurts. Almost done. Promise.” You shift your weight further into his lap, brushing against his length, and Leon blacks out. 

 

In an instant, he’s flipped you, pinning you to the couch with one hand on your throat and the other cushioning your head. He pants wildly as you blink up at him. You’re confused, but you’re not afraid. Never afraid. Your hands cup his cheeks gently. “Leon?” 

 

He can feel your heartbeat race under his thumb, your throat bobbing as you swallow. Despite his strength, his grip on you is feather-light. You’re so fragile underneath him; so breakable.

 

”Leon?” You try again. “Look at me.”

 

Leon feels like he’s separated from himself as he watches the exchange between you and his body, as he wrestles for control. 

 

You simply look up at him and stroke his cheek lovingly, like he’s not got you pinned down and defenseless. Like he couldn’t kill you right here and now. But you know he won’t - you’re so certain that you’re just putty in his arms as he manhandles you.

 

And then Leon is snapping back to his body, scrambling backwards and off the couch. Away from you. 

 

“Leon?!” You cry, reaching out for him desperately. He attempts to crawl away from you, but you’re throwing yourself in his arms before he can get away. 

 

“You’re okay, You’re safe.” You coo at him the same way you do when he wakes screaming from a nightmare, and he melts in your arms like he always does. You’re right - he is okay, he is safe. He’s right where he belongs.

 

You must feel the fever leave his body, because you pull away to look in his eyes. “Maybe I should be scared,” you admit. You stroke his hair softly. “But even when you look at me with black in your eyes and your blood, all I can see is the pretty face that holds me when I cry and cuddles me and touches me with hands so gentle I can’t even imagine them ever hurting me.” 

 

Leon blinks slowly up at you, falling impossibly deeper in love with you. 

 

You pull him up onto the couch and hold Leon close to your chest, arms compressing him against yourself to calm his mind and body in the way only you can.

 

—

 

The rest of the day is spent on the couch watching trashy tv and avoiding David’s calls - Leon smiles down at the phone whenever you let it go to voicemail. You both eat soup and popcorn for dinner, and around eleven pm, you’re slapping Leon on the thigh and standing up from the couch. 

 

“Off to bed, you.” You lean down and smack a kiss to Leon’s head, whistling for Cannoli to follow you up the stairs. “Wake me if you need anything!”

 

Leon blinks, having been half-asleep already for an hour or so. He rises slowly, picking up the blanket you’d been using all day to take with him. He’s not looking forward to being across the hall from you for a good eight hours, but he trudges up the stairs nonetheless, closing the guest bedroom door behind him. Pictures on cork-boards scatter the walls - people who frequent your spare room. There’s your siblings, Jill, work and college friends he’s not familiar with, David, and him. In fact, you’ve got his picture framed on the bedside table. It’s a photo of the both of you on your 23rd birthday, where Leon had thrown you over his shoulder walking home because your feet hurt. Your heels hang from his free hand as his other arm holds you steady, and you’re peaking out upside-down under his armpit. You both look so happy, so carefree. That makes him smile.

 

Then he thinks about how he’d been deployed the next morning and come back with a bullet in his neck, remembers bleeding out as you’d tried to plug the wound with your fingers. Watching you cry in fear had been so much worse than the wound. He brushes a finger over the familiar scar, and he’s no longer smiling.

 

Leon climbs into the safe haven of your guest bed, a place he’d always slept better than his own. He’d probably sleep better on your hardwood floor than in his apartment. His head hits the pillow. He sleeps.

 

—

 

When Leon wakes, the first thing he notices is your scent hitting him like a fucking semi truck. He groans and rolls over to bury his face in his pillow in an attempt to mask the smell - but it only gets worse. It’s like you’ve rolled around in his bed and slept on his pillow. The smell is different from what he’s been surrounded with at every turn in your apartment, and the cursed parasite in his body provides him with an explanation; a single, horrible, beautiful word. Ovulation.

 

It is at this moment that Leon feels movement, and he realizes that this is not actually his bed. It’s yours.

 

He just woke up in your bed. At some point, while asleep, he had gotten up from his bed and come to yours - and that’s not even the worst part.

 

Because he’s spooning you. Actually spooning you, holding you against his chest with a vice-like grip. You’re curled up against his chest in the fetal position with your face in the crook of Leon’s neck. Your arms are wrapped around his bare stomach and tucked in the waistband of his boxers. Your legs are tangled with his own and he’s pulled your thigh between his legs for friction.

 

In all of Leon’s history of being fucked - this time, he is absolutely, undoubtedly, immeasurably, jaw-droppingly, royally, fucked. 

 

He begins to pull away at a snail’s pace so not to wake you, and you pull him back in with a grumble. He tries again. This time, you moan his name, and Leon quietly unleashes a string of every curse word he has ever learned. You’re starting to stir, and Leon is running out of time. In a last-ditch effort, Leon rips himself away from you and scrambles to the ground.

 

”Leon?” You say, peeking over the edge of the bed at him on the floor. You blink sleepily - you’re still half-asleep.

 

”I… I’m sorry.” Leon’s chest heaves with the combination of anxiety, fear, and arousal. 

 

You rub at your eyes. “You comin’?”

 

You comin? As if it’s totally normal to wake up and find your half-naked best friend in your bed and tangled up in your body, soaking through his drawers because he’s so goddamn horny from just touching you.

 

Leon opens his mouth to tell you, no, he is not coming. He does not. He closes his mouth, and he climbs back into your bed. You’re instantly resuming your position in his arms, settling back against him as if his body was made to house yours. It was, Leon knows. But you don’t know that. Not yet.

 

You will.

 

—

 

You’re called into work the next morning.

 

”You absolutely sure you’re going to be okay?”

 

”Yes,” Leon says. No, he thinks. If you leave me, I will die. The parasite will eat me from the inside out if I don’t take you to bed right now.

 

”Okay,” you smile. “I’ll be back. Won’t be more than three hours, tops.”

 

”Great,” Leon says. 

 

You obviously sense that’s nervous. You sigh. “I can ask someone to take my shift. I can move some things around-“

 

”I’ll be fine. It’s only three hours. Just… don’t stay too long. Please.”

 

You throw yourself in Leon’s arms and crush him in a back-breaking hug - he pulls you tight against him and drops a kiss to your head. You finally back away from him hesitantly, eyes tracking his face until the door between you shuts completely. Leon goes over to the window and watches you pull away, and when your car is gone from view… he makes his move. 

 

He creeps into your room with quiet, careful steps; not like you’d see him, anyway. But he likes to be cautious nonetheless. He can’t say he’s never done anything like this before, but he’s certainly never been so damn bold about it, nor has he ever done it in your house. He knows it’s inappropriate, knows it’s gross, even; but he doesn’t care. If you knew, you wouldn’t be mad at him, right? You’d understand, he’s sure of it. You have no idea how much he hurts, how much he aches. Nothing could scratch his itch like you could, but this will do for now.

 

So Leon feels no shame when he fishes around in your hamper for some dirty clothes, and he doesn’t feel bad when he very gently locks Cannoli out. She doesn’t need to see this. 

 

He settles down in his bed and spreads the clothes he’s chosen on his pillow - a scrub top, and a pair of your panties. He knows you don’t wear these scratchy lace ones to work, and the thought occurs to Leon that maybe you wear them for him. He quickly shakes the idea away - he can’t think about it too hard. If you wanted him, surely you’d tell him, right? But you don’t, and he’s just the creep that’s masturbating to his best friend’s clothes. I’m sick, he tries to tell himself. It’s not my fault that I want you so badly. It’s just my instincts.

 

Leon buries his nose in your top and inhales  deeply, identifying the scents filling his nose and savoring their taste on his tongue. Clean sweat, body wash, lotion, antiseptic soap, alcohol swabs, blood - but not yours.

 

Then he’s sticking his nose in your panties, and-

 

“Oh, fuck.” Leon moans as he presses your underwear closer to his nose and mouth, flicking his tongue out to get a taste. This is so much better. It’s all you. He’s done this before, sure, but his heightened senses make all the difference. He can’t believe he’s never experienced this before.

 

( There’s no comparison to the real thing. He has to get his mouth on you )

 

The taste and smell of your pussy overwhelming his senses has him feeling drunk on you. He desperately rolls his hips into the pillow he’d shoved in between his legs, but he’s hyper-aware of the fact that what he is fucking is not your pussy, and it infuriates him. 

Would you want to take him on your back, or your stomach? Ride him, even? Would you let him fuck you raw, like his instincts are screaming at him to do? Would you let him breed you?

 

He cries out in rage as he slams his aching dick, so swollen and full of his seed that he feels like he’s going to burst. It fucking hurts.

 

He murmurs your name over and over as he mercilessly humps his pillow - but no matter how good your panties feel against his tongue, no matter how much your scent floods his senses, he can’t reach his peak. He only gets more desperate and painful. He can’t come unless he comes inside of you.

 

Leon throws his pillow against the wall with a strength that surprises him and cries out - so overwhelmed and swamped with emotions that he can’t stop the sobs from wracking his body. He has never felt so out of control and helpless, and it’s only getting worse. Is this actually going to kill him?

 

Leon climbs from bed, completely miserable, and trudges over to the bathroom for a cold shower. He stands under the freezing spray of water with his head down and his palms flat against the tile in front of him, trying to think of anything but you. His erection goes down slightly, just enough to ease the pain, but not enough to relieve the ache.

 

He’s feeling particularly exhausted and sad in the wake of your absence, so he dresses and curls up in your bed. It’s like the virus has gone dormant in your absence, draining him of energy and shutting his mind and body down. He can’t sleep, so he wraps himself in your blankets and stares at the tv playing a nature documentary. Cannoli lays next to him, licking at his face every so often like she’s checking in on him.

 

What feels like days later, he can hear your key in the lock from across the house; and he springs out of bed and makes it down the hallway, down the stairs, and across the first floor before you open the door. 

 

Your face lights up when you see him. “How’s my favorite patient?”

 

”Three hours and seven minutes,” he tells you.

 

You sigh, dropping your bag and keys on the floor carelessly. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I’m here now. I’m all yours.” You press your body against his and stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. He scoops you up and walks you to the kitchen as you giggle, sitting you down on the kitchen counter. Your legs remain locked around his waist. 

 

“Missed you,” you murmur, brushing the fringe back from his forehead. He leans into the touch and hums in pleasure.

 

”Missed you more,” he whispers. “You have no idea.”

 

”I have some idea,” you tease, gently running your hands through his hair. He wants to moan. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

 

”You are the best thing in my life.” Leon scoffs, nuzzling into your palm. He presses soft kisses to your skin.

 

“You are the best thing in mine.” You drag your thumb over his cheek.

 

He opens his eyes and looks up at you through his long lashes. “Better than David?”

 

You sigh. “I don’t understand why you two hate each other so much.”

 

Leon grumbles, “He takes up too much of your attention.” 

 

You boop his nose. “Your job takes up too much of your attention, yet I never complain.”

 

”Yeah, well. I’m not in love with my job.”

 

”Sometimes I think you might be.”

 

He flinches. “What?”

 

”You’re gone two weeks every month, and you go in to train recruits when you’re not deployed. You’re married to your job.”

 

”Do you wish I spent less time at work, and more time with you?”

 

”Yes,” you blurt.

 

”Okay,” Leon says. “I’ll make it happen.”

 

You frown. “I’m serious, Leon.”

 

”So am I. If you think I love my job more than you, I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you otherwise. I don’t ever want you to feel that way.”

 

You bite your lip. “Do you? Love me?”

 

He knows you mean it platonically, but he certainly doesn’t. ”Of course. You’re the most important person in my life - of course I love you.”

 

”More important than Ada?”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “What in the world would possess you to say that?”

 

”You love her, don’t you? Actually love her. Like, in love.”

 

He shrugs. “Used to.”

 

”Not anymore?”

 

”Not anymore.”

 

”Why not?”

 

”I moved on.”

 

”To who?”

 

Your phone rings, and both of you glance over at it on the counter. It’s David.

 

”Don’t answer that,” Leon says.

 

”Leon…” You reach for your phone but Leon is faster; he covers your hand with his and traps it on the counter.

 

“Don’t answer.” He’s staring you down like you owe him money - and you shrink under his gaze. Your hand goes limp underneath his as he intertwines your fingers and presses your joined hands up against the wall.

 

”Leon,” you groan, tilting your head back to bare your neck to him. He wraps his free hand around your throat and noses at your jaw, panting against your skin. 

 

“Don’t answer.” He puts his open mouth on your neck and sucks.

 

When your phone rings again, neither of you hear it.

 

—

Notes:

i hope this helps you have a better day than i’m currently having lmao

Notes:

i snuck my dog in this fic