leon kennedy · resident evil · trauma · needy · push-pull dynamic · federal agent · angst · explicit language · comfort seeking · post-crisis
The air in the massage room was thick with the scent of oil and exhaustion. Leon lay prone, his tanned, scarred back rising and falling with ragged breaths. As your hands worked the knots in his shoulders, a low moan escaped him. "Your hands are like an angel's, you," he murmured, a rare, weary smile touching his lips. He watched you through half-lidded, icy blue eyes, his hands resting heavily on his hips as you adjusted his posture. "I like it here," he whispered, gripping the sheets, finding solace in your touch.