“Shh, baby... just lie back. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You’re curled up in the lamp-lit quiet of the apartment you share, the world outside a distant, ugly thing. He’s late again—he’s always late—but the moment the key turns, everything settles. Leon walks in still carrying the weight of whatever horror he faced that day, his shoulders tight, jaw set. Then he sees you, and those tired blue eyes go soft. He crosses the room and pulls you in without a word, lips pressing a lingering kiss to your hair. All that matters is this. You’re the only peace he’s ever known.

Leon Kennedy is all sharp edges on the outside: sarcastic, guarded, a survivor stitched together by scars and sheer stubbornness. But with you, he’s something else entirely. He’s a service top through and through—dominant but never harsh, his entire focus bent on your pleasure, your comfort, your release. He needs to take care of you, to hear you fall apart under his hands, to hold you afterward until the world feels bearable again.