𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖
𝟡𝕡𝕞
I'm sitting on the porch, trying to collect my thoughts, smoking a cigarette. Parker walks out, a cigarette dangling between his lips, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other.
"Clementina," he says, handing me a glass and sits next to me, on the small patch of wooden deck that's not coated in snow.
"Hey Parker," I say smiling. "I probably shouldn't drink."
"Nonsense," he says, flicking the bottle cap off of the bottle. "Will help you sleep. Just one glass."
"Eh, what the hell," I say, leaning back as he fills my cup.
"I'm sorry for Jessica's comments," he says, clinking his glass against mine. "She has no filter sometimes."
I throw back the whiskey like it has the power to erase the memory of meeting her. "I realised."
"She's like that with everyone," he laughs, a bellowing laugh that warms me up on the inside.
"Didn't really seem that way with Leon or Chris."
"Oh yeah. She's a total flirt. Just her personality. Doesn't matter. Been chasing me for months to take her out for a lobster dinner." He's already pouring himself another shot. "She was obsessed with Leon for a while too."
I feel my jaw clench. Without really thinking about it, I stick my glass out for another round. "She was?"
Parker looks at me like he think he's in trouble for divulging sensitive information. "I thought they had a thing. A fling. You know."
"They did?" I grip the glass in a way that is almost concerning. "Leon never mentioned anything."
"I'm pretty sure," Parker says, scratching his stubbly beard. "I don't know, to be honest. It's a different obsession every week with that woman. But Leon seems to be the flavour of the year for her." He laughs like it's funny, and not like it's making me want to commit manslaughter.
"So they were a couple? What?" I ask, trying to keep my voice low and as nonchalant as possible. I worry I'm being as subtle as a bull in a china shop.
"This is all coming from Jessica, so I'd take it with a pinch of salt," he says, closing his eyes for a second.
"Hit me again," I say, and he does, filling my glass with another shot.
"That's the spirit!" Parker says. "Cheers, Clementina."
We drink a couple more, and then another couple more. Before either of us know it, half the bottle is gone. I'm surprisingly still sober, and Parker... Well, he looks like he had been chugging water and not whisky.
My stomach is twisting at the idea of Leon keeping something so big from me. I feel like I'm making a bigger deal than I should, but I told him about my ex. I told him about getting my heart broken. He has been a closed book so far.
The sky has darkened, and just as I'm thinking that I should probably stop, the cabin doors slide open, and Leon walks out, his hair wet, a fresh baggy t-shirt clinging to his chest, clean cargo pants, and mismatched socks.
My heart stops in its tracks as I look at him, looking so awkwardly dishevelled, like he had just shaken the water out of his hair. I sink into the jacket, and inhale its smell. It smells like his aftershave, his deodorant, his soap, lemon and herby, and him. His scent intoxicates me more than all the whiskey Parker has given me tonight.
"You guys drinking without me?" Leon asks, eyeing the half-empty bottle.
"Why are you never cold?" I ask him, and as soon as I do, I realise how tongue-twisted I sound. Maybe the alcohol has affected me more than I realised.
Leon bites the inside of his cheek. "Because you need my jacket."
"A proper gentleman this one, ay Clementine?" Parker says, offering his cup to Leon.
Leon chugs it like it's apple juice, and holds the cup back, wanting a second serving already. Parker refills it, and goes to refill mine, but I shake my head.
"I should probably stop here, otherwise I'm gonna wake up hungover," I smile apologetically.
"Wise," Leon says, and when I reach my hand up, he takes it, helping me get up. I stumble a little as I find my footing, and instantly regret drinking. Why is it that it's only when you stand up that you can only realise how drunk you really are? I hold on to him, and he supports me, barely moving an inch. "You alright there?"
"Never better," I say, smiling a little too much, as he steadies me from my waist. If I weren't a little tipsy, I'd be worried about him seeing me like this, but right now, I can't help it. At least right now my only worry is acting a little drunk, maybe throwing up a little, and not whether or not I'll be mauled to death by a bioweapon, or shot in the head by Lansdale.
Alcohol helps. He said so himself.
"Want me to take her to her room?" Parker says, standing up, shaking the snow off his boots.
"I got her," Leon says, his jaw clenched.
Parker nods and heads inside, holding the door open.
"Can you walk?" Leon asks me.
"Yes, Lee, I can walk," I say, waving him off. "I'm not that tipsy." He looks at me confused as I walk off to my room, passing Jessica on the sofa. She looks up from her cup-o-noodles, looking at me puzzled. "What?" I tell her, grinning. "You coming, Lee?"
Leon blinks at me before following me to my cabin. He leaves the door open, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded against his chest as I sit back on the bed.
"Clementine. You sure you're alright?" He asks, trying to sound stern, but I can see his little smile peeking through his sulky face.
I kick off my shoes. "I'm feeling great, Lee."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" He asks, ruffling his hair with his fingers.
"Isn't that what Jessica was calling you?" I say innocently. "I thought you liked it."
I don't know where I'm going with this, but one thing's for sure. I think I deserve to know the truth: why hadn't he brought up he had dated someone who was showing up to this mission?
Did they date? Did they have sex? We haven't even had sex yet, and already the thought of him touching someone else is making my stomach churn.
Or that might just be the whisky.
But still.
Leon shushes me and steps inside the room, closing the door as quietly as he could. I throw his jacket across the room and sit cross-legged, staring at him.
"What is the matter with you?" He says, stomping over to the bed. "Why are you acting like such a brat?"
"Wow," I chuckle. "I'm the brat."
He towers over me, standing in front of me, his hands balled up in fists at his sides. "If you can't handle your drink, you shouldn't have had any."
"Oh what, just because you made out with me to pass the time you think you can tell me what to do, Lee?" I press, and instantly regret how whiny I'm sounding. But do I really care, at this point?
"...To pass the time?" He repeats, looking at me with those sky-blue eyes of his, his lips slanted in confusion.
"Don't look at me with those eyes," I moan, and cover my face, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes.
"What eyes?" He asks in confusion.
I roll my eyes at him and grab him by the front of his shirt gently, pulling him down on top of me. "These eyes."
"You need to go to sleep. You're slurring your words." He says, and pulls himself off of me, sitting next to me.
I fan my hair out under me, lying down on the mattress. "I'm fine."
I feel him look at me. "What did you mean, to pass the time?"
"Forget it," I say.
"Tell me," he presses, shifting a little closer to me, so he can get a better look at me face.
"Just drop it, Lee," I say, and despite myself, burst out laughing.
"Christ, you're difficult," he groans, and grabs my wrists in his hands, peering down at me. His grip is not tight at all. "Look me in the eyes and talk, Clementine."
I look up at him and shift my legs around so that both my legs are between his knees. He's right above me, hands pinning my wrists down into the mattress, locks of hair falling over his forehead.
"Give me a kiss and I'll consider talking, Leon," I tell him quietly, raising my head in anticipation.
○
𝕝𝕖𝕠𝕟
𝟙𝟘.𝟛𝟘𝕡𝕞
"Seriously?" Leon says, trying his best to not laugh. "How old are you?"
"Doesn't matter. It's the only way you'll get me to talk."
Leon considers your proposal for a second. He decided to keep his hands to himself for this night, because of your alcohol intake. You didn't seem drunk, just tipsy enough to not have a filter when you speak, but he wanted you to be sober to remember everything he did to you. Still, he figures a kiss won't do much damage.
He leans down and very gently places his lips on yours. You taste like whiskey and something sweet, like gummy bears and powdered sugar, and the promise he made to himself to keep things light suddenly evaporates, as he forgets everything around him the second he feels you respond to the way his lips are moving.
"Why are you so difficult?" He whispers against your lips, before kissing your jaw and then your neck, before hungrily returning to your lips. He's still pinning your wrists down, but his fingertips are itching to to lift your t-shirt, and see the goosebumps run up and down your skin.
He lifts his lips from yours and kisses the gentle spot right where your neck meets your shoulders. You make little moans that make his dick tingle— he can't help it. It's the anticipation that kills him.
Leon bites the side of your neck timidly, and he feels you melt into him. It's enough to make his dick turn into diamonds, a simple movement, so involuntary and reflexive, but enough to show him how easily and readily your body submits to his will.
He brings one hand under your shirt, cupping the trim of your bra. He feels your hand— the one no longer pinned down— press into the back of his head, pushing him back into your neck.
"Did you like that?" He smiles into your neck, before biting you again, this time a little harder.
"Mhm," you purr against his ear. "Bite me harder."
"Yes ma'am," he whispers, and with one hand on your chest, and the other holding you down, he bites your neck, his teeth sinking into the skin, not enough to hurt you, but enough to leave a little series of marks.
He's so lost in the feeling of seeing his mark on you that he doesn't have time to react when you push him down, flipping yourself over so now you're straddling him. You pin his wrists behind his head, and he thinks it's cute how you think you can hold his hands there, but he lets you think it for a while. Like he couldn't overpower you in half a second.
"You think I'd forget that easy, huh?" You murmur, bringing your face close to his.
"What now?" He asks, pushing his hips a little, subtly raising them into you to remind you of what you were doing to him.
"Why didn't you tell me you had a thing with Jessica?" You ask.
He blinks in confusion and brings his hands down easily, placing one hand on each side of your hips. "What?"
"Parker told me. I was feeling upset because you didn't tell me. Actually, you know what, never mind. It's stupid," you say hurriedly, and try to get off him, but he holds you there, gripping both of your wrists in his palm behind your back, so that you have to lean down, your chest on his and your faces inches away from each other.
"It's not stupid," he mutters. "We never had a thing."
"Sure didn't sound like it, Lee," you giggle. "I was just feeling weird. I told you about my ex and everything. And you didn't even tell me someone coming here had a thing with you."
"There was nothing to tell," he sighs, pressing your wrists tighter together. "Wait. Are you jealous?"
"...No," you say, trying to wriggle out of his grip. "It's just. I feel."
"You feel what?" He says. "Drunk?"
"No!" You exclaim, and finally give up on trying to break out of his hold, and rest your head on his chest. "I just feel like I'm just some distraction to you. To pass the time."
Leon's heart sinks. Why would you think that? Is it because things are going too fast?
"You're not a distraction. Well, it's nice to be with you and forget everything for a while. But you're much more than that," he says, the words coming out of him like rapid-fire. "You know that once we go back home, nothing changes, right?"
"I have no way of knowing that," you say.
He kisses your forehead quickly, and then lifts your chin up, and plants a kiss on your lips. "How can I make you know that?"
"I don't know. It's not your fault. I think— I think it's just everything happening all at once. She reminded me of Tripp, and I had to think about his betrayal and— and—"
"You don't need to worry about that with me," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Got that?"
"I guess," you say quietly.
"I'm serious," he continues. "The only thing you need to worry about me is if I'll let you go." His fingertips dig into your skin harder and he's so relieved to hear you laugh.
"You're such a dork," you say, giggling into him.
"And you're a little drunk, little lady," he sighs, letting go of his grip.
"I liked that, why'd you stop?"
"We can pick this up when you're sober." He wraps his arms around your waist instead, holding you into his chest and looking at you like he's never seen someone so cute so close to him before.
"You talk too much for your own good sometimes," you tell him, and kiss him, holding his face in your hands.
"Come on Clementine, don't you think—"
"Shut up," you whisper, and clamp his mouth shut with your palm.
He removes your hand from his mouth. "At least lock the door."
"I said, shut up," you tell him. "Not a peep out of you. Got it?" You cover his mouth again with your hand, and he rolls his eyes, and then nods, deciding to entertain you.
You plant a trail of kisses from the bottom of his jaw to his collar bone. As soon as your lips touch the skin of his chest, Leon's heart starts racing, and he lifts his shirt up over his head. He doesn't know what it is about your lips on his skin, but it drives him crazy, makes his senses amplified.
With your hand still on his mouth, you kiss his Adam's apple, and then you plant one kiss on each side of his chest, before moving to his ribs, to the only patch that doesn't have a collection of scars.
"I kind of have been wanting to leave a small mark on you," you tell him shyly, and he nods once, giving you his approval.
You kiss right under his chest, where his ribcage can be felt, and as soon as he feels your teeth sink into his skin, he squirms a little. Then he feels your tongue, and then that familiar sucking feeling, and after one mark is done, you leave another, and another, until your lips have trailed all the way down to below his belly button.
"Now you're marked," you tell him, and he traces his fingers over the hickeys. He loved the feeling of being bitten, and he doesn't know how to tell you you need to do it harder.
"I think you need some matching ones," he says.
"Didn't I say you couldn't talk?"
"How else am I going to tell you to do that again?" He smiles, and pulls you into him, his dick throbbing from the way your lips felt on his skin.
As if you read his thoughts, you sink your hand below the elastic of his pants, and start rubbing his erection through his boxers.
"I don't—"
"If you say I'm drunk again I'm going to blue-ball you harder than you've ever been blue-balled before," you sigh, and then kiss him to shut him up.
He has never enjoyed being shut up more than tonight, and he cradles you into him, one arm wrapped around you, while the other has disappeared beneath your t-shirt, while your hands are slowing going deeper and deeper into his boxers, and he's a little embarrassed to be so ready, so willing, so desperately hard for you.
He moans quietly as you start stroking him, his head lolling back onto the pillows at the bliss of being touched by you.
"I wish you didn't have to be quiet," you tell him, sighing, as your grip on him tightens. "You sound too good."
He bites his knuckles to stop his whimpers, but you wipe his hand away, and lean forward. "If you're going to bite something, bite me."
"I have a better idea," he says, and moves you under him, tucking his erection back inside his boxers, and hungrily tears off your top.
He starts at your collar bones, light kisses where his lips barely brush against your skin, and then when he gets to your chest, he unhooks your bra clumsily, like he can't do it fast enough. He places a kiss on each breast, his lips hooking around your nipple, while his other hand slides down your abdomen, finding its rightful place between your legs.
"Leon," you whimper under him, and he looks up at you, feeling ecstatic at how quickly you respond to his touch.
He enjoys feeling you twitch beneath his lips, and he can tell your chest is sensitive just from the way your breathing is getting hollower. He decides to keep moving downwards, but stops at his favourite area: the little crease between the hip and the thigh.
With one hand, he grips the curves of your hips, while his other hand is still in your panties. He revels in the knowledge that you are as turned on as he is, he is as hard as you are wet. His fingers linger below your clit, and even though this is the second time, he is surprised at how easily he can slip his finger in. Leon leaves his marks there, at the crease of your hips, a couple of bite marks, while his finger slips in and out of you slowly, until he feels you ready to take on two of his fingers.
"You're going to drive me insane," you sigh as his lips kiss the inner part of your thighs.
"Good," he replies. "The feeling's mutual."
You moan as quietly as you can, but as he kisses that part between your thighs through your panty, you grip a pillow and moan into it, like you can't hold it in any longer.
Very slowly, he peels your underwear down, and his heart rate quickens as you raise your hips to help him. He sits back on his heels and admires you, admires how beautiful you look, from the blush on your cheeks, to the marks he left on your thighs, to everything else.
"Stop staring," you say shyly, attempting to cover yourself from.
"Can't do that," he says, and starts stroking himself slowly. "Touch yourself for me."
"Come on, Leon," you whine. He grabs the pillow and chucks it to the side.
"Do it," he insists. His heart does a back-flip when he sees your fingers start working at yourself the way you like it. "Look at that. Such a good girl."
He moves closer to you and props himself above you, holding himself up by his arms. He looks down at you and wants to look at you for a while, just to take in the beautiful scenery, but you wrap your arm around his neck and drag him down, kissing him ferociously.
There is no clothing between your two bodies now, and he feels his erection rub against you, and he moans in your mouth at the thought of how easy it would be to slip himself in, to finally experience you and how you feel.
He feels you gyrate your hips to pleasure yourself on his erection, and it's too much for him— your fingertips on his skin, his tongue in your mouth, his dick enveloped by the warmth and wetness.
He breaks the kiss and leans back, catching his breath.
"Come back," you whine.
"You're getting good at that," he sighs, running a quick hand through his hair.
"At what?" You ask.
"Making me almost give in, so quickly," he says, and kisses your abdomen, taking his position again, his head back between your thighs. "But we're not doing that here, princess."
You moan in exasperation, but Leon has his reasons. He will not have his first time with you here, with four other people in the same cabin.
He slips his fingers in again, and soon your quiet moans return, and he can't help it, as soon as his lips met your clit, he starts stroking himself, the sound of your pleasure alone enough to make him ready to come. You finger-comb his hair back, holding it and his head in place as he feels you move under him, and his grip on his dick hardens when your moans get a little louder and you start to pull his hair.
"You can pull my hair but you can't be loud," he says, pulling away from between your legs to talk. He kisses your inner thigh as he waits for you to give him a thumbs up, already too spent to speak.
His lips go back to where he knows he'll be able to make you come soon, and his fingers go in and out faster, and faster, until your breaths become deeper and deeper, and then after a while your moans stopped— just low, throaty inhales and exhales— until he feels you pull on his hair as you come on his tongue.
"Fuck, I need this every day," he says, sucking on his fingers as he kisses you while you're still coming down.
You kiss him back lazily, sleepily, and he slows his grip on his own throbbing dick, he's so close he can basically feel the orgasm edging closer.
"Let me do it," you say breathlessly, and he has to stop himself from begging for it.
You stroke him with the tip in your mouth, and he tilts your chin upwards, so he can look in your eyes. It's the eye contact that finally makes him come, and he covers his mouth with his forearm as he lets out a throaty moan, the satisfaction rolling through his body like in tsunami-sized waves.
All he wants to do is roll over and sleep here, with you, but he knows he can't wake up here, not with everyone knowing. But as he hugs you into him, he can see your eyelids fluttering shut. Maybe sleeping with you in his arms is worth whatever it is they've got to say.
"You're not a distraction," he whispers, kissing the top of your head. "Keep that in your mind."
"I hope not," you whisper back. "Neither are you, if it matters."
He falls asleep shortly afterwards, in the tight, warm embrace, feeling your heartbeat against his chest. He just wants this mission to end.
To go home. To have more of this without feeling guilty.
(a/n: i wasn't planning on writing any smut in this scene but here y'all go anyway, idk if it's any good i just needed to get these feelings out of me🤠 i tried to make leon a bit of a switch but he wasn't in the mood today ʕノ)ᴥ(ヾʔ)
(a/n: quick question to the readers: how did you find about this fanfiction?)