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byexbyez · 2 months ago

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lovers of valdaro | leon kennedy x reader

PART I | PART II | PART III (finale)

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Some things have changed. The months, the weather, the air that hangs between Leon and you. Yet one thing has remained constant: his desire to keep you as close as possible.

word count: 8.2K of gratuitous smut

warnings: 18+, smut, established relationship, pda, bickering, consensual somnophilia, groping, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, prone boning, swearing, slight dom/sub undertones, pet names, an attempt at praise kink, pill as contraception, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), marking, unintentional edging, masturbation, aftercare, no use of y/n, oh and ooc

notes: i’m sorry to those who were expecting pt 3 to be angsty. i wanted to portray some changes and get used to writing and publishing smut. also, this can be read separately as it is almost all smut. enjoy!

➵ read on ao3.

“This man yaps a lot,” Leon says from behind you, you’re startled by his voice near your ear. His lips tickle your earshell. Like a cat’s fur standing up, your shoulders go up slightly. Renting only one sunbed –a narrow chair, really– for the two of you starts to feel like a mistake. Well, you plan to swim anyway, I’ll just sunbathe, you had said earlier, failing to account for Leon’s FOMO when you pulled out your book from your beach bag. For some reason, he was interested in anything that captured your attention as of late.

You were looking at travel guides for you and your sister back at home when Leon saw your laptop screen. “What’s this?” he asked, adjusting the screen so he could see it better.

“Beaches in Italy,” you answered. “My sister will be using her yearly vacation this year. I’m making a list of places we can go if she asks.” Leon was silent and when you turned to him, already watching you intently. “What?”

“Our anniversary is coming up.”

You looked at the date, wondering why he brought it up. “I guess it is.”

“How about we go? Before your sister asks, I mean,” he suggested, scratching the back of his neck.

You straightened up on the couch. “You wanna go on a vacation with me?”

The corners of his lips curled up. “Err, I believe I asked you first.”

A little girl runs by your sunbed with her arms full of plastic toys, screaming with joy as she plops down to the sand. The bottoms of her tiny feet are red, probably because of how hot the sand is. She begins digging up sand with her toy shovel.

“It’s Dostoevsky,” you say, like that would be enough clarification for Leon. His arm comes up to pinch the book up top to flip it and peek at its title, which reads “White Nights.” Propping up your elbow on your torso to adjust both your book and your attention, you try to move as little as possible to not disturb him. He basically made you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest, saying he would take a dip in the sea in a few minutes.

You know he’s about to speak again when your head rises along his chest. “He’s been talking nonstop for three pages.”

“Leon, I’m trying to focus.”

The little girl a few feet away lets out a frustrated cry when her castle crumbles down, her little arms flap irritably, chucking the toy shovel in front of her in the process. A slightly older boy, probably her brother, comes to the rescue with a bucket full of sea water. He shows his little sister how to wet the sand for it to hold shape. The sound of waves crashing against the breakwater drowns out their shrill laughter.

“You’re squishing your boob,” Leon blurts out, takes hold of the planted elbow on your breast and lifts it in the air.

Trying to follow the words, your head knocks on Leon’s chin. “I can’t read like this. Let go of my arm.”

“Nuh-uh. If I let go, you’re gonna keep pressing your arm to your boob and have a nip slip.”

“I’m not gonna have a nip slip.”

“Whatever the correct verb for a nip slip is, it will happen.” His chin digs into the crown of your hair. “And those teenagers will remember this day forever.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “What teenagers?”

“The ones that are looking this way,” Leon states in a matter-of-factly tone. He’s right, a bunch of boys are in the sea, laughing among themselves by splashing water. Every now and then their heads tilt up to your direction.

You look down on yourself to see if the swimsuit is covering you like it’s supposed to. There’s nothing wrong with it, yet that doesn’t stop you from setting the book down on your stomach. “Why are they looking here? What’s wrong with my swimsuit?”

“It looks good on you, that’s why. Hormonal teenagers.”

“I think it’s the position we’re in,” you mumble. Your back feels damp with sweat as you peel away from him, sitting up further away.

But Leon has other plans, he snakes his hand around your shoulder and plants his palm right on your sternum, pulling you back to him by your chest.

“Oof,” you breathe out once you collide with his torso again.

He taps his fingers on your breastbone as he catches the slipping book on your lap. “Here, I’ll hold it. You turn the pages.”

“It’s too hot for this,” you groan.

“Pardon me for doing something,” he says, sounding neither hurt nor sorry.

“You said you’d swim,” you say, though it sounds more like a suggestion. “Want me to lather you up in sunscreen? I know you didn’t put it on back at the hotel.”

“I mean, when you ask it like that, sure.” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat, it warms your heart that he’s pleased with himself just by managing to get under your skin. Something quite like a heartbeat, it feels intimate, an embrace out in the open. In a snap, you shake off the feeling. You’re not going to see these people again, they do not know you, just like how you don’t know the couple dipping their feet in the water while holding hands, little girl building sandcastles with her brother, young boys jumping on each other’s backs. Who would have thought being a stranger to all of it would make your yearning flesh all the more tender?

Your wandering eyes shut in bliss when you feel it. A featherlight, barely-there kiss on the back of your neck, placed just below your hair, followed by the disappearance of your book from your sight. Leon reaches down to drop it in your bag, you wiggle away to let him search for the bottle of sunscreen.

“Take your shirt off,” you say once you turn to face him.

“Damn, woman. At least buy me dinner first.”

“Can you get any cornier? You’re getting overpriced beer at best.”

“...May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life–?”

Your attention snaps away from your book over a playful voice. “Hey, miss. Sorry to bother you.” Leon is standing a few steps in front of your chair, hands on his hips, most of his weight on one leg. Water drops cling to his firm chest, following a delectable path down his muscles. Some even caress his faded scars gently, a reminder that he has endured things far from gentle. His hair seems darker due to saltwater, the tips of it almost poking his eyes, by the looks of him having to shake them away from his face when he attempts to tilt his head to the side. “Are you perhaps single?”

You purse your lips to suppress a grin. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m interested.”

“Oh,” you croon in mock-embarrassment. “I’m married.” You make sure to show off the gold band on your ring finger.

He walks next to your chair. “Lucky guy. Speaking of, where is he?” His gaze lingers on your legs that are bent towards your chest, the book propped up on your knees.

You close the book and play along. “He’s swimming.”

“Is he a good swimmer?”

“Yeah, his strokes are phenomenal.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Are we still talking about swimming?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Why yes, is there a misunderstanding?”

“No, no. Just making sure we’re on the same page here. Tell me more about him.”

You gesture to the empty room on the foot of the sunchair. “Then you might want to sit here for a while. Maybe dry off?”

“I’d love to keep you company until your husband shows up.” Leon sits sideways next to your feet, way too familiar for a ‘stranger.’ “What’s he like?”

“First of all, he looks a lot like you.” You press your lips together. This is ridiculous. “He’s also incredibly annoying.” When Leon gasps half-mockingly, you cast a sideways glance at him. “His jokes are really corny, he’s lucky I put up with them.”

“That might hurt his feelings.”

“Well, he’s not here.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together, there’s a visible question mark in his blink. “My jokes are that bad?”

“Aaand, the play is over.” You slap your knees lightly, sliding your feet towards Leon until your toes touch the side of his thigh. “We are not sharing the chair again. You’re still dripping.”

A sluggish sigh escapes his lips. “Let me lean on you at least.”

And before you can say no, Leon is relocating your hands from your knees, moving them by your wrists, placing your arms at your sides. He folds his own arms on top of your knees and rests his temple on them, hugging your knees to himself, looking off into the side. You could lean forward and bury your nose in his hair like this, inhale the sun and salt, let your lips linger, let him feel the ghost of a kiss for a change. Though he was always better at unprompted acts of affection, maybe because he didn’t think much of it.

It’s peaceful—the secluded space you’ve managed to carve out for the two of you, despite the chaos of the crowded beach. It feels like a quiet world unto itself, hidden in plain sight amid a sea of distant faces, as if removed from everything around you. It’s strangely intimate. Minutes or hours pass, you can’t make out which, lost in the stillness.

When Leon speaks, his thumb starts brushing your knee. “I can hear you think,” he murmurs, his voice low. What’s going on in that head of yours?

“Will you tell me a truth?” you ask, almost in a whisper.

Leon doesn’t lift his head up, lazy like a cat in the sun. Although his body reminds him to be on guard upon hearing a kid yell in the distance, his muscles twitch reflexively. “Why?”

“For all of this to feel real.” Your eyes follow the slope of his nose, then the squished red cheek leaning on his forearm. The sunscreen you copiously put on his nose bridge couldn’t protect his skin. You can’t help but admire his long lashes, fluttering so prettily the action could make butterflies jealous.

His answer surprises you. “I’m scared all the time.”

“Of what?”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His thumb stops moving so he can squeeze your kneecap. “I’m scared that one day you’ll want us to go our separate ways. I’m scared that I will not be able to let you go. You know I wasn’t able to do it the first time around. I dread the day you won’t want to see my face again.”

“Leon–”

“Sometimes I get scared that something will happen to you and I will lose you.”

It dawns on you then. The reason why you’ve been waking up to strong arms tangled around your waist for months.

“Leon, nothing’s going to happen to me.”

However, he’s still going on. “If you decide you’ve had enough, just let me know, okay? Don’t just up and leave.”

Your throat constricts itself. You don’t know what to say to that. Part of you wants to do just that: up and leave. Not the way he means but in a way to escape his hold, step aside to mull it over and come up with a humane response. The fact that he couldn’t meet your eyes while saying all that leaves your heart with a dull ache, chest too heavy to even breathe.

He finally looks up, expression unreadable. His eyes scour your face, searching for something. “Does it feel real now?”

You swallow on nothing as you meet his eyes. Sure, you nod. It terrifies you how real it actually feels.

Leon thinks he’s a genius for lowering the temperature of the air-conditioning while you were in the bathroom, carrying out your night routine. No, he didn’t have any malicious intent, not at all, he was just sweating a lot even after his shower. By the time you entered the bed in your pajamas, you suspected nothing, lifted the bedcover to join him. Your skin was glowing from all the products he couldn’t wrap his head around, your lips were shining clear. For a moment, he wanted to plant his mouth to your lips and taste the vaseline.

He was aroused, which was not surprising considering the amount of sex you two had been having. It’s become so regular that he thinks he never had this much compatibility with anyone before. Goodnight, Leon, you murmured before gracing him with the sight of your back, voice so sweet he nearly whined out of desperation. He didn’t know why he waited for your breathing to fall steady, he’s been holding you in your sleep for a while now. Every morning you wake up before him and toss his arms aside, get the day started.

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he makes his move, drapes an arm around your waist, pressing his bare chest to your clothed back, spooning you. He’s careful not to wake you despite the evidence of his arousal resting against your ass. Normally, he would ignore it and take care of it in the morning but you make that impossible by squirming in your sleep. A few minutes pass by and he guesses the room must feel like an icebox to you, he knows you get cold quickly. Leon thinks he’s a genius because he could just wake you up and suggest warming you up. He also thinks he’s a fool because what if you don’t wake up, with all this squirming? He could move to the side and wait for the cold to do its own thing or he could just get up and go to the bathroom to rub one out. Or he could lower his boxers, do it right here. He’s positive you wouldn’t mind, that’s how intimate you two have become.

Before he can decide, a shiver takes over your body, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Now Leon feels bad. He’ll just get up and fix the AC to an acceptable temperature.

You shrivel into him, searching for warmth. The arm across your waist reaches up, the entirety of his hand cupping your breast that’s pressed against the bed. His body runs hot despite the breeze in the hotel room, so he thinks this will help. Just as a quiet, needy cry from your throat travels to his burning ears, his other arm snakes beneath your body to press against your belly. He squeezes you tightly until he can feel the blood pumping through your veins, buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Inhaling deeply bestows on him your enticing scent.

Guilt washes over him as he ruts his hips into your sleep shorts, because who becomes an animal in heat when they smell clean soap?

Leon. Leon does.

The smallest things have been setting him off. All of your flimsy sundresses, swaying of your hips in them, your smooth legs, the gold anklet that matches with your wedding ring, the swimsuit that makes your cleavage call his attention. You, taking his arm while walking side to side. In fact, he suppressed smothering his face into your cheek today at lunch—cuteness aggression— as he tried to eat his food in peace. You were enjoying your pasta, humming contentedly after your first bite, you smiled at him when you caught him watching you intently. Leon was never into taking pictures but at that moment, he wanted to engrave the picture of you smiling up at him lovingly into his memory for the future, remember your crinkled eyes and adorably scrunched up nose when he would miss you. He knew he would miss that moment right when it was happening, he’d be gone again for an assignment soon.

“What?” You laughed.

“That good?” he asked, eyes pointing to your bowl of pasta.

“Yep! Want some?”

Leon keeps clinging until your body twitches no longer, takes deep breaths against your neck, pleased as his heat completely stills you. His hold relaxes as he becomes aware of his grip strength. He releases his clamped fingers from your breast, stroking your nipple apologetically. It will surely leave a mark on your soft skin, which you will whine about later, though he knows deep down you enjoy him being rough with you. After all, it was you who brought up that you weren’t made of glass, he didn’t need to act as if you were going to break.

Your soft sighs soothe him to an extent, as far as the strain in his boxers allow. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s still humping your backside, cock throbbing. He’s going to wake you up. Pounce on you once you open your eyes.

Forefinger and thumb pinching a hardening nipple, he nuzzles his face into where your neck meets your shoulder, dropping heavy kisses first, then switching to sucking your skin. If he could drown in your smell, he would. “Honey, please wake up.”

“Hm?” He hears you, heart starting to beat even faster. “Leon?” Your first touch is on his arms, fingertips ice cold, groggy voice calling to him.

“You awake?” he breathes in your ear.

Feeling tickled, your shoulder rises to your ear. “Clearly,” you reply hoarsely. His thigh is glued to the back of yours, reaching back to hold it, you manage to slow his movements. His erection is fully pressed against you. “Everything okay?”

“No.” He pants in your hair. “Need to fuck you.”

“Leon,” you groan, face dropping fully into your pillow. “I’m too tired.”

“Please, you don’t need to do anything.”

“Don’t think I can even lift my leg.”

“Then don’t. I’ll do everything. Lift your hips for a second so I can get this off?”

“Fine,” you huff, rolling onto your stomach so his strong-willed hands can strip off your shorts along with your underwear. “We don’t have lube.”

He drops a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll just have to prep you.”

Ugh, so sweet. “Make it quick,” you say as he carefully sits on the backs of your thighs, his knees trapping your legs together. “How do we do this?”

“Stay still,” he mumbles, barely audible. You grow impatient as you hear him moving in the dark, taking off his only piece of clothing. He reaches over to the bedside drawer to turn on the lamp. The blanket is scattered across the bed. You hiss sharply, eyes adjusting to the soft light.

He holds your shoulders firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“Why is it so cold?”

Somehow, you can hear him grinning behind you. “The AC’s broken.”

“Have you tried calling the reception? It’s too cold for this.”

“I’ll warm you up,” he says as his heat hovers over you, fingers hiking up your flimsy camisole to gain access to your waist, the other hand shaking off the thin straps. He buries his nose into the back of your neck, kissing a path to your right shoulder, sharp teeth grazing skin along the way. He shifts his attention to your left shoulder, reaching down to cup your ass, pulling apart your cheeks. His fingers find your sex straight away; he’s familiar with your body.

“You’re a bit wet for someone who’s feeling too tired,” he teases.

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “I will leave you blue-balled for the rest of the week.”

“Right,” he says. “Lift your head up.”

“I just woke up, you’re asking for too much from me.”

He nudges his nose into the back of your ear instead of answering. Kiss me, he demands, pressing his hips to your plushness. Familiar with his silent commands, you submit to his reign, craning your neck back, open mouth chasing his.

Your mouths clash unceremoniously. It’s messy, sloven, uncoordinated, and animalistic. He finds your tongue in no time, suckling on the wet muscle all the while managing to lift your shoulders off the bed to drop your thin straps around your elbows, pulling your camisole down. Now your top sits below your naked breasts, bunched around your middle like a thick headband. Leon’s jaw moves as if he’s thirsty, drinking from your mouth unapologetically. The noises from your so-called kissing are obscene, filling the room along with the sounds of heavy breathing. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, body slowly warming up.

Quick as a wink, a strong hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you face down to the mattress. Your surprised yelp into your pillow is cut short once he pulls your hair gently, laughing next to your ear. “Don’t want you to suffocate. Try to keep your head up. Can you do that for me, honey?”

Rolling your eyes, you bite back a remark. Resting your cheek on the pillow is all he’s going to get. After all, he did tell you that you didn’t need to do anything. Your crushed breasts feel funny, one side aching considerably more than the other, owing to him groping it roughly while you were sleeping.

Leon lets out a low chuckle and continues his undeterred path from your jaw to your neck, nipping at skin, leaving a stinging sensation behind. His knees make room for your squirming legs, a perfect chance for him to dip his hand between your thighs, a slight part of your legs to accommodate his fingers on your cunt. Rubbing your lower lips, he slicks his fingers with your wetness.

Your breath hitches when two pads of fingers make contact with your clit, drawing tight circles. “That feel good?” His voice is muffled by your skin.

You groan a noise of confirmation as he puts more pressure on his fingertips, quickening his movements on your now soaked pussy. His thumb catches at your entrance, maybe accidentally, and you can’t hold yourself back from pursuing that pleasure, back arching so your hips could sway up, chasing his touch. Thankfully, he is quick to place his thumb back, swiping back and forth. The double stimulation on your opening and clit creates enough lubrication for him to slide right in.

Your eagerness doesn’t go unnoticed by Leon, the feel of his teeth on your earlobe is a wary appreciation. “Too tired, huh? Look at you.” He means your hips in the air, quivering right in front of his view. “Lemme help you relax.”

You think he’ll finally thrust himself in, however, you’re taken by surprise when he works two fingers into you, the stretch unexpected, but appreciated nonetheless. He shoves your hips back down into the mattress, arm across the small of your back to keep you steady against the bed. “Don’t be disappointed. I need to open you up first,” he speaks into your temple, nose pressed to the tail of your eyebrow. He starts moving his fingers in and out. “Don’t want you to hurt.”

He grabs a handful of your ass to pull apart while working your cunt open with his fingers. Your whole body feels electrified each time he strokes the velvety walls of your pussy, throat humming with need.

“Leon…” you moan, wanting to arch into him. Your desperate hand slides under your belly to touch your clit. “Enough.”

But that’s not what you want to tell him. You want to tell him this is not enough, he needs to be inside you right now or you will start to wail, turn over and jump his bones. This is quite the opposite from where everything started, with you worked up and fussy in his hands, unable to speak properly.

You feel him watching his own hand between your legs, ears perked up for the sounds coming from where you are gushing, shallowing his thrusts once he feels your fingers join in. “Enough? You don’t want to come first?”

“S’cold,” you cry out. “Fuck me already.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he coos at you, pulling his soaked digits out of you, head rising to meet with your parted lips. The arm around your waist slides up, fingers gently digging into your scalp to hold you in place as he kisses you, using the fingers he just pulled out of you to slick up his cock. He moans into your mouth before pulling away.

“You have me. Ready?”

You nod into the pillow.

As he presses his swollen tip into you, he watches the back of your head tip back with a shiver, your neck exposed for him to reach and grab. Instead, he wraps his arm around your neck in a gentle headlock, helping you rest your cheek on his bicep, the movement helping him slip further inside you.

Hot, bullish breaths burrow into your neck when he is buried to the hilt, balls pressed against your clit and fingers that are spreading yourself.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he whispers, his torso meeting your back.

He presses his entire weight down onto you and it is glorious, being trapped between him and the mattress, surrounded by his body heat with no room to flee. Not that you even consider it. Though your wrist, strained under the weight, digs into your pelvis as he begins to thrust feverishly. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

Your mouth opens to let him know of the awkward position your arm is in but you only manage to moan wantonly. He takes it as a cue to snap his hips faster.

“Wait, Leon—my wrist.”

He stops completely, lifting his hips slightly for you to pull your arm out from underneath, dropping a kiss in your hair as an apology. “Fuck, sorry. Forgot your hand was there. Are you good? Am I too heavy?”

Your hands fist around the sheets to brace yourself. He did not pull himself fully out of you, you just want him to fill you to the brim again. Even though you don’t know if you can come like this. “No, I’m good. Let’s continue.”

As your wish comes true, his hips pick up a frenzied pace, the bed starts to shake. You don’t know how he manages it, you’re immobilized under him, high on the pleasurable feeling. Your poor nipples are chafing against the sheets with all the movement. The noises escaping your lips are embarrassingly loud, mingling with the creaky springs of the hotel bed. He doesn’t hold back either, sucking love-bites wherever his mouth can reach, moaning against your spit-lacquered skin. Palms sliding under your shoulders to hold you even closer, he squeezes you to himself while letting his weight push you hard into the mattress.

It’s as if he wants to open up his chest and tuck you beneath his ribs, or crawl beneath your skin from behind, until you both become one.

His pace falters, you squeak as he bottoms out, walls pulsing around him. He must have been desperately horny, for he is spitting out delirious things in your ear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— you look so cute. You always do.”

“Huh?”

Rather than addressing your confusion, he leans in your face. One hand cups your jaw, guiding your face to his, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered, ready for him to attack, though it’s a pleasant assault of kisses. “You’re so—” Kiss. “Soft.” Kiss. “It makes me crazy.” Kiss. “And you always smell so good.” Kiss.

“Leon, what’s gotten into you—mmph!”

He doesn’t care about what you have to say about his raving state; instead, he crashes his lips to yours for a longer, deeper kiss. His strong arm hugs your neck again, cradling you to himself. You swallow his animalistic groan when your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the tresses while trying to squirm. His hair has gotten so long; a luxury of taking time off work.

His hips start to grind, precise snaps eliciting small sounds out of both of you, his cock massaging your innermost crevices.

“You’re like an angel,” he whispers in your mouth, panting wildly. “You feel like heaven. God, I love you. I can’t believe—shit, I’m close. I’m gonna come. Tell me where to come.”

If he wasn’t literally in your face, you might have missed it—that sacred, dangerous word slipping past his lips as if it was an everyday occurrence.

It didn’t even register at first, partly because it happened so quickly and partly because it made you clamp down on him with an intense ripple of pleasure, causing him to grunt.

Losing all strength in your muscles, you sag against his arm on the pillow, neck too numb to keep your head up, feet plopping down with a pat. When did you lift your feet up?

Like a snap of a thread, his demeanor changes instantly. Concerned, he brushes your hair away from your face hastily. “Baby, did you just come?”

A sound resembling “yes” is murmured into your pillow, your whole body feeling prickly upon the fondness in his voice, spasming uncontrollably. He’s still inside you, reaching incredibly deep, hip bones digging into the meat of your ass, caging you in his warmth.

“Didn’t even need me to touch your clit,” he says. There’s that smugness in his tone, like he didn’t just rock your whole world.

Feeling fuzzy around the edges, you remember his need to have a release, and words rush out without much thought, “Inside. Come inside.”

The faint rhythm of his hips turn sloppy upon hearing you. He’s gasping, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck. Thank you, baby.”

His face finds home in your neck again. It’s not long before you feel the thick trickle of warmth filling you up. Coming to his senses, his arms loosen around you, waiting for his breathing to turn to normal.

You can sleep like this, you think. With him literally in your skin, smothered under his delectable weight. It’s calming.

Eventually, he pulls out and rolls over on his back, the absence of his weight feels oddly sad. He turns his neck towards you. “That was… something else. How are you feeling?”

You stretch your arms, sliding them under your pillow. “Like I’ve just run a marathon. And I didn’t even move much.”

“Now that you’re properly tired, you’re gonna sleep like a log.” He chuckles, throwing an arm on his forehead.

You slide a hand between your legs, knitting your eyebrows, reconsidering. “We need to clean up first.”

“Right,” he sighs. “I promised you I wouldn’t make you move, didn’t I? Wait here.”

Before you can say anything, he gets up from the bed, picks up his underwear from the ground and heads to the bathroom. You don’t move in case the viscid fluids threaten to leak onto the bed. He comes back with a few rolled-up toilet papers and a damp towel, with his underwear on. He sits on the edge of the bed next to you.

You spread your legs as he holds up the rolled-up toilet papers to your dripping entrance. “Push it out.”

You squeeze out the mixture of you and him. Your cheeks flare up, not because of embarrassment. But because of something else. Him instructing you with a raspy voice shouldn’t get you fired up, your limbs are still weak from the earth-shattering orgasm he pulled out of you, but your body reacts on its own volition.

“I didn’t know you were on the pill,” he continues as he wipes down your sweat with the towel.

“A recent development,” you say, eyes heavy with sleepiness. “Started it a while ago, I meant to tell you.”

“That’s fine.” He cleans up the residue between your thighs lastly. The pressure of his touch is so careful, in case you’re overstimulated. “Honestly, I think I found out about it in the best way.”

A small chuckle from you eases his heart. The image of you lying naked on your belly, your head turned to the side with bleary eyes is like a painting to him. He leans down and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Can I wake you up in the morning?” he mutters into your skin before hoisting your camisole to its place on your shoulders.

You understand his implication. “Yeah, but no sooner than eight or I’ll be super cranky.”

“We’ll miss breakfast.”

“Breakfast or sex. The choice is yours.”

“Room service it is.”

Eventually, he finds your panties and shorts under the blankets, lifts them up over your hips, and finishes dressing you.

You give him a smile, fingers resting on your lips as you ponder. “I have something to ask you.”

“I know,” he replies, too quickly. He’s aware of the things he’s just said. “I know you want to talk about it. But I feel awful for disturbing your sleep. You’re tired. We can talk all you want in the morning. Just know that I meant it.”

“C’mere,” you whisper, rolling onto your side to reach out to him.

This time, it’s Leon who seeks warmth, succumbing to the balmy caress of your hand as you pull him in.

The kiss is too soft, too fragile, and he wants it to linger forever.

He’s offended when you pull away abruptly. But that feeling is short-lived as you turn your head away to sneeze twice. “Bless you,” he says.

Deep down inside, remembering he changed the settings of the AC, he rolls his eyes at himself. He gets up and turns it off, throwing the soiled toilet papers in the trash on his way. “I’ll call the reception the first thing tomorrow.”

Leon is insatiable.

The first things he notices when he opens his crusty eyes is his morning wood and the deep red hues scattered across the back of your neck in front of his face. Wiping the sleep from his eyes with one hand—the other arm trapped under your neck—he presses himself to your backside. A repeat of what started everything.

He retracts after letting out a low growl into your hair, only to roll you on your back by your shoulders. You’re still asleep, muscles all soft and pliant under his maneuvering. So pretty, he thinks. The tiny flutter of your eyelashes casts soft, quivering shadows on the apples of your cheeks as warm sunlight streams into the room through a narrow gap in the curtains. Hovering over you between your legs, he cups your face, thumbs caressing the dainty shadows. His breaths fan your face as a gentle nudge to your slumber.

“Baby…” he croaks, voice all ragged from hours of disuse over the night.

Even in your sleep you seek out his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, rousing something carnal in him. His lips get to work on your throat briskly, sucking the delicate skin, humming against it.

He feels the vibrations of the mellow sound your throat gives out against his lips and continues the path down to your clavicle, leaving ruddy blemishes behind. Rubbing up and down on your thighs, his palms curve behind the backs of your knees, bending them to spread your legs completely open against the bed. He presses his hard-on to your center.

Your cunt must be sore, he’ll kiss it better.

He mouths at the tops of your breasts, palms fondling them up in his face. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, though you’re too drowsy to hear.

His head slips down the blanket, your cover slides down your body as it gets caught on his broad back, opening an airway for him.

He starts littering kisses on the inside of your thigh, beginning from your knee and continuing the path up to your groin, pulling back each time his nose touches the verge of your panties. He looks up expectantly to see you stir. Because once he sees you awake, he’ll devour you.

You are stirring, head lolling in an attempt to turn on your side. Leon’s hands quickly clamp down on your thighs, “Nuh-uh.” He denies you, keeping your hips still. His mouth switches to your other thigh, repeating his ministrations.

His teeth graze the edge of your underwear. Your leg twitches under his touch, which further encourages his sudden urge.

Blunt teeth sink into the soft, supple flesh of your inner thigh.

That seems to wake you up as your head jerks, hand flying to his hair between your legs under the blanket. “Ow.”

“Morning.” His tongue darts out to soothe the dull ache.

With heavy eyelids, you crane your neck to assess the situation. His lips are slick and plump from all the kissing and biting. “Mhm. Good morning.” Yawning, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the other one cards through Leon’s hair lazily. As your grip tightens, you drop your head back to the pillow to blink away the haziness.

The sounds of his lips smacking against your skin are accompanied by the fan noises filling the room. You realize you’re no longer sweating like you were through the night, when the broken air-conditioning left you sweltering—or would have had you freezing if it were actually running. You’re confused. “AC’s working again?”

You feel him smiling against your thigh. “Yeah. Called the reception and everything.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“I’m literally in between your legs and that’s what you wanna know? Like, right now?” He nuzzles your underwear, placing a kiss on your clothed center to stress his frustration, which you reply with a startled whimper.

“First, I risked frostbite and then sweated like it was hell. Of fucking course I wanna know the reason of my suffering.”

“You didn’t suffer,” he says in a jeering tone, fingers hooking under your panties to peel them off. He’s quick to get rid of that obstructive piece of fabric. “I’d say I took pretty good care of you.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah—world’s best husband or whatever, keeps waking me up because he’s horny.”

“Hey, you said breakfast or pussy and I made my choice.”

He licks a path up from your entrance to your clit, your hips jump. He grips your thighs and slings them over his shoulders.

“I did not say that.” Words slurred, your eyes close upon the honeyed sensation.

“Something along those lines,” he mumbles, lips brushing against the sensitive little bud of nerves.

You kick the blanket off his back so he doesn’t suffocate under the heat. The slight temperature change makes your hips jerk up to his face, his morning stubble scratches the insides of your thighs deliciously. He drapes an arm across your abdomen to keep you steady. His other arm tugs on the thigh slung over his shoulder, only slightly, to make room for his head.

Two fingers brush your slit, spreading apart slowly to gain access to your most sensitive parts. It’s still a little tender and swollen that when his hot breath fans across the sensitive flesh, your legs try to shut instinctively. His hold grows stronger to remind you not to squash his head. He licks a broad swipe up your slit and looks up at you through his long lashes.

You can’t help but moan. He looks so pretty like this.

Leaning forward, he places a kiss directly on your clitoris, the soft smack sound sends a hot burn to your ears.

He parts his lips to suck your sensitive clit into his mouth, your back arches as you gasp. His plump lips pull on the taut flesh, making you writhe against the sheets. Now aware of your fist that was bunching the sheets this whole time, you let go to join it with your other hand in his hair.

He’s always liked your hands in his hair, petting it, tugging at it, pulling it to steer him to where you need him most, he loves it all. He moans as you make a mess of his soft tresses, sending jolts of vibrations up your body.

Relaxing his tight jaw with a wet pop, he quickly drops a kiss to the juncture of your thigh and begins to lap up your dripping mound like a starved man.

“Leon!” Your back arches again, hands buried in his hair pressing his face firmly between your legs. You’re not sure if he can even breathe with your thighs caging him. You don’t care, he’ll tap you if he wants to take a breather.

Blindly, the hand that keeps your slit open slides up to your chest, to push between the valley of your breasts. You clutch your palm on the back of his hand, fingers slotting between his. He squeezes his hand once. I’m alright, it means. He keeps your intertwined hands there.

His face burrows deeper into your slick, thrusting his tongue into your hole in and out. Nose pressed against your clit, he hums contentedly and starts wiggling his head, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

The gasps that fall from your lips fuel him, he drags his tongue back up to your sensitive bud, flicking up and down with only one goal in his mind.

Up and down. Suck. Up and down. Suck.

“Too much, ‘s too much!” You repeat with a shaky voice. But you are insatiable too, with the way you guide his hand to your tit, encouraging him to squeeze tight.

“I know, baby, I know. Just tell me when,” he rasps, trying to keep up with your bucking hips. Groping your breast under your pressing palm, he can’t quite reach to your shoulder to lower the straps of your top, though his fingers find your taut nipple through the fabric and start to draw circles around the pebbled peak.

His stubble burns your thighs so good it only drives you more crazy. Your droopy eyes lock with his determined ones, mouth hanging open in a silent moan, hand brushing away the hair on his forehead.

He tightens his tongue and places the tip of it right on your sensitive clit, wriggling the wet muscle in a snake-like fashion, and listens to your moans. Each roll of his tongue is a sweet torment, delivering sparks of pleasure to your quivering body.

“That’s not—ah!—that’s not fair.”

His mouth never leaving your pussy, he hums questioningly. “Mm?” The short syllable vibrates through your core, making you fussier.

What’s not fair? His hips grinding into the mattress? The hand that previously held you down now slipping under his boxers to rub his slick, swollen tip? Fairness is not even the last thing on his mind right now. He’s too drunk on your essence, happily suffocated between your legs, unaware of the fast pace his hand picks up on his cock. He’s fully pumping himself.

You also know you’re not making any sense. A hot blush warms your chest, travels up your neck to your ears, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. Your body is screaming for release, of course you don’t have any idea what you are blabbering about.

Feeling your clit pulse beneath his tongue, he waits to hear your staccato breathing, waits for the tumble of unintelligible words to fall on his ears.

“Leon, I’m… I’m—ah, fuck!”

Just before the intense wave of pleasure comes crashing down on you, he tears his mouth away from you, panting for oxygen.

“No, please,” you cry out. “Don’t be mean.”

Not wanting to deny you stimulation, he gets to work on your tit and gives it a firm squeeze for good measure before returning his fingers to your aching nipple. He toys with it, flicking, pressing down, pinching through fabric. You whine softly through it all, trying to wrap your trembling legs tighter around his head so he could return to what he was doing before.

“Please, I was about to come…”

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. I needed to breathe.” He plucks at your nipple, rolling it before returning to your sex.

This time he alternates between kitten licks and soft kisses on your clit, meant to be soothing. It feels as if he’s grazing a feather on your oversensitive, swelled up nerves. It’s so ticklish that your hips jump to chase after the phantom itch.

That’s all it takes for the overwhelming waves of pleasure to come crashing down on you. The coil in your belly snaps. Eager as ever, he presses his open and panting mouth against your cunt, moaning against the spasming flesh. Cleaning up the remnants of your climax is only a poor excuse for his lips to linger. He presses a kiss to your thigh before pulling away from between your legs, the slick coating his mouth and chin leaves your skin damp.

Taking a deep breath, he rises to sit on his knees between your thighs. Your legs drop from his shoulders. Pride fills his chest once he eyes up the litter of love-bites on your flushed skin. His doing. The rapid rise and fall of your chest. Also his doing.

Through a fucked-out smile, you say, “What? What’s so funny?”

Unaware that he’s cheesing, he shakes his head. “Nothing, honey. You look so pretty.”

“I feel nasty, though.”

He shuts you up with a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Mm… How about you?” you mumble into the kiss while ruffling his soft hair.

His hips are grinding against his hand in a faint rhythm, palm stroking up and down slowly. He huffs. “Keep spreading your legs and it won’t take long.”

Discerning the questioning raise of your brow, he swipes a thumb at the corner of your lip. “I’m not gonna put it in. I know you’re sensitive, baby. Trust me. Please?”

You wiggle a bit to open your legs further, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed because the way he kept pinning you has you feeling sores on your butt. “Yeah, okay.”

Lining himself up against your slit, he hovers his cock above your puffy cunt and keeps stroking. He groans and bucks into his hand, head falling backwards. You whimper and bunch the sheets in your fists. He looks so hot. His hair is chaotically messy, lips swollen and slick, hand working desperately on his cock. Your pussy flutters at the sight.

Eyes zeroing in on your center, he says, “Show me. Hold yourself open.”

You reach down and spread yourself for him, shamelessly displaying what he wants. Your hole clenches down on nothing upon the little stretch, pulling another groan out of him.

He’s grinning, head tilted to the side. “Fuck, that’s it. Like what you see, huh?”

You nod fast, staring at the movement between your legs. It’s captivating.

Feeling devious, you lift your hips slightly to touch your pulsing clit to his red tip, directly to his precum-coated slit. Like a featherlight kiss. It sends a pleasurable shock through your entire body, you plop down on the bed again.

“Oh shit—you…” His expression tells you he’s very close.

Gripping your thigh, he jerks himself to completion against your twitching pussy. Thick spurts of cum coat your center and belly, your thighs get to have their fair share, too.

A breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t quite believe what just happened. His gaze softens, as though clearing a daze. “I’m sorry. Let me carry you to the bathroom.”

A quiet shift lingers in the air.

He’s so silent while massaging shampoo into your hair, cocooned by your arms around his waist, water cascading over his back. His lips are set in a straight line, eyes roaming your face and coming back to meet your gaze every once in a while.

You and him, in that sacred, safe haven again.

I can hear you think. He wills you to speak without saying the words.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

His hands pause in your hair. Of what?

“The things you said at the beach yesterday… You don’t need to be scared, Leon. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” you continue.

He pulls you closer, cups the back of your neck and rests your head on his shoulder. I love you.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing your face. I miss it terribly when you’re away.” You nudge his neck with your nose.

He closes his eyes. I love you.

“Tell me a truth?” you whisper, watching the slow up and down of his Adam’s apple.

The urge to draw you even closer to himself is too strong. Come, live inside my skin—I’m yours, anyway. Instead, he opens his heavy-lidded eyes, locking his gaze with yours.

“I love you.”

With a slow and languid kiss, he seals his lips to yours, weaving your souls together in that tranquil, infinite moment.

“At times I think of human relationships as something soft like sand or water, and by pouring them into particular vessels we give them shape.”

― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

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