A Twisted Fantasy (Leon Kennedy X OC) [BOOK 2]

Chapter 32: Overtime [SMUT]

I chewed at my bottom lip as I followed Leon into the lobby of his apartment complex. The lobby was neat and comfortable with a small sitting area off to the side, where a coffee maker sat to add that welcoming touch to the small space. I stuck out like a sore, very dirty, thumb against the clean entryway.

Leon nodded toward a maintenance man coming out of a nearby closet as he pressed the elevator button. "Hey, Clarke."

"Hey Leon, good to see you. Did you have a nice trip?"

I held back the snort of laughter that threatened to pass my lips. Here he is: covered in dirt, grime, and blood next to an equally dirty stranger, and he's asking if he had a good trip.

"Yeah, it was good. Thanks for asking," He replied as the elevator dinged. It was clear either the man didn't know what Leon actually did for a living, or knew enough to not ask questions.

Leon strode into the elevator, holding the door open as I followed him in. I pressed myself into the corner as he clicked the button for the sixth floor and the doors slid closed.

I picked at the tight fabric of my pants, trying to ward off the ants crawling under the surface of my skin, each one fueled by a burning desire to make me uncomfortable. Both times Leon and I were together there was a task at hand, a mission, a job to be done, but now it was just...us. A pair of normal people who just got off the clock going to his apartment for a nice friendly dinner.

My stomach turned over on itself as the elevator dinged, and the door slid open. I face mutated freaks and viruses for a living, and this is what's making my heart pound against my ribcage with such monstrous strength?

I trailed after Leon as he walked down the corridor, stopping at unit 607. My fingers dug into my palm as he turned the key and pushed the door open to reveal a studio apartment that made me do a double take.

This is really nice.

As Leon dropped his keys onto a nearby counter, I wandered in to get a better look at the place. It looked like a model apartment, the type that the realtors show to ensnare a new tenant. With how pristine the room appeared I would not have been surprised if he toured a show unit and just said 'I'll take this one.' The room's walls were mostly gray while blue throw pillows kept the room feeling fresh. A black couch and coffee table filled the small sitting area in front of the TV.

I would've believed this was staged if it hadn't been for the mug left on the coffee table and the few T-shirts crumpled at the bottom of his unmade bed.

His one bed.

"You said you had a bed?"

"I do," He said nodding toward his bed as he unstrapped the holster around his chest, "And I have a couch that I will be sleeping on." My eyes darted to the black couch, and guilt flooded my mind.

"I don't want to-"

"Do you want a drink?" He said, cutting off my objection as he moved into the attached kitchen.

"Uhm...sure." I said, mulling over the idea even after I said yes. Everything felt scrambled, like someone broke into my mind and mixed up my lefts and rights. Maybe I needed something to calm my thundering heart so I could get my thoughts back together.

"What do you drink?" He called from beyond the half wall.

"Just whatever you're having."

He reappeared a moment later, two short glasses in hand each half filled with an amber liquid. I took the glass, and didn't hesitate as I tipped it back, welcoming the familiar burn of bourbon as it slid down my throat.