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“The fuck was that?” The door to the empty meeting room slams behind us as Leon slings me in behind him. When he turns to face me, all I see is fury.
“Me saving your ass? Are you joking?”
“I don't need you to do shit for me.” He sharply jabs a finger in my direction. An assignment of clear blame. I back against the shelves behind me and swallow hard.
“Were partners. Im supposed o give a shit about you– about whether or not you go on fucking suicide missions.” he opens his mouth to respond and snaps it shut after a moment, clenching a fist and looking off to the side with a frustrated growl. “What kind of fucking offers did you take before i started working with you? This kind? Where does it stop, huh? First you go and confiscate a drug. Then you-what- get framed for another murder?” I stare at him before throwing my hands up. “Youre almost 50, Leon. You've been here forever, you deserve respect. so…Does it always have to be you?”
“... I don’t… have a choice, baby.” the nickname falls from his lips like a solace. Meant to make me let my guard down. To pull down the professional fronts and face the issue as it really is– a relationship problem.
“You do. You have to.”
“You know damn well I never have.” he snaps. And I do– he had no options with the mission in Italy. With Harvardville, New York, Tall Oaks, any of it. It's taken a toll on him for sure. I, however, was faced with more choices. Escaping Raccoon with Leon was no small feat. Living there, seeing it destroyed, it was all far too much. And getting infected? That was the frosting on the cake. He ended up using one of the two cures he had acquired, the other falling to its death with that wicked Ada. Ever since then, I've been more of a case study. A lab rat. A study in the effects of the cure, both mind and body. And yet, still, I was given more autonomy than Leon.
“...im coming with you.”
“Fuck no.” that makes him turn around.
“Yes! I'm your partner. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Ive been around here a hell of a lot longer than you have, sugar, if anything you follow my commands.” he corrects. “I cant make you fucking believe me when i say im gonna be okay. I can't make you trust me– that's all you.”
“Oh fuck off! Pulling rank on me? You're serious- is that the hill you wanna die on, Kennedy?” his hands clench at his sides, his jaw twitching as he grinds his teeth. I'm under his skin. “Say it. Whatever the fuck youre thinking right now.” I demand.
“Youre relentless and you're killing me.” he hisses out. “You are staying here and i will fucking make you.” His eyes glint from under his bangs. The room is low lit- the only light being the 4 O’clock golden haze over the cityscape.
“Make me.” I repeat in disbelief. “Sometimes i cant fucking believe you. You wont even listen to-” as I speak, his lips crash to mine as he bends down to meet me, grabbing my blazer in a rough fist to pull me to him. My eyes widened for a moment before I instantly melted into the feeling. The scratch of stubble against my chin, the roughness to his kiss, the way it always seems to comfort a deep soreness in my heart. I bite his lip roughly in retaliation and he grunts, pulling back and pushing me into the table behind me. I stumble into it and push myself up to sit on the surface. His lips meet mine again, this time with a metallic cocktail of his stale breath and blood from his lip.
“This is stupid. Fucking stupid…” he mumbles to himself as he kisses me breathless. “I need you, you got that?” he pulls his face away and brings two calloused hands to my cheeks, unconsciously stroking on the purchase of my face softly. I nod simply, words swallowed by his past kiss. He pulls me back in and breathes heavily through his nose as he moves to sprinkle kisses along my neck. “S’the door locked?” I look up past the top of his head to the entrance of the meeting room.
“Yeah, it is.” he nods, his hands wandering to unbutton my blazer.
“You fuckin’ kill me with these little outfits, sweets.” he mutters this against my skin in a gentle, reverent praise. “Acting like the fuckin’ boss of me, dressed like this?” His words make the air deflate from my lungs.
“Im allowed to have a say in-”
“Just…shut up.” he grates out, hands practically dragging my blazer from my form. “Fuckkk…” he nips at my chest, leaving hickeys along my clavicle. His hand goes to his belt as my hand goes to squeeze at his hair. In response, he lets out an indignant groan of satisfaction. He practically whips his belt off with his urgency, tossing it into the growing heap of discarded clothes on the floor. “We gotta be quiet.”
“Maybe getting fired would be good.” I shrug, pulling him up to kiss me again as he grasps for purchase on my hips, waist, anywhere. “Gives us… time to be… together. And a severance package.” I quip between pecks.
“Easy for you to say.” He simply responds before pushing my legs apart gently, hands reverently dragging up and feeling me as he pushes my pinstripe pencil skirt up. I feel him hold back some words, but decide now isn't the time to press on them. He unzips his fly and his jeans sit low on his hips allowing the prominent bulge there to press against me. “You know I love hearing you, but right now is not the time. So I need you to be as quiet and discreet about this as possible for me."He directs me as he moves his fingers to hook into the waistband of my panties and pulls them down to join the wreckage on the floor. His fingers move immediately to press against my clit, walls instantly tensing around nothing at the sensation of his rough hands mixed with the cool AC. “Does arguing with me always get you this worked up?” He asks, leaning in to whisper in my ear. I gasp at the feeling of it all, grasping at his shoulders for purchase from where I am on the table. And before I can even spout a rebuttal, he's pushing his ring finger into me.
“Fuck… warn a girl first.”
“Don't act like a brat and maybe I'll consider.” At that, he starts pushing it in and out, palm resting to rub against my clit at any movement. I arch into the sensation and place my palms on his chest.
“Fuck… I swear to god, when we get home I'm g-” he pushes another finger in, this time his middle finger, and I let out a loud gasp. His hand slaps over my mouth quickly, eyes firming on mine. His jaw tenses harshly for a moment before he leans in.
“If you got us caught…” he wants dangerously, the vigor backs up his words. He scissors his fingers in and out for what feels like an hour but turns out to be two minutes. Even then, that's far too long to be gone without someone noticing us. Being two high profile agents, it's hard not to get flagged down for questions or concerns every five seconds.
“Leon…” the word bleeds into a whine rather than a reprimand as I had hoped, and he lets out a soft chuckle in response.
“Fine, fuck. Don't gotta tell me twice.” He removes his fingers from my pussy, moving to lick them off as he stares me dead in the eyes.
“We don't… have time for this.” I swallow hard at the sight despite my warning. In response, his hand goes to pull down his boxers, leaving them precariously propped on the divots of his hips where his jean’s waistband sits as well. He pulls me off the table by my ankles, planting me on kitten-heeled and shaky feet before flipping me around and pushing me onto my stomach, bent over the table. Normally he'd take his time with me– take me apart, make sure I'm a sobbing mess by the end of the night. And I try to do the same, constantly find what makes him tick, however long it takes. But right now it's reckless and wrong and so hot. And it has to happen quickly. I turn my head to where my cheek sits against the harsh and cold laminate wood of the table. His hand stays planted solid on my back between my shoulder blades. I stayed to see him from where my head lays and he lined himself up with my entrance. As I feel him push past my entrance, I cover my mouth and let out a weak cry. He grunts softly as he bottoms out, winning the battle against my body. I don't need to see him to know exactly how long it's going to take for me to ease around his length. A healthy length, but a fucking lethal girth in this position. I try to ease up around him as my cunt squeezes tight and he, of course, gives me as of his form as he tries to hold himself back from fucking me out on this table loud enough to alert the FBI. The coarse hairs at the base only served to taunt me, scratching up against the softest parts of me like they have a right to- and they do.
Once he feels me melt into him, he begins to move. Not gently, like normal. Quickly, methodically. The tip of his thick, brutal cock spearing me and still intentionally hitting against my g-spot. It's a merciless snapping of his hips, obviously eager to feel my release, to not get caught. But I can tell it also thrills him quite a bit. Mostly because it thrills me too. I guess it can be possible to learn something about someone after so long. I can definitely tell he's eager to come when I feel his hand stroke at my spine, at the arch of satisfaction, at the ripple of my ribs where the skin dimples. We’re silent for the most part; save for our coupling and the sound of his grunting every time his hips snap forward. A whispered 'oh fuck' and 'just like that' slipping from his lips in more of a muscle memory reaction to the feeling he finds washing over him than anyone else. His hand moves from my spine and moves to stroke my clit, wrapping his arm under my hip and pressing his mouth to my ear. “Fuck i love you. You trust me, right?” I attempt speaking but run the risk of simply moaning into the air like a zoo animal. So, instead, I opt to eagerly nod in agreement. “Then let go. Come for me. Fuck yeah, there she is, atta girl.” The praises fall from his lips as they always do– genuine and heartfelt, piercing through his thoughts even at the top of his arousal’s peak. I feel my orgasm crashing over me almost violently, far too sudden for me to prepare for. He lets out a low snicker in response, almost reveling in the satisfaction of the state I'm in. He kisses at my neck, nipping once or twice to make me jolt before biting roughly when he comes. He pushes himself inside, all the way to the hilt, and I jump at the feeling of being so full.
It takes a long minute for us to collect ourselves enough. He pulls out eventually and grabs some tissues from a box over on the near table under a presentation TV. He cleans himself off, awkwardly tucking himself back in before gently cleaning me up too. He helps me sit up and lean into the table, finally facing him once again. He takes a pause when he hears me giggle.
“What?” his brow furrows with genuine concern.
“Just… we're crazy. Thats all.” he processes my answer and lets out a laugh of his own.
“You look crazy. Here,” he reaches a hand up to brush his fingers through my hair and smooth it down. “Was I too rough with you?”
“Of course not. I trust you– I told you that.” he puffs out a breath in response. Now is my turn. “What?”
“Just… you say you trust me with you.”
“I do.”
“Then I need you to trust me to do my job right, Baby.” ugh, shit. He's right. I roll my eyes and look down to where my panties are thrown as I pick them up to slip them back on and smooth my skirt over.
“Okay. okay- i see your point. But you understand mine, right? This isnt… good for you. You aren't some governmental errand boy.” he bristles slightly at that, rolling his shoulders back as he tightens his belt facing away from me.
“Fine. I understand ya.”
“Good.” I nod. “So… what do we do?” He turns back to look at me as I button up the last notch on my blazer.
“We trust each other, I guess. You trust me to do my job right. I trust you to watch from the crowsnest.” he takes a pause. “And… maybe we can take more vacations or something. Go to the beach and get tan and look old and shit.” he shrugs and I let out a small, satisfied sigh.
“That sounds like a dream, Leon.” he smiles in return to my praise and moves to kiss me gently.
“Lets get back to work, kay? The last thing I need is someone nosing around our business-ugh.” he quips as he smooths out his hair and motions for me to follow him out to the hall. Even with the wrinkles and the prickish little jokes and jabs, he's still the hottest, funniest sonuvabitch to bless this wretched organization. And probably the best thing that'll happen to me.
Though, my back may not agree.