Chapter Text
You’re still pissed at him.
You told Leon there was a storm rolling in—multiple times—and that pushing through to Raccoon City tonight was asking for trouble. But Mr. “I’ve got this” refused to listen. Now it’s past midnight, visibility is shit, and the only option left is this grimy highway motel that reeks of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and regret.
The mattress groans the second you drop onto it. The sheets are surprisingly white, the only semi-clean thing in this dump. You don’t even bother getting fully naked—clothes shoved halfway down, underwear yanked to the side, his jeans just low enough. Classic Leon: impatient, efficient, filthy.
He’s already inside you, thick and relentless, sliding in and out with that steady, punishing rhythm that makes your brain melt like ice. Your arousal has soaked through everything—dripping down your ass, smearing the sheets, leaving dark wet patches that’ll probably get you charged extra tomorrow.
Leon folds you in half this time. Knees shoved up toward your shoulders, your body bent near in two. His biceps flex hard, veins standing out as he braces on his hands, holding most of his weight so he doesn’t actually crush you—but God, you feel every inch of him bearing down.
“Fuck—Leon—Daddy—fuck—”
“Shhh,” he growls against your ear, voice low and rough. “You really want the meth-head next door hearing you call me that, sweetheart? Quiet.”
He bites the side of your neck—sharp enough to sting, soft enough to make you clench—and snaps his hips forward, burying himself so deep the head of his cock kisses your cervix. Your toes curl hard. Eyes water. A broken little sob slips out before you can stop it.
The cheap bedframe protests loudly—creak-creak-crack—headboard smacking the wall with every brutal thrust. He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes harder, dropping into a full mating press, hips rolling in tight, filthy circles that grind his pelvis right against your clit.
“This pussy missed me,” he mutters, lips brushing your jaw. “Can feel it. Sucking me in like it’s starving. Greedy little thing.”
You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to push back with words even as your body betrays you. “Shut—up—”
He just smirks, that cocky, knowing look that makes you want to slap him and ride him harder at the same time. His hand slides up, wraps around your throat—not choking, just firm, possessive, grounding. Thumb presses lightly against your pulse.
“Truth hurts, huh?”
His balls slap wetly against your ass on every downstroke, heavy and slick with how drenched you both are. You’ve already come twice tonight—once on his thick fingers and greedy tongue, once when he pinned your thighs open and sucked your clit until you screamed into his palm. Now his cock is dragging you toward a third, and you already know this one’s going to wreck you.
Your walls flutter hard around him. Heat coils tighter. Legs shaking, breath hitching, you’re right there...
Leon feels it. Of course he does.
He drops his mouth to your ear, voice dark and wrecked. “Come on, baby. Give it to me. Soak my cock again. Daddy wants to feel you gush.”
He punches in deep one last time, grinding, and you shatter—back arching off the mattress, a choked cry muffled against his shoulder as you come so hard your vision whites out and fresh wetness floods around him.
He groans like he’s in pain, hips stuttering, chasing his own release inside your spasming heat.
The bed keeps creaking long after you both go still.
You hate him for dragging you into this storm. You hate him for this shitty motel. You hate how good he still feels when he’s buried to the hilt and smirking down at you like he owns every trembling inch of your body.
…but mostly you just hate that you’re already thinking about round two.