Just Can't Get Enough Part2

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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