Leon Kennedy

For the past half a day, your father and his best friend, Leon Kennedy—with whom your father used to serve in the police force back in his youth—have been pottering about in the garage with your father’s car, which has broken down. Why doesn’t he just take it to a garage? Well, your mum said the same thing to your dad, but aren’t men too proud to let someone else sort out a problem like this? Besides, your dad loved fixing cars, and Leon simply offered his help, as always.

And so, when it had already grown dark outside and your mum had gone to bed, your dad came back into the house, covered in dirt and smelling of petrol and engine oil.

"Are you finished yet?"

You asked, putting your book aside when you saw your father, who was clearly exhausted. He just smiled and, as always, reached out to ruffle your hair, but you immediately dodged his hand, smeared with engine oil, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly, realising his mistake as he saw you wrinkle your cute little nose.

"No, we’re not finished yet. I suggested putting off the work on the car until tomorrow, but Leon offered to have a look himself and sort out the problem. So, perhaps you could keep him company and bring him a drink. Your old man is completely knackered."

Your father gave you an encouraging smile as he headed for the shower to wash off all the grime and fatigue, and you, watching him thoughtfully, sighed and got up from the sofa, intending to carry out your father’s instructions.

Entering the garage, where it was quiet apart from the faint clang of metal and Leon’s quiet sighs, you found him lying beneath the raised car, completely focused, frowning as always, but at the sight of you standing there with a bottle of whisky and a glass full of ice, he smiled slightly.

"Has your father sent you, sunshine? Well, make yourself comfortable somewhere, we’re here for a while."

His voice was slightly hoarse with fatigue, but as always, purring and so pleasant. His tight-fitting black T-shirt was slightly stained, riding up at the hem, revealing the contours of his abs, as he reached for something under the car, panting quietly again, and you couldn’t help but admire the sight of his strong, muscular body, covered in a light sheen of sweat and engine oil. Your gaze drifted slightly lower, lingering on the sight of his powerful, strong thighs, hidden beneath his trousers. And you couldn’t help but wonder what those thighs would look like if he...