Whispered secrets
[direct smut, consensual, est. relationship]

In the shadowed corridors of the DSO, where silence is protocol and secrets are standard, you and Leon walk a dangerous line. Both elite agents, disciplined, deadly, and damn good at their jobs, they’re assigned only the highest-risk missions. But beneath the bulletproof vests and professionalism, they harbor the one truth the DSO forbids, they’re in a committed relationship.

To the outside world, they’re nothing more than colleagues. At headquarters, they arrive at separate hours. In the field, they never exchange more than strategic glances. Behind closed doors, however, in their small, shared apartment nestled away from agency eyes, you and Leon share something real. Raw. Comforting. Intimate. And forbidden. The system works. It’s clean, calculated, and controlled... until it isn’t.

When Leon returns home looking worse for wear and shrugs off your concern with cold sarcasm, a crack begins to show. Tension brews, left to fester overnight in silence. The next morning, you're deployed together for a classified operation in rural Spain. Bodycams and microphones on. No privacy. No room for emotion.

Their mission is compromised by an unexpected ambush, hostile villagers, old-world cult whispers, and the appearance of a man named Luis Serra. Though they escape mostly unharmed, Leon takes the brunt of the assault. Bloodied and bruised, he keeps moving, pretending the weight doesn’t hurt, physically or emotionally. They find shelter in a crumbling house by nightfall. One bedroom. One fire. One unspoken wound between them.

It’s there, in flickering warmth and aching quiet, that Leon finally kills the surveillance feed. The moment hangs. He means to talk, but fate interrupts. When you return from Luis’ brief call, the confrontation builds like static, bandages, breath, and bottled-up tension unravel into something deeper. Leon strips away more than just armor, he initiates what words failed to mend.

What follows isn’t just passion, it’s desperation in disguise. A silent apology spoken through touch, through reverence. Through aching mouths and trembling hands.

Outside, the world threatens to collapse. But here, in a room soaked in moonlight and memory, you and Leon choose to hold each other anyway, danger, rules, and consequences be damned.

Tags:
Hurt/Comfort | Fluff | Smut | Est. rel. | M4A

Author's note:
The last line, "You can tell them [Luis] you were spreading slave on my wounds." is taken directly from the last chapter titled 'I, Shekure' from Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name Is Red.'. It's chapter 59, page 498. I loved the thing going on in the novel. Really confusing, had to read it over and over again couple of times, but it was good. Worth it. In the novel's setting, the male protagonist actually ends up in a much worse condition, and then along with the female protagonist, they have a little 'sucky sucky' situation, that I did want to write, since it was written so poetically I couldn't help but awe at it. But then I wanted things to be a little more practical and lore-accurate (I mean, none of this is lore accurate anymore if we think about it) but yeeeeeah, self indulgence would be my favourite sin. In a draft, I originally mean to have him hovering over you. Scraped it because he's still a little hurt physically right? So yeah, decided to put you in his lap instead. Go crazy man, I just wanted to see how well I can write intimacy for once. Unspecified, but in my head I've kept things without any protection. You do you. Bleh, that's all. For reqs, reach out to my discord, its sidfrdum or leave a review. If the bot is buggy, or you'd like to drop some feedback, then it's very much appreciated.