Kakashi Works Hard

Hard to Get | Dad Sanemi

One thing about babies is the fact that they are either very snuggly or they want nothing to do with you. That was something Sanemi learned the hard way, as his little daughter began her rebellious phase and no longer wanted her daddy’s cuddles.

“You’re a little brat.”

He crossed his arms, trying to look upset with her but the grin on her face was melting his heart. She was clever, she knew she was cute, and she knew damn well her daddy was a sucker for her. “She takes after you, Nemi.”

You grinned at him, watching your baby happily toddle towards you with open arms. “Yeah? Bull! I don’t play hard to get.” His cheeks puffed, pouting sadly as he watched your little girl snuggled into your embrace.

“You? Don’t play hard to get? Sure, Sanemi.” You scooped her up, rocking her like she was tiny again just to hear her little giggles. “I don’t play hard to get, you’re crazy!” Sanemi was standing his ground, which wasn’t surprising. You only rolled your eyes in response, kissing your daughter's head before setting her down.

"Our daughter is a carbon copy of you, my love." You nearly sang it, laughing softly as she toddled toward Sanemi's open arms before quickly bouncing out of his reach again.

"You little-" Sanemi's face had morphed into one of amusement as he moved from a sitting position to a crouch. Your daughter's giggles turned to tiny shrieks of laughter as her father crept towards her.

You watched as your husband slowly chased your little girl, her tiny little legs carrying her as fast as she could write into your open embrace. "I can't save both of us from daddy." You're laughing with her now, scooting backward as Sanemi dramatically stalks towards the two of you. "I'll give you a five-second head start."

Taking the bait, you scooped your little girl up and bounded from the living room. It wasn't rare for you to play "chase", the two of you finding your little girl's laughter to be worth it every time.

You bounded off the engawa and into your lush backyard as Sanemi finished counting and followed after the two of you. You both probably looked crazy to anyone who would be passing, but your little girl's happy shrieks of laughter would get the point across.

"Gotcha!" Sanemi grinned triumphantly after a few minutes of chasing you, arms wrapping around your waist and falling to the grass dramatically. You were panting, melting into his chest as your little girl sat up on your stomach.

"Gain! ah-gain!" she babbles, the smile on her face making her little cheeks look even squishier as she stares down at her tired parents. "Again?" Sanemi sighed, one hand raising to block out the sun as he looked at her. He could feel you laughing, the back of your head bouncing slightly where it lay on his chest.

"You heard her, Nemi."

As much as I sexualize and objectify him, I just know Sanemi would be so incredibly difficult to get into bed with. For good reason.

CW/ SEVERE Angst/ am.... am i depressed? Maybe, lol/ Discussion of CA / DV / Men's Mental Health / Sanemi is afraid of his dead dad / MANGA SPOILERS/ Panic Attack / ANXIETY / SH - Just general no good times as a result of Sanemi intentionally isolating.

This isn't headcanons or anything, I've just had my fair share of Sanemi run ins in my life, and I know He'd be afraid of you.

Afraid of himself and being just like his dad. He looks just like the bastard. If he didn't have the white hair, it'd be identical. He has those thousand yard stare eyes, and that big, imposing frame. After his mothers death, I just know he starred at that thing for days. Watching it fester and scar... it was easier before that one came in, to separate his face from his fathers- What an ugly gash.

And he was just like his dad, to Genya, at least. He wanted more than anything for Genya to just be happy, and he knew the stupid boy was doing it all for him. To earn his big brother's love that Sanemi had been intentionally depriving him of. And it sickened Sanemi.

He had to make it painfully clear to Genya every step of the way that nothing he did, no matter the triumph, no matter how proud Sanemi was- was ever going to make Sanemi snap and just say it.

Genya was too good to be good enough. Sanemi thanked his father, briefly, for that trait about himself. Sanemi turned everything off the day his mother died. Everything except for his dad.

Genya did not deserve a tie to the woeful underbelly of the world. Those silly things Genya said after Sanemi killed their mother were Sanemi's saving grace. He never would've been brave enough to start removing himself from Genya's life if Genya hadn't believed he opened the door.

It's why he tried to take his eyes when he found out Genya had been eating demons- Genya was a man he just couldn't protect anymore, because Sanemi kept tabs and he hadn't known that about Genya for a while, now.

It was all so... scary, Sanemi struggled to even think about it sometimes. Anytime he would a pit would grow in his stomach. Anytime he thought about snapping and reconciling with his brother, telling him how proud he was- that pit would be right back. It was like he was starving.

And God, when he meets someone he loves it stings. It stings because Sanemi was always the one walking the others out of the house when dad got bad. It stings because he knows exactly what that bastard did to his mom- he knew the movements intrinsically, and that's all he knew how to do to those fly away demons he'd been slaughtering for months as a teenager.

Back when he could still resceitate a smidge of his empathy for the things. He just started imagining them as his dad.

Because the pathetic piece of shit died before Sanemi could get penance. Kyogo should've been alive for Sanemi to kill, to get big and strong, and beat his father down into submission like Kyogo had been beating him, his mother, and his siblings down for years...

He should've been alive to do the bare minimum and protect his wife- to have fallen to slaughter in her stead. Because there should've been a bigger man in the house- To not only protect Shizu, but to protect Sanemi... but there just wasn't.

The love stings because every time he's reminded of how weak he is.

He loved Kumeno. With everything in his body, he knew he loved Kumeno. He wouldn't dare say a word. He had such a soft smile, Sanemi felt yet another drop of color fade from his vision as he watched Kumeno's smile fade away.

God, he loved Kanae more than he hated the world. He knew it radiated off of him when she entered a room- Because she treated him so softly. The news had shaken him for weeks. He doesn't even quite recall where he went or what he did.

He was greedy to want anything when he wore that uniform and wielded that blade. The first time in a long time he bothered to try and love, the world reminded Sanemi of his place.

And good for it, too, He'd figure. He would've beat Kanae, he bet. Would've reduced such a kind and caring woman to a sniveling dog beneath his fists.

It was better, that God took her away. She was safer from him dead.

His thoughts are never this formulated. They're thicker with self-bashing and the like. He can't bare to look at his face, only his torso- He crafted that himself, his dad was never this strong.

I know if he likes you, you'd just never know. It'd be like pulling teeth, but somehow worse. He doesn't sleep with anyone because that's disrespectful. No woman is an object to be used once, maybe seven times, and then cast off to deal with the brunt of it.

I'm sure beating up the Kakushi that made Mitsuri's uniform was more than cathartic for him.

I'm sure, if you manage to get through to him inspite all of this, he'd be afraid to touch you. He yanks his hand away, and never initiates kissing, even though it's all he wants to do.

He cries when he loses his virginity because fuck, god is going to yank you away. and he knows he can't do anything about it because he messed up and weak. He got so close to you, and god is going to smite you for it.

He's never the one that bares the runt of his sins.

He can't finish. He has a panic attack, it's visceral, and terrifying, he cant even manage to cry. It takes every bone in his body not to lash out screaming, breaking, and destroying while you cradle him against your chest, because God, fuck, he's a mess.

It would take him months to even consider it again. He begs you to leave him and find a man that can treat you better, because it just isn't him-

And it hurts because you see how strong he is to just be alive everyday. Sanemi has never been strong, though. And he doubts he will ever be strong enough to love you correctly-

It's not like him to quit, though.

God I might part 2 this, he's such a little fucker lmao.

Just Like Our Honeymoon (M)

pairing: mammon x f. reader

genre: obey me, established relationship, ch. 50-3, smut [18+]

summary: You and Mammon go on a trip where you share a room and it's almost like you're on your honeymoon.

wc: 1.4k

warnings: spoilers from ch. 50-3, dialogue from ch. 50-3, marking (hickeys, scratching), unprotected sex, slight possessiveness, breeding kink,

date: February 25, 2024

“Hey, check it out! We’ve got ourselves a really nice room here, huh?!” Mammon exclaims as he looks around the room. “Yep. The two of us should be able to fit on there with plenty of room to spare! Like, we are gonna be sharin’ the bed, right?”

“Yes, it’ll be like our honeymoon,” you grin, loving when Mammon blushes.

“Well, before we can go on a honeymoon, there’s other stuff that needs to happen first… like y’know… the… um… proposal… and stuff?” Mammon bites his bottom lip, lashes fluttering as he tries his best to hide his bashfulness. The fact that you would want to honeymoon with him, much less marry him, sends him into a spiral of happiness. After all, he is your first man, and knowing you’re both on the same page, though a little too soon, makes his demon heart skip a beat.

“Right now it’s just you, me, a bed, and no one to bother us.” Mammon’s gaze darkens, tingles running down your spine as he takes a step forward and then another. “Like, there’s only one thing to do at a time like this, right?”

You nod, licking your lips. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the demon. He cups your face gently, eyes sparkling as they meet yours.

“So what would you say if I went ahead and kissed you now, baby?” Mammon asks softly.

“I’d say, go for it,” you respond moments before his lips press to yours. Your hands rest on his shoulders while he tugs your body toward him, his hands resting on your hips. A groan escapes him, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to meet with yours. 

“Mammon,” you moan his name when his lips trail downwards toward your neck. He knows Lucifer will be upset to see his mark on your body, but for all he cares, he can rot. Mammon focuses on you, his lips sucking and nipping at the column of your throat as your hands slide underneath his shirt, tugging at the hem to tug it off him.

Mammon chuckles at your enthusiasm. He strips down to his boxers immediately. He smirks when you gush over him, pushing him onto the bed to straddle him. 

“So pretty for me, baby.” He coos as he grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing your hips down on his erect cock.

“Fuck,” you curse, kissing him to muffle the rest of your moans as his skillful, greedy hands undo your bra beneath your top, just to take both off to pile on the floor beside his clothing.

He admires your bare chest, licking his lips before they wrap around a pert nipple. His teeth gently tug on the nipple, sucking before he turns to the other. His hands are occupied with the button of your jeans, tugging them down to your knees before helping you out of them.

When you’re left in your panties, he flips the both of you so you’re lying on your back beneath him. His hooded gaze sends warmth between your thighs as he kisses you deeply, almost sucking the soul out of you as he slots himself between your legs. You wrap them around his hips, pulling him closer until his chest is pressed to yours.

“Fuck me, Mammon. I need your fat cock to split me open,” you plead and he nearly loses his load. He kisses you instead, his hands greedy for your skin.

You grind against him, lips attached to his.

“Baby,” he rasps. His hands move over the small of your back. Your hands tug his boxers down his legs. He kicks them off when they reach his ankles.

Your panties get pushed to the side as his fingers rub your clit just to hear the angelic sounds that escape you. It’s not the first time the two of you have gone this far, but few and far between are the moments of solace and privacy the two of you get. If one of his brothers doesn’t have their hands on you, it’s Solomon or Diavolo.

“Fuck,” Mammon curses when he feels just how wet you are for him. He rips your panties off you, a hunger brewing deep in his belly. 

“Let me ride you,” you say in between kisses. Mammon’s guttural groans were muffled by the column of your throat. His large hands grip your hips. Your giggle fills the space between you as you wrap your hand around him, squeezing to make him curse. 

“Baby,” he whines as his nails dig into your hips. You smile as you stroke him a few more times before sinking onto him. 

“Mammon!” You gasp, one hand on his chest as you seat yourself on him, biting back a scream that would rock the train. 

“Just like that!” Mammon grunts as his hands grab your ass. You feel so full, your eyes squeeze shut as your heart bangs against your rib cage. 

Mammon grabs a handful of your hair to pull you down, his lips capturing yours in a mind-numbing kiss that makes your toes curl and your body arch. His other hand grabs your ass greedily as his tongue meets yours. 

You moan against his lips, your hips grinding on him as you clench around him. 

His hold on you tightens, cursing as he trails kisses to your jaw then your neck. 

Fuck it all, he thinks. Lucifer can hang him in the hall for weeks if he chooses but having his mark on your body will be worth it. 

The thought makes his dick twitch as he spins you around so you’re beneath him. 

“Baby!” You squeal in surprise as he kisses you deeply. His hands grip your tits, kneading them and gently tugging on the nipples as you bite his bottom lip before pulling away to catch your breath. 

Mammon kisses his way down your body, leaving deep purple marks on your tits and hips until he grabs both of your legs to throw over his broad shoulder. You grip the sheets beneath you as he kisses your ankle. 

“So wet for me,” he murmurs as he fucks into you. His name sounds so sweet as it spills from your lips every time he thrusts into you. 

Your body melts into a hot sticky puddle of love and lust as he fucks you. 

There’s no need to restrain yourself with him. The two of you are free to moan and curse each other's name, hold hands, and be a couple on this trip. You’re free to imagine you’re away on your honeymoon without any interruptions.

“I love you,” you tell him as he slows to grind on you, his cock stuffing you full and reaching places he’s only dreamed of doing. 

Your hands cup his face, and he turns his head to kiss your wrist. His white hair falls over his eyes, and he shakes it away with a soft grin. 

“I love you too, Treasure. More than you can ever imagine,” and he means every word as he laces your fingers together. 

Mammon can imagine a future with you at his side. His ring on your finger, his marks on your skin, and you carrying all his children. 

The thought of you round with his spawn does something to him. He feels electrified as he locks eyes with you before they roam to your stomach. 

As if possessed, he slams into you again and again, his fingers rubbing your clit as you drag your nails down his broad muscular back. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he praises as he fucks you harder, your moans filling the room as they rise in octave and your cunt tightens around him just as your toes curl and his name escapes you one more time before euphoria consumes every bit of you. 

Mammon is following behind, cursing when the last image he pictures is you heavily pregnant knowing it’s his spawn. Not Lucifer’s and certainly not Diavolo’s.

His.

Your first man. 

“Fuck, Treasure,” he grunts one last time as he cums deep inside you again and again until he is panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he presses it against you. 

Mammon kisses your lips gently before he pulls out of you.

“Love you,” he whispers as he lies beside you, his large hand on your hip as you roll on your side to face him. 

“Come here,” he commands as he lifts your leg to wrap around his hip. 

“I love you, baby. So much,” you whisper as you kiss his chest. 

Mammon caresses your cheek gently. One day he will have everything he can imagine with you, and the thought fills him with joy. 

Someday it’ll just be the two of you.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

Candy Candy (1976)

I'm thinking about retired D.S.O. Agent and now househusband!Leon S. Kennedy, who's always keeping the house and the garden in check. You come home from work to be greeted by a fervent kiss, seeing your man wearing his signature long-sleeved button shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and an apron tied around his waist like he's the epitome of sex and god in one.

He leads you by the bathroom to where he drew you a warm bubble bath to soothe out the stress and muscle tensions away. His hands immediately peeling off your clothes, helping you get on tub as he starts shampooing your hair and scrubbing your skin gently with your favorite scented body wash while he massages you.

Leon's an excellent cook, it's a basic survival skill that he has perfected ever since he graduated from the police academy. You can see the way how he plates every dish beautifully, right amount of spice and flavor, ensuring that you're always fulfilled.

Leon wakes up early in the morning for a jog, returning home with a bag of groceries as he starts preparing breakfast. He'll always wake you up with a kiss or more, before setting up a tray to have breakfast in bed complete with a small flower vase just as you've always had it.

Leon who intentionally wears deliciously tight-fitting shirts just to entice you, catching you gawk at him shamelessly but he doesn't mind. It means that he's only your's and you're only his.

His hugs are comforting like a teddy bear keeping you snug and warm for the rest of the day. His touches are familiar, tracing every inch and line of your skin, feeling all of you. His kisses are lingering, taking it slow to ensure that he can taste you thoroughly, there's never a day without his kisses.

And of course, he never lets you leave home for work without hickeys and bites littered around your skin, your nipples swelling and puffy, and not without his hot cum plugged up inside of you, giving him the satisfaction that he successfully bred you, keeping your tummy full and whole of his seed.

Runaway Bride

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 3165

Content warnings: arranged marriage, readers parents are mean, gender roles, patriarchy standards, arguments, super feminine wedding gown the whole 9 yards wedding stuff there, panic attack, kissing, leon driving (shits scary okay)

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!!

Keep reading

Not sure if your request is still open, but if it is can I request where Leon and reader have a baby together? But because he’s away everytime for missions, his baby cries when he comes home one day because they don’t really remember Leon is their dad? Reader has to reassure him that it’s okay?

(I'm sorry if you thought I forgot about this. Work has been hell, but you deserved it sooner. Send me more asks anytime 🫠✌️)

•Bond•

~(Au) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader fic

°-°-°-°-°

《 That morning, you were still bleeding from birth, and your head was ringing from sleep deprivation. But Leon was coming home soon, and he'd be here any minute to see the baby again. He'd held his newborn son once after he was born, but work immediately ripped him away out of the country. The visits at home were seldom and unfortunately they were brief due to Leon being stationed out of your city but any time at all that he was able to give to your newborn son, he gave without question.

When you heard the door open, you'd just woken up from trying your hand at sleeping when the baby slept, but unfortunately, it felt that you hadn't rested at all. Your head pounded, and every hour, you felt your body aching from your labor. The stress you had felt overpowering, but somehow, when he entered the nursery quietly, you felt it slowly melting away.

Leon smiled softly as he met eyes with you. His heart dropped to see you so exhausted but he approached the crib quietly as the baby began to stir with coos and grunts. He wanted to reach down to try and stop him from crying but you assured him it was only because he was hungry. You sat down quietly with your newborn in your arms, resting down to the rocking chair that soothed him through feedings. Once Leon's large duffle bag met the floor, he crossed over to the small table you used to make bottles but you mentioned over your shoulder that you had one in the warmer already.

“You're already good at this.” He said quietly, sitting on the ottoman seat in front of your rocking chair as he handed you the warm bottle he retrieved for you from the warmer. He watched you cuddle the baby close, but you noticed the longing look in his eye. You readjusted gently and said to Leon as you soothingly bounced your arms,

“You want to try? Since you've not gotten the chance?”

Leon's face lit up when you asked. It had been the only thing on his mind, ever since leaving base. He wanted more than anything for the chance to bond and he nodded quickly. His hands tried not to tremble nervously, as if one ill fated touch might break his small son being so small but he sat down in your chair, readying his arms for the tiny weight to rest there upon his lap.

He smiled and moved delicately, almost afraid to breathe as the baby became coddled close to his body. He watched his tiny fingers twine and fidget along with his kicking feet that nudged now into Leon's side, much to his enjoyment as he gently petted to soothe him.

You handed over the bottle, making sure that Leon knew to keep it tilted up and to watch for signs of him being full to prevent overfeeding. He nodded, being careful to begin and he could only smile to begin slipping the tip of the bottle into the baby's mouth that cooed in a fuss.

As his mouth curled around the nipple and a soft, muted rhythm of suckling began. Leon smiled to see him take to the bottle without another fuss and he looked to you, glowing in that proud fatherly beam of realizing he was feeding his son for the first time.

“You're a natural.” You praised him quietly, standing over his shoulder to supervise and Leon peered down quietly in the love that appeared in his face. You placed a burp cloth over his shoulder, knowing this feeding wouldn't take long and Leon said down to the baby who still suckled quietly,

“We got this. Don't we, dude? We're pals already, huh?”

No sooner than Leon said the words, he watched the baby's face turn red in a sudden, loud cry and he removed the bottle from his mouth in fear that he'd done something wrong. You turned your head from preparing the changing table across the room and then came close to see what the commotion could be.

Leon tried to sit the baby up to shush him against his shoulder but it seemed to make him only cry louder.

“Did I feed him wrong?” Leon asked on the verge of a heartbreak and you shook your head, saying delicately that he hadn't done anything wrong. You sat back to the small rocking chair and took the baby back into your arms. Once he rested across your bosom to re-begin his feeding, all of his uneasiness began to settle and you knew then that the truth of what happened would bother Leon.

So you approached it as carefully as you could.

“Sometimes…if they don't recognize your scent, they don't feel comforted.”

Leon's face immediately softened, feeling like a terrible father already and he sunk down in spirit to ask hollowly between you,

“So…he..doesn't really know me?”

You watched the guilt wash over his face as he slumped back into the chair. His heart sank as well when he watched the baby calm down almost immediately when he was joined back at your side. He pursed his lips to say defeatedly, angry at himself for letting this happen,

“I should've been here more. I begged them for a leave. I promise I did.”

“Le, you don't have to convince me. I know you tried to be here. They need you when they need you and I get that.” You said as you rocked the baby who was almost done now with his bottle.

He winced knowing you were trying to console him but the time he lost trying to bond with his newborn wasn't something he could try and get back. You took the bottle from the baby's mouth gently, and placed him on your shoulder carefully to begin softly petting his back before you said to Leon, in hopes to lighten his heavy heart over this,

“You think he just adored me right when he came out? Sure, he knew my voice and my scent. Probably knew he'd get a good meal out of me too. But I didn't magically know what I was doing because I'm his mom? We had to…get used to each other. Bond. It takes only a couple of tries.”

Leon smiled, feeling a little better hearing that and he heard as the baby softly burped, meaning he was probably ready to nap again after that bottle. You brought him back into your lap gently, letting his head rest in the bend of your arm and Leon had to watch.

He didn't want to risk making him feel uncomfortable again so he only stared down this time to watch as the baby's eyes sweetly searched the room. Leon smiled, already knowing a world of love for the son you'd given him after loving you for so long and he felt misty eyed. In order to stop himself from tearing up, he reached up to gently try and swaddle the boy back into his blanket but he was stopped by the baby gently taking his finger.

His small, gentle palm wrapped around Leon's pinky finger and the man smiled widely, wondering if that might be the first good sign that no matter if he was away, they'd bond like the father and son they were while he was here.

He looked down and wondered if he'd get a second chance at holding him and he held a breath as the baby was gently placed back into his arms once you saw that hopeful look in his eye. This time the cradle in his touch felt…closer to you, more fatherly and protective. You hoped that would help and the baby only looked up, studying his face with soft, sleepy glances.

After that moment that assured that he maybe the crying the was done, Leon said to the baby softly in a whisper with a facetious smile to begin tease you,

“You know bud…I've not seen your mom this tired since she had to deal with me on the daily.”

You laughed softly at his joke, nodding your head in agreement until he spoke again, gently swaying the baby in his arms lovingly,

“How about we give her a break for some shut eye? You think we can manage a few hours?”

Your eyes went wide and you began to promise in a stutter that you didn't need a few hours. You just wanted a shower and some semblance of sleep to catch you up. But Leon shook his head when he thought of what you'd said earlier about bonding not being something that happened automatically like a switch, and he assured you as he rocked his son gently,

“You're exhausted, sweetheart. I've got it. If he cries, I'll deal with it. Bonding takes time…you said it yourself. Go on.”

You smiled when you gave in and held your tender belly when you stood from the rocking chair. You kissed him soft and sweet, telling him with love in your eyes that he was a wonderful father already. Even if he didn't think so. 》

-°-°-°-°-

Loved doing this one! More Leon delusions to come!!

Learning Moment - Satan x AFAB!Reader (18+)

CW: 18+ NSFW; reader has female anatomy, but no gender-specific terms used and no gender-specific clothing; early stages of a relationship; use of a vibrator; mutual masturbation (with toy and without); fingering; no pet names, no use of MC or Y/N. Satan is unfamiliar with human world gadgets 😆; slight differences in human vs. demon male anatomy but nothing pearl-clutching. Not proofread, this already got away from me enough as it is...

WC: 3,858

"What is this?"

You turn around and freeze when you see your boyfriend holding up your vibrator between thumb and forefinger. His brow is furrowed, aqua eyes staring at the thing with confusion.

"Where did you find that??" you demand.

He glances at you, his neutral gaze taking note of your obvious discomfort. "It was under your blanket."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit... you thought you'd put it away...

You reach out to grab it from him, but Satan retracts his arm, holding the object higher and out of your reach.

"Give it to me!" you demand, your face growing hotter with each passing second.

"Tell me what it is, first."

"It's nothing!" you exclaim. "Just some... earth thing. It's not important."

"Really?" Satan turns his back to you and holds it closer to his face for inspection, his hands turning the object over and over. "Then why are you so keen on getting it back?"

"B-because!" you reply defensively. "It's... personal!"

But Satan half ignores you as he sniffs it. "It smells like you..." he half turns to look over his shoulder at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do you use this to pleasure yourself?"

"WHA-" you freeze, eyes wide and hands shaking. You clench them before covering your face.

You want to die, to stop existing this very instant. Let a hole open up and swallow you whole...

Satan's eyes widen at your reaction, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about... I just want to know what it is."

Your words are muffled by your hands. "Come on, you really don't know? You have to be teasing me."

"We have sex toys, but there are some differences between our world and yours." He talks about it so casually, all the while his eyes grazing over the smooth surface, eyeing the size. "Ours are... bigger."

His tone holds a hint of concern, his eyebrows furrowed.

"They're not all like this," you say defensively. "Some of ours are big. This just... isn't one of them."

"But you enjoy this one?" Satan asks.

"Why do you sound so worried??" you ask.

"Of course I'm worried!" he huffs, his cheeks flushing pink. "If this is the size that you like, then we might have a problem when we finally..."

Your eyes widen in understanding. "OH." Then you repeat the word, drawing it out as the pieces fall into place. "Ohhh...."

Your humiliation subsides and you cross your arms over your chest. "That's not... I mean, it can be, but it's more about what it does."

Satan's eyes widen in curiosity and he stares at the object in his hand. "What does it do?"

He shakes it a little and pokes at it, hoping to activate whatever spell he thinks makes it work.

You bite your lower lip in amusement. "You, uh..." - you wiggle your finger at it in a circular motion - "have to turn the bottom... like a dial..."

Satan turns it over in his hand and turns the black base. It immediately begins vibrating in his hand and he jumps slightly, before his eyes widen even further in understanding.

"It's called a vibrator," you explain. "You put it on the, uh... the clitoris, and uh... yeah."

Satan's mouth curles into a small half smirk. "Yeah, I figured that much out... I'm not exactly a virgin, you know."

You put your hands up in playful defense. "Hey, I never said you were... but maybe demon and human anatomy is different for all I know."

It wasn't like you'd gotten very far yet with him to find out... you always managed to get interrupted whenever things got steamy in his room or yours.

Satan gives you a side glance that makes your spine melt. "We're not."

He states it so matter-of-factly, that it has you biting your lip to stifle a whimper.

"Hmm," he hums as he looks back at the still-vibrating toy. "I'm always impressed by human ingenuity. Our toys can do these sorts of things too, but it's different. More spells and chemical reactions, pheromones and aphrodisiacs."

Satan finally pulls his attention away from the vibrator, and puts it entirely, completely on you, aqua eyes trapping you like sunlight beneath the water.

"Show me," he says.

It's a statement, but feels like a question, the way it always does with him. He's always been direct, and yet he always leaves you room to refuse.

But even so, you blanch, your brain left lightheaded as the blood drains from it to pool low in your stomach.

"W-What?" you stutter.

Satan turns off the device and steps forward to hand it to you, closing the distance between you in the same move. What little air remains between you feels electric.

"Show me," he repeats. "I'd like to see how it's meant to be used."

There's a momentary lapse of silence as your brain glitches on what he's asking of you. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally find your voice, hiding behind the dry lump in your throat.

"W-what? Why? You pretty much already know..."

Satan keeps his eyes on you as he takes your hand and turns it palm up to place the vibrator into it, the cold plastic warmed by his touch.

"Being told and witnessing it are two different things," he explains, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. "If this brings you pleasure, then I want to learn about it."

He puts his forehead to yours as his arms wrap around your waist affectionately. "Please," he adds quietly.

Satan, you realize, can be very persuasive when he wants to be... it's not a side others usually see, but then again...

He's not exactly trying to get into anyone else's pants.

You let out a short laugh. "Okay."

Satan's lips curl into a pleased smile.

"But..." you continue. "...you have to kiss me."

Satan's smile widens, and he tucks the knuckle of his finger beneath your chin to bring you closer. "Whatever you want."

He kisses you, softly at first, gently as he always does as if he's afraid he'll hurt you. His tongue draws against your lips, wet and warm, and you open your mouth to him, letting him in.

Every nerve was already awake and waiting, ever since he asked those two simple yet insane words.

Show me.

But now the nerves are singing like a siren's call, luring you into drowning in the presence of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and his arms pull you against him, his fingers splayed across your back and caressing in soothing strokes.

As he kisses you, he turns you so your bed is behind you, and begins to walk your backwards. You don't fall back when your thighs touch it... Satan's arms around you keep you against him, as he lowers you gently into the soft bedding.

You scoot back towards your pillows as you lead him into your bed with your mouth, your hands, your legs opening to make room for him.

Satan settles himself between your parted thighs, the denim of his jeans pressing against your own. The pressure is enough to pull a moan from your lips, and Satan responds with a hum to match, as his body covers yours.

Each movement and transition between you is fluid, carried on a tide of longing that neither of you have had the opportunity to fully pursue. Your leg hooks around the back of his thigh automatically, your hips beginning to roll to a rhythm your body demands. Satan's mouth leaves yours to plant wet open-mouth kisses down the curve of your jaw and into the soft pulse of your neck as your head tilts back. Your mouth is parted as breathy gasps bloom from your chest and your fingers tangle themselves into his golden strands. Satan groans, his hand trailing the side of your body from thigh to breast, his hand slipping beneath your shirt to cup the warm, soft flesh--

"Aren't you supposed to show me something?"

He's whispered the words against your neck, and they bury themselves into the small indents left by his teeth.

You suck air into your lungs, your wide eyes staring at the ceiling. You can't seem to find your voice, your thoughts far too muddled beneath the pleasure you feel.

You feel the weight of him leave your body, the cold air rushing in to take its place, and suddenly he's in your field of view.

He's gorgeous, chaotic. Hair tousled messily, a tainted golden halo. His irises are nearly drowned out by black pupils that spark with latent, electric magic. His lips glisten wet, his canines slightly sharper than you remember them, and he's smiling down at you, cheeks flushed in the color of affection, skin lightly sheened in the sweat of desire.

Satan has one hand braced into the mattress to hold his weight as he hovers, while his other slowly slides down beneath your shirt, his touch hot against your skin. Down, down, over your ribs, covering your belly, and now he's at the boundary of your jeans, his single hand working apart the button. It sticks, the denim unyielding, and he glances down at it with a glare.

"Curse this thing..." he growls. You giggle, and finally it comes undone, and he's returning his eyes to your face, victorious. "Got it."

You wiggle yourself out of your pants, leaving your underwear on. Satan helps, leaning back to tug them off your ankles and toss them aside.

He leans over you again to kiss you, long and slow, his tongue invading your mouth, savoring. As he does so, you feel his hand press the toy into your open palm.

Then he leans back, perching himself back on his heels as he keeps his seat between your open legs. The air in your room is cold, but Satan's hands are warm as they rest against your thighs, waiting patiently.

Well, not exactly patiently... a moment later, he takes the vibrator from your hand and turns it on, and then puts it back into your hand with a satisfied nod, his eyes glittering with eagerness.

You can't help but giggle at him.

"Are you really that excited to see me do this?" you tease.

"Why would I not be?" he asks back.

You bite your lower lip again. Satan watches the action intently.

"It drives me crazy when you do that, you know..." he mutters.

Your mouth curls into a grin and you slowly move the vibrator gently, sensually down the center of your belly from solar plexus to navel. Then you let it travel further, past the edge of your underwear, over the soft mound of venus to finally slip over the edge. Your breath hitches slightly as it passes your clit, but you keep going further, until it's gently humming against your covered entrance. God, you're already so wet, you realize... you can feel it soaking through the panties, coating your pussy lips.

You hum in pleasure and your eyes flutter closed. Satan's hands tighten slightly on the meat of your thighs then loosen.

Slowly, gently, you circle your vibrator over the fabric of your underwear, teasing yourself, avoiding your clit entirely. You had no doubt that giving it any attention would send you quickly over the edge, and the last thing you wanted was to disappoint Satan by coming too quickly.

The slow and gentle stroking turns into gentle pressures against your hole, the wet fabric acting as a barrier, even as it slips and slides with ease. You feel his hand leave your right thigh and you open your eyes just enough to see Satan's gaze trained on your pussy, his hand stroking his stiff cock through his too-tight jeans. His cheeks are flushed, his mouth parted prettily, and you can tell that he's struggling to keep himself quiet.

"Take off your belt," you whisper.

Satan's eyes meet yours, wide with surprise, pupils blown wide with lust. He does as you command, his fingers quickly undoing the buckle and yanking the white leather from the loops to land on the floor with a clink.

His hand is back on his covered cock, stroking the shaft with a firm grip that has the muscles of his thighs tensing against your own. His human form flickers out for a brief moment, and you catch the glimpse of sharp, curled horns and the flicking black movement of his tail behind him. But then it's gone just as fast, his human form returning.

Fuck he's so hot.

You moan as a small wave of pleasure makes your cunt throb. You use your free hand to pull aside your underwear, finally letting yourself be exposed to Satan's heavy gaze.

The air leaves his lungs on a heavy breath of "oh fuck" and once again his demon form flashes, stronger this time, lingering for a few seconds before being tightly locked away out of sheer willpower.

You put your toy to your swollen pussy and it glides against it easily, coated in slick. Your hole flutters a needy spasm, the band of muscles between your legs tensing to the point of aching. You can feel your pulse in your clit, and you want to whimper, to take what you want selfishly.

But Satan is in front of you, his expression pained with arousal, his jaw clenched as he stares down at your sex, and you realize that even though he's not in you, even though he's not touching you, that this is still something you're sharing together.

"Satan..." you beg softly. "You can touch yourself... it's okay..."

Satan's strokes halt, and he stares up at you for a moment, hesitant.

He swallows around a dry throat, his voice slightly graveled. "A-are you sure...? I don't think I can keep my human form if I do..."

You smirk. "I like your demon form. It's hot."

Satan's mouth turns down into a small frown and he averts his gaze. "No, I mean... it might be a little... different..."

Oh. Oh.

He doesn't want to scare you, you realize. Your gaze softens and you tilt your head slightly.

"It's okay. I promise."

There's no more words, just a heavy gaze of uncertainty being transformed into gratitude. Then, he licks his lips and undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, and shoves his hands into the waist-band of his boxer briefs. A heavy sigh escapes his lips and he leans his weight back onto his free hand behind him as his head tilts back. His human form shimmers away until only his demon form is left, and now you can appreciate the parts of himself that he usually keeps hidden from you, parts that have only ever come out when he's angry.

Never when he's aroused or happy.

You watch his adam's apple bob when he swallows, and you nearly want to cry with how sexy he is, how he doesn't even realize it, and how fucking lucky you are that he's yours.

With a single stroke, he pulls his cock free from the confines of his pants, and you suck air deep into your lungs at the sight of it. It isn't entirely human, but not entirely monster either. Gorgeous like the rest of him, the tip flushed, the size manageable. The part that stands out, however, is the darker coloration and smooth ridges along his shaft. His hand moves over it firmly, the tip leaking precum, and you swallow at the thought of what it would feel like inside you, those ridges rubbing against your sensitive walls...

It is a cock made for pleasure, and now you're strongly considering throwing the vibrator out the window.

No wonder he was so worried before...

And you would have, too, if Satan asked it of you. But instead, he does what you don't expect.

"Keep going," he mutters. His hips are jerking into his hand now, and you realize he's close.

"If I do, I'm gonna cum..." you whimper. "I don't think I can hold it back anymore."

Satan let's out a soft chuckle, the corner of his mouth curling upwards to flash his sharp canine.

"Don't you want to cum?"

"I do, but..."

"But what?"

You lean up and reach your hand to him, and Satan grants your request by sitting up and giving you his free hand. "I want to feel you..." you whisper. You take his hand and place it palm up against your heated, wet cunt. "Here."

A puff of air escapes his lungs, coating your lips. "Fuck..."

Satan freezes his own strokes, withholding his release to help you through yours. He takes your hand that's still holding your vibrator and puts it gently against your clit. "Hold that there."

You listen, and his hand abandons yours, fingers slipping down between your legs until they're kissing your entrance. You're fighting every impulse, every nerve, withholding your impending orgasm even as the thrumming against your swollen clit sings like a tuning fork, and you're the glass, ready to shatter.

"How many fingers do you want?" he mutters. His face is inches from yours, his eyes staring into yours, strands of his messy hair sticking to his damp forehead.

You swallow as your nose brushes against his, and it takes an extra ten whole seconds to process his question. "Um... two?"

He kisses you then, his mouth capturing yours sensually, lingering and slow as his fingers push into you. They glide in easily, your body wet and ready for him, and there's not a hint of discomfort, only relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

He glides his fingers out and back in, and your breath shudders within the cage of your chest. He does it again, his lips pulling away just enough so he can watch your expression, gauge your pleasure.

"You like it?" he asks, the huskiness of his voice nearly hiding his worry.

You nod.

But Satan is perceptive, and can tell that while you're enjoying it, that there's something more... something you want...

"Tell me," he whispers against your lips. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Your free hand is clutching his shoulder now, nails digging into his shirt that somehow never made its way off his body.

"I..." you swallow, and withdraw the vibrator just slightly. "I want you to curl your fingers... when you're pulling them out..."

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your own and he kisses you.

"Like this?"

He does it, and that familiar high note of pleasure cuts outward from between your legs, and you moan loudly into his mouth.

"Yes! Yes, just like that," you beg.

Another moan as he repeats the action. Once he's confident he has it figured out, he begins stroking his neglected cock again.

But then suddenly, a heavy silence falls like a blanket, and you quickly realize why...

"Oh shit..." you groan.

Satan pauses, confused as he stares at your now lifeless vibrator. "What happened?"

"The battery died...." you toss it aside and give a pained laugh followed by a frustrated growl.

Satan stares for a moment, then smiles mischeviously.

"Do you know how to touch yourself?" as he's asking, his fingers begin pushing back into you, slow and gentle, until he's knuckle deep.

You suck in air, and force your answer out through clenched teeth. "Of course I know how."

"Then maybe we don't need it this time..."

He curls his fingers for you, and your back arches as you gasp.

"Uhh, no.... no we don't."

"Good." He plants a kiss to your lips. "Then touch yourself so I can watch."

Oh fuck...

You lay back against the bed as your hand dips between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit with ease. You begin to expertly roll tight circles over the sensitive nerves, and within seconds, your thighs are tensing, legs shaking.

Satan keeps his fingers in you, his pace following the one you're setting for yourself with each press of your fingers. His other hand is pumping his cock again, and his breaths are turning ragged.

"Can I cum on you?" he asks, his voice strained.

Another wave of pleasure jolts as your impending orgasm rapidly builds. Your head is pressed back into your pillow, chin lifting, back arching as the tension overtakes every inch of your body until it feels like ropes made of fire binding you, restricting you.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes please."

"I'm close," he mutters through clenched teeth. You can feel the vibrations of how rapidly he's fisting his cock, the motion shaking the mattress. "I'm not cumming without you."

Your eyes open to look at him, and the sight of him all messy and suffering in his pleasure of you is the push you need. The tight band finally snaps, and you're moaning, gasping, your fingers working yourself vigorously while Satan's thrust in and out, fingers caressing that sensitive spot on each swift withdrawal.

Then his fingers withdraw and you feel his weight shift, his thighs lifting until he's on his knees between your legs. Immediately comes the hot, wet sensation of his cum spilling onto your fingers, your clit, your cunt. His moans are rough and guttural, nearly animalistic, and you're reminded that he's a demon, all inhuman strength and tightly guarded rage, coating your sex in his seed. It only turns you on more, and you ride out your orgasm, your fingers rubbing your clit vigorously, mixing his cum with your juices, as if you could imprint him onto you, carry him with you always.

Finally, the crushing, fiery waves ebb for both of you, and you're left with your cunt slightly aching and spasming with aftershocks. Satan is spent as well, sitting back on his haunches. You open your eyes to look at him, and you realize he's staring at your pussy, now covered in his seed, underwear still yanked to the side, now stretched out and ruined. You can feel a dribble of his cum sliding down your lips, and he gingerly takes his finger and rubs the droplet against your sensitive clit. You suck air in through your teeth, your back arching at the overstimulation, and he smiles.

He leans over you and lays his body onto yours, allowing you to feel the softness of his cock against your body. He kisses you tenderly, and you reciprocate as your arms lazily wrap around his neck.

"Thank you for this," he whispers against your mouth. "It was very... educational."

You chuckle at him. "You're a quick learner."

"Well, I am pretty smart..." he grins. "But... there are some things that can't be taught through books."

"So we'll have to practice more, then. So you can study..."

Satan hums at you, as he stares down at you, his cheek propped in his hand. "Hm. Yes, lots of studying."

You giggle and kiss him. Then he rolls over to his back to lay next to you, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Although..." he continues, "I think next time I want to hold the vibrator."

just can't get enough part2

part 1/series masterlist

Pairing; Rookie!virgin!Leon S Kennedy x fem reader

Summary; Leon's fresh out of the academy and into the Raccoon City police department-and he's still a virgin. Not only that, but he has almost no idea what what sex even is. Then he meets you, and his body starts wanting things. Or, the second 3 stages of Leon Kennedy learning about his body.

Warnings; no age in ur bio? bitch blocked! 18+ or tyrant will fuk u up! uhhh let's see. boners boners boners, ill timed/awkward boners, fantasising, masturbation (male), porn watching, creampie in porn lol, pillow humping 👀, handjobs, first kisses, spit as lubrication, drinking (sexual participants are sober),

(a/n) okay so!! here it is!! long awaited!! very long! smutty! angsty!! fluffy! everything baby!!!! everyone is so ooc!! it's a thing! leon is 21, this is a modern au, reader is like 20/21, everyone else is in their 20/s! also im like so fucking proud of this i am desperate for feedback yes i will beg. im unsure about the last few thousand words bcus i don't know what you guys will make of the smut i did but yknow. it's done now !

Word Count; 15.7k

stage 4

Leon figured that going to the station early would give him time to prepare himself to see you, but he should have figured that the universe wouldn’t be so kind. 

Because as soon as he opens the door he can hear you and Chris talking and laughing.

“Of course I don’t Chris-”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t why would I-”

“I do-”

“No one does-”

Leon walks a little further into the station, into the bullpen to see you perched on Chris’ desk with your feet resting on the edge of his chair seat between his thighs. Neither of you are even looking at each other, instead both of your eyes are glued to your hands where you’re chaotically playing some sort of pat-a-cake game, hands smacking together and echoing around the almost empty room. Leon’s stomach lurches unsettlingly at how comfortable you are with Chris, perfectly happy to sit so close to him and touch him and play games with him and-

Stop it. Chris is a friend and coworker, stop overreacting over his friendship with a woman I’ve barely become friends with myself. Stop. It.  

“They absolutely do-”

“I’m telling you they don’t-”

“Well what’s your least favorite?”

“If I don’t have a favorite why would I have a least favorite?”

Chris grins as both your hands speed up and you laugh loudly. 

“Well maybe you really dislike one but don’t care so much about the others?” 

“You have put way too much thought into this, Redfield, I’m telling you no one-”

“Rookie!” 

Leon blinks at Chris, who’s hands are still moving against yours as he sees him in the doorway. Somehow the pat-a-cake game is still going strong even without Chris paying any attention, and Leon watches your brow furrow as you try and concentrate on your hands. 

Leon just hums in response to Chris as he moves toward his desk. He tries not to stare at the way your skirt is resting just above your knees due to how your feet are perching on Chris’ chair. He fails, obviously, and recognises the same twinge of need he felt all last night at the sight of so much skin on show. 

“That’s not his name-”

Leon drops the pen he’s picking up as he realises you’re talking about him. 

“Yes it is-Rookie. Rookie Kennedy-”

“Don’t be so prickly-”

“Calling me a prick sweetheart?”

“No, but I can if you’d like-”

“Maybe I would like-”

You laugh again, tipping your head back and losing the pattern with Chris’ hands. Leon swallows uncomfortably at the conversation, pretending to find something in his desk drawers so he can attempt to ignore what sounds like you flirting. With someone who is most definitely not him. 

He pauses his movements for a split second as he realises that it’s not like he’d know how to flirt back anyway, before resuming and flicking his eyes away from where Chris is still making you laugh, still moving his hands toward you even as you try and bat them away. 

As he settles into his chair, Chris turns to him while continuing to play pat-a-cake with whichever limb of yours he comes into contact with. 

“Cmon then Rookie-”

“Not-hey!-not his name!”

“You’re so ignorant sweetheart of course it is-but go on then what’s your name?”

Leon opens his mouth confusedly for a second before furrowing his brow and replying. 

“…Leon?”

“See he said it himself it’s rookie-”

“You’re the worst-”

“Oh you love it-”

He watches as you manage to grab Chris’ hands and hold them still, throat feeling uncomfortably tight at the sight.

“Only sometimes, sweetheart, but cmon then ask Leon-”

Please stop please stop. If this is flirting I do not want to hear it I never want to hear this again. 

“Fine fine-which toe is your favourite?”

Leon blinks in surprise again. 

“Which what?”

“See!!! I TOLD you no one has a favourite toe!”

“You wound me sweetheart-”

“I’m gonna kick you in the bloody nuts in a second just you wait-”

A sickening feeling settles in Leon’s stomach as he watches you and Chris, still holding his hands in yours, laugh and joke and flirt. Some part of him he doesn’t recognise wants to walk over and rip Chris away from you, wants to tug on your knees and make room for his hips between them, pull you into him and-

That’s new. 

He can feel his face heat as he jerks himself out of his fantasy and sees you both looking over at him. A wave of shame rushes through him as he looks at you, sees the way you have the hint of a smile on your face as you wait for his answer and try to keep Chris in line, sees how your skirt has ridden up a little more. He shuffles forward in his chair under the desk a little. 

“You want to know what my favorite toe is? On me or in general?”

Chris guffaws at that and you seem to be hiding a grin, to which Leon has no idea what he said that’s so funny. 

“On you mate, we don’t need to know if you have a foot fetish or not-”

Foot fetish?? Have to Google that later. 

“Oh be nice Redfield-he’s probably confused because it’s such a stupid question-”

Leon smiles a little at the clear derision in your voice, and your mocking look toward Chris-and a little at your defensiveness of him. 

She didn’t just talk about me she didn’t just say my name it’s more she did more than that-

He scratches at stubble that isn’t there to hide his smile. Prays and prays and prays you’ll just get up, walk out and not speak to him the rest of the day. Fucking prays his body will behave.

“Okay well…I guess I don’t particularly have a favourite toe? Its-I don’t know I’ve never thought about it that much?”

His eyes dart between you and Chris as he slowly answers, seeing you nod happily at him and seeing Chris smile smugly. You turn back to the officer and narrow your eyes at him. 

“What are you so smug about? Don’t like that look-”

A laugh, a hand resting on your thigh. 

“Nonsense sweetheart you love my looks-”

Stop it stop it fucking stop it-

“Claire’s popping over today I’m gonna-”

“Don’t you tell-”

“-I’m gonna tell her I’m totally gonna tell her-”

Chris groans at that, slumps forward until his chin is resting on your knees and Leon’s fist clenches under his desk, nails digging into his palm and arm trembling. 

“You’re so mean to me-”

“Don’t you love it?”

“-yeah I do but you can’t tell-”

“Hey that’s on you-you promised not to flirt with Claire’s friends and now you’re literally working your way between my legs right this second-”

That elicits a grumble from him as he hooks his arms around your calves and hugs you to him. 

One of your hands rests lightly on Chris’ head, patting a few times as you coo gently but with a teasing smile on your face. There’s nothing that can stop Leon from picturing your fingers combing through his hair just then, no way he can help the way he hardens a little as he fantasises about him in Chris’ position, head perfectly positioned between your legs and your hand tugging on his hair as you lay back. He digs his nails harder into his palm, tries to ground himself as his mind conjures up the image he saw on his laptop the night before, of the woman with her legs open and maybe you could do that maybe you could let Leon see you like that-

He absentmindedly flicks his tongue out over his bottom lip and immediately has to clench his jaw to stop a whimper escaping, suddenly just thinking about if you’d let him put his mouth on you. 

He’d read about that briefly last night, not thought too much of it but now, Jesus Christ he’s salivating at the thought of giving you the same pleasure he can’t stop thinking about. 

Chris is muttering something to you as his cheek smushes against your knee and you’re laughing softly about whatever it is, still patting his hair lightly and Leon just feels so angry. 

Angry it’s not him, angry you’re so comfortable with Chris, angry he still doesn’t know enough, angry that even if he was ever in a position to please you he probably wouldn’t be able to. 

A burst of voices sounds just outside the bullpen and a quick glance to the clock on the wall tells Leon his workday has only just started. Brilliant. Barely on the clock and you’ve already chipped away at his sanity-as if the last two weeks weren’t hard enough. No pun intended, he thinks wryly.

You do manage to get a smile out of him though, when you hear the voices as well and switch from gently petting Chris’ hair to smacking his cheek harshly a couple of times, drawing him out of his pleasant doze on your legs. 

Leon licks his lips quickly as you hop off the desk, landing gracefully and tugging your skirt down, the picture of professionalism once more. It’s just so inviting, the way you pull at the hem of the material, how it slides so nicely over your skin and he wants to follow it with his hands-he can feel his mouth salivate at the thought of tracing it with his tongue. Pushing the material up and kissing along the same path as you grip his hair.

As you turn to pick some papers and files back up from Chris’ desk, Leon wonders what he’d actually do between your thighs. 

It’s a bad idea, because his pants instantly feel uncomfortably tight-but he can’t stop. It’s too tempting, imagining what you might like him to do with his fingers and his mouth.

Would you be as sensitive as he felt last night? Would you make the same kind of noises? Does it feel the same for you when you come? 

With a start, he realises that the nails he’s been digging into his palm are actually getting rather deep-and rather painful. Relaxing his hand, he looks down at the crescent shaped marks in his skin and flexes his fingers a little.

His mind flashes to the articles he read and his hand stops moving abruptly, body shocked with the thought that as well as his cock, his fingers and his tongue could be inside you, wring pleasure from you that way. His member throbs intensely as he fantasises about your body, until a burst of guilt puts an end to it. Shouts at him that it will never happen, and it’s unlikely he’d ever please you anyway. Screams that Chris probably could, that you’re already comfortable with him and flirt with him and he probably knows how to please a woman, knows how to use his fingers in just the right way to make you gasp and moan and writhe-

Clenching his jaw, he stands up from his desk suddenly. 

His chair screeches as it gets pushed back and Chris sends him a surprised, amused look, to which Leon stares back and fumbles for a reason for a second.

“I-sorry, you-dyou want a coffee?”

His voice starts surprisingly high pitched and breaks part way through his sentence, making him flush bright red. Thankfully, Chris doesn’t say anything-he does look like he’s about to burst into laughter though.

He shakes his head a little at Leon’s fumbled question, and watches curiously as the rookie officer walks briskly toward the breakroom. 

Automatically, Leon switches the coffee machine on when he enters, even though he has no desire for one, and leans his hands on the counter, screwing his eyes shut as he tries to bury the need rising in him. 

Idiot idiot idiot so fucking stupid should have known of course I should have known it would get worse stupid fucking-

Breathing deeply, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubs at them roughly, seeing stars but still going, somehow trying to wipe away the desire eating at him. 

All of a sudden the pleasure he felt last night and the knowledge he now has doesn’t seem worth it, it seems more like some kind of cruel curse. 

When his vision gets spotty and his head starts to hurt he takes his hands away to grab at the coffee decanter, sighing frustratedly at the turmoil of recent days. 

He shouldn’t have looked up anything.

He shouldn’t have tried to figure out what was happening to his body, he shouldn’t have touched himself, he shouldn't have done a goddamn thing. There’s some sort of pit opening in his stomach, some uncrossable chasm of regret and shame that swallows him up, makes him realise that from now on he’s just going to be haunted by the image of things he’ll never do. 

Before it was just confusion, the occasional feeling of longing thrumming in his bones, but now there’s so much desperation in him, so much need and want and desire that it seems as though he’ll never fulfil.

He feels somewhat hollow, like he already had a hole in himself and he’s only just looked in the mirror to see it. Or as though you’ve just pointed it out, plunged your hand in and cooed softly at him, let him know how much he’s missing out on. Gently taken his hand and made him feel the space, feel that chasm and how nothing is going to fill it. 

Leon brushes a hand over his stomach, needing to confirm he’s not actually missing a part of himself. 

Walking back to his desk, he notices Chris watching him out the corner of his eye. His gaze slides off of him though, and they both pretend like nothing happened. 

-

Mercifully, the captain keeps you busy for the rest of the day and Leon’s body stays somewhat under control. Somewhat, as in he spends most of the day with a semi just from the memory or your skirt riding up your legs, but he settles into an understanding with the ache he now feels. Decides he’ll probably just learn to live with it, as he learned to live with his ignorance before.

Though as everyone grabs their stuff to head out at the end of the day, things get worse again.

So, so much worse.

You come skidding into the bullpen, crashing into Chris’ torso and rubbing your nose before realising who it is and letting out some kind of excited squeal, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tight. 

Chris stumbles back a little under your enthusiasm, but soon grins widely and drops his bag to wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. 

Leon looks away, feeling the chasm widen.

And then you’re laughing, taking a few big steps toward him and-

He doesn’t know what to do for a few seconds. He’s hugged people, sure, but this is different. It’s you and it’s his newfound knowledge, it’s the fact he’s not wearing a vest just a button up uniform shirt, the fact that your blouse is so fucking thin.

It’s the fact that he can feel every inch of your arms wrapped around his torso, hands pressed into his back and settled so perfectly there like that’s where they should always be. More than anything, it’s the fact that your breasts are pressing against his chest so enticingly, pushed up a little in your bra and so fucking soft and squishy and-

Shit shit shit not right now please no stop it stop that this is not the time down please down down down-

God himself couldn’t have stopped Leon from getting a boner just then-and his most ill timed to date, he thinks. 

Thinking he might as well just curl up into a ball and die, he attempts to pull his hips back a little and angle his pelvis away from you, praying his member won’t brush against your hip as he moves because then things might get a whole lot more disastrous. 

Breathing in deeply (and cursing whatever shampoo you use because it just smells so fucking good he wants to push his hips into you and grab your waist and-and do something), he lifts his arms slightly, thinking he might just be able to manage touching you a little more even though it’s definitely a terrible idea. 

Before he can move more than a few inches though, you’re pulling back, rocking forward to plant a quick kiss on his cheek before brushing past him toward another officer. 

You leave him feeling bereft, empty and cold and hard as a goddamn rock when you move. He blinks rapidly for a few seconds, lips parting as he tries to figure out what just happened and how he can subdue his body’s reaction.

Chris appears as his saviour though, slipping a random file into his hands and pushing it down over his crotch as he claps his other hand onto Leon’s shoulder. His cheeks flare in embarrassment as he grips the file and moves back to lean on a random desk.

“Some kind of promotion apparently, dunno what it involves but she seems excited-but uh, seem to remember you looking uninterested last week when I said she was pretty-changed your mind have you rookie?”

Chris grins and winks as he finishes his question, patting Leon’s shoulder a couple more times before strolling over to you again and sliding a hand onto your back. It muddles Leon’s mind a little, blurs his thoughts as he tries to work through the arousal running rampant in his body, the embarrassment of Chris seeing and the jealousy at his hand on your back. Too much, way too much.

A few minutes later, after listening to your laughs and watching you smile and lean into Chris and be infuriatingly yourself, Leon watches you and a few other officers grab your bags and start heading toward the door. 

“Cmon we’re doing drinks tonight, you coming Leon?”

It makes his heart thump loudly when he registers that you’ve asked him something-that you’ve asked him to join you for drinks together. Okay, maybe not quite like that. 

Maybe you did just ask if he was joining the general group for general drinks at a general bar, but you said it! You mentioned it, you asked if he was joining. Do you want him to join? Do you want him to come with you? Do you want to have drinks with him?? 

With a jolt, Leon realises that no matter who just asked him what, he’s having dinner with Ethan tonight.

Having some probably mediocre food with an old friend he’s hung out with a million times instead of going out for some nice drinks with the woman who has single handedly turned his life upside down in the best way possible.

Yay.

Not that he doesn’t want to see Ethan-far from it actually it’s been a few weeks and he’s got some mysterious new girlfriend, Mia. 

It’s odd, going from seeing him every day in the academy and practically living on top of each other to only having the same free time maybe once every month or so. Another change that’s jarred Leon over the last couple of weeks, pulled him out of his comfortable life and left him stranded like some sort of puppy who’s been lost in the rain for too long.

It would be an odd comparison to make of himself if he hadn’t literally been told that that’s exactly what he looks like. A wet dog, looking for his owner. He hadn’t really known how to respond to the superior who said that. Still doesn’t know what to make of it, actually. 

Frowning, Leon finally locks eyes with you and shakes his head lightly. Your smile drops a little and he almost shoots up off the desk to apologise, but instead he just grimaces, tells you he has dinner plans and gives you a wobbly smile in apology. 

“Well, it’s a shame-I would have liked you to be there-but see you Monday!”

Before he can respond, you grab your jacket from next to the door and follow some other officers out, just leaving him leaning on the desk and Chris picking up his bag. He thinks this must be what whiplash feels like, the anger at you and Chris flirting, the emptiness and longing, the arousal from your touch, the disappointment at not being available and then the utter confusion at your reply. 

Are you being polite? Or do you actually want him there??

Leon has no idea which one he’d rather, which would be easier for him. 

He’s jerked out of his strange trance, staring at the space you were standing in, when Chris chuckles quietly, shrugs the bag over his shoulder and grins at Leon again. 

“All been there mate, best get it under control since you work with her everyday now-” 

And of course his cheeks flush brightly again. Of course he can’t behave naturally whatsoever anymore.

Traitorous body.

-

stage 5

Leon finds himself joining Ethan and Mia at some diner a few streets away, where old music is playing and the booths are striped red and white. The lighting is warm and cosy, beaming out into the already darkening city and drawing him in.

His friend already has a drink in front of him and is laughing at something a dark haired girl is saying-Mia, he presumes, and he slides into their booth with a smile on his face.

While he can’t stop thinking about the fact he could be sitting in a bar booth with you right now, side pressed against side, thigh pushing against yours as he watches you get tipsy and free from alcohol, he can’t deny that he’s been looking forward to this. To seeing a familiar, friendly face from his past while his life feels so chaotic and out of control. So messy.

Ethan greets him enthusiastically and introduces him to Mia, who seems lovely and very affectionate toward Ethan, if not somewhat reserved in general. Leon forces himself to think reserved and not secretive, scolding himself for his ‘cop brain’ as Chris called it the other day. The suspicion of everyone and everything. Just reserved.

Leon orders a chocolate milkshake (with cream and a flake on top, excitingly) and a burger and fries-eliciting a ‘classic’ from Mia and a ‘boring’ from Ethan. He learns happily that Ethan is doing well in his station, and that Mia works in…accounts. Generic…accounts. She waves off Leon’s questions by telling him how boring it is really, she’d like to know more about him as a matter of fact!

She asks if he’s seeing anyone, places her hand over Ethan’s and squeezes his fingers as she raises her eyebrows questioningly at Leon, who swallows nervously. 

He can say it right? You don’t know either of them, and Mia doesn’t know anything about Leon so it should be fine? Right?

With a fleeting thought of the longing inside him, the ache he keeps feeling, he suddenly blurts it out. 

“There’s a girl on the-she works the front desk in the-at my station-and she’s-she’s really pretty-”

He clamps his mouth shut after that, pressed his lips together as his face heats and he pretends to be interested by his milkshake. When he glances up, Mia is looking happily at him, apparently entertained by his loving word vomit-and Ethan’s jaw is a little slack, eyebrows raised as he watches Leon. 

His heart is beating uncomfortably fast, thumping against his ribcage as he waits for his friend to speak. Ethan, being the only person who knows about Leon’s lack of experience, appears to recognise how big of a deal this is for him. Leon waits for him to say something, wonders if he’s close enough with Mia that he’s shared everything already, if he’s going to have no problems asking if Leon has finally had sex. 

To be fair to Ethan, he doesn’t quite know about Leon’s lack of knowledge, just that he hasn’t done anything-a slip of the tongue tipped his friend off in their first year at the academy and Leon made sure he did not do the same in front of anyone else. One close friend knowing that he’s a virgin is very different from the rest of his peers finding out. 

Ethan closes his mouth finally and nods a little at Leon, a growing smile on his face as he steals some of Mia’s fries. 

“Alright then mate, I’m glad to hear it-what’s she like?”

The tightness in Leon’s chest eases, weight lifting off of him at the question and he relaxes into the booth. Smiles and can’t stop the words spilling out, not now that he’s finally said it, finally told someone. He can’t stop telling them about how friendly you are with everyone, actually friends with the officers rather than just coworkers, how you don’t treat them like less just because they’re not detectives or inspectors, how lovely you were when you welcomed him to the station, how you were so quick to pull him into the group of officers for drinks, how you happily flirt and go straight back to being professional in two seconds flat, how you even invited him out tonight!!!

He doesn’t realise how excited he’s gotten until he finishes and settles back, lets his hands fall back to the table from where he was animatedly gesturing, doesn’t realise how much he’s smiling until he registers the ache in his cheeks. 

-

Leon stays out with the two of them for another couple of hours, hearing how they met and how they fit together so well-he successfully hides how empty it makes him feel, even though the chasm widens little by little with every loving look they send each other.

His apartment feels quiet and lonely when he opens the door, like the silence presses in on him as he kicks his shoes off, gets changed and heads to sink into his couch. 

The tension doesn’t quite leave him though, still pulling him taut even as he groans with pleasure at the comfort of his sofa. He turns his tv on, knowing he won’t focus on it at all. 

Are you still out drinking? Are you still with all the other officers? Are you with Chris? What if you and Chris are both drunk? What if-what if you do what he’s heard drunk people do together? Are you going to spend your evening in Chris’ bed? 

Leon looks away from his tv, staring out his window into the darkness. For a few moments he just watches the city. Watches all the lights flicker, the billboards and the cars, wonders which part of it you’re in right now. Wonders yet again what you meant earlier, when you said it was a shame he couldn’t join you. 

Probably just being polite, probably don’t think about me at all, just thought she should invite me because everyone else was going. Why would she care anyway? She wouldn’t-she doesn’t-

Sighing, he leans forward to grab his laptop, pausing just as he reaches it. 

There is one thing that might take his mind off of everything. One thing that might make him feel really good right now, that he’s been craving since last night. 

It only takes a split second, a passing thought of your skirt sliding up your thighs, to make him tug the device into his lap and open it up, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he debates what to do. 

More articles? More learning? Or into the deep end? Over the edge of that chasm inside him that he knows will widen and widen until it swallows him up? 

Leon sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it distractedly as he thinks of your breasts pressed against him, how soft and fleshy you felt, delicate and gentle and downright edible.

It’s that, the memory of your body against his, that makes his fingers move. Just forces him to type it out, take him back to that black website with the videos he barely understands. He silences the part of his brain that tells him this is not a good idea, not nearly a wise thing to do given that he is still vastly uneducated about most things-but then he thinks of you and of the thumbnails he saw last night and he just can’t stop himself. His member throbs gently just from thinking about your chest for a minute, and he thinks it’s going to be a very short evening for him. 

Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe-maybe I can learn more-I can last longer-I could be better-make her feel good-

Leon sighs, coming back to himself for a second, enough to realise that it’s a very far off dream he’s having. A fantasy and nothing more, nothing that will ever be realised. 

He elects to ignore the way his fingers shake as he moves them over the trackpad, hunching over his laptop as he greedily drinks in the images that flash up. 

His eyes dart across, looking at the fifth, sixth, the second row-the moving adverts and the search suggestions-

Calm down before you hurt yourself-go back to the start, work your way forwards slowly. Otherwise this may not go very well-

Leon takes a deep breath, goosebumps rising along his arms in anticipation and excitement. This time it’s not just learning, it’s not just educating himself about what he should have known for years, it’s not just looking at the images and backing out. It’s so much more and new and intense and pleasurable. 

He can feel it again, the deep seated ache, the tug in his gut that keeps swelling up when he nears you. A watered down version of last night's activities, but rising up nonetheless. 

Letting his eyes fall to the first thumbnail, his body jolts immediately. His heart stutters and his cock twitches, pulsing heavily as he leans in toward the screen. 

The image is somewhat similar to the second one from the night before, camera trained on the heavenly spot between a woman’s legs as she exposes herself. But this time there’s what is clearly a man’s hand, cupping in between her thighs and pushing his middle and ring finger inside her. 

Leon’s breath hitches, unsteady with the tightness of his pants and the need flooding him as he stares at his laptop. It just looks so fucking good. He doesn’t even know how to describe it properly, describe why it has him so breathless, he’s just instantly addicted to the sight of his fingers shining slightly, reflecting the lights above after being coated in her wetness. Do you respond the same way? Does your body do that? If Leon slid his fingers into you would they get covered in your slick, lubed up nicely to move just the way you like? 

Wait-how do you use your fingers on a woman? Getting a little ahead of myself-

Just as he moves to click on the thumbnail (his heart rate picks up considerably), he thinks this is only the first video. There’s thousands, millions more out there-doesn’t he want to learn how to last longer? To please you-to please a woman as much as possible? Maybe he can just look at a few more, come back to this when he wants to and…touch himself. A small thrill runs through him at the thought, mind bringing back flashes of the pleasure he managed to give himself so easily. 

Clearing his throat and blinking himself out of his daze, he looks at the second thumbnail. It’s just a woman this time, no one else in sight-she’s kneeling in the middle of a room, blindfold on and handcuffs holding her hands together behind her back. His member almost hurts now, twitching behind the confines of his sweatpants and his hands are fucking itching to reach down, palm over the bulge that’s jutting up into his laptop and let his hips jerk and writhe until he feels that sweet release, watches the material of his trousers grow saturated with his come. 

No, be patient. How could I expect to please her-to please anyone if I can’t hold off for more than a minute-

But oh that feeling, the utter euphoria, that overwhelming flood of pleasure that he would feel, the way it was so easy last time, barely anything needed until his mind just shut off-it would be so so easy to feel like that again-to fist his hand around his cock and fuck up into it, watch his precum dribble over his knuckles as he gets closer and closer, feel the way his thighs tremble and his gut tightens and just edge into that realm of desperate need and-

Leon presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut, digging the heels of his palms into them like he did that morning. After a few seconds, he drops his hands back to his laptop and blinks to clear his vision.

The third thumbnail, an image no wider than an inch, shows Leon the flushed, weeping head of a cock pressing up against a woman’s cunt. He learnt that word last night, ‘cunt’. Felt his blood heat when his eyes skimmed over the letters, unsure why he liked it so much. 

‘Cunt’. Just a word. Just a word he’s been trying not to think of, been ignoring so he didn’t think of his fingers playing with your cunt, didn’t think of his tongue deep inside it-definitely did not think of burying his cock as far into your cunt as he possibly can. Those thoughts did not cross his mind. Well, they did all morning, and then he successfully managed to ignore them while he was working, and now he’s home it’s all he can think about. You, your cunt, what you look like, what your cunt looks like glistening with your come, how addictive it would be watching his release drip from your leaking cunt.

He can’t stop thinking of that word.

Maybe that’s why he clicks on the third video, instead of going back to the first, or instead of looking for longer. 

Maybe he just wants to see the full act, see what the actual thing is that everyone talks about, what guys mean when they say they got their dicks wet-maybe he wants to see a pretty, wet cunt, used and fucked by a cock that happens to look somewhat like his, so he can imagine you better. 

His mind tries to bring up the memory of last night, of when he thought of you as he came and the deep shame that consumed him after. The loading screen of his laptop is too enticing though, and he ignores the vague warning to himself, pushes it down and hunches even further over his device, wanting to see as much as he possibly can.

He startles a little when it finally loads, eyes trained so intently on it that the sudden brightness of the video makes him jump.

Swallowing nervously, he clicks play.

There’s a brief sort of logo screen, only a few seconds and yet too long, as the need in him worsens and he licks his lips quickly, hungry for the sight of slicked and spent flesh once again.

And then it starts.

His lips part and his pupils blow out, black swallowing his irises, when he sees the first few seconds. It’s a close up view of a man and woman, focused on the same position as the thumbnail.

Leon watches intently, hunching further and leaning his face toward the screen, as the man’s hand grips his cock, moves it a little and brushes the tip of it up and down the woman’s slit-another word he learned.

After a few beats, the man pushes downward a little and into her cunt. Into. The head of his shaft pops obscenely into the woman before he pauses, waits a few seconds.

Leon doesn’t even know where to look-his eyes dart to her trembling thighs, to the way the man holds his member, to the enticing curly thatch of hair on the woman, to the top of her cunt where the flesh is reddened and swollen a little, to the puffy lips that swallow the mans cock, cover his tip in warmth and wetness, in some kind of heaven Leon can only imagine. 

Something catches his eye and he glances down for a split second-reluctant to pull his eyes away for any longer-and it takes him a beat to realise he’s drooling.

Spit dribbling from his bottom lip onto his forearm, landing wetly and slipping over his skin. He wipes it away with his other hand and onto his sweatpants, realising how much he’s salivating and swallowing before returning to the video.

His attention to it resumes immediately, fingers skating over the keys to turn the volume up without taking his eyes off of the couple. 

Slowly, the man pushes forward and fills her soaked cunt with his cock. Leon makes some sort of groaning noise in the back of his throat, unintentionally spilling out as he listens to the wet slide of skin against skin. 

The man pulls back before repeating the action, steadily driving his length into her down the base with every thrust. Leon doesn’t move, transfixed by the image.

For a few minutes, he just sits there. Just stares hungrily at his screen and watches the lewd pistoning of the man’s hips. Leon’s breathing quickens when the woman’s hand comes into view, palm flattened and fingertips halting over the neglected area at the top of her cunt. She rubs in small, tight circles and it must feel good because he picks up a small moan in the background, just audible over the wet sounds-her thighs tremble again and Leon watches closely, wondering what she’s doing. Add that to the list. Bareback, choking, foot fetish, backshot, and now this.

Leon goes back and rewatches that moment twice more.

Then he shifts his laptop and jerks, pained whine escaping when it brushes over the considerable tent in his sweatpants. A look down confirms that there’s a damp patch on them, a couple of centimetres big and plastering the material to the sensitive head of his cock.

Slowly and wincing all the while, he places his laptop on the table and gingerly tugs at his sweats. Pushing them down his thighs, he stops to raise his hips and yank them down to his knees, groaning a little when his cock springs free and slaps upward onto his abdomen. 

He gently wraps a hand around himself, leaning forward to press play on the video again and slumping back into his sofa cushions. His glaze flicks between the addictive sight of the woman’s squelching hole, the steady push and pull of her partner’s cock, and his own shaft, the gentle curve of it and the weeping tip just visible in his grip.

He moves his hand slowly, hesitantly shifting it up and down so it’s not too much. Distractedly, he thinks of the article he read last night. Of all the different things it said would feel good.

Leon lets out a shaky breath and takes his hand away, letting his cock lie tantalisingly on the fabric of his shirt. He reaches one hand a little further down, curving his fingers over his balls until he cradles them lightly-it makes him moan shockingly loud and throw his head back against the back of the sofa. Tightening his grip a little and rubbing his thumb back and forth a little, he manages to lift his head back up to watch the video again.

The man’s movements have sped up and his thighs smack against the back of the woman’s now, breathy moans just audible with every thrust. Leon whimpers and his hand drifts back up to wrap around his shaft-the dryness doesn’t even register, any sort of touch feeling heavenly in this moment. At some point while touching himself, his mind imagined you and him as the couple in the video. Somehow imagined you laid out and nude, cunt dripping and ready for him as he makes room for himself between your thighs. Somehow, imagined the purpling head of his cock coated in sticky strings of your slick, pushing his way into your entrance and making your thighs tremble with pleasure. Pleasure that he’s given you.

His hips buck up of their own accord, chasing the release he’s attempting to stave off, barely moving his hand as he whimpers and bites his lip, hazy mind getting confused and blurring the video with his fantasies of you.

Leon sucks in a breath and shifts his trembling hand, lightly tracing the tip of his middle finger up the underside of his cock, rubbing it over the thick vein there and fighting to keep his eyes open to still watch his laptop, drunk on pleasure and need.

Suddenly, the movements on screen become erratic, stuttering hips and low groans as the man eventually stops moving. Leon slows his hand at the same time, sitting up a little straighter, greedy for anything more he hasn’t seen yet. 

The man withdraws and slips his cock from the woman, leaving her alone in view of the camera. Leon tilts his head a little, searching for what happens next-he doesn’t need to wonder for long because then the woman’s hands come down, slip under her thighs so she can spread her cunt for the viewer, let them see her eager hole as she clenches and flutters around nothing. Leon lets out a pained ‘oh fuck’, voice breaking part way through and unable to stop resuming his movements.

As he shifts his middle finger up up up to his tip, he stops short and presses down ever so slightly harder, rubbing circles over what the article called his ‘frenulum’-his eyelids feel heavy and difficult to keep open, but he manages to look up once again and it brings fucking tears to his eyes.

The woman is still holding herself open for the camera, letting her cunt quiver, and as Leon looks up, the movements make some of the man’s seed drip out of her. It’s like his blood roars in his ears, eyes blurring as they watch thick globs of pearly white come leak out of her and slip down her ass. That pushes him, edges him over and makes him squeeze his eyes shut, tears sliding gently over his cheekbones and sobs escaping his throat as he presses somewhat painfully on his frenulum, snapping the coil in him and distantly feeling the warm splatters of his come landing on his shirt.

He keeps his finger there and doesn’t even know why, feels the sharp string of it verging into pain without pleasure and still doesn’t move.

He only shifts it away when he can’t stop hiccuping through the cries spilling from him, blinking through tear-blurred vision and sensing the material of his shirt soaking through in patches. 

When he comes back to himself fully a few minutes later, he realises he didn’t stop the video. Except it finished, and autoplayed the next one.

As his eyes fall on the screen he can’t stop another whine escaping, watching a man pummel two fingers into a different woman’s cunt, making her jerk and shake as wet squelches fill the air. Leon’s hands plunge into his hair and his hips rise up of their own accord, a somewhat pathetic little spurt of come belatedly landing on the hem of his shirt and making his eyes roll back in his head.

He shakily brushes at his cheeks to get rid of the tears and wipes messily at his running nose, lurching forward to slam his laptop closed before slumping back again, strung out and exhausted.

Leon lays on his sofa for another ten minutes, sniffling occasionally and hoping to God you never find out what he’s just done.

-

stage 6

Two days without seeing you. He’ll be fine right? He was last week-but he hadn’t fucked his hand to the thought of you back then. He has now. Twice, in fact.

Yeah, only two days. It’s fine. It’s totally okay, it’s just a weekend. People spend weekends apart all the time, and they do that when they’re dating so why wouldn’t Leon be fine?

He’s not fine at all. Not one bit.

He’s doing rather badly in fact.

Barely slept last night and daydreamed for so long in the shower that the water went cold and he absentmindedly stepped out still with shampoo suds in his hair. 

He thought of you when he did his laundry, he thought of you when he made dinner, thought of you when he cleaned up, thought of you instead of watching tv.

Which brings him to now, thinking of you as he lies in bed.

His bed is a mess, duvet twisted between his legs as he lies on his front and one of his pillows hugged to his chest with one arm, the other thrust under the second pillow and cushioning his head. 

He imagines you as his eyes droop shut, picturing you in bed beside him. Lying on your back with the covers pulled up to your chest, eyes shut and dreaming peacefully while Leon drapes his arm over your torso. It sends him into a fitful sleep-he hasn’t had a solid night’s sleep since he met you-as he imagines you. Lets his brain shut off somewhat as he dreams of hooking his hand around your waist, tugging you toward him as you both doze and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

What shampoo do you use? What does your hair look like when you sleep  instead of the way you wear it for work? How would it feel against his cheek as he nuzzles his nose up under your jaw?

Leon only sleeps for a few more hours before he wakes in the middle of the night, gasping into the sheets under him and gripping the pillow under his head tightly with both hands.

Both hands?

Where did the other pillow go?

His mind takes too long to catch up with what his body is doing and he moves before he can think much more, rolling his hips downward into soft cotton and burying his face in the mattress to stifle a moan.

Stilling for a second, he pants into the fabric and assesses what on earth he’s woken up to.

His legs are spread apart a foot or so, and the insides of his thighs are brushing against the same soft cotton he rolled against just now. With a start, he realises that’s where the other pillow went.

That somehow, in his sleep, he shoved his pillow under his body just so he could rut against it, just so his body could make him grind his leaking cock into something.

Experimentally, he lifts his pelvis slightly and drops it again, feeling the slide of his shaft over the pillowcase and biting down into his sheets, attempting to stop the whimpers that are lodged in his throat.

Leon raises himself shakily onto his forearms and looks down the length of his body. He sees almost the same view as the previous night, cock flushed and red and drooling, twitching every now and then against the pillow it lays on. 

Pushing himself up further, he manages to hold himself upright, knees either side of the pillow and chest heaving as he watches his member twitch, jumping up slightly when another rush of pleasure washes over him. Knowing exactly what he’s going to find, he presses his finger against the material just under the tip of his cock-as he thought it would, the pad of his finger comes away wet, sticky with precum. 

Grimacing, he wipes it on the edge of the pillow and debates what to do next. Usually it would be a cold shower-if he can move. But now there’s other options. Especially since he’s watched porn properly now. He could watch more, he could pull up one of those videos, watch the one he shut down last night of a man forcing his fingers into the woman’s sopping hole, squelching and slapping wetly. He could simply just put his hand on himself-it’s not like it would take him long to come even without porn. As history will attest to, he thinks bitterly. 

And then it occurs to him. 

His shaft jerks again with the thought of it, and he presses his lips together, reaching down slowly to grip either side of his pillow and leaning more of his weight on it. 

Sucking in a breath, he draws his hips back and gently rolls them forward, thrusting his cock through the damp patch he’s already created. He couldn’t have stayed quiet if he tried, but given that his head is pretty much empty apart from the drugging need for pleasure and release, he drops his mouth open to let his moans escape, the whines building up in him as he rolls his hips slowly and unsteadily, whimpering nonsense, barely even words springing forth-‘oh fuck fuck that’s-shit s’good so so good-mmf oh god-shit shit shit-ha ahh god I-fuck wanna-m’wanna cu-oh-’

The bed frame squeaks as he moves, creaking back and forth with every thrust of his hips. His movements are sloppy at best as he rocks, body shifting with only his release in mind and chasing it greedily. There’s a dark patch on the pillow where the tip of his cock keeps pulsing out precum, leaking and soaking the fabric. He only feels a tad ashamed of the way he’s grinding into a pillow that he’s vaguely imagining is you, because most of his mind is overtaken by the heady mix of the sounds and the sensations, the rustling of the bedsheets and his tender flesh sliding over the damp cotton.

With a stuttered cry, he lets himself fall forward onto his bed again and grips the pillow beneath his head, shoving his face into it as he messily ruts down, pace faster than before as the pleasure builds and builds and builds in him. Distantly, he wonders what you might think of him, what you’d say if you could see him pathetically humping his pillow as he fantasises about you. Cock rubbing against the wet patch and thighs straining as he drives his hips down and down, over and over and over again as he bites the corner of the pillow in front of his face. 

His mind makes it worse, keeps throwing up the way you say his name and it’s all he can do not to moan loud enough for his neighbours to hear-instead he sucks the corner of the pillow into his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. It absorbs most of his whimpers as he keeps rutting downward, and he knows it’s saturated in his spit as the pleasure spills over inside him.

His eyes grow blurry again as he comes onto the pillow, sloppily humping it still anyway, wincing at the sensitivity and thrusting his twitching cock through the mess. 

It’s only when he rolls onto his back a couple of minutes later that he realises he was moaning your name into the spit soaked pillow as he came.

-

On Saturday the text chain of officers is alight, talking about god knows what happened at the bar the night before and Leon jerks off as your messages ping through. On Sunday he’s so fucking ashamed, knowing he’ll see you in the morning and thinking you’ll take one look at him and see, see how depraved and pathetic he is, how dirty and needy he’s become. On Monday he wakes up covered in his own come again. On Tuesday you run through the office looking for something, and Leon humps his pillow again thinking about the way your chest bounced. On Wednesday he walks into the break room to see you bent over the counter, fiddling with the coffee machine, and though he wants to try something new he watches the same video again and comes in his briefs. On Thursday you gently put your hands on his waist as you shuffle behind him to get by and he goes home to jerk off in his shower, fucking his pillow again before he sleeps.

He moans your name every time he comes.

His hips twitch, he bites his lip and suffocates the whimpers coming out, but inevitably your name springs forth and echoes around his apartment as his cock pulses out his release, over and over again. 

He feels a little bad for his neighbours, and then he spreads his legs to straddle his pillow again to hump the soft material and suddenly he doesn’t care anymore. Nothing matters in those moments, nothing exists apart from the hazy thoughts of your body rocking under him as he rolls his hips and feels the drag of his cock against the wet patch he’s already made. It’s become his favourite way to come, pretending as though your pretty body is below him and pretending as though he knows enough to please you, to fuck you until you’re as brainless as he is, to push his throbbing cock into your cunt you until you’re both dumb with pleasure, nothing in your minds other than the primal need to move together, slick skin against skin.

Now it’s Friday. It’s Friday and he’s sitting at his desk, staring at his screen but not really looking at anything. 

He’s just agreed to go for drinks with the team. Not that big of a deal since he’s done that a few times over the last three weeks, but you’re coming along this time. That has definitely not happened before, and he has no idea what to do.

The majority of his mind is screaming at him, telling him this is what he wants, what he needs. Telling him it’s a chance to have something more than just humping his pillow every time he thinks of you. You’d probably be disgusted, repulsed if you knew what he’s been doing. You’d probably never want to speak to him again-hell you could lodge a complaint and get him fired if you wanted to. 

Those are all the things Leon thinks when he’s not consumed by his lust for you, when he can think relatively straight and realises how much you’d hate him, how you might yell at him and hit him if you could see the way his thighs squeeze the pillow between them-you’d be well within your rights as well. It would only be fair really, to react like that if you caught a glimpse of his depravity, if you saw the way he drools into his bedsheets, your name stuttering out in broken moans and whimpers as his back arches and his cock ruts down-like a bitch in heat, he thinks sometimes. 

Chris shot him a look when you agreed to come out with them, and you caught Leon’s eye right afterwards. He hopes it was just a coincidence, but he can’t be sure. 

He barely does any work for the rest of the day. As usual, all he thinks of is you. 

Will you wear your work clothes? Do you drink? Do you like fruity cocktails, straight spirits, heady wines? Will you sit next to Chris all night? Will you go home with anyone? Will you dance? 

Before he knows it, everyone is grabbing their stuff to head to the usual bar and Leon is trying to calm his heart, beating too fast as he thinks of you in a casual instead of professional environment. He got a glimpse of it last week when you and Chris flirted before the day started, and he’s unsure if he wants to see more. 

If it’s directed at him, there’s no doubt about it. He’d get on his knees and beg for that if you asked him to. 

If it’s directed at Chris, he thinks he’ll be making an early exit tonight. 

-

An hour or so later, everyone is settled into a booth at the same bar the guys took Leon to on his first day. Well, almost everyone. 

You and Chris are at the bar, flagging a bartender and ordering the first round. Leon tries again to calm his racing heart and fight down the flush in his cheeks, subtly angle his body so that there’s room for you-or whoever comes back first-but so it doesn’t look like he’s desperately waiting.

There’s a laugh echoing across the bar and he turns his head to see you ambling back with Chris by your side, a pretty flush on your cheeks already from the happiness and the heat of the bar. The glasses you’re carrying clink as you put them down on the table and the other officers descend on them. Leon holds back a little before reaching for a pint-and his fingers brush against yours as you let go of the glass. His eyes dart up to lock with yours and he receives a sweet smile at the touch, to which his cheeks heat even further and he has to dampen down a grin.

And then you slip into the booth next to him.

There’s a little bit of shuffling on your end, which pushes your thigh snugly up against his (his leg jerks minutely at the contact and Leon hopes you don’t notice), and as you twist your torso to adjust the waistband of your skirt he realises with a jolt that his bicep is pressed neatly against your cleavage, perfect breasts framing the taut muscle. 

He automatically flexes his arm and his breath hitches as he feels the cups of your bra against his bicep. Heat prickles up his spine, something twists in his stomach and he forces himself to look away from the way your back is slightly arched in the position.

Apparently happy with your clothes, you lean forward to grab your drink and settle back into the booth, getting comfortable. 

For the next two hours, Leon barely hears a word anyone says. He focuses on the coldness of the pint he has in front of him, the condensation he can feel on his fingers, the way the lining in the booth feels beneath his thighs, the music echoing from the speaker in the corner of the room.

Unfortunately, he also focuses on the fact that your thigh is pressed against his the entire time. The way that every time you laugh you lean into him slightly and either your arm or your chest brushes his bicep again. The fact that when Chris asked the table something, you turned to him with a grin on your face and his mouth was only six inches or so away from yours. What if he had just ducked his head a little? What if he had pushed forward ever so slightly and pressed his lips against yours?

Eventually, he sees everyone apart from the two of you and Jill are all pretty much drunk. Jill is close but she can still walk in a straight, if not wobbly, line.

He also realises that his body isn’t going to stay in control if you lean over him one more time and he gets to smell your perfume. Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if he just cracked, dropped his head a little and just licked at your neck. The thought makes him hungry, it rips through him and he licks his lips, wondering what you’d taste like if he sucked at your pulse point.

That’s when he decided it was probably time to go-when his pants started getting a little too tight.

And that’s also when you lay your hand on his forearm and say you need to be heading off as well actually, so why don’t the two of you share a cab?

He thinks his heart must have burst out of his chest and landed in your hands, bloody and still beating as he looks at your hand on his arm. Touching him. Actually touching him. Initiating it as well. By choice.

The next few minutes are a bit of a haze-he knows he nodded (he didn’t trust himself to speak) and stood, waited for you to grab your things and then trailed behind you as you both left the other officers drunkenly falling over each other in the booth. 

He tries not to look so eager, he really does, but he’s practically vibrating with excitement and nervousness as you both sit quietly in the cab and watch the street lights go by. Well, you watch them out the window and Leon watches you. 

He blames his lack of subtlety on the pint that he had-knowing full well that the small amount of alcohol he imbibed did absolutely nothing and his need to watch you is just pure infatuation on his part, desperation and obsession arising unbidden.

After ten minutes or so, you turn your head and catch his eye. Of course, his cheeks flush brightly again and he prays you can’t see it in the shadowy backseat. He fumbles for something to say, some excuse as to why he’s been staring at you, but his tongue feels heavy and dead in his mouth.

Most of your face is in the shadows and he struggles to make out your features, but he can see the way your lips curve up, slipping into that sweet smile that’s become one of his favourite sights over the past few weeks. 

“Your place is closer than mine right? Drop you off first and I’ll carry on to mine?”

His throat feels oddly tight for a second as he registers that you know where his place is-somehow you know something about him, something he knows he didn’t mention in the station so you must have found out yourself. 

The speed in which his cock begins to harden is impressive, just from the knowledge that you actively wanted to know something about him.

Leon manages to confirm your question as he tampers down his grin-and then he realises that it means you’ll part ways in only a couple of minutes.

You just smile again in response and look back out the window until the cab pulls to a stop outside Leon’s apartment building.

His heart flares as he reaches for the door handle and he desperately thinks of something to say, an excuse to invite you in or to somehow stay in the car but nothing comes, his mind goes blank and ‘goodnight’ is the only thing that comes out of his mouth. 

As he steps out and goes to close the door, he looks at you one last time and sees a softer smile on your face, and your tongue flicks out over your bottom lip before you lean forward, street lamps shining gently on your face. Then you just say, “Good night, Leon,” quietly, and keep smiling as you settle back into the seat.

He grins to himself the entire way up to his apartment, as he opens his door and as he heads to his kitchen for some food. His laptop is sitting in his table again and he fights the urge to open it right away, try a new video and think of your thigh pressed against and just oh god you felt so soft and his bicep was pressed so nicely against your breasts and he could feel your bra and-

A knock on his door echoes around the apartment, jerking him out of his thoughts. 

Leon sighs, thinks it must be his neighbour who always manages to lock themselves out. Really, it was weekly nowadays-who loses their keys that often?!?

But-

Of course it’s you on the other side, of course he’s just been thinking of making himself come while fantasising about you and you appear. Of fucking course. 

His eyes widen as he stares at you standing there, fiddling with your hands as you stare back. 

“I-sorry I just-you left this in the-it was on the seat so I figured-”

You hold out his wallet, which must have slipped out from his back pocket as he got out of the car. For some reason he can’t fathom, you seem a little nervous. Not nearly as nervous as he is right now, but slightly on edge. 

“Uh thank-thank you I didn’t-had no I even dropped it so….yeah-thanks-”

He cringes a little as he speaks, hearing how his words just don’t come out the way he wants them to. They waver a little as he stutters and of course his cheeks are bright red again-these days just the sight of you seems enough to make his blood rush to all the most annoying places. Well, the most inconvenient ones anyway. 

“Thing is-”

Leon raises his eyebrows a little and leans against the edge of his door as you start speaking again, wondering who was looking down on him and deciding he deserved this kind of blessing. 

“The can sort of-well he said he had other fares to pick up and I mean, it’s-its dark and cold and kinda dodgy and I don’t really wanna walk so could I maybe possibly just-”

Your eyes flit over and around Leon as you speak, betraying nervousness again until you’re stopped by him suddenly taking a step forward. 

“You can stay here! I’ll-yeah you don’t have to walk-if you’re comfortable-you can-absolutely you can stay-”

He knows he must look frantic, overeager and probably desperate but he can’t help it, can’t bring himself to care when there’s suddenly the prospect of you staying in his apartment?!?

You blink a couple of times at him and he thinks he sees a grin tugging at your lips as you respond.

“Oh-well-that’s very lovely of you Leon, I was just-I mean I was gonna ask if I could wait here for another cab-”

Oh my fucking god-

Leon lets out a small ‘oh’ and stumbles a little against the door at your reply. Of course he got it wrong, of course he fucked it right at the last second, of course he assumed and was too forward and probably made you uncomfortable and he still hasn’t even invited you in jesus christ-

Stepping backward a little, he manages a somewhat mumbled offer to yes of course wait inside and attempts to look at the floor as you brush past him, trying not to think about you being in his space.

“The living room is back-it’s down the hall if you, I don’t know if you wanna wait in there you can-you can wait wherever you’d-yeah-”

He sighs as he trails off, looking away from where you’re taking in what you can see of his apartment so far. Shutting the door, he presses his hands against it and closes his eyes for a second, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Brilliant. The woman I can’t stop fucking fantasising about is in my apartment, alone with me, and I get the wrong idea and can barely speak? Just great-

He turns around to follow you down the hall, but you haven’t moved. His eyes widen minutely as he looks at you standing there, watching him only a couple of feet away.

And then you take a step forward, wringing your hands together. 

“I-you can stop me if I-I just want to-”

And god help him your hand is on his cheek.

With another step, your face is hovering in front of his and so goddamn close. 

His stomach twists at your closeness, spine straightening as his gaze keeps falling to your lips. He tries to watch how your emotions flicker in your eyes, he really does, but your tongue flicks out over your lips again and he can’t stop looking down, letting his lips part as he struggles with your closeness. Mere inches away, touching his cheek and in his space and you’re alone and he’s been thinking of you for days and days and he can still feel where your breasts pressed against his bicep and-

Your lips are softer than he imagined. 

Addictively soft, pillowy and perfect and all he wants to feel for as long as he possibly can. Before he knows it you’re pulling away though. Leaving him, making him feel that horrible hollow pit in him and he can’t fucking stand it-he takes a step forward this time, chasing you and accidentally pushing you backwards a little. 

He’s breathing quickly, clinging to the taste of you on his lips and his pupils are blown out, stark blue darker than usual. He belatedly realises that his hands are fisted in the material of your shirt, gripping it near your waist to keep you there, where he can taste you again and feel your lips on his and feed his addiction. 

You look a little taken aback, a little out of breath as Leon clings to you and stares intensely at your mouth. 

He’s distantly aware that his member is verging on pain from the onslaught of sensations he’s experiencing, and he somewhat registers the fact that it might be digging into your hip by now-but your lips curve into a shaky smile and he doesn’t care, just lurches forward to press his lips on yours and drink you down again.

The force of his movements pushes you back a step and you let out a small noise of surprise, which he doesn’t hear in his haste to taste you again. The hands gripping your shirt hold you to him and Leon doesn’t even notice that he’s getting light headed, that his chest is hurting with the need to breathe.

Your hands come up to curl around his, gently unhooking them from your shirt and moving a little out of his reach. 

Leon reaches for you immediately, flush sitting high on his cheeks and lips gently swollen.

“No I-please-can I-”

With one hand you catch both of his as he tugs on your shirt again and lift the other to cup his cheek once more, brushing your thumb over his mouth and pressing your lips together while you furrow your brow.

“Leon-Leon hold on-Leon just-”

He’s staring at where he’s managed to grip your shirt again though, trying to pull you back to where he can kiss you again. The front of his trousers are evidently straining, but Leon misses the look you peruse his body with because he’s too preoccupied with feeling you again.

He finally looks back up at you when you step back fully out of reach, where he has no choice but to see what you’re protesting about.

“Leon-why are you rushing baby? You can-we can do whatever it’s-it’s okay we can just-we don’t have to do anything-”

That hits him, drops into the chasm he’s been ignoring and makes him sag in his place. A lump in his throat rises up and he swallows, trying to fight it back before it reaches his eyes. 

“No I need to-I’ve gotta-”

Unexpectedly, you take a step forward and slide your hands up to grip his biceps gently, rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs as you watch him fumble over his words.

“You don’t need to do anything-we don’t need to do anything it’s okay-baby it’s okay why don’t we just-let’s just start slow yeah?”

Your words are cooed softly at him, washing gently over his skin and it feels like a soothing balm, something that calms him faster than anything he’s felt. 

In the back of his mind, some part of him thinks he gets why he was told he looks like a lost puppy sometimes, because he just knows he’s looking at you like you hung the moon. 

He nods dutifully at you, managing a small smile and reaching to capture your hands in his. His body is still wired, on a knife's edge as he throbs and pulses, tries to hold back from leaning into you again and pressing the length of his body against yours. He’s sure he must be dreaming either way, that there’s no way it’s real that you’re in his apartment, and that you just kissed him. That it seems like you want to do more-

Yet again you surprise him, tugging on his hands as you take a few steps backward and pull him into his living room. 

When you come to stop by his sofa, he thinks his heart is going to give out. His breathing is relatively steady thank god, but he knows his arousal is fairly evident, embarrassingly evident as a matter of fact. 

The smile on your face is so warm and gentle though, so inviting and he can’t bring himself to care about anything else. 

The fact that he knows how desperate he looks doesn’t matter, the fact that he knows next to nothing doesn’t matter. All that he cares about is that the way you tug him onto the couch and tuck your legs under yourself next to him feels healing, like you’ve taken your hand from the bottomless chasm and started sewing it up. Your hand putting his on your skirt clad thigh, a needle and thread flitting through his skin. 

His eyes are big and round as he watches you, waiting for your next move like a dog waiting for orders. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the authority here. Calmed down from his momentary loss of restraint, he thinks it might be best to let you handle this, how it plays out instead of rushing in head first. 

The hand you put on his thigh is grounding, a tether that pulls the thread tight and keeps his thoughts straight. It feels like he’s all too close to letting them float away, letting his head go empty at your closeness. 

One of your hands comes to rest lightly on his abdomen and he can’t help tensing his stomach, flexing the muscle as he tries to fight the waves of need pulling him under. 

He forces himself to look at you, actually look you in the eye and keep his breathing even. Of course it’s more difficult than he thinks it will be, but he mostly manages it, and thinks he’ll never see a better sight than you kneeling on his sofa next to him, eyes soft and inviting as you trace random patterns over the material of his shirt. 

“Okay-how about we start simple? Tell each other some stuff we like and go from there? Sound good?” 

It would, if he wasn’t relatively clueless about most stuff.

No need to say that though, no need to reveal that he’s never had sex at 21 years of age and that he has no idea how to go about pleasing you in any way. 

“Yeah-yeah okay-that’s sounds-uh-that-”

Leon winces at his own words, thread unravelling stitch by stitch. 

Can’t do it can’t do it-

“I-actually I can’t-I don’t know what I-I’m not really sure what I…like-I haven’t-that is to say-I haven’t really done anything exactly and I don’t-I’m sorry I-”

The hand resting on his stomach drifts up to rest over his heart, making his pulse pick up and his head lean in toward yours a little, instinctively craving more of you. 

“That’s fine that’s okay that’s-it’s all okay Leon-can I ask-do you mind telling me what you’ve tried?” 

Don’t tell her don’t let her know how truly clueless I am-

“I’ve only really-just-just my-jesus christ-just my hand, really-”

Oh. Well it’s out there now-

His eyes flick away from you after he finishes and he feels even more heat rise to his face, somehow. Did he really just admit to you the only thing he’s ever done is jerk off?? Briefly, he thinks he’s glad he just managed to leave his pillow out of it. 

Distractingly, your hand drifts back down to his abdomen, a teasing light touch that puts him on edge and reminds him just how obvious his body is being. 

“Mm okay-how about-you can tell me to stop or say no, Leon, of course you can but-what if I just put my hand on you for a minute? Would that be alright? I won’t do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable, promise-”

Leon is baffled for a second, wondering why you’re still here. Why you haven’t just seen that you’re wasting time with someone who doesn’t know how to please you and walked out the door. But the roaring in his ears and the throbbing through his body takes over a little and he can’t really pay much attention to his confusion. 

He can, however, pay attention to the fact that you just said you wanted to put your hand on him. 

His cock twitches behind his zipper as the words sink in, and he blinks owlishly at you, dizzy with the thought of being touched. Being touched by anyone would be enough to set him off but fuck, the thought of being touched by you-even more than the way you’re touching him now, actually having your hand where he wants it most, where he’s been fantasising about for the past two weeks. His grip tightens a little on your thigh as his mind moves sluggishly, trying to prepare himself for what’s going to happen.

With a deep breath, he realises that he doesn’t even really know what’s about to happen. Does it mean you’ll do the same as he’s been doing with himself? Maybe you’ll palm over him like he did the first time, or tease the sensitive head like he’s discovered he enjoys. Both thoughts make his thighs tense, anticipating your next touch-but you keep your hand on his stomach, pressed down a little firmer than before, a comforting weight. 

“Leon? I won’t do anything if you don’t agree, we can’t do anything unless you consent baby-if you don’t want to-if you’re uncomfortable or want to wait that’s okay, but you gotta tell me either way okay?”

Your features are worried now, forehead creased in concern as you watch his heavy breathing and feel his fingers digging into your thigh. 

His stomach lurches, insides churning uncomfortably as he almost chokes on the need to brush away your worry, console you and make you as happy as he possibly can.

Make it better, make her feel better and be better and confident and-

“No! It’s-I mean yes-yes I really-I do I want to I just-I don’t know what I’m doing, really and I-what if you-what if I can’t-”

Never mind then. Just spit it all out I guess. 

Leon swallows nervously and avoids your eyes yet again, cursing the need that makes him so tongue tied when he’s around you. 

You bring him back, make his mind snap back to the present when you shift your hand and rub soothingly back and forth over his belly. Even through the material of his shirt he feels hot from your touch, as thought just this could set him alight. He adjusts his hips, shuffles ever so slightly down into the sofa as you caress him, and tries not to blurt out how much he needs your hand lower. 

“Ahh okay-that’s fine baby no need to worry-if you’re okay with my hand on you then we can start there and just see how it goes yeah? Don’t need to think about anything else, just focus on how it feels-wanna do that for me?”

And then your hand is slipping down, down to the prominent bulge in his trousers and he’s never nodded so fucking fast in his life. You stop when your fingers are curved over him, cupping him gently and making him bite his lip as he watches you and tries his goddamn hardest not to buck up into your hand. 

It’s so much better than anything, anything he’s tried and better than he could ever have hoped and he doesn’t know if he’s more worried about losing it too quickly or more desperate for your touch. He realises just then that you’ve literally only just cupped his dick, just rested your palm delicately over his clothed shaft and he’s already losing some of his sanity, willing to do anything for more. 

“Hey-hey cmon baby I asked if you’d be alright with that-if you can just focus on the feelings and don’t think-if you want more then you’re gonna need to use your words Leon, want you to talk okay? Yeah can you do that for me? Tell me what’s good, what you like, how I’m making you feel-just want you to talk to me okay Leon?”

With that you squeeze your hand gently and he damn near flies up off the couch. His hips jerk and he gasps, head falling back a little as he struggles for words. 

“Fuck fuck-yes okay yes I can-shit-I can talk to-can you keep-fuck I’ll talk to you-I’ll-please-I can do that if-will you keep going-will-will you touch me more? If I-oh god-”

You’ve opened the floodgates it seems, gotten him to open his mouth and now he’s not going to shut it because he knows you want to hear it-his rambling is promptly cut off with a whine though as you start rubbing your hand back and forth, palming gently over his bulge. The sound makes your face heat, pure need spilling from him in a desperate little noise, something you force out of him. 

His hand tightens on the material of your skirt, needing an anchor as you deftly rub over his length. Smiling at the way he pants and fidgets at your actions, you shift your hand up to gently thumb over the fabric covering his tip. 

His hips buck up again at it and he gasps, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Leon’s breath stutters when he feels yours against his neck, face hovering closely over the column of his throat. You cup his length again, firmer than before, at the same time as you press a small kiss to his neck-he almost tears the material of your skirt at the sensation, whining and panting as he tries to stay grounded. 

“Talk to me baby tell me how it feels, remember-”

As your words work their way into his mind slowly, he hooks his other hand in the waistband of your skirt. You can tell he isn’t even trying to tug it down or take it off, he just needs something more to help him stay here. It’s evident in the way his eyes keep fluttering shut and the way his hips keep jerking, hand loosening and tightening on your thigh, fingers picking at the waistband as you keep petting him. Dangerously close to letting his mind run away and losing himself to the pleasure, but your questions thankfully seem to pull him back toward you a little. 

“It’s-oh god-it’s so-so good-I can’t-s’too good-fuck-please don’t stop-I-you can’t stop-s’much better than-fuck, please-”

He feels the way your lips curve into a smile on his neck and he has to close his mouth hastily, trying not to let loose some sounds he knows will be pathetically whiny. 

“Better than what Leon?”

“-everything-please god please just-I can’t-fuck-need-need to-”

That’s when his hands start moving with purpose, start squirming up your thigh and trying desperately to find the zipper even as he whimpers and sniffles through the way you’re palming over his cock. It’s only through his trousers for Christ’s sake, he should be able to handle it a little better than this shouldn’t he? He’s becoming increasingly worried about what will happen if you don’t let up soon. 

Chuckling lightly against his throat and dragging your bottom lip up it, you kiss the corner of his mouth and whisper softly to him, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. 

“S’okay baby, don’t need to do anything, I don’t need anything-just wanna touch you for a bit longer-you gonna let me do that? Don’t gotta touch me or try and do anything, just focus on how good it feels when I play with you okay?”

Any ideas he has melt just then, just dissolve into the molten desire pumping through him and drift away as he watches you, doe eyed and pliable under your touch. His head feels empty, brainless and dumb-like the only thing that matters is if he’s pleasing you or not, and he doesn’t really need any thoughts for that after all. 

He lets a shaky breath out and nods at you, humming in agreement because he doesn’t think he can speak properly right this second. 

You smile again against his face, edging down to pepper soft kisses over his jaw while your fingers fiddle with his fly. A few seconds later Leon hears the sound of his zipper being dragged down and his thighs tremble, wondering how on Earth he’s going to survive this. His hands tighten on you again, assuring himself you’re real and this is happening, you’re next to him and want to touch him. 

Holy fucking shit-

When your fingers brush over the head of his cock he bucks his hips up rougher than before, almost propels your arm off of him in his excitement, and you push gently on his hip to settle him down again. 

“…Leon?”

There’s a tone in your voice, a prompt for him that he doesn’t-

Oh. Talk. Tell her-anything, just talk for her-

“Jesus okay I-it’s-you feel so-oh fuck-so so good-”

One of your fingers trails down the underside of his shaft where it’s tucked up, pressing gently on the thick vein he always focuses on. There’s suddenly hot, wet pressure on his pulse point and he giddily realises that you're sucking a small mark onto his neck, marking your presence and giving him something to remember this evening by. He grins deliriously at that, head still tipped back and cock twitching under your touch. 

“Mm just good? You don’t have any other words for me, Leon?”

“No! I can-no yes it is-it’s good but I-shit-it feels-it’s-I don’t know it’s just it’s so good and-and I feel warm ‘nd-’nd like I need more-fuck-”

He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he says he doesn’t know, overwhelmed by the fact that this has barely started, you’ve only had your hand on him for a little bit and he’s already displeased you, already failed at the first hurdle.

You wrap your hand loosely around his shaft, as best you can with his clothing still partly in the way, and start pumping up and down slowly, movements almost lazy as you hum in response to Leon and lick over the mark you’ve made on his neck.

He shudders when the sound vibrates across his skin, trembling slightly and tensing up as he feels his stomach tighten considerably. It makes him panic a little, jerk his hips and widen his eyes as he looks to you.

“Don’t worry baby s’okay-”

“Feels like-I know I’m-fucking-oh-I’m gonna-shit-I can’t-”

Leon sounds downright distressed as he whimpers, desperate for you to understand he can’t come this quick, he can’t because he hasn’t even touched you yet and he can’t disappoint you he just can’t.

And then you pull your hand away.

His hips chase you, cock twitching against his abdomen and drooling precum as he frantically shakes his head at you and fists his hands in your clothes.

He tries to beg you to please please m’sorry I won’t-I’ll-I’ll try hold off but I-will you-need you to keep-keep touching me please I need-gotta feel your hand again please baby-

That’s the first time he’s called you anything other than your name, and you have to admit it sounds good coming from his whining lips, breathy and needy as he paws at you.

“I’ll carry on don’t worry, I just thought you might want me to make it better-make my hand move a little easier?”

But he has no idea what you mean, just furrows his brow and presses his lips together while he tries to make his hips stay on the sofa. Your hand comes up to brush some silver strands of hair away from his face and he leans into your touch, pressing his cheek against your palm as you lean in and kiss him sweetly. It’s gentle, soft and intimate in a way your first only fifteen minutes ago wasn’t. It makes Leon realise, fleetingly, the difference between need and desire. 

When you pull back a few seconds later, you stay close to him. He can feel your breath on his lips and your fingers brushing over his forehead, and he tries not to blink. If he does, he thinks he might stop this moment, make you move away and god, no matter how badly he wants you to put your hand on his cock again, he somehow wants this more, wants to be able to watch your emotions swell up in the depths of your eyes, see how you stare back at him. And then you whisper against his lips again, and he thinks that might be his undoing. 

“Doesn’t it feel better when you touch yourself if your cock’s wet? Don’t you enjoy it more when it’s all slick and messy? When you fuck your hand don’t you like the noises you can hear?” He swallows audibly at that, tries to ignore the way his dick jumps as you speak, and you kiss over his cheek gently, pave your way until you’re by his ear and brushing your thumb over his jaw. “You gonna let me do that? Gonna let me make it even better? You gotta answer me Leon, need you to say so if you want me to spit on your pretty cock-”

Pretty. Pretty pretty pretty. Pretty cock. My pretty cock. Her spit on my pretty cock-

He’s sure his eyes must be black by now, eaten up by desperation like the rest of him, as he turns his head to catch your lips and lick into your mouth, holding the back of your head to suck on your tongue.

You’re the one to pull away again, of course, and you shoot him a quick smile before shuffling down a little and leaning over his body. 

His breathing quickens, body on edge as he feels you gently wrapping your hand around his shaft again and holding it so you can position your head over the tip.

He hears it before anything else, the slick sound of you spitting, and then he watches the wet glob slap onto the head of his cock. The feeling of it on his slit makes him twitch and you actually giggle at it, feeling the movement and watching his body tense.

Leon has no time to prepare for the way you move after that, the way you swipe your thumb over his tip to collect your spit and pump your hand up and down fast. Quicker than before, wet and slick and messy, sloppy thrusts spreading your saliva over his shaft and making him twitch and writhe.

He’s on the edge before he knows it, hips bucking up, hands fisting in the sofa cushions and your skirt, thighs shaking and stomach tensing. His head is still thrown back and he struggles to keep his eyes open, but forgets about keeping his mouth shut.

The earlier embarrassment at any noises he might make is gone, burnt up along with his restraint by your soft hands and pretty words, and he lets them spill out freely now. He has no idea what they’re doing to you though, how you clench and drip with every whine forced from his throat. 

It doesn’t even matter that this is the first time you’ve done this together, it’s obvious when he gets close because he just, well, he sounds a little pathetic. He spills out little whimpered ‘oh’s with every movement of your hand, begs and pleas every now and then, desperate for you to keep going, to please don’t-nnng fuck please don’t stop-feels-oh oh-feels s’good-m’gonna-oh fuck-ha so so good-ah please keep going-keep-oh oh oh-fuck-nng I can’t-god please-can’t hold it-m’gonna-oh fuck fuck fuck I-yes please more just-yes yes oh-m’gonna-can’t stop it m’sorry i can’t m’so sorry I’m sorry I-oh m’gonna cum m’gonna-gonna cum m’gonna fuckin cum-m-oh fuck m’cumming-oh oh oh-

Well, you asked him to talk.

He’s beautiful when he comes, truly. Thighs trembling, legs trying to close, abs flexing and entire body undulating as much as possible in his position. 

Sometimes it’s not the most appealing sight, but the way his mouth drops open and ropes of come spill across his chest, painting his shirt and soaking into the material-it’s enough to get anyone going and that certainly doesn’t exclude you. 

As for Leon, he can barely think. He can barely open his eyes, the periphery of his vision dimming a little as you squeeze your hand a little more, tightening around his tip for a second and coaxing a few small dribbles of come out-he manages to look down in time to see it drip down over your fingers, pearly white decorating your knuckles and his shaft. 

Your hand leaves him and for a few minutes he just lies there and pants, breathing heavily as you gently knead the flesh of his thigh and wait for him to ride it out. 

When he licks his lips and tries to speak, the hand of yours that isn’t covered in his come cups his jaw sweetly, pulling him into you a little for a tender kiss, one that brings him back and grounds him again. Makes his vision clear and his heart slow a bit more.

When you part this time, it’s mutual, with Leon finally realising when you pull away you’re not leaving him, just catching your breath. You both lean your foreheads together, and you chuckle breathlessly, making him look inquisitively at you.

“I just realised I never actually called another cab. Mind if I wait a bit longer?”

As long as you like. 

Please.

sequel/next part

feedback is really really really appreciated-comments and reblogs and asks especially since likes don't promote my content :(( don't think I'll be doing a third part so please don't ask for one sorry!

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