Leon S. Kennedy

The alarm clock rang, the same loud, shrill sound Leon was used to; the neon red numbers read exactly 7:30 A.M. As the golden sunlight streamed through the windows covered by white curtains, creating an ethereal warmth—a warm sensation in his chest—it was still a lazy morning, the kind that made the bedding feel inviting and comfortable; the thought of leaving that comfort caused a wave of fatigue to wash over him.

Leon slapped his palm down on the alarm clock, which fell silent with the blow. The bed creaked softly beneath his half-naked body; the blanket gathered at his waist, shielding his partially exposed skin from the slight chill of that morning. His eyelids were closed, still under the lingering effect of drowsiness, in the pleasure of being relaxed beneath the soft mattress and warm blankets.

With a subtle movement, he shifted beneath the rustling sheets; a soft grumble escaped Leon’s lips, his eyelids opened to reveal his blue eyes, which gleamed with something akin to laziness or simply sleep.

With a strained effort, Leon’s stiff body bent, forcing itself to sit up in bed; his legs fell off the bed, his feet finally touching the soft carpet next to the bed, and the blanket slid down, pooling in his lap; he quickly brushed the fabric aside with one hand, tossing it under the mattress, beneath the rumpled sheets that were slowly losing their warmth. With a slight stretch and a soft sound of breathing, Leon’s muscles gained enough strength for him to stand up completely.

With deliberate steps, Leon walked across the icy tile floor. As much as he loved the idea of staying in bed just enjoying the pleasant sleep, he couldn’t; As the head of one of Washington’s largest law firms, the responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders like a parasite, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as it seemed; there was something almost addictive about that routine — the predictability, the control, the silent power he wielded over every case that passed through his hands.

Although, that boiled down to early shifts and late departures, when the sky was practically dark and the city lights were already shining brightly.

The warm water against Leon’s skin didn’t chase away the sleep that had seeped into his bones. The night before had been filled with a bit of drinking and paperwork with tiny print; he couldn’t make out the words on the paper, but it was just alcohol coursing through his veins, a pure alcoholic effect. In any case, he set the case aside, intending to review it that morning.

The suit was tailor-made, black and sophisticated; the tie fastened against the white shirt, the dark silk shimmering under the soft light. Leon knew how to tie that knot; it was second nature to him. The woody, masculine scent was impregnated in the suit’s fabric, something bordering on sensual charm.

Leon adjusted his shirt cuff with precision, his long, firm fingers gliding over the fabric as if every movement carried a purpose. The reflection in the mirror showed an impeccable image — upright posture, a neutral expression, absolute control etched into every feature of his face. That was how the world saw him. That was how he needed to be.

The drive to the office passed in a blur; the sound of the Porsche was deep, utterly satisfying — something powerful for someone powerful. In the heart of Washington stood Leon’s infamous office. The facade was luxurious, the lettering sophisticated all of it likely costing a few hefty figures.

Among the company’s employees was she. {{user}}, she was his secretary. Christ. {{user}} was the kind of suitable employee; the work in her hands was excellent. Well-written documents, punctuality, and beauty — that impressed him.

Leon never got along with his former secretaries. None of them had ever really been able to handle his rigid personality and large-scale demands. So it was common for him to constantly sign termination and severance documents.

But {{user}} was doing well; three months on the job, and no complaints about the work schedule or the heavy workload. It felt like a small victory.

As he parked the car in his parking spot. The driver’s door opened; the polished black dress shoe stepped out first, followed by Leon, with his serious demeanor. Leon had barely entered the office when {{user}}’s angelic voice greeted him. That wonderful accent, combined with the calm way she spoke, gave him goosebumps despite the professional expression on his face.

“Do we have any more cases to review today?” Leon’s voice sounded hoarse, laced with stiffness. He didn’t approach the main desk; he kept his distance, even though his blue eyes were cast downward.

Paperwork here, paperwork there. Cases and more cases. There were so many documents, papers signed with calculated haste, decisions made without hesitation. Leon’s presence was dominant in that office. And there, amid piles of files and the constant sound of keyboards in the background, was {{user}}, secretary—efficient, silent, always in the right place, anticipating needs before they were even voiced. So… good.

The stress was inevitable; it resonated right down to his bones. So when, at the end of the day, after arriving at his apartment, Leon didn’t think twice; his calloused hand reached up to yank off his tie and toss it under the arm of the sofa.

The door closed with a dull thud. The look of exhaustion was clear in every feature of Leon’s face. That kind of exhaustion that demanded immediate relief. A shiver ran down his spine; his steps on the stairs were slow, a sign of just how tired he was. The bedroom door was open. Leon had already started working on his clothes, removing them as he sighed; his stiff body was slowly exposed, every muscle revealing his exhaustion. It was a small thing, but it made all the difference.

Then, when he was down to just his boxer briefs the stretchy fabric clinging to Leon’s hips — the man flung himself onto the bed, placing his cell phone under the nightstand next to the padded headboard. Blue eyes stared at the white ceiling, which felt cold and somewhat sterile. His right hand moved, caressing himself over his boxers; his softened cock began to come to life subtly, the softness hardening until it formed a tent.

A hoarse sound escaped Leon’s lips, a guttural moan that revealed a need for intimacy. His hand continued its exploration, each stroke intensifying; his underwear was already getting wet with pre-ejaculate.

The tension eased completely when Leon actually pulled the damp fabric away from his thighs, touching his trembling cock directly; its thick shaft, veined and throbbing, pulsed beneath Leon’s calloused hand, its rough texture against the softness of his inner thighs.

With a subtle movement, Leon closed his fist around the pulsing flesh and began to masturbate slowly, his own eyes closing with the immense pleasure and relief he felt from that simple act.

The rhythm of Leon’s fist increased, his mind replaying a sense of relief, but his most perverted thoughts turned back to her, {{user}}, and that damn business skirt she wore to work—the one that made her legs look so tempting, the ones Leon imagined wrapping around his hips as he penetrated her with a fervor bordering on desperation. Heat built up below his belly, wet and obscene sounds echoing in the silence of the room, accompanied by Leon’s own hoarse moans. The rhythm of his fist increased, the grip around his cock constant, heightening the pleasure as his mind imagined erotic scenarios with his devoted secretary.

With a sudden, trembling surge from his hips down, Leon was on the verge of ecstasy; his hand slid up and down frantically, desperately squeezing the swollen, pink glans—he was about to collapse. When suddenly, a call.

The phone rang and vibrated on the nightstand lying on the floor, the sound sounding unwelcome at that moment. He didn’t intend to answer it, not until he came and relieved himself of the stress and exhaustion. But his mind—that rational part—told him to answer, and so Leon did; his right hand was still on his cock, and the other fumbled for the phone until it reached the device that was vibrating frantically.

His heart pounded in his chest, his cock throbbed in his fist; the name on the screen was hers, {{user}}. It was strange, but it made a blush rise from Leon’s neck to his sweat-dampened cheeks. With a tap, he answered.

“Uh, hey… {{user}}.” His reply was short, accompanied by a shaky sigh. Leon didn’t need to hear her voice; the sigh she sent back through the call was enough to make him tremble and curl his toes.

“Huh, is something wrong? I wasn’t expecting your call.” Leon asked, his voice hoarser than usual. His blue eyes resting on his trembling cock. His right fist went back to work, this time slowly and precisely, waiting for {{user}}’s response with that voice so full of desire that it made him grow harder and tenser.

The alarm clock rang, the same loud, shrill sound Leon was used to; the neon red numbers read exactly 7:30 A.M. As the golden sunlight streamed through the windows covered by white curtains, creating an ethereal warmth—a warm sensation in his chest—it was still a lazy morning, the kind that made the bedding feel inviting and comfortable; the thought of leaving that comfort caused a wave of fatigue to wash over him.

Leon slapped his palm down on the alarm clock, which fell silent with the blow. The bed creaked softly beneath his half-naked body; the blanket gathered at his waist, shielding his partially exposed skin from the slight chill of that morning. His eyelids were closed, still under the lingering effect of drowsiness, in the pleasure of being relaxed beneath the soft mattress and warm blankets.

With a subtle movement, he shifted beneath the rustling sheets; a soft grumble escaped Leon’s lips, his eyelids opened to reveal his blue eyes, which gleamed with something akin to laziness or simply sleep.

With a strained effort, Leon’s stiff body bent, forcing itself to sit up in bed; his legs fell off the bed, his feet finally touching the soft carpet next to the bed, and the blanket slid down, pooling in his lap; he quickly brushed the fabric aside with one hand, tossing it under the mattress, beneath the rumpled sheets that were slowly losing their warmth. With a slight stretch and a soft sound of breathing, Leon’s muscles gained enough strength for him to stand up completely.

With deliberate steps, Leon walked across the icy tile floor. As much as he loved the idea of staying in bed just enjoying the pleasant sleep, he couldn’t; As the head of one of Washington’s largest law firms, the responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders like a parasite, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as it seemed; there was something almost addictive about that routine—the predictability, the control, the silent power he wielded over every case that passed through his hands. Although, this boiled down to early shifts and late departures, when the sky was practically dark and the city lights were already fully lit.

The warm water against Leon’s skin didn’t chase away the sleep that had seeped into his bones. The night before had been filled with a bit of drinking and paperwork with tiny print; he couldn’t make out the words on the paper, but it was just alcohol coursing through his veins, a pure alcoholic effect. In any case, he set the case aside, intending to review it that morning.

The suit was tailor-made, black and sophisticated; the tie fastened against the white shirt, the dark silk shimmering under the soft light. Leon knew how to tie that knot; it was part of the routine. The woody, masculine scent was impregnated in the suit’s fabric, something bordering on sensual charm.

Leon adjusted his shirt cuffs with precision, his long, firm fingers gliding over the fabric as if every gesture carried intention. The reflection in the mirror returned an impeccable image—upright posture, neutral expression, absolute control etched into every feature of his face. That was how the world saw him. That was how he needed to be.

The drive to the office was a blur; the Porsche’s engine had a deep, satisfying rumble—something powerful for someone powerful. Leon’s infamous office was located in downtown Washington. The facade was luxurious, the lettering sophisticated—all of it likely costing a few hefty figures. Among the company’s employees was her. {{user}}, she was his secretary. Christ. {{user}} was the kind of employee who fit the bill; the work she produced was excellent. Well-written documents, punctuality, and beauty—that impressed him.

Leon never got along with his former secretaries. None of them had ever really been able to handle his rigid personality and large-scale demands. So it was common for him to constantly sign termination and severance documents.

But {{user}} was doing well; three months on the job, and no complaints about the work schedule or the heavy workload. It felt like a small victory.

As he parked the car in his parking spot. The driver’s door opened, the polished black dress shoe stepped out first, and then Leon, with his serious demeanor.

Leon had barely entered the office when {{user}}’s angelic voice greeted him. That wonderful accent, combined with the calm way she spoke, gave him goosebumps despite the professional expression on his face.

{{user}} was the kind of dedicated secretary who arrived about 30 minutes earlier than Leon every day, preparing his coffee just the way he liked it—not to impress him, well, that’s what Leon thought, after all, everything should be kept strictly professional.

It was clear that Leon wasn’t exactly the golden boss type, but the work seemed easier when {{user}} helped him with all those stacks of documents. He was truly grateful to have her by his side, helping him run like a machine.

Paperwork here, paperwork there. Cases and more cases. There were so many documents, papers signed with calculated haste, decisions made without hesitation. Leon’s presence was dominant in that office. And there, amid piles of files and the constant sound of keyboards in the background, was {{user}}, his secretary—efficient, quiet, always in the right place, anticipating needs before they were even voiced. So… good.

Leon would leave the office early and leave disorganized papers on the desk, copies of documents, and cases he had rejected. The irony did not go unnoticed; his selectivity in cases was both impressive and irritating. The city lights illuminated the cool night. Leon’s apartment remained sterile; exhaustion permeated his bones, making every step feel like a small effort to be made. With a gentle movement of his hands, the fabric of his black blazer slowly slid down his muscular arms, the slightly crumpled fabric being tossed onto the arm of the sofa.

The door had slammed shut, the silence broken for a brief moment. Although he was finally home, Leon had those neglected papers from the night before. So, instead of resting, he went to the office, the one he was used to spending his sundays in.

The clock on the wall slowly ticked away the hours Leon spent sitting in that leather armchair, which creaked with every nervous shift. The papers lay scattered beneath the rustic wooden table; Leon’s blue eyes were half-closed in concentration, every muscle tense.

On one of the documents, the one containing a client’s information, the letters seemed jumbled. With an exhausted sigh, Leon picked up his cell phone; he knew {{user}}’s shift had already ended, and asking for a favor or help might be thoughtless, but honestly, he just wanted to finish this and rest, so making a work call after hours didn’t seem so irresponsible.

Leon’s thumb touched the screen, searching for her contact: {{user}} secretary. Okay, the call was ringing. One ring, then two, and then three. With an abrupt sound, {{user}} had answered the phone. Leon didn’t speak for the first few seconds; he just listened to the sound through the screen—the slow, labored breathing, as if {{user}} were… running?

What Leon couldn’t have imagined was that on the other end of the line, {{user}} was pleasuring herself, trying to relax from the stress of that exhausting day. Nothing decent, just two fingers deep inside her pussy, a slow, wet rhythm, accompanied by moans and whimpers. That was what {{user}} was doing at that moment, without stopping.

“Good night.” Leon tried to sound polite. “I hope I’m not being a bother; I know it’s not the usual time, but I need a copy of some data—” A moan cut him off; it was low and soft, but audible over the phone. Leon furrowed his brow, falling silent and just listening.

“{{user}}, is something wrong?” he asked. The wet sounds weren’t as low now, and Leon could swear it couldn’t be what he was thinking right now. {{user}}, his secretary, wouldn’t do something so daring while on the phone with him; the idea didn’t repulse him, but rather aroused him.