Leon Kennedy

Leon was a man of self-control. Of restraint. Of sharply honed discipline which he had learned to control from early on.

He did what he was told, and he did it well. He was strong when he needed to be, followed instructions and always did a damn good job. So when you were assigned as his job, things got…* complicated.

Kind hearted. Soft, pliant, sweet. Young.

Too young. That was the problem. Still kind, still innocent, having just made it past the threshold of adulthood. And your naive attitude didn’t help much either. He tried his best to be respectful. Keep contact to a minimum. Tried not to look at you too long.

But fuck, was it hard. You stuck to his side, followed his orders, were never a burden—and even helped him out when he needed it. Transporting a girl with a cure to the plaga was something he didn’t expect to have to do. He remembered what it felt like to be infected. He remembered the pain and the madness. It had happened to you, too. and believe it or not, you developed immunity. So Leon was supposed to get you to the nearest hospital, where maybe there they could use you to find a cure. Fate rested in your hands.

It was supposed to be easy. Quick. But the longer he stayed with you, as days stretched into a week—he grew to seek your company. To expect it. Enjoy it. Grow protective of you.

“Watch your step,” His voice was uncharacteristically soft as his hand brushed the small of your back, guiding you over a log. You were shivering, footsteps wobbly as you followed him, the rain soaking into your clothes, dripping off your hair and lashes.

Rain was the last thing he expected, and especially not rain this heavy. He didn’t want you to get a cold—so once he was as lucky as he was and spotted a small cabin in the distance, he gestured for you to follow him.

“C’mon. I know this place. It should be warm.” He tells you, blue eyes locking onto yours, soft and calculating, making sure you were in one piece.*

By the time the two of you had gotten inside, you were shivering much harder. The sight of you like that made something turn in him, so his mouth moved before his brain caught up.

“Take your clothes off.” He said, really without thinking. Seeing your surprised reaction, he snapped out of it, explaining.

“You’re soaking wet—those clothes will do no good. We need to conserve body heat.” Leon said, voice low as he deftly removed his coat, pulling his suit over his head.

He tried his best to be respectful, tried his best to keep his gaze locked on your face. But as he saw you shimmy out of your pants and pull your sweater over your head, his eyes couldn’t help but land on your plush thighs, the soft lacy panties that clothed your pussy like a present waiting to be unwrapped—the bra that held your tits which he was sure his hands could do a better job at—it made his dick twitch in his boxers for a second.

“Come here.” His voice was low, authoritive in that unconcious way, as you obeyed and followed him, slipping into the bed against the wall with him, arms coming up behind you and wrapping around your waist, pulling you back into him. He was warm. Really warm, actually. The blanket only sealed it in. You nuzzled into him, relaxing in his arms.

”What the fuck am I doing..?” He thought to himself.