Work Text:
Being among Leon’s colleagues was always an unusual experience for you.
On the one hand, you saw a decent number of familiar faces. Over a decade of coming to a variety of work events had gotten you to a point where you could do that. Not only that, but you could truly appreciate that there were people in this room that ensured Leon came home in one piece. Some you knew personally and thanked profusely, others you just knew were part of the organized machine that kept the world safe. Even if that unfortunately meant putting the one you loved in regular danger.
Some, however, you didn’t want to talk to at all beyond a tight-lipped greeting. It was hard to entertain conversation with people that you had gathered contributed to the unsavory aspects of Leon’s job. In general, they were those that cared more about image and saving face than people.
On the other hand, you never could quite shake the feeling that you were effectively a fish out of water. You were no agent. In fact, you were just a writer who basically only left the house unless you had to or your husband was around. At the end of the day and in the eyes of most in this room, you were just an agent’s wife. Although as the years had taught you, that role was its own type of job. You had known that before you signed your marriage certificate all those years ago and yet somehow it was only now, well over a decade later since you had first gotten together, that you realized what that commitment truly meant.
It meant long periods of isolation. Which, with your penchant for being anti-social, worked out quite well. You could manage long stints without seeing your husband. Reasonably well, anyway. If anything, it tended to be a lovely recipe for intense bedroom affairs upon his return.
Distance really does make the heart grow fonder, as the saying goes.
Currently, though, you didn’t have to miss him at all. Hadn’t had to miss him for the past month, actually, except when he was at the office.
The pair of you stood at one of many small circular standing tables ringing the sides of the vast auditorium that constituted the venue for this year’s holiday party. The tables themselves were covered in alternating gold and white table cloths. Between the artificial candles flickering away in glass enclosures serving as decorative center pieces and the ambient light provided by the numerous holiday decorations strategically placed along the walls, the space was as atmospheric as one could get in a government building. A string quartet played holiday themed music in a distant corner, sometimes accompanied by a woman singing at the microphone.
“Still holding up okay, sweetheart?”
The low, rasping voice in your ear brought you back into the present.
A smile naturally tugged at your lips as you turned to the man beside you. Legendary Division of Security Operations agent Leon S. Kennedy, currently dressed to the nines in a finely tailored black tuxedo. His crimson bowtie and vest matched your dress.
It went without saying that he looked good in it. More than good. So good that you’d probably told him at least three times before you had left for this event. As a product of watching him put it on in the reflection provided by your vanity mirror while you got ready earlier, you were already of a mind then that this evening you were going to take your time peeling him out of it. With some pitstops along the way, of course. That tie, while not a long necktie, would still give you some leverage—something to hold on to.
And the man himself…
Sometimes you wondered how you wound up here. What did you do to find yourself with this blond man whose features somehow seemed to only improve with age and were so finely chiseled you could cry? Who gazed at you with such open longing and affection in those navy eyes it made your chest hurt? Pair that with his perpetually fit form (scars and all) and it was a wonder you ever left the bedroom when he was home.
“I’m doing okay,” you replied, leaning into him. You caught a fresh, woody whiff of his cologne as his hand came around your waist, giving you a brief squeeze.
“Should be time for the speeches soon and we’ll be one step closer to freedom.”
You snorted, taking a sip from your glass of water. “Says the man who’s the entire reason we’re here to begin with.”
His voice dropped until its was nearly imperceptible as he whispered, “Guilty as charged, but can you blame a man for wanting an excuse to get his wife into a dress like that?”
You leaned back to glance up at him, brow raised. That heated look forming in his eyes was carefully concealed from the others across the table by his bangs. He traced a path from your eyes to your glossy lips to the form-fitting bodice of your dress that was just on the safe side for a work function.
Your body tightened, your next inhale sharp. You resisted the urge to smirk at him. If anything was a challenge about being in public with this man, it was trying to keep a straight, publicly appropriate face on. One minute he could be a gentleman and the next he was subtly (or not so subtly) making his private intentions abundantly clear.
Instead, you formed a gentle, polite smile. “Careful, Mr. Kennedy. We’re in public.”
He chuckled. “Don’t remind me.” His eye strayed elsewhere, flagging down one of the young servers passing by bearing a tray of champagne glasses. To you he said quietly, “Might as well get our drinks ready for the toast.”
To the server, he asked, “Champagne or kiddie juice?”
The server offered a friendly but worn smile. “I have both. Which would you prefer?”
“I’ll take juice. And my wife…” He trailed off, glancing at you. Whether he realized it or not, his jaw ticked faintly.
None of this exchange meant anything to the server, but to you it was a reminder of the only point of contention to have threatened your marriage. (That was saying a lot given your husband’s line of work.) Leon always insisted (as he usually did) that just because he didn’t partake in alcohol anymore didn’t mean that you couldn’t. But ever since he had sworn off the substance entirely, you had found yourself unbothered by its absence in both your lives.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” you said, nodding at Leon.
The server passed the pair of you each a tall glass of pale bubbling liquid. As the server moved on to another table, you sniffed at it.
“It’s grape, I think,” you mused.
“You know you don’t have to,” Leon said. An obligatory line he seemed incapable of letting go of just yet.
“And you know that I don’t really care. I don’t miss it.”
He didn’t say anything in response, just smiled faintly. That was his version of admitting that you were right and he was almost at the point of fully accepting it.
His eyes strayed across the room, relief softening his features. “And there it is. Finally.”
Before you could look yourself, you heard the band’s current song fading into nothing. At the front of the room, the commander-in-chief of DSO faintly tapped the side of a glass with a knife.
“I hope everyone has had a good time so far this evening. We do this every year and yet every year I’m still amazed at the turn out.”
From there, the speech went in its usual directions. Thanking all of the people who make DSO a successful organization. A special thanks to the field agents. Vague allusions to what had been accomplished in the past year, of which you really only understood the ones pertaining to Leon. A moment of silence for those lost this past year, some named and some unnamed depending on the classification of their activities.
When the silence concluded, the commander-in-chief continued, “I want to give a special thank you to the family members among us this evening. We as an organization may make it our priority to take care of our own, but you too support and take care of our agents, analysts, specialists, and engineers. You make it possible for our people to come into work and do their jobs.”
Leon’s hand was back around your waist. Under his breath, he asked, “You hear that? You take care of me.”
You pressed your lips together and tried to keep a straight face. “Very well, I’d argue.”
“Exceptionally,” he agreed, his hand sliding briefly a little lower to the swell of your hip.
“Here’s to another year of the excellent work you all do to make this world a better and safer place!” the commander-in-chief proclaimed, raising his glass. “Cheers and happy holidays to you all!”
In response, you and everyone else raised their glass, a chorus of “cheers” and “happy holidays” echoing. You sipped at your sparkling grape juice, catching Leon smiling at you over his own glass.
As usual, the best part was when Leon detected that you both had socialized enough and could slip away for the evening.
It started with a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s go, gorgeous,” he murmured.
With your hand tucked in the crook of his arm, you slipped away from the party with him. To your surprise, though, the path you started to take was not the way you came in.
“Are we leaving a different way?” you asked.
Leon grinned down at you. “There’s something I wanted to show you first.”
“Show me? At work?”
“They gave me a proper office last week,” he explained.
Your brow went up at that. “Did you even spend much time time in the last one?”
He chuckled. “No. This one, though, I just might when they let me.”
Your brow rose again. It stayed up as the two of you slunk about the nearly abandoned office building. Try as you might, you still felt like a trespasser. Which, technically you were. You assumed it wasn’t exactly within policy to use one’s clearance to bring one’s wife around the office.
Still, there was rather a quaint thrill to it. The elevator ride up found you leaning into your husband, drumming your fingers against his chest.
“You’re a rather naughty agent to be sneaking your wife into your office,” you teased. “Someone might think you have motives beyond just showing it to me.”
He looked down at you with a devious grin. “Who says I don’t?”
Your fingers paused in their drumming. “Mr. Kennedy, you’re supposed to set an example for all the other agents. Especially all the new ones.”
He grunted, unimpressed. “Maybe they need someone to remind them how to live sometimes.” His knuckles grazed your cheek. “I know I need that reminder sometimes.”
The heartfelt admission went straight through you. Suddenly you were reminded that it was a miracle that you were here right now at all. All those missions where Leon might not have come home. All those missions where even when he did come home, he was followed by ghosts. Incidents that hit a little too close to home. All those nights of comfort either in your arms or, for a regretful while, the bottom of a bottle.
Luckily, the latter were a thing of the past.
“Just say the word and I’ll remind you,” you whispered, reaching up to brush your fingers over his lips.
“I know you will,” he replied warmly.
When the elevator let you out on an upper floor, Leon led the way through a grid of cubicles. Only a few overhead lights were left on, giving the space an eerie ghost town sort of feeling. On the far side of the gloomy cavernous space, you stopped at a closed door with a nameplate next to it that read Leon S. Kennedy.
“Here we are,” he said, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Once unlocked, he pushed open the door and swung an inviting arm. “Ladies first.”
Inside was a dimly lit room, made all the dimmer when the door shut behind you with a soft click. The only real source of light left in the room came from the whitish blue glow of something plugged into the wall off on the right that might’ve been something between a nightlight and an air freshener. Or maybe both. On the far side, curtains were drawn over a window that nearly took up the entire wall. Leon’s desk, made of a heavy, dark wood, sat predominantly before the window with a leather upholstered chair behind it, a neat set-up with a computer and keyboard tucked to one side.
You eyed the small meeting area in front of the desk as you passed, finding it composed of a low glass coffee table with a cloth-upholstered couch on one side and a pair of matching chairs on the other. On the right wall was a generic piece of impressionist artwork. On the left, the kind of patriotic pictures you’d expect on a wall in a government office, including a picture of the president.
“For your many guests, I assume?” you asked, dragging your hand along the back of the couch as you walked by.
“For all my lovely meetings,” he replied, sounding the furthest from pleased. “Who needs a conference room when you can host meetings in your office?”
You laughed softly, continuing on towards the desk. Leon adhered to the clean desk standard, not a stray pencil or knick knack in sight. The only exception was a picture frame. Even in the near dark, you knew the picture inside well. After all, it was from your wedding all those years ago.
Well, more like the pair of you at the court house. Not a very professional photo but it was a happy one that always brought a smile to your face. Now being no exception.
“I’d put some other pictures up of you but apparently they’re against organizational policy.”
You glanced up from the picture, eying a smirking Leon who was currently perched on the arm of the couch, arms folded.
You could guess exactly which photos he was likely referring to. Last you checked, his favorite photos were part of a special collection from your anniversary a few years ago. The look on his face when you had presented him with the photos from that boudoir photoshoot…
Actually, that look was very similar to the one he wore now.
“I’m not sure I like the thought of your coworkers seeing those,” you joked.
“Nor I. I’d have to start putting out eyeballs and then I might be out of a job,” he replied with a dejected shrug, lips curling further.
Chuckling, you wandered to the window, parting the curtains to get a look at the twinkling DC nighttime skyline that lay on the other side.
“You’ve got a nice view from here,” you commented.
“I can think of a better one.”
You half turned, noting with a dizzying thrill that his eyes were intently devouring you.
“Like what you see?” you asked on a breath, brow arched. For good measure, you leaned against the window on a forearm, arching your lower back to accentuate your rear.
Leon laid a hand over his heart. With a voice dripping with feigned offense, he said, “Sweetheart, are you flirting with me? I’ll have you know that I’m a married man.” In contrast, though, he had a knowing smile on his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
You decided to play along, a smile tugging at one corner of your mouth. “Are you, now? She must be quite the lucky lady.”
He strode closer, rounding the desk with a lingering hand grazing the surface. “I’m the one who should be considered lucky.”
A flush of heat seared through you as Leon came up right behind you. One hand landed firm on your ass, the other gently taking hold of your chin.
“Very, very lucky,” he whispered.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you anticipated an incoming kiss. When you felt only his breath fanning your face you cracked your eyes open. Met his eyes in the near dark of the office. Felt in his touch that he was on the verge of some much anticipated manhandling. Or, in this case, wifehandling.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” you asked.
“Oh, I will. And then some,” he rasped. He leaned in until your noses were grazing one another. “I’ve got all kinds of plans in store for you, baby.”
“Show me what you got, Mr. Kennedy,” you challenged, smirking.
Without further preamble, he sealed his lips over yours. He kissed you like a man starving, all but growling as your lips parted and he slipped his tongue against your teeth and tongue. He tasted sweet like the sparkling grape juice from downstairs. You turned your body about without breaking the kiss, leaning your back against the window. He followed immediately, planting a knee between your legs and the weight of his larger body against you. In that moment, there was very little doubt about his intentions, a familiar hardness pressing into your lower belly.
Your hands flew to his head, grabbing fiercely at his soft hair to show him that you were just as hungry. His hand that had been on your chin gripped your jaw, the other skimming up your front until he was massaging a breast through your dress.
You groaned immediately, a second following quickly afterwards as his fingers found a peaked nipple through the fabric.
“This dress makes your tits look absolutely perfect,” he mumbled against your lips, accentuating his point with a pinch. “So fucking perfect.” He drifted from your now puffy lips, kissing his way down your jaw and neck. The brush of his scruff had your skin prickling with goosebumps. “We had to keep standing behind that table downstairs or folks would notice I’ve had a raging hard-on for you all evening.”
You hummed appreciatively, unable to stop yourself from reaching to feel him with your hand. Beneath your touch, you found that familiar contours of his erection.
He, in turn, found himself shuddering. “Fuck…” He paused in his downward descent, nibbling on your exposed collarbone.
“Hm?” You ghosted your hand over him again.
He thrust at your hand, crushing your hand between him and your own body. Lifting his head up, he breathed in your ear, “You keep touching me like that and we’ll get to the end rather quickly.”
The thought of teasing him until he finished in his pants sent a delicious and devious spike through you. Alternatively, the thought of him instead sheathed completely inside of you set your core pulsating with need.
All of that evaporated as he grabbed you roughly around the waist.
“C’mere.”
A brief whirlwind of motion and suddenly you were sitting in his lap, back pressed against his chest and his arousal pushing against your ass. He, in turn, was sitting in his desk chair. His face was buried in your neck, stubble tickling the sensitive skin again. You tipped your head to the side instinctively to give him complete reign there, arching against him.
“Leon,” you gasped.
With one hand on your breast, his other hand started pulling up your dress. Understanding his intent, you spread your legs wide.
His teeth grazed your ear. “You want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” you hissed.
To hasten his quest, you also grabbed at the dress until the fabric of the skirt came up over your spread knees. His hand slipped between your legs, dancing up your thigh until he found what you suspected were some very damp panties.
“Looks like someone’s in quite the mood,” he crooned, tracing his fingers over your clothed folds. “Have you been thinking about me all evening?”
“Yes,” you admitted immediately.
He hummed thoughtfully. Between the two of you pulling and shimmying, the panties came off. Then his hand disappeared under your skirt again, his finger giving your clit one long swirl before seeking your entrance.
“Do you ache for me?” he asked. “This wet, you must be.”
“Yes,” you bit out. You squirmed in his lap, rubbing your ass against his erection.
He grunted in response, squeezing your breast with his other hand. Then he started a fierce rhythm with your clit that left you moaning and writhing. He knew just how to tease you, how to drive you mad with expert ministrations.
“You’ll have to be quiet,” he whispered. “Can’t have anyone catching us in here now can we?”
“N-no,” you stuttered in agreement.
He soon had you nearing the precipice. His other hand found its way beneath your dress’s neckline until he was cupping your bare breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers. The pressure built even further, nearing that final edge.
“Leon, I… I’m so close…”
“Come for me, baby. Fall apart.”
You unraveled a second later, cresting over into complete and utter bliss. The pleasure shot through you so fiercely that you started to cry out. Leon’s hand left your breast and slapped over your mouth. You bucked and moaned into his hand, riding out the waves until they subsided. Boneless, you fell back against his body, head falling onto his shoulder.
“Was that good?” he asked.
“Oh fuck, yes,” you panted. “So fucking good.”
He rubbed his cheek against your head. “Good.”
Recalling the cock waiting beneath you, you asked, “How do want it?”
He made a show of humming like he was thinking about it. Then he was patting your shoulder. “Get up.”
You slid off his lap, the skirt of your dress falling back around your legs. You were about to turn around when one hand was on your shoulder and the other grabbed your hand.
“Hands on the desk, Mrs. Kennedy,” he ordered, guiding you until you were leaned over the desk, palms planted on the surface. Then his hands were skimming down your back, the zipper of your dress coming undone in the process. “I’m going to have to search you. No telling what you could be hiding under this dress. Lovely as it is.”
He slipped the straps down your arms, pushing the dress until it was pooling at your feet. You stepped out of it and kicked it aside. Your bra quickly followed, landing who knows where across the room. When you reached down to take off your heels, he gave your ass a soft smack.
“The heels stay on,” he commanded.
You looked at him over your shoulder. His eyes were elsewhere, drinking in the naked sight of your bent over his desk in high heels. Your body clenched at that look.
His gaze flitted up to yours, a hungry smile on his lips. He held your eyes as he shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket. One by one, he unbuttoned his vest. Loosened his tie until it was hanging undone around his neck. Shrugged out of everything above the waist until his sculpted and scarred torso was on full display.
You motioned lower with your eyes. With a smirk on his lips, he cocked a brow at you.
“Hm?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Leon.”
Instead of dealing with his pants, he ran a hand over his bare chest. You breathed in sharply, fingers flexing against the desk. How cruel it was to see that body on display and not be able to touch it.
“Clothes. Off,” you growled. “Now.”
That hand on his chest descended. Passed over that trail of dark hair that started beneath his belly button. Fingered the buckle of his belt.
You lifted one hand off the desk before he was smacking your ass again. “Hands on the desk.”
“Then take your clothes off,” you replied curtly. “I want to see you.”
At that, he undid and whipped out his belt. Unfastened his pants until they were dropping to his ankles. At that point you noticed he was barefoot, although you couldn’t remember when the shoes had come off. He pulled off his dark boxer briefs, leaving all of him was on display. His member stood proud and thick amid a trimmed bed of dark blond hair.
He grasped himself, giving the length a long stroke.
You bit your lip. Just the thought of him filling you made that ache between your legs pitch more violently. You felt yourself quivering. At this point, you wouldn’t have been surprised to find out you were actually dripping.
Leon came up behind you, cock resting against your ass as he folded over you until his chest pressed against your back. Your head fell to one side, feeling every warm inch of him, feeling as he reached between you. When his fingers grazed your entrance, you whimpered.
“God, you’re so wet,” he groaned.
That was the only warning you got before he slipped a finger inside you. You sighed in relief, back arching as he immediately found that spot that made your knees buckle.
He started a slow, tortuous rhythm, adding a second finger shortly thereafter. You bucked your hips in response, starting to pant as the ripples of pleasure egged you on. You could easily ride his fingers straight to the end, each pump getting you ever closer.
“Leon...”
Abruptly, the fingers slipped out. Fully anticipating what was going to replace them as he adjusted behind you, you still bit back a groan of displeasure.
“You ready?” he asked into your ear. His head was already in place at your entrance.
“Oh yes,” you replied, sitting your hips back to urge him in. “So ready.”
He chuckled. “Good.”
With one hand on himself and the other on your shoulder, he thrust himself inside and in three quick strokes had himself fully buried. The accompanying stretch and feeling of fullness had you moaning. There was nothing that compared to the feeling of him completely seated inside of you, your body molding to the shape and size of him.
“Fuck,” you hissed.
“Buckle up,” he said gruffly.
“Oh yeah, fuck me, Leon,” you demanded.
The pace he set then was hard and fast. You could barely remember to try and contain yourself as moans and screams tried to rip their way from you. He pounded into you with unrelenting tenacity, the wet sound of it a pleasure of its own kind. You braced yourself as best you could, then realized that the best thing was to reach until you grasped the far edge of the desk.
“You feel so fucking good, Mrs. Kennedy,” Leon growled, planting sloppy kisses where he could along your upper back and shoulder.
“The feeling’s mutual,” you gasped as he continued to hit that deep place that made your knees threaten to give out. Given the mind-numbingly pleasurable angle, you were grateful he had insisted on keeping the heels.
Then he was grabbing your hips with both hands and upping the pace until it was absolutely brutal in all the best ways. Consequently, you could feel a second climax coming. Your legs began to tingle, knees quivering as that coiling in your gut told you it was going to be soon. Fast. Hard. Destroying.
“Fuck, Leon, I…”
“What? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?”
“Oh, yes, fuck, yes.”
“Come for me, baby. Come all over this cock.”
Two strokes later and you were coming undone. The wave of pleasure that crashed over you seared you to the very fiber of your being, made all the sweeter as your climax brought upon his. It was a miracle that you remembered to clench your teeth and hold in a scream. With only a few more haphazard pumps, he was gasping and moaning your name.
As he stilled and you tried to catch your breath, you sighed in contentment, brushing away loose hair from your face. Lord knew how your hair and makeup must look right now.
“Amazing,” he breathed, kissing the back of your shoulder.
You hummed in agreement, feeling him slip out of you as you stood and turned. Grabbing him with a hand on either cheek, you pulled him in for a long, hard kiss. His arms came around you, holding you close to his warm body.
Pulling back, you whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replied, sealing the statement with another kiss.
You ran your hand down over his pecs, feeling the familiar crests and valleys, smooth skin and scars, and the underlying thrum of his heart. A faint layer of sweat made his skin faintly glisten.
Several slow kisses later and you were pulling apart from him, realizing with a clearer head that you were standing in his DSO office in nothing but a pair of heels.
“Guess we just christened your new office,” you remarked with a smirk. “Not sure how you’re going to do work in here after this.”
He laughed. “Guess that’ll just be my curse to bear. I’m sure I can take it.” He winked at you.
Using up perhaps an the room’s entire supply of tissues (courtesy of a tissue box sitting atop a cabinet in the corner), the two of you cleaned up as best you could before dressing again.
“We’ll have to take the evidence with us,” Leon said as tied up the trash bag and removed it from the trash can. “Knowing these people, someone around here’s bound to do some forensics that I do not want to hear about.”
You laughed. “Fair enough.” You touched lightly at your hair. “How’s my hair?”
“Like you just had sex,” he replied with a grin.
You snorted. “Care to help a lady out?” you asked. “I’d rather it not look completely obvious what we’ve been up to if someone catches us on the way out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Clothes on, hair righted, and the trash bag of “evidence” stashed in your purse, the pair of you slipped from the office, arm in arm. Somehow, you navigated your way out of the building without being caught. Probably something to do with those agent skills of his. All the while, you couldn’t stop smiling, your chest full to the brim a myriad of emotions.
Satisfaction. The thrill from sneaking around. The warmth of the afterglow and love for the agent whose arm you clung to.