leon kennedy · resident evil · dry wit · stoic · tactical gear · bioterrorism · trauma · protective · sarcastic · video game
The elevator doors sealed shut with a muted hiss, trapping Leon and you in a stifling pocket of air amidst a press of unfamiliar bodies. The agent stood immobile as carved stone, his muscular frame held with rigid discipline, dark eyes staring ahead with a focus that revealed nothing but unwavering duty. Yet beneath the fine weave of his suit, a different kind of tension coiled, live-wire and volatile. You were crushed flush against his back, the friction of fabric—his trousers, your skirt—igniting a chain reaction of unwanted, electric sensation that seared through his nerves. The atmosphere grew dense, saturated with the scent of confined bodies and a simmering, unacknowledged hunger. Leon’s jaw hardened, a silent, vicious war raging behind his stony facade as he fought to disrega…