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Two months. The greatest months of your life, even.
Two months ago, you and Leon had stopped playing will-they-or-won’t they and finally started dating.
It still felt unreal sometimes—how easily you slipped into it, as it had always been meant to happen. There was no awkward transition (well, maybe in the beginning), no sudden shift in your dynamic. Just more hand-holding, more kisses peppering your lips, and the overwhelming realization that every inside joke, every lingering touch, every word unspoken had always meant this.
And yet, some things never changed. Leon was still your best friend before anything else, the same person who made it his life’s mission to brighten yours. He still waited for you at your locker every morning and texted you goodnight even after spending the whole evening together.
Although now, when you curled into his side during movie nights, he’d press a kiss to your hair. Behind your ear, if he was feeling bold. Now, when you held his hand, he’d bring your knuckles to his lips.
In the same way his confidence skyrocketed when you befriended him all those years ago, now, your confidence has gone up since you started dating. He’d shower you with compliments (not like he hadn’t before, it was just triple the amount), help you step out of your comfort zone, and last but not least, you guys are helping each other become better people. It was like you’d taken a step forward into the sun this whole time without realizing it, and now you never wanted to step into the shade again.
It wasn’t perfect—Leon still tripped over his own feet when he got too excited, and still turned red when things got even remotely suggestive. But, in a lot of ways, nothing had changed; it was still him.
It didn’t take much explaining to your parents—they’d pretty much known you and Leon were bound to end up together eventually.
You told them both separately. It was too much to discuss during the whirlwind of their divorce, but once it was finalized and your dad had moved down the street, you filled them in. (Well, some of it. They didn’t need to know exactly when or how the two of you got together.)
Your mom just hummed, like she’d always known. Your dad, usually the skeptical one, just nodded and said, “Thought you two were already dating.”
Despite everything—the divorce, the quiet dinners with your mom or dad alone, the way you jumped from your dad’s apartment and then your house to celebrate thanksgiving, the uncomfortable silences when both your parents were in the same room—there was this: being with Leon. This felt like the one thing that hadn’t changed.
You weren’t pretending that things hadn’t shifted. The house felt emptier now. The arguments had stopped, but so had the mornings when you all sat together for breakfast.
But then, there was Leon.
And with him came comfort. His jokes, his grin, his way of pulling you out of your head without making it obvious. He was your constant.
And right now, that constant was sitting next to you in the back of the gym, his arm casually around your shoulders as you leaned into him. The warmth of his body made you feel comfortable and happy.
Every year before winter break, the school threw a sex-ed assembly. You were used to it by now. Same old lesson: a recap of ninth-grade biology, consent, pregnancy myths, STDs, all the basics.
It was nothing new—just the same lecture from the year before that, and the year before that, with a few extra scare tactics thrown in. But senior year came with one notable difference: Condoms.
They weren’t just talked about this time; they were handed out. A parting gift, courtesy of the school administration. Because nothing says ‘Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays!’ like a free sample of latex and a reminder to make responsible choices.
Leon’s baseball teammates (which to his chagrin, he called his friends) were sitting a few rows ahead, snickering and pointing at the anatomy of a penis. You glanced at them, then back to Leon, who was completely zoned in on the presentation, like it was the most riveting thing he’d ever seen in his life.
You nudged him with your elbow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Your friends are ridiculous.”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving the screen. “Yeah. They’re real gentlemen.”
You weren’t satisfied with that answer, though. He was being distant, and you weren’t about to let that slide, not when you wanted his attention.
You leaned into him more, your head resting on his shoulder as you spoke softly, just loud enough for him to hear. “You know, we’re right here. You could pay attention to me for a second.”
Leon swallowed, his fingers twitching where they rested against your arm. “I’m paying attention,” he muttered.
“To me ?” You batted your eyelashes at him.
He hesitated. His jaw clenched slightly. “To the presentation.”
You hummed, unimpressed. His eyes were still locked on the screen, refusing to waver, and that just wouldn’t do.
“You’re really into this, huh?” You shifted closer, tilting your head to watch him instead of the slideshow. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about proper condom usage.”
Leon exhaled through his nose, shifting in his seat. “Just—trying to take this seriously.”
“Mhm.” Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of his sleeve, nails skimming against his wrist. You felt him tense, his breath hitch ever so slightly. “So, if I wanted your attention, I’d have to, what? Make a slideshow?”
That earned you a glance. Just a flicker, but enough.
“You’re funny.”
“I kn ooow w!” You grinned, nudging him.
Encouraged, you took it a step further. Your hand, which had been resting lazily on his knee, slid up an inch.
“Hey,” you murmured, tone light, teasing. “Do I have consent to move my hand higher?”
Leon went rigid. His eyes darted to you, then to your hand, then immediately to the front of the room like he hadn’t just seen or heard that.
“Wh—” He cleared his throat, voice dropping lower. “What are you doing?”
You bit back a grin. “Just practicing what they’re preaching.”
Leon let out a quiet sigh as if weighing the pros and cons of entertaining this conversation.
“…I consent,” he mumbled, like he regretted it already.
“Great, yeah, good.”
With that, you spread his legs apart slightly with your hand, patting his inner thigh through his jeans.
“I have consent to do that?” you asked, barely holding back a laugh.
Leon stiffened. He gave a panicked glance around the gym, like someone might be watching, before leaning in and whispering, “Would you not say it like that?”
You blinked up at him, wide-eyed innocence. “Like what?”
He groaned under his breath, “You’re the worst.”
And yet, his hand still tightened ever so slightly around your arm, like he didn’t actually want you to stop.
“You’re paying attention to me now!” You whisper-yelled.
Leon exhaled through his nose, his jaw tensing. “Yeah, yeah. You got what you wanted.”
Shifting closer, you tilted your head slightly, letting your breath brush against his shoulder as you murmured, “Do I have your full attention?”
Leon swallowed, his fingers flexing against your arm before he forced himself to look back at the presentation, hyper-fixating on the words ‘ Abstinence is the only 100% effective method .’
“You’re gonna get us trouble for talking,” he muttered.
You grinned, satisfied. “Well, you’re already a bad influence.”
His brows furrowed. “Me? What did I do?”
You hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm. I dunno. Encouraging me to sit in your lap that one time under the bleachers? Skipping class because I said please ? Saying yes to literally anything I ask?”
Leon groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. “I need to work on saying no.”
He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers still brushing against your arm in small increments. Up and down and down and up and down again. Now, you had his full attention. You could see the humor in his eyes, even though he tried to suppress it, the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.
You knew it. You knew everything about him. After all, you had been best friends for years before dating even crossed your minds.
Before you could respond, he reached over—awkwardly, at that—to slot his hand in between your inner thigh, mimicking your movements.
You froze for half a second, caught off guard. “What are you doing?”
His expression was unreadable, but there was something smug in the way his fingers flexed slightly against the fabric of your jeans. “..Have I got consent to do that?”
Your lips parted slightly, and you tried, really tried, not to crack a smile out of sheer awkwardness. But the longer you held eye contact, the harder it was to pretend this was still a joke.
Still, you weren’t going to be the one to back down first.
You removed your hand from his thigh, keeping your expression as even as possible, and leaned back onto the wall behind you guys.
“Yeah. You have consent.” A beat. “Go higher.”
You expected him to scoff, roll his eyes, maybe shove your shoulder and move on.
Instead, his face did something weird. His smirk faltered, and for a second, he just blinked at you—like you’d completely thrown him off.
“What—what, like now? Seriously?” His voice dropped, stammering as he quickly glanced around, suddenly aware of the crowd. Like he thought you expected him to touch you. Here. In the gym. In the back of the bleachers.
You furrowed your eyebrows. “No—what?”
Leon let out a nervous huff of a laugh, though his awkwardness betrayed him. “I mean, I would, but… y’know… witnesses.”
“I’m kidding, you horndog. Get off of me.” You grabbed his index finger and lifted his hand until it dropped into his lap.
“ I’m the horndog?” He straightened his back. “We’re not even halfway through the presentation, and you’re already trying to get me to put my hand..yeah.”
Your throat dried up instantly. You weren’t even doing anything (anything wrong, you were just teasing your boyfriend to get his attention), but suddenly it felt like you were doing something you shouldn't.
“Oh, so you wanted to?” You raised an eyebrow. “I mean, if the only thing stopping you was witnesses—”
“—You started it.” He cut you off.
“You were the one getting all weird about it.”
“Weird?” He scoffed, sounding genuinely offended. “I wasn’t being weird —I was playing along!”
“Playing along weirdly. You’re a weirdo.”
He snickered, shaking his head. “No, you are. You just started feeling me up, unprovoked.”
“Was not.”
“Was t ooo o.” His sing-song voice was irritatingly smug.
You crossed your arms in defense, shooting him a glare. “I asked for consent. So.”
He leaned in close, voice dipping low. “You’re just mad I didn’t keep going.”
Your pulse jumped. When exactly did Leon Scott Kennedy get so bold? Two months ago, when you were just friends, he wasn’t like this—at least, not as confident. Apparently, being your boyfriend gave him ideas.
You gawked at him, shoving his face away with the palm of your hand. “You’re literally insane. You wanted to go higher, but witnesses stopped you.”
This whole whisper-fighting thing was embarrassing enough. But Leon? He didn’t make it easier.
He huffed, rolling his shoulders back, shaking the face push off. “You wouldn’t stop me.”
That shut you up fast. Your brain stuttered, fumbling for anything remotely clever, but nothing came out.
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
Then his voice dropped even lower, teasing and far too self-assured for your liking. “Bet you wouldn’t stop me, either.”
You sputtered, scrambling for a witty comeback. Except your mouth betrayed you with, “Like you’d even know what to do if I said yes.”
And just like that, his smirk vanished. His boldness shrunk into nervousness again, along with tinted cheeks.
Leon’s mouth opened slightly—then closed. Then opened again. Then, finally, a weak, “I’d… figure it out. Probably.”
“Probably?”
You hesitated, picking at your sleeve. “So what? You haven’t, like—”
“—I’ve done stuff , hands..” Leon cut in, suddenly very interested in the floor between his shoes. “That’s it.”
You tilted your head slightly. “Like… giving or getting?”
Leon’s fingers twitched on his lap. His voice was quiet when he answered, “Both.”
A pause stretched between you. You nodded slowly, processing the information. “Okay.”
Another beat of silence. You felt your heart thud against your ribs, the weight of it pressing in. “Me too.”
Leon’s head snapped up, eyes meeting yours like he needed to double-check if you were serious. “Like, same—both?”
You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “No, just… giving. Andrew—you remember him—” you motioned with your hands, gesturing to the other end of the gym. “He was, like, scared or… I don’t know, weirded out or repulsed by how girls worked, so he never…”
Of course he remembers him! He watched you date him before you got together.
“Oh.” Leon blinked, then cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, that makes sense.”
You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Leon corrected quickly, shifting in his seat. “I just—I dunno, I wasn’t expecting you to say that. So I didn’t know how to, um, continue.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it, clearly thinking very carefully about what to say next. “…I dunno.”
Turning his head back to the presentation, he opened his mouth again. “It was mostly over-the-pants stuff. Mostly.”
You tried to relate, tried to keep the conversation even, but you ended up exposing more than you meant to. “Yeah, we were mostly… actually, no we weren’t. I touched him. No barriers, never—” Your breath caught, realization hitting fast. “Forget that. Never mind.”
Leon inhaled sharply, and for a second, you wished you could shove the words back into your mouth. You didn’t mean to put it like that, didn’t mean to throw that image into his head. His fingers flexed against his knee, and he shifted, staring hard at the ground.
Your stomach twisted. “Not that it—” You huffed, forcing yourself to look away. “I just meant…” You tilted your head up, pausing to find your words. “I’ve never really had that line drawn for me, I guess.”
Leon was quiet for a moment before he murmured, “And he never like… set that? He never touched you?”
You shook your head, scoffing a bit. “Not the way I was touching him.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, glancing toward you before looking back at his lap. “Did you ever want more?”
The question made your stomach flip.
“I mean… I guess I did. I just—” You hesitated, fidgeting with your fingers. “It never felt like something I could ask for.”
Silence bubbled up again. You felt bad for making it so awkward.
You stammered, before speaking again. “…Um, ‘nough about me, what exactly did you do?”
“Uh… well.” He was nearly mute now, debating how much to say. “I mean, I told you. Hand stuff.”
You raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”
He sighed, shifting in his seat. “Got a handjob. I… fingered like once or twice. Kissing where kisses probably shouldn’t happen.”
You stiffened. Maybe this was a bad idea. You had no idea how he felt about you talking about this, and he had no idea how it made you feel talking about his past endeavors with his girlfriends.
Nevertheless, you still continued like the two of you were friends (which you were), and not a conversation between a nervous boyfriend and girlfriend.
“Was it good?”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your bluntness. “What?”
“The handjob. Was it good?”
He snickered, catching his breath. “Sorry—I don’t mean to laugh, I just remembered something. The sensation was really overwhelming at the time, so I, uh, pushed her away from it .”
“It?” You hummed, mulling it over.
His laughter dissipated a little as he turned to face you, his expression softening. “It wasn’t bad, I just overthought it a lot. Felt like I was taking forever, you know? Wondering if she was getting bored or whatever.”
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I never told you about it before ‘cause it just felt like something we were supposed to do, like it was expected. Not that I didn’t want to, but, uh… yeah. You know?”
You could tell he was trying to make sense of it, and even if it felt awkward, you appreciated how honest he was being.
“I get it,” you said softly, the corners of your mouth lifting slightly. “It’s like… sometimes things just happen because they're like expected in a relationship, not because you really want them, right? I get why you’d feel like that.”
Leon’s gaze softened, the weight of his words hanging between you both. “Exactly. It was like… just part of the thing, you know? But I’ve never really stopped to think about it, not until now.”
You gave him a small smile. “Well, I’m glad we’re talking about it now.”
He looked at you, really looked at you. Almost starstruck. He shook his head, snapping back to the present moment.
“..Yeah, I guess so. It’s… weird, but good weird. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about what I wanted, not like this. Maybe that’s why it never felt… right?”
The lights in the gymnasium flicked on, scalding everyone’s eyes, interrupting your conversation.
“Okay everyone!” The guest speaker clasped their hands together, thanking everyone for their time.
A staff member took the mic. “Alright, everyone! Before you leave, please come down and grab a few resources—there are pamphlets, and yes, free condoms. Be safe, be smart! Happy Holidays!”
You and Leon stood up as people started filing out of their seats, making their way down the bleachers.
Taking his pinky, intertwining it with yours, you started speaking.
“Should we—?” Not sure if you wanted to get in line for condoms. “I mean, are we gonna…anytime soon?” You trailed off.
Leon squeezed your pinky with his. “We’re getting them for—they’re free!” he muttered, “This is just… precautionary.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
When you reached the bottom of the bleachers, you were met with the sight of the crossing guard, who stood holding a box of condoms. You couldn’t help but notice how Leon froze slightly when the guard’s gaze met his.
“Morning, Leon!” the crossing guard greeted.
“Uh—hey,” Leon stammered, still a little caught off guard by the guard. His free hand moved and grabbed a pair of condoms, his fingers brushing against the foil as he fumbled, tucking the two into his back pocket.
“Bye now!” Leon stammered. He didn’t have to say that. He made the interaction ten times more awkward than it had to be.
As you both began to walk away, Leon took the condoms out of his pocket, handing one to you. “Every day. I say good morning to Mr. Abernaski every day. He’s been helping me cross the street since 5th grade.”
“You looked like a deer caught in headlights back there.” You teased.
Leon rolled his eyes but didn’t seem all that annoyed. “Shut up. I wasn’t ready for him to look at me like that. I’ve known him since I was like 9. I can’t just—” He waved his hand dismissively, like trying to shake off the awkwardness. “It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”
“I mean, it was kinda funny,” you said, smirking. “But yeah, I get it.”
The two of you walk outside the gym, standing by the side of the door as your classmates file out the doors.
“So, uh,” he started, glancing down at you, “if we… well, if we ever do this, like really do this…”
“Thought you said these were precautionary, Kennedy.”
Leon let out a frustrated sigh. “I said precautionary, not never gonna happen ,” he countered, voice dropping a little lower. “Just want to be prepared.”
You felt your face grow hot at his words, the implication hitting you harder than you expected.
Your stomach flipped. Not never gonna happen.
Your brain latched onto that phrasing, rolling it over again and again. Not never gonna happen.
Your lack of words made him second guess himself, and he opened his big fat mouth again.
Leon must’ve noticed the way you hesitated, because he immediately started backpedaling. “Didn’t mean to make it sound all official,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… figured we should talk about it. Y’know, before it happens. Or if it happens. Or whatever.”
“Yeah, talking, um,” You trail off, not sure exactly where to continue with this. “So you’ve.. thought about it? Like, of us? ”
Thought about it?
Yes. Yes. God, yes.
Had he thought about it? He lived in it. Every glance you threw his way, every laugh you pressed into his shoulder, every moment you curled up beside him—it wrecked him.
And yeah , he’d thought about it.
Like last week, when you’d laid on his bed for hours, tangled together, talking about nothing and everything. When you’d sighed into his mouth as he deepened a kiss, and it took everything in him not to pull you closer, not to let his hands wander, not to push just a little further—just to see if you’d let him.
That night, he went to bed with the ghost of your touch burned into his skin. Closed his eyes, and you were right there—warm and soft and perfect beneath him. His hand moved before he could stop himself, stroking slowly, desperately, his forehead pressed into the pillow you’d just laid on, breathing in your scent, muffling your name as it spilled from his lips like a prayer.
No matter how hard he tried to shove the thoughts away, they always crept back in. Slow, insistent. His hands would wander down south, his breath would hitch, and eventually, the evidence of his longing—his frustration, his need—would stain his boxers. Your name would slip from his lips again and again, over and over and over.
How was he supposed to stop himself from wanting you? More than a want—a hunger so consuming it made his head spin. More than his hands shaking with restraint every time you touched him. More than the ache buried deep in his stomach every time he pulled away before he could go too far.
He hated himself for it. Not for wanting you—never for that—but for the fear that if you knew, if you really knew how often his mind drifted to the thought of you—how often his body ached for you—you’d think less of him. That you’d see him as desperate, or worse, someone who only wanted one thing.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
He wanted you. All of you. The way you laughed at his bad jokes, the way your fingers laced so perfectly with his, the way your voice softened when you said his name. He wanted to hold you, to learn every shape and curve that made up the person he adored—to be close to you in every way two people could be.
So instead, he forced a shrug, kept his voice even. “I mean… yeah. I have.” A pause, then, because he needed to clarify. “Not in a creepy way! Just—y’know. We’ve been together for a while now, and I think about the future and stuff, and… I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page.”
That was good, right? Normal? Reasonable? Not at all an indicator that he spent half his nights burying his face in your pillow, breathing in your scent as he fucked his fist.
You were still looking at him, and he was pretty sure he was sweating.
“Right, um, yeah,” you said, nodding. “That makes sense.”
Did it? He hoped so. Because if you knew even a fraction of what was going on in his head right now, he’d drop dead on the spot.
“Right. I should be getting to class now. Love you, I’ll see you at lunch?” He murmured, kissing your forehead.
You nodded, murmuring a quick, “Love you too,” before turning on your heel, legs carrying you down the hallway in the direction of your class.
The moment you were out of sight, you let out a breath, barely registering the chatter of students around you. Your heart was beating too fast.
Leon had thought about it. About you. About being with you like that. About the two of you.
That shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. He was your boyfriend, after all, and you weren’t naïve enough to think a teenage boy didn’t have those kinds of thoughts. Hell, you knew he did—you’d seen the way his hands twitched sometimes when they rested on your waist, the way he’d pull back just a little too fast after kissing you, as if keeping himself in check.
But still, hearing it from him—knowing that he’d thought about it, that little ‘ never not gonna happen’ comment…
You almost missed your classroom entirely. You barely noticed the way your feet moved, completely missing the teacher stepping out of a classroom in front of you until you almost walked straight into them.
“—whoa, hey, watch it.”
You jerked back so fast you nearly stumbled, hands flying up in some pathetic show of defense. “Shit—” You pivoted last second, stepping aside just in time. “Sorry! Sorry!”
They barely spared you a glance before moving past as you finally entered your classroom.
You found your seat, but your mind still hadn’t settled on a singular thought.
It started slow and innocent, at first.
You would be thinking about the way Leon kissed you; how good he felt pressed against you when you sat on his lap. How good it felt when the two of you made out, his hands warm and firm against your back. How his breath would hitch when you shifted just a little too much, how his grip would tighten. You had noticed it back when you first started dating, and it was flattering to see his reaction every time.
Then there were the little things. The way he’d play with the hem of your sweater, tugging at the fabric, debating whether to slip his hand beneath it. Sometimes he would just run his hands up and down your torso.
Or even the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing against your jaw. The way his lips would linger just a second longer than they needed to when he kissed your cheek, or how sometimes, when he was really tired, he’d mumble something against your skin—nothing coherent, just the feeling of his voice vibrating against you.
So yeah, sometimes you’d let your mind wander, let yourself imagine what it’d feel like if he touched you differently.
And then, one night, your hands had wandered, too.
You’d thought about him between your thighs, about how those hands—so careful, so strong—would feel against your bare skin. You’d imagined the weight of him, the warmth, the sound of his voice right against your ear, low and breathless, telling you how good you felt.
You’d touched yourself to the thought of him before, let your own fingers trace the places you wished he would. Let yourself imagine how he’d react, how he’d sound.
The thought alone made your breath hitch, and you pressed your knees together under your desk, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of your body.
You squeezed your eyes shut, counting to five. This was insane. You were insane. You’re embarrassing.
—-
By the time lunch rolled around, you were more than ready for a break. As soon as you stepped into the hallway, there he was—leaning against the lockers outside your classroom like always, hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. When he saw you, his face lit up with that easy, familiar smile, and just like that, things felt normal again.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for your hand.
You took it without hesitation. “Hey yourself.”
It was natural, the way your fingers laced together, the way he pulled you along toward the cafeteria.
The line moved quickly, and soon enough, the two of you had your trays and made your way to your usual table—just the two of you, like it had always been.
Leon sighed as he plopped down, pushing his food around without much interest. “Wanna come over after school?”
You didn’t even look up as you stabbed your juice box open. “No.”
He blinked. “What? Why not?”
“I’ve been at your house all week.”
“So?”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “S ooo o? So, you should come over.”
Leon made a face. “Your mom’s gonna be home, though.”
“Your mom’s always home, so that doesn’t make for a good excuse.” You stabbed at your fruit cup with a plastic fork. “Anyways, she won’t. She has a date.”
His brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just nodded.
You pressed on. “I don’t like your mom’s new boyfriend—what’s his name? Danny?—and his weird dog anyway. It slobbers everywhere.”
“They’re not dating,” Leon muttered, taking a bite of his burger.
“They so are.”
“They aren’t .”
“Then why is he always over?”
Leon mumbled something under his breath and focused way too hard on his fries.
You smirked, nudging his leg under the table. “Come over,” you pressed.
Leon chewed for a moment, considering, before exhaling through his nose. “Fine. What are we eating?”
“Chinese.”
That got his attention. His gaze lifted from his tray, eyes glinting with interest. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“Get the spring rolls.”
You raised a brow. “Since when do you care about spring rolls?”
“Since I always eat yours.”
“You steal mine.”
“Same thing.”
You rolled your eyes, huffing, but you were already making a mental note to order extra.
Leon rested his elbow on the table, absently twirling a fry between his fingers. “You gonna see your dad this weekend?”
You hesitated, then shrugged. “Probably not. He’s visiting my grandparents.”
Leon leaned back in his seat, lips quirking slightly. “Good. Then we can go Christmas shopping.”
You blinked at him. “You haven’t gone Christmas shopping yet?”
Leon scoffed. “I got yours.”
Your stomach did a stupid little flip, but you ignored it, tilting your head. “Yeah? What’d you get me?”
“Not telling.”
“Coward.”
He smirked. “You’ll live.”
“Well, good. Because I already got yours.”
A gift basket. You had been planning it since thanksgiving. A cologne he’s been wanting, snacks, a memory card for his DS, amongst many other trinkets.
His smirk grew into a full grin, clearly pleased with himself. “Guess I’m not as behind as I thought.”
You rolled your eyes. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re last-minute shopping for everyone else.”
He shrugged, unbothered. “That’s what you’re here for. Help me pick something decent.”
You shook your head with a sigh, hiding a small smile as you took another bite of food. “Fine. I’ll help you shop. But only because I don’t trust you to pick out something decent for your mom.”
“Please. I have amazing taste.”
“You have awful taste.”
He nudged your foot under the table. “Yeah? Then why are you dating me?”
You rolled your eyes but felt the warmth crawl up your neck anyway. “Beats me.”
His mouth was stuffed, and you took this opportunity to tease him more. “I mean… I guess I could spare a day with you. Wouldn’t be so bad.”
Through mouthfuls, he began to speak. “Shut up, you know you want to.”
“Ew, Leon! Chew with your mouth closed!”
He obliged.
“I don't think I could last a whole day with you. Sounds exhausting.”
Swallowing, he scoffed, nudging your foot under the table. “Yeah, okay. Like you wouldn’t miss me if we didn’t hang out for a day.”
You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to grin. He wasn’t wrong. “Guess you’ll never know.”
Leon narrowed his eyes playfully. “I could just cancel.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… depends. Are you gonna be nice to me yet?”
“I’m so nice. I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He took his backpack off the seat and moved it atop the table, taking out the homework he was supposed to do the night before. “So… wanna go to the parade on Monday, then?”
You hummed, pretending to think it over. “Mmm… I guess I could spare another day with you.”
“Lucky me.”
The next 25 minutes passed with you half-explaining the homework while Leon scribbled things down, nodding like he totally understood (even though you knew he’d probably ask you about it again later). He kept getting distracted, tapping his pencil against the table, drumming his fingers against your wrist when you weren’t paying attention.
“Seriously, how did you make it through the semester without a tutor?” you asked, shaking your head as you erased one of his half-assed answers.
“I work better under pressure.”
“You don’t work at all.”
Before he could argue, the bell rang. Leon groaned, dragging a hand down his face before shoving his stuff back in his bag.
“I swear, this class is gonna be the death of me,” he muttered.
“You’ll live.”
“I’ll die.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. “You’re so dramatic.”
Just as you turned to leave, Leon leaned in, and for a second, you thought he was going for a kiss on the lips. Your breath caught, your body moving on instinct, just about to meet him halfway—
But instead, he pressed a soft kiss just below your jaw, right where your neck curved. His lips barely lingered before his tongue darted out in a quick flick.
Your entire body locked up.
Heat exploded under your skin, the shock of it spreading down your spine, pooling low in your stomach.
Leon pulled back, lips curling into a grin. “What? Did that freak you out?”
You blinked at him, mind scrambling. You should be grossed out. That’s what he was expecting. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Just messing around, trying to get a reaction out of you.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like that .
You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of it. “Uh, yeah. That was gross. Don’t do that.”
Leon just laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he steered you down the hall. “No promises.”
You huffed, but you didn’t push him away.
You definitely didn’t push him away.
—-
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
You saw Leon again after school, right where you always met up—by your locker, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world.
“Ready?” he asked, tone casual, like he hadn’t spent lunch tormenting you.
“Yeah.”
“The Chinese place is closer to my house,” Leon said as you stepped outside together.
You squinted at him. “And?”
He sighed like he had to spell it out for you. “So, let’s just go to my house.”
“Oh my gosh, Leon, why now?”
“We’ll get there faster. And we can see if Daniel and his gross dog are there before you start complaining and hating.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t complain. I don’t hate.”
“Mmkay.”
You huffed. “Fine, I don’t tolerate Daniel, but only because he acts like we’re siblings when he’s literally seen us kiss.”
Leon shrugged. “Maybe he’s in denial.”
“Or stupid,” you muttered. “And his dog is just as bad. He drools everywhere, and he won’t stop licking me—it’s disgusting.”
“Oh yeah? It’s gross?” He snickered.
“Yes, it’s gross and I’d prefer if we just went to my house—”
Leon’s wet tongue slid across your cheek before you could finish your sentence.
You shrieked, recoiling. “Ewwww, what the hell was that?!”
Leon burst out laughing. “Oh, my bad—is that gross?”
You wiped your cheek with your sweater sleeve aggressively. “You’re so disgusting, oh my gosh—!”
Still frowning, you crossed your arms. “Maybe I shouldn’t come over. I’ll just see you this weekend.”
Leon’s face fell instantly. “Nooo, wait—” He reached for your wrist, tugging you along before you could really argue. “I’m sorry—! I’m sorry, okay? It was a bad joke.”
You stared. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh, because it was actually quite funny. Endearing, even.
“Look, my house is right here, and—” He gestured toward the driveway. “No cars. Only mine. See? Let’s just check if my mom left a note. I like your house, but mine is the hangout spot, so c’mon.”
You sighed, letting him pull you up the steps. “Whatever.”
Inside, Leon beelined for the kitchen counter, where sure enough, a sticky note was stuck to the fridge.
Went out with Daniel, won’t be home until late. Clean the living room. If Missy comes over, here’s $20 for food.
Leon plucked the bill from beneath the magnet and turned to you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re staying.”
You snatched the bill from his hands with an eye roll. “Whatever.”
Your eyes flicked to the note again, specifically the way his mom had written Missy, with a smiley face next to it, like it was your actual name.
It wasn’t new—she’d been calling you that for years, since the day you met her. You never minded it. Actually, you loved it. It had always felt like a sign of affection, that you had always belonged in Leon’s world.
“I love your mom. So sweet,” you told him.
After all, you’d spent hours in her car waiting for Leon to finish his haircut, and more than a few tearful chats in her living room about everything from English essays to the weight of your parents’ divorce.
Leon glanced at you, eyebrows slightly raised. “Yeah? She says that too. About you, I mean—”
“I know what you mean.” You cut him off, opening the fridge like you owned the place, grabbing a Capri-Sun. “Didn’t she say something about… cleaning? Get to it.”
“God, you’re so bossy.” He huffed, turning to the living room, just a few feet away from the kitchen. “ As I was saying , she loves you too, and she says it took us long enough to get together.”
You shrugged, nonchalant. “I mean, she’s the one who actually listens when I’m losing it over something dumb or whatever.”
“So what am I? I listen.”
“A nuisance.”
Leon scoffed, tossing a throw pillow onto the couch before looking over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. A nuisance who’s about to put you to work if you don’t help me clean.”
You sipped your Capri-Sun, unbothered. “I don’t recall making a mess in your house.”
“You’re in it all the time, so by default, it’s your problem too.”
You rolled your eyes but pushed off the counter anyway, meandering over to the living room while Leon adjusted a framed family photo on the wall. A five year old Leon, his mom, his grandparents and his dad. Taken before his own parents divorce, presumably.
His mom had a habit of moving things slightly off-center whenever she dusted, and Leon had a habit of pretending it didn’t bother him. It absolutely did.
“She actually said that, though?” you asked after a beat.
Leon glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“That it took us long enough.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s been saying it in her head for years. I think she wanted us to get married since like, fifth grade.”
“Cool. Love her even more now.” You stretched your arms above your head, rolling your shoulders. “You should order it now, so it’ll be here in, like, twenty minutes.”
Leon nodded, walking over to the house phone. “Yeah, yeah.” He tapped the buttons a few times, then grabbed a notepad and a pen from the counter. “Okay, what’re we getting?”
It didn’t take long to come up with a list. Two orders of spring rolls, orange chicken, shrimp, fried and steamed rice (due to Leon’s weird aversion to peas), broccoli beef, and chow mein.
“Think that’s enough? Maybe more?” you teased, watching as he read the order back.
Leon shot you a look. “Do you want me to get stronger or not?”
You laughed right in his face. “For baseball?”
“For you,” he corrected, smirking as he tapped the pen against the notepad. “I mean, sure, baseball too, but mostly you. Gotta bulk up since you’re getting prettier by the minute. Can’t have my girlfriend walking around without a strong, reliable guy by her side.”
You both knew it was because of his black hole of a stomach. How boys eat so much, you’ll never know.
“Oh, obviously.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m serious,” he said, grinning. “I’m gonna be a cop before you know it. Gotta be ready for anything.”
He picked up the house phone from the cradle, making the order, only for his brows to furrow and his face to drop after the call ended.
“What happened?”
He mumbled. “Some bullshit. They said it’s gonna take 45 minutes to get here, ‘cause they’re on break. God, that’s so, just, so stupid.”
Someone was hangry. You tried not to laugh. You bit the inside of your cheek, your lip, just to not twitch into a smile.
“You’ll live.”
“Ugh, forty- five minutes. What are we supposed to do ‘til then?”
You shrugged. “Finish your homework?”
Leon made a face. “..Try again.”
“Hmm.” You pretended to think it over. “We could.. make out?”
He perked up immediately, grabbing your wrist as he led the way to his room, the stairs that you’ve been running up so frantically all your life. “See? That’s a good idea.”
It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing, making out with Leon.
It was just something you did now; one of the many new additions to your friendship-turned-relationship. It had become as natural as bickering over movie choices or stealing food off each other’s plates.
It’s funny, really. A couple of days before you’d even figured out you liked each other, he’d told you that he’d be a great teacher if you ever wanted to learn how to French kiss. Looking back, that might’ve been a hint. A horrible, terrible one.
But, well—you made it to that point anyway. And he was a great teacher.
The second you made it up the stairs, he took you by the waist and turned you around, pressing you against the door.
Trying to reach for the doorknob behind you was useless, he already had his lips latched onto yours.
“Okay, Leon.” You managed to mumble inbetween kisses.
“‘eah?”
“Let me open the door,” You said, turning your head to push it open. You stumbled in, along with Leon as he still had a grasp on you.
As Leon pushed the door closed behind him and knocked off his shoes, you glanced around, only for your eyes to land on something unusual.
On the wall, near his desk, hung a calendar—just an ordinary one, you’ve seen it a million times before—except for the bold, messy scribble across a date near the end of the month: “My beautiful GIRLFRIENDS 18th birthday.”
Your name was striked out and replaced with girlfriend , a bunch of red-inked hearts around it. Cute.
You unlaced your shoes, sitting down on the bed, not moving your eyes from the calendar. “Nice,” you called out, grinning.
Leon paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “What?”
“Your calendar,” you teased, nodding toward it.
“Oh.” He looked like a deer caught in headlights as he shrugged off his jacket. “Um, yeah, so..”
Leon cleared his throat, a bit flustered now. “Well, it’s, uh… special, y’know? You’re gonna be 18 soon. Thought it deserved a little extra attention.”
You snorted, amused by his awkwardness. “Uh-huh.”
He shuffled toward you, his gaze lingering on your lips for a moment before he dropped down on the bed next to you. “I just want everything to be perfect. I mean, it’s kind of a big deal, right? You’re an old lady now,”
“Yeah, yeah, shaddup.”
Leon inched closer, his hand brushing against yours, and then slowly, he brought his other hand to your waist, pulling you a little closer. “I wanted to make it special for you,” he murmured, eyes softening. “Got'cha so many gifts, you don’t even know.”
You couldn’t resist the pull. Slowly, you let him bring you into him, your lips just inches from his. Pressed against yours.
“Mm,” He hummed as he kissed you. When he pulled away for a breather, he asked: “What chapstick are you wearing?”
“..Coke Lip Smacker.”
Leon blinked, lips still a little red from your chapstick residue. “Can I have some?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” You reached into your pocket, feeling around for the small tube, completely missing the way his expression shifted.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he dipped his head onto your shoulder, sighing dramatically as his arms tightened around your waist.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, rolling your eyes.
It seems you didn’t get the fact that he wanted to kiss some more.
“I was trying to get you to kiss me.” he said, muffled against your shoulder. “Can’t believe you really tried to hand me the chapstick.”
You shoved him lightly, but he only laughed harder, his grip on you unwavering. And despite yourself, you laughed too.
“I’m done with you,” you said, clearly over it, but also not really over it at all, considering how your lips found their way back to his. You kissed him, softer this time, but when you pulled back, you didn’t waste any time kissing his jawline, his neck.
Leon let out a low groan, breath hitching at the featherlight kisses you were leaving on his skin. “Okay, my turn.”
You didn’t even have a chance to react before Leon’s lips were back on yours, pulling you in closer, hands moving to the back of your neck, guiding you into him. He kissed you with more urgency now, his mouth hot and demanding against yours.
“Leon,” you mumbled, gaining some semblance of rationality. “Slow down, okay? I don’t want hickeys. What if someone sees?”
Before you could protest more, his lips were back on your neck, kissing a trail that made it hard to think straight. It was easy to melt into him like this, easy to forget about everything else when his lips moved like that, but you still had enough sense to push lightly at his shoulder again.
“Seriously, stop,” you mumbled, breathless. “I don’t want to try to explain that to anyone.”
Leon barely pulled away, lips hovering just over your pulse point. “I’ll go lower, then.”
Flirt. Perv. Tease. He’ll chicken out. He won’t.
You scoffed. “Such a gentleman.”
He grinned, sounds vibrating against your neck. “You love it.”
You did. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of hearing it, though. Instead, you held the nape of his neck, pulling him atop you.
He practically caged you in. “Are we gonna kiss or keep staring?”
You pulled him in again, lips slotting together, moving in sync like second nature now. His hands roamed, gripping your waist, your back, your hips—anywhere he could touch, pulling you flush against him as he settled between your legs.
And then he moved.
It wasn’t intentional at first—just an instinct, a simple roll of the hips, an unconscious reaction to how good it felt being this close to you. But once he realized it, once he caught onto the friction, the warmth, the way your body responded to him, he did it again.
And again.
And again.
And it wasn’t intentional the way you rolled your body against his. It was a instinct—but the moment he felt it, the moment you let out the faintest little sound, it was like something in him short-circuited.
Leon was struggling—his brain frying between wanting to take this slow, to keep it controlled, stop dry-humping like dogs , and wanting more, to just let go. His hands twitched against you, his movements growing needier without him even realizing it, without either of you realizing it—until suddenly, the pressure, the heat, the sheer frustration of it all got to be too much.
It didn’t hit you that the two of you weren’t even making out anymore, just dry humping each other through the layers of clothes you had on.
Leon let out a breathless laugh, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder. “Oh my God.”
You started laughing too, gripping at his sides as he shifted against you, trying to get comfortable, but failing completely. “Okay—okay. Stop. Time out.”
You burst into giggles, breathless and giddy from how stupid this was, how ridiculously good it felt despite the layers of denim between you.
Leon hovered over you, his breathing uneven, his forehead still pressed lightly against yours. The space between you was nearly nonexistent—just the soft tickle of his breath against your lips, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Every inch of your body felt hyperaware, tuned into the way he felt, the way he looked at you.
Every time Leon looked at you, there was a certain softness in his eyes you could only see when he was looking at you. It had been there since the moment you met.
His lips were still close enough that if you shifted, even just a little, they’d brush against yours again. Your hands curled at the back of his neck, fingertips tracing slow, absentminded patterns.
It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about sex before. You had. Maybe not in explicit detail ( yes you have, don’t lie to yourself ), but… you’d thought about it. About this. About him.
Your lips parted slightly as you took a slow breath, trying to find the words, trying to ask the question without feeling like your face was going to burst into flames. Without feeling like you might die and be burned at the stake just for asking.
“Do you… um—do you wanna..?”
Leon blinked, his lips parting, his fingers tightening just slightly where they rested against your waist. He didn’t answer right away. He swallowed, cleared his throat. “I—” He let out a quiet, nervous laugh, shaking his head.
“Yeah! I—I mean, yeah. If you—” Another pause, and then, almost like a reassurance to himself, he added, “I mean, we still have the condoms.”
You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head, your heart thumping against your ribs. Of course he understood you. Just from a few little words, a hesitation, a look. Much like when you first started dating. Much like your whole friendship. It was one of the perks of dating your best friend.
Your stomach did a little flip, heat creeping up the back of your neck. “Right.”
His eyes searched yours, as if trying to read your thoughts before you could even say them. “So… do you…?”
You nodded, swallowing. “Do you?”
His jaw clenched for half a second before he nodded, his voice more certain despite the slight edge of nerves. “Yeah.” He swallowed again. “Yeah, if it’s okay with you.”
Leon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, something shifting in his expression—relief, maybe, or something deeper, something warmer. His thumb traced slow circles against your hip, grounding, gentle. “We can stop anytime,” he murmured. “Whenever, however. Just say the word.”
You nodded. “Same goes for you.”
“You should say umm,” He straightened, getting off of you, giving you space to prop yourself on your elbows. “Say.. as if! ” In his girliest voice possible. “You like that movie, right?”
“Shut up, stupid,” you snickered, eyeing him as he patted his pockets.
“No, really! If you wanna stop, just say ‘as if!’ in your best valley girl voice.”
“Not happening.”
“C’mon, it’s perfect.” He whined, before waddling over to his sweater. “Fuck— where did I leave it?” He reached into the front pocket. “Here, I got it.”
He tossed it onto the bed, about to crawl into it with you again before he opened his mouth again.
“Should I get a candle?—do you want one?”
“Uh— not really, not now—“
“Or uh, music , should I play music?”
“…No?”
Leon nodded quickly. “Right. No music. Got it.”
You watched as he hesitated for a second, his eyes flicking to the condom like he wasn’t sure what to do with it before glancing back at you. You were already unzipping your sweater, shrugging it off before tugging at your long sleeve, working it over your head.
Leon swallowed hard. “Jesus.”
Your face burned under his gaze. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” He grinned, still nervous but trying to play it cool. His hands twitched slightly as he settled between your legs, hovering over you.
“Like you’ve never seen a girl before.”
“I haven’t,” he said dramatically, then softened a little. “Not like this. Not you like this .”
You rolled your eyes, but the way he said it made your stomach flip. Heat at the back of your neck as you tossed your long sleeve aside, leaving you in just your bra and jeans.
Leon, as if realizing he needed to catch up, reached for the hem of his own shirt and yanked it over his head. The fabric got stuck for a second, and he wrestled with it, cursing under his breath. You laughed as he finally freed himself, shaking his hair back into place before shooting you a playful glare.
“There,” he huffed, tossing his shirt to the side. “Even the playing field.”
You took half a second to wonder when he was ever gonna stop with his one-liners.
His hands twitched at his sides, like he wasn’t sure if he should reach for you or not. You decided for him, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tugging him closer.
You tugged at his jeans, a not-so-subtle hint. “Come on.”
“Right. Yeah. Pants.” He nodded like he was reminding himself of basic human function, then fumbled with his belt. He got it undone quick enough, but when he went to shove his jeans down, they stuck at his thighs.
You bit your lip, watching him struggle for a second.
“Little help?” he huffed, kicking at them.
You giggled, sliding your hands down to push them the rest of the way off. He just about fell over getting them off his ankles.
Leon’s hands found your jeans next, fingers a little clumsy but determined. He popped the button open, slid the zipper down, then hesitated.
“You gotta lift your hips,” he muttered, voice a little strained.
You did, and he dragged them down, his hands warm against your legs as he got them off.
“God,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “You’re so pretty.”
Your cheeks burned, but before you could even think of a response, he kissed you again. His hands found your waist once more, his thumbs stroking over your bare skin as he pulled you just a little closer.
“You okay?” he murmured.
You nodded, barely a breath away from his lips. “Yeah. You?”
He exhaled a quiet laugh, one that made his chest rise and fall against yours. “Yeah. Just… Jesus, I really like you.”
“I would hope so, considering—”
Leon groaned. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
You giggled, hands sliding down his back, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. “Okay, okay. I’ll be serious.”
Leon’s fingers skimmed up, brushing along the strap of your bra.
“You can take it off,” you mumbled, feeling the heat rush to your face at your own words.
He nodded, swallowing hard, and his hands—shaking only slightly —worked at the clasp. It took a second, but eventually, the fabric went slack, and he slid it off your shoulders, eyes flickering over you like he didn’t know where to look first.
“Holy shit,”
Your cheeks flushed, heat creeping up your neck. “You’re staring.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, blinking a little, his voice rough. “Yeah, I am.”
Blood thrummed in your ears, the rush of sensation drowning out everything else. It was all heat—your body, your breath, the way you grew wetter with each passing second, the feeling of being so exposed.
One of his hands slid higher, fingers barely grazing over your chest before he pulled back slightly, searching your expression. “This okay?”
You nodded, heart hammering so fast you were scared it might pop out. “Yeah.”
He exhaled, almost like he’d been holding his breath, and then his touch grew bolder, for sure, his palm cupping your breast fully. He dipped down to kiss you again, massaging your chest as he did, his thumb rubbing against your nipple.
You had to physically stop yourself from grinding against his thigh, his knee, whatever was making the mattress dip lower under his weight.
You broke the kiss, moving upward. “Fuck, Leon, I—“
“Hm? Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect, I just..” you trailed off, too panicked to finish your sentence.
His other hand moved from your back, over the curve of your stomach, to the waistband of your underwear.
Lower.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice hushed, breathless, his palm resting lightly on top of your soaked underwear, just a thin barrier between his hand and your core.
Your pulse raced, blood thundering in your ears, drowning out everything but the heat building inside you. You found it hard to focus, but you managed a nod.
“Gotta hear you say it. You gotta say you consent.” He teased, referencing earliers presentation.
“God—I consent, just, please .”
The words rushed out of you before you even had a chance to process them, a desperate plea that you never expected to come from your own mouth. Your face flushed with heat, mentally slapping yourself as the realization hit you. You almost wanted to laugh at yourself, at how needy you sounded, but the second you caught that glint of rawness in Leon’s eyes, you swallowed the urge.
“..okay.” He swallowed, his Adam apple bobbing. “Lift your hips for me, yeah?
You blinked, unsure if the rush of warmth in your body was from embarrassment or something much more primal. Leon took a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours, as he carefully nudged your legs apart.
“Shame they’re coming off, it’s a really nice pair too.”
Here, you thought he was gonna take off his own underwear and get to it. Instead, he got on both knees, leaving you completely naked lying on the bed.
You propped yourself up on your elbows. “What’re you—“
“…Wanted to do this for so long, it's insane.” His voice was rough, almost trembling, before he pressed a feather-light kiss to your clit, the feeling so gentle it took everything in you not to moan.
But you did squeak.
Leon’s hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart gently, his touch both firm and tender as he kissed his way along your inner thighs, just inches away from where you ached for him. You gasped, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin, and your back arched involuntarily.
His tongue moves again, gliding over your most sensitive spot (he found that your moans changed pitches when he was there) and your hands fly to his hair, tugging him closer. You’re sure you're saying obscenities. You can’t hear your thoughts over your own breathing.
He stops.
He stops?
“I don’t really know what I’m doing. Does it feel good?”
It takes you a second to process his words, your mind hazy, body still buzzing from his mouth. Does it feel good? Your hips are practically chasing after him, your fingers gripping his hair like a lifeline—so yeah, you’d say it feels good.
“ Fuck , yes,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut as heat coils in your stomach. You can’t even be embarrassed by how needy you sound. “It feels so good.”
His hands tighten around your thighs as he leans back in, pressing another kiss to your pussy before flattening his tongue against you.
Your head falls back instantly, a drawn-out moan slipping from your lips. He groans against you, like your reaction alone is enough to get him off, and the vibrations send another wave of pleasure straight through you.
He’s still figuring it out—his movements a little messy, very eager—but that only makes it better. He’s not just doing this to do it. He wants to. Wants you.
Then, his tongue flicks against your clit, and a sharp gasp punches out of your lungs. You tug at his hair on instinct, and he grunts, gripping your thighs even tighter. Your hands move to the sheets instead, grabbing fistfuls of fabric because if you don’t, you might actually pull his hair out.
“Fuck—” His voice is muffled against you, but you feel the smirk on his lips. “Think I’m getting the hang of it.”
And then he does it again, dragging his tongue over your folds just right, and any response you had dies on your tongue, replaced by a whine.
His lapping grows more sure, more deliberate, his newfound confidence sending a fresh shudder through you. He hums against you—whether it’s in satisfaction or pure enjoyment, you’re not sure—but the vibration makes you arch into his mouth.
He likes this. Really likes this.
The realization seems to hit him at the same time. He groans lowly in his throat, shifting slightly, pressing himself into the mattress like he’s trying to ease the ache between his legs without even thinking about it. His grip on you tightens, his nails digging into your skin just a little, holding on for dear life.
“Jesus—” He pulls back just enough to breathe, his lips shiny with your slick and his saliva. His pupils are blown, and there’s a dazed look on his face. “Can you… be louder? Please?”
It’s such a genuine question that you can’t even laugh. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s already on the verge of losing his mind.
You’re about to say something, maybe tease him, but then he dives back in, groaning against your skin as he licks into you like he needs it, like he can’t help himself. His hips shift again, and this time, you see it—see the way he grinds down against the bed, seeking any kind of relief.
Oh , he’s getting off to this.
The realization sends a whole new wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you swear you feel yourself clench around nothing at the sight. He’s so into this, so lost in it, like the pleasure he’s giving you is something he feels just as intensely.
And God , it’s good. You’re already dizzy, breath hitching as he buries himself between your thighs again, lapping at you with even more urgency.
Another muffled moan spills from him—whiny, like he’s the one unraveling, and you can’t stop yourself. Your hips jerk up, just enough to make him look at you.
“Leon—” You gasp, voice shaky, but he doesn’t let up. Doesn’t slow down. He turns his head to the side to maintain eye contact, still working you open with his mouth, completely lost in you, the taste of you.
Your breath catches. “Are you seriously—”
He sucks on your clit, cutting you off, his hips pressing against the mattress once more. His hands slide up, one gripping your waist, the other sliding to the top of your breast, squeezing.
“I—” He pauses, breathless, cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling like he’s been running. “I really like this.”
His voice is so, so needy, that it sends a shiver straight through you. And suddenly, you need to touch him, to feel him the way he’s been licking at you.
“Come here,” you breathe, already reaching for him. “Leon, come here—”
And he’s already moving, already crawling over you, already pressing himself against you, his body hot and solid against yours. When your hands slide down, brushing against the waistband of his boxers, he shudders—and then reaches past you, grabbing the condom from where he left it.
“Hold on, sit up for a second, I’ll put it on.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and take the small foil out his hands.
“‘Time is it?” He looks over at the desk where his alarm clock is sat as you fumble with the wrapper under him.
You glance at the clock, but the numbers barely register in your head. Who cares what time it is? You’re about to have sex! Or, well, whatever the gentle version of that is.
“Uh, early.” you mumble, too focused on the foil in your hands to really think about it.
Your fingers finally tear it open, and you pull out the condom—only to grimace as you feel the unexpected slickness between your fingers.
“Why’s it wet?” You make a face, wiping your other hand against your skin.
Leon snickers. “What are you, then?”
“Shut up,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Pull down your boxers so I can—”
“Wow,” he interrupts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Not even gonna ask if I consent first?”
You give him a flat look, embarrassed. “Leon.”
“Right.” Leon pushes his boxers down, his hardened dick coming into view. You freeze for a moment. You had imagined this, thought about it—imagined him, but seeing it in person? It’s bigger, thicker than you ever expected (where does he hide it?). Definitely more than your fingers could ever measure up to.
His tip is the same color as his lips when they’re swollen from kissing, having the same curve his neck does.
His voice is strained, almost sheepish. “You’re staring.”
You drag your eyes back up to his face, warmth creeping up your neck. “So were you earlier.”
Leon huffs out a laugh, but it cuts off when you wrap your fingers around him. His whole body jerks, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of you. “Shit—”
You shift slightly, trying to adjust, your hand still gently stroking him. “Stay still, I’m trying to put this on.”
You roll the condom over his cock, biting your lip as you do so. Every inch of him seems to throb in your hand, and you swallow thinking about how it’ll feel inside of you later.
Once it’s on, he exhales shakily, blinking down at you. “Okay,” he breathes, licking his lips. “Uh. Okay.”
“Come here.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice!
He settles between your legs, propping himself up on his forearms, his face hovering just inches from yours. His breath is warm against your lips, uneven, like he’s still catching up with himself.
“You okay?” His voice is soft, careful, making sure this is still what you want. “I’ll go super slow.”
“Yeah, yes, yeah, I’m okay.”
“Hold on, let me like…” He snuck a hand under your lower back, moving the two of you towards his pillows. He dropped you there, where your head could be slightly elevated. “Okay, okay, can I?”
You nod quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Yeah,” you breathe, heart hammering. “Go ahead.”
He positions himself, the lube from the condom and your slick gathering together, making for an easy entrance. A light press. “This okay?”
You nod. “Mhmm.”
That seems to be all he needs. He presses a kiss to your cheek—cute—before slowly, carefully, pushing in.
The stretch is immediate, and you tense, your breath catching in your throat. It’s not painful, not exactly, but it’s new, unfamiliar, and your nails dig into his shoulders on instinct.
His voice is strained. “Too much?”
You shake your head quickly. “No—just…” You swallow, chest rising and falling. “Keep going. Slow.”
Leon nods, his breath shuddering. “Slow. Got it.”
And he does, easing into you inch by inch, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, wherever he can reach as your body adjusts to him.
“How do you feel?”
“Good,” you murmur, adjusting to the fullness of him, feeling every inch of where he fits inside you. “You can move.”
He lets out a soft laugh, strained. “Give me a second.” His eyes flutter shut, his jaw tightening. “Trying really, really hard not to lose my shit right now.”
Warmth spreads through your chest at the admission, at the way he’s trying to be careful for you. You rock against him slightly, just to test, and his breath stutters, his hips jerking forward on instinct.
“Fuck—” His grip on the sheets tightens. “You can’t just—”
The uncomfortable stretch has dissipated and it’s been replaced with a feeling that overtakes your senses. It’s overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time.
His hands move without thinking—one sliding up your thigh, the other curling around your waist. His fingers twitch, his whole body tense.
“Jesus—” he breathes. “You’re—fuck, you feel so good. Perfect.”
You tilt your chin up to catch his lips in a messy, needy kiss.
His hips roll forward instinctively, deeper this time, and you whimper against his mouth, fingers digging into his back. His breath stutters, and then his hand on your thigh shifts, trailing upward, over your stomach, before cupping your breast.
A gasp catches in your throat as he kneads at the soft flesh, his thumb rolling over your nipple in slow, careful circles. The mix of sensations—the fullness, the warmth of his palm, the way his body presses so firmly against yours—sends another wave of heat curling through you.
His touch grows bolder, his palm squeezing gently before his fingers graze over your skin again, exploring, memorizing.
“Mmff uuck..” The noises you're making right now are absolutely insane. Never in a million years would you have thought that you could be producing these sounds.
“You like that?” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours.
You nod, turning your head to the side. It’s unbearable to look at anyone, anything right now. You clamp your eyes shut. You don’t need to ask if your face is red—you know it is.
Leon presses a kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, coaxing. “Look at me.”
You shake your head, pressing your lips together. You can’t— you can’t —you already feel like you’re burning up, and meeting his gaze would only make it worse.
But he doesn’t let up. His fingers graze over your jaw, tilting your chin ever so slightly. “C’mon,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Wanna—” He thrusts, and you feel his dick twitch inside you. “—see you.”
His hand drifts from your waist, sliding down to curl around the back of your thigh. He lifts—slow, careful—guiding your leg higher until it hooks around his hip.
And then he moves.
The shift is subtle, but the difference is instant—blinding. He’s deeper now, his cock angling just right. Your whole body tenses, your nails dig into his shoulders.
“ Oh— ” The sound escapes you before you can stop it, breathless, almost startled.
Leon freezes, concern flickering across his face. “Too much?”
You shake your head quickly, struggling to find your breath. “No. No, just—” You swallow hard, overwhelmed. “Do that again.”
His lips part, smiling (then dropping it), like he wants to say something—maybe tease, maybe ask—but instead, he just nods. He pulls out just enough before pressing back in, watching your reaction intently.
And that’s when you feel it again. That spot , deep inside—the one you didn’t even know existed. Not even when you fucked yourself with your fingers, thinking about him—until now.
His rhythm falters for just a second as he watches your expression shift—eyes fluttering, lips parting, arching against him. A quiet curse slips from his lips before he pats your leg.
“Can you hold your leg here for me, sweet girl?” His voice is low, coaxing, dripping with praise.
You nod weakly, obeying without question, and as soon as your muscles flex to keep your leg in place, his now-free hand slides between your bodies, fingers trailing downward until they press against your clit. The moment he touches you, your breath stutters, pleasure winding tight in your core.
At the same time, his other hand abandons your breast, trailing up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as his thrusts grow deeper, more fluid, perfectly in sync with the slow circles he’s rubbing over your clit.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, his voice honeyed, sweet. “That’s my girl.”
Your lips part, a thought forming somewhere in the fog of your mind, but the words die before they can leave your throat. How are you supposed to say anything when—
A sharp gasp catches in your throat as Leon rolls his hips just right, hitting that spot again, and you barely manage to hold onto a sliver of composure. Still, you try. “Leo—”
He hums, lips brushing over your cheek. “Mmfh—talk to me,” he stutters. “..talk to me beautiful? You can—-ungh—-can’t you?”
You want to. You really do. But every time you get close to forming a sentence, he thrusts again, and all that comes out is another desperate sound. Your nails dig into his shoulder as you try to focus, try to keep up, but it’s impossible—the way he’s touching you, the way he’s holding you like you’re something fragile while ruining your lipgloss all at once.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he coaxes, slurring just slightly. Pussy-drunk off you. His words stumble a little, his pace faltering before he catches himself again. “Wanna hear you— need to —fuck, you feel so good.”
And you can barely process it anymore. Every thrust sends another wave of pleasure through you, your body arching into him on its own, your breasts bouncing with every movement. You try to answer, try to say anything, but all that leaves your lips is a whimper, your head falling back as the pleasure coils tighter, winding you up like you might snap at any moment.
Leon groans at the sight, barely holding himself together. He begins to kiss again, pressing against whatever skin he can reach: your eyelids (Kennedy? He catches you off guard with this one), your forehead, the curve of your throat.
“So pretty, missy,” he slurs, words muffled against your skin.
And he’s close— you’re close .
And he won’t stop—won’t stop murmuring your name, won’t stop kissing you, won’t stop moving, and you can barely breathe, barely think, your nails clinging to his biceps, shoulders, like you’ll fall apart.
And his thumb is still on your clit, still circling, still pushing you closer, and—
He pulls it away, gripping your hip instead, his pace faltering as he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “Fuck, baby, I—” His breath stutters, hot and desperate against your lips. “I’m gonna—”
And then it hits you.
The warm coil in your stomach vertebrates, ringing through you.
It knocks the air from your lungs. Your eyes squeeze shut as heat surges through every nerve, and behind your eyelids, it’s white—so bright, so overwhelming, you can’t think, can’t breathe, only feel. Your body clenches around him, gripping him tight, and you barely register the way your leg slips from his waist, twitching in the aftermath.
He grinds into you once more, just as your body shudders, releasing in waves of bliss.
Leon groans, eyes squeezing shut as he feels you pulsing around him, unable to hold back. His grip tightens on your hips as he gives one last push, his own release hitting, and his voice breaks, desperate. “I’m cumming… fuck, I’m—”
He stutters, the pleasure ripping through him, and he buries his face into your neck as he finishes, trembling, his body still rocking with the last of it.
Leon groans, muscles trembling as he pulls out, and you both flinch when he does. He breathes heavily, reaching down between the two of you to roll off the condom. There’s a wet sound as he slips it off, ties it up, and unceremoniously tosses it onto the floor.
You wrinkle your nose as you begin trying to even your breath. “Gross.”
Leon laughs before collapsing onto you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress.
“Ow—Leon!” You let out a strangled wheeze, trying to push at his shoulders. “You’re heavy, get off!”
He mumbles something incoherent into your neck, but all you catch is your name and a very drawn-out sigh. His breath is still hot against your skin, his heart hammering against your ribs.
“Your squishing me. So heavy, making my boobs hurt.”
“Just gimme a sec…” His voice is muffled against your skin as he nuzzles into your neck, sighing contently. “Too tired, ‘M comfortable, your comfy.”
“I’m dying.”
“Mmm. What a way to go.”
You groan, flailing beneath him. “Leon.”
He grins against your skin, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Mmm?”
“I love you,” you mutter, your voice a little breathless.
That makes him pause. He shifts slightly, just enough to lift his head and meet your gaze. His blue eyes are soft, warm, and a little dazed. “Yeah?”
You roll your eyes. “No, I just say that to every guy who suffocates me after sex.”
He’s about to be offended, just when he remembers you guys just had your first with eachother.
His lips curve into a smirk before it softens into something more genuine. “I love you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek. “So much.”
The warmth in your chest spreads, and for a moment, you forget that he’s still crushing you. That is, until he sighs again and lets his full weight settle onto you once more.
“Leon—?”
“Mmm?”
“Off.”
He lets out a dramatic groan but finally, finally rolls over, freeing you. You inhale deeply, relishing the ability to breathe again—only to glance over at him and immediately burst into laughter.
Leon blinks at you in confusion. “What?”
“You—you rolled over and your ass is out.”
“What?” He lifts his head, twisting slightly to see—and sure enough, his bare ass on full display. He groans, immediately grabbing his boxers from off the floor, yanking them up as you continue to cackle beside him.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, because you’re still naked!”
“Shut up!” You pull the blanket up to your chin, as if that would erase the last seven minutes of your nude body in his mind. (PS. It wont. It's ingrained and burned into his head now.)
“I’ll be back. Gotta get a towel.”
Finally, he makes it back, breathless and pink-faced, and gently peels the blanket off you.
“I swear to god, Leon, if this is some excuse to ogle—”
“Quiet,” he says softly, unusually focused. “Just lemme take care of you.”
You watch him as he kneels beside the bed, warm towel in hand, and very carefully wipes the mess off your thighs. His touch is surprisingly gentle, almost reverent. He doesn't say anything, just concentrates, brow furrowed.
Then, still on his knees, he grabs your underwear and slips them back on you. Once they’re on, he presses a quick kiss to your knee before standing with a wince. “Be right back.”
You blink at him. “Again?”
He tosses you one of his shirts. “Figured you’d want to be comfortable, and at the same time I’m proving that chivalry isnt dead.”
He climbs back into bed with a groan, immediately rolling toward you and flinging one leg over yours. You both wince at the stickiness, the soreness, the heat. Everything aches—but in a good way. A smug, satisfied kind of ache.
Your fingers trace idle shapes along his arm. “You sounded like a hurt puppy when you came.”
Leon snorts, bringing you to lay your head atop his chest. “ Me? You were here whimpering like I was exorcising a demon out of you.”
“Yeah, you were. You were just like unngh, ugh, uhuh, I swear. Like cavemen when they discovered fire!” You giggled. “You seemed like you were on the verge of tears.”
“‘Leon,’” he mocks, pitching his voice high and breathy. “‘Leon, oh my God —’”
“Stop it,” you laugh. “I do not sound like that.”
“You absolutely do. And it was hot, don’t get me wrong,” he snickers, raising his hips. “You made this little noise when I—y’know.” He thrusts the air. “Right there.”
“Leon—” You push his face away from yours. He doesnt let up.
“ So cute,” he goes on, leaning in. “Little shaky inhale, and your voice cracked, and you said my name like I was the second coming of Christ—”
“You’re never hearing me moan again.”
“That’s okay,” he says smugly, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll just replay it in my head forever.”