Work Text:
He can only imagine the guards viewing the security cameras laughing at him as he walked in, shoulders slumped slightly though they’d straighten in with feigned confidence just to sag once again, slow steps as he passed the automatic doors.
He was an actual cop, worrying about lousy guards that do nothing but eat and watch the black and white footage for hours at a time while he was out hauling ass and catching criminals. One could never imagine a total badass on duty being so nervous because of a girl.
It really wasn’t his fault. He was never one to easily form bonds between strangers. Every friend he made wasn’t because he went out of his way to befriend them. He became friends with them because of a (forced) group project, which he eventually grew to be incredibly thankful for.
He was undoubtedly worse with girls.
He had the looks to be popular. Strong features though he still managed to have a baby face, a lean figure, a minimalistic sense of style— but he still had no luck.
Girls would approach him, either straightforwardly (which he didn’t know how to respond to other than a gaping mouth and a thanks that sounded confused) or subtly with small talk (poor baby was too dense and would just let it go back and forth until they lost interest.)
Guys would try to talk to him about girls, try hooking him up with some though he didn’t like the idea of it. “Which chicks in school do you dig? Who’ve you hooked up with? …No one? I’ll set you up with… No? Oh, okay.”
He’d much rather meet a girl naturally. Who said guys couldn’t dream of their own perfect meet cute? Or wish for their own sappy highschool sweetheart story?
Unfortunately, he did not get it. He was 21 already. A virgin going into highschool, a virgin graduating.
His first wasn’t with a girlfriend that he’d been with for a year, it was with a slightly older woman when he was 19. She found his somewhat awkward demeanor endearing and teased him to no end, enjoying the way he’d flushed at her compliments or short touches.
She’d been so patient with him and he’d been so eager to please her, but he knew nothing other than his fist and came within minutes.
So it was safe to say that his nerves grew tenfold when the receptionist greeted him with a smile, knowing that if he got lucky, he’d see the same masseuse that he’d taken a liking to since the very first time he came to get a massage.
“You don’t have an appointment here,” The woman utters, mainly to herself, pushing her glasses up. “Did you make one? If not, then it’s fine. She doesn’t have any other appointments today.”
Leon nodded and offered a kind smile, his hand coming up to tug at his jacket to find something to do with his hands. “Yeah, I didn’t make one. It’s kinda just a last-minute decision…”
The receptionist mirrors his nod and makes him feel welcome by telling him to take a seat and that he’ll be called in shortly.
Leon doesn’t take the offer, too excited and nervous to sit still.
The sound of the door softly clicking open has him snapping his head up to see you, suppressing that love-sick, puppy-eyed grin that was sure to give him away.
“You can come in, Leon,” You greet, looking up at him with a smile that was, in his opinion, sweeter than anything else.
He hears you whisper a quiet thank you to the receptionist as you hold the door open for him, shuffling past you and into the warm-lighted room.
“Do you want to focus on anywhere specific today?” You ask as the door closes behind you, your voice soothing enough to make him stop mentally gushing over you.
“Not really,” He replies, not bothering to sit down on the massage table like he did his first time, knowing that he’d just have to get up in less than a minute to disappear into a smaller room to undress. “Maybe my back? I still want the full body, I just took a nasty fall at work yesterday…”
The tips of his ears turn red once he mentions the fall, a niggling sense of self-consciousness flushing over him, thinking that you were probably judging him, but he has no time to dwell on it.
“Okay, you can go ahead and get undressed then. Come out when you’re ready.”
He nearly sprints to the small dressing room at your dismissal, taking the private time in there to wallow in his own self pity as he undresses and takes one of the pressed towels to wrap around his waist, checking in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t wrapped too high or too low as to not accidentally flash you.
With a final deep breath, he comes back out and lays face down on the table without you needing to tell him. The action doesn’t go by unnoticed, a small smile gracing your lips. One that he had the displeasure of missing.
He jolts lightly at the feeling of the baby oil spilling down onto the skin of his back, cheeks flushing red at the sound of your soft laugh and the feeling of your hands starting to spread the puddle around his skin in a gentle manner.
“Mind if I ask what happened?”
It was like you were made for this job, your voice and your touch equally as relieving as the massage itself. He knows exactly where you’re touching when the pads of your oiled fingers gently brush over the bruises.
“No,” He replies, closing his eyes as he focuses on his breathing for a moment, taking in the gentle caresses of your fingers before you would start to firmly rub his tension away. “Me and my partner were arresting a dealer and a hoard of guys came out of nowhere. Threw me against the wall then the floor and my partner down to the ground.”
A quiet groan of pleasure escapes his lips at the feeling of your thumbs starting to work his muscles, his back arching slightly when they rub close to his spine.
“What do you expect when you’re an officer, right? You can only hope that it’s an easy day.”
He hums in agreement, his eyes shutting tightly and his eyebrows furrowing to hold back a hiss when your hands start working at his shoulder blades.
“I can’t even imagine how hard it must be, being an officer,” he hears you whisper, taking note of how your voice and hand placement had lowered, most likely from observing how his body started to relax. “And you’re still a rookie, technically. It’s only gonna get harder and more draining.”
“Mm, yeah… It’s hard,” He mumbles, his body tensing up slightly when your hands make their way to his hamstrings before he relaxes yet again, “but it’s a living, and I’ve always dreamt of being an officer.”
“And thank god for that,” you laugh quietly, thumbs digging into the muscles that he hadn’t even realized were tense, making him bite his lip. If he weren’t face down, his head would’ve rolled back onto the table to make it obvious how good of a job you were doing. “The more you visit, the more money my parents pay me. You’re my only recurring client, y’know?”
He hums in response, thankful that you had moved down to his calves and ankles. “Am I?”
“Yeah. My parents built up their own clientele, so most of the people that come in here request them,” he hears you speak, your voice not carrying one hint of disappointment despite how damaging it might be to your own ego. “I get customers here and there, but none have come back. They’re younger, so they don’t need these types of massages as often as a police officer or older people do.”
He huffs out a laugh at the mention of his own occupation, his mouth making a quiet wet sound when his lips part in a grin, which makes you smile widely as well.
“But I’m glad… or thankful for that, rather,” you continue, hands running up and over his back lightly before one of them grabs his hip and tugs at it, prompting him to turn over. You had forgotten about paying more attention to his back with the conversation going on between the two of you, but he wasn’t about to complain when he could see you standing over him and massaging the front of his body.
“Less stress on my shoulders, and I get to build a closer relationship with you.”
He turns over for you and settles back down comfortably on the table, making eye contact with you as he does so, his cheeks flushing the slightest bit though he doesn’t think you notice when you pour a little more oil on his stomach.
“Also I get paid for doing nothing when it’s slow, so that’s cool,” you mutter, spreading the oil up and down his torso before moving to his arms, thumbs digging into his palm gently.
“I almost forget you’re younger than me,” He whispers, wanting to close his hand around one of yours just to feel its smooth texture against his rough palm.
“Just by a year.” He watches you roll your eyes though the grin on your face contradicts the annoyed action.
“Still not drinking age,” He teases, watching you work your thumbs up his arm, only flexing his muscles slightly to try and show his physique off.
“Every age is drinking age,” you whisper playfully, leaning closer to him as a smug smirk replaces your grin. “Twenty-one is just a formality… Don’t tell the cops on me.”
His chest pits slightly with the laugh he lets out at your words and the wink that accompanies it, each time he gets a massage from you and engages in conversations like these only showing how dorky you really are.
“Don’t ask me how, but I think they already know.”
His chest swells with pride from the hearty laugh that you let out, the fact that it was him who had just made you laugh like that making him feel so, so giddy.
“Narc,” you mutter sarcastically, moving down to Leon’s thighs as you both fall into a comfortable silence. Your eyes couldn’t help but find themselves focusing briefly on his face, now relaxed in a soft smile with his eyes closed, just enjoying the feeling of your nimble fingers digging themselves into his flesh and muscle.
Call him a hopeless romantic, but he was already envisioning a future with you by his side, his own professional masseuse whom he wouldn’t have to pay because it was just one of the many perks he would get from calling you his own. He could certainly imagine coming home from work as an experienced cop, his back killing him from stress and age, and asking you to bless him with even just a ten minute massage, which you would do without any complaint.
He almost wanted to scoff at himself and his naivety at the thought, knowing that he was building up this faux future with you without any sort of actual contact outside of the establishment.
His mind was too far gone in the scenario to notice the delicate way you had shifted the towel up his thighs the slightest bit, not to make him indecent, but just enough for you to start kneading at a sensitive spot on his inner thigh. Unfortunately for Leon, that older woman hadn’t taught him everything. Fortunately for you, you got to hear a pretty, breathy moan escape his lips and see his eyebrows furrow together in pleasure.
Both you and Leon had thought that it was just a spot that hadn’t been worked on at all, prompting you to continue working on the area without him stopping you.
It wasn’t until he had felt that familiar tingle in his lower abdomen and the feeling of his dick pressing against the fabric of the towel, making him gasp in surprise and shoot up from the table, a frantic look on his face and his eyebrows scrunched together in embarrassment, looking at your confused face with his own panicked one.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” He breathes out frantically, his cheeks and the tips of his ears a bright red as he looks at you. “I’m so sorry.”
“What?” You ask quietly, suddenly realizing why he was apologizing when you realize his hand was cupping his bulge through the blanket to hide it from you, your hand still on his thigh since he was too focused on hiding himself from you rather than getting rid of the source of his problem.
“Oh, fuck,” He hears you blurt out, watching your face morph into an expression of slight guilt and awkwardness. “Shit— Don’t apologize, it’s okay.”
God help him, he could’ve died right there. He was so humiliated, and he couldn’t tell whether or not you were uncomfortable. Surely, you were. Who wouldn’t be?
How embarrassing was it to pop a boner in front of the girl who had become the very reason for his growing loyalty to the business, the girl that he wanted so badly that was just as awkward as him?
He was sure it’d be best to just run out of the building with nothing but the towel, leave his clothes behind and never come back, but something kept him frozen on the table. The horny part of him wanted you to keep going in a less than professional manner, have your oil coated hand push the towel out of the way and wrap around his dick, stroke it until he was whining and cumming all over your hand. No matter what he tried to do to suppress those thoughts, he couldn’t, and they only made him grow harder until his cock was pressing against the towel and his hand.
“Uhm…”
You were unsure of what to do or even say, no one you had ever massaged had reacted to your touch the way he had, and it was obvious in the way your voice wavered.
“It’s okay,” you repeat, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before you realize your hand was still on his thigh, sliding it lower and away from the spot that had gotten him hard in the first place. “I can continue the massage, if you want. If not, then you can get dressed or… do what you need to. I can leave the room and let you, y’know?”
Leon’s heart dropped at the prospect of no longer having your hands on him, not wanting everything to end so quickly just because he got horny.
“Can you… keep going?” He asks shyly despite how selfish he thinks it is to ask you to do that. “You don’t– you don’t have to, I just really need this massage.”
He watches you nod and obeys when you tell him to lay back down, not bothering to move his hand from his crotch as silence engulfs the two of you once more when you resume the massage, careful not to stray too high up his inner thigh again.
He can’t help but grow needier when your hands work up and down his legs, thankful that you were avoiding that spot, though his body interpreted the act as you teasing him, making him shift his hips against his own hand to get some type of friction.
“‘M sorry,” he whines, rolling his head to the side to look at you, his face and ears more red than before as he stares at you with his lips parted and his eyebrows scrunched.
“I’m so sorry… I really need you.”
His mind is cloudy with lust, and he’s so desperate that he was able to say that, selfishly putting you into another awkward situation with the way he sounds so ready to beg. He finally lifts his hand from its position over his crotch, reaching out to you but stopping midway to not overstep that boundary.
“Please touch me, I want you so bad.”
You bite your lip in contemplation, knowing that if your parents had found out about this, they’d surely fire and disown you. But you also wanted him, so bad, from the very first moment you’d laid eyes on him. Lord knows how many times you’ve gushed to your friends about your very cute and young client.
His hands sweat over the oil when you don’t give him an answer right away, his mouth opening to take back what he had said before you beat him to the punch with a simple, “Okay.”
He sits up and supports his weight on the table with his hands behind him, watching your hands shake ever so slightly as you reach for the towel and unpeel it from his skin, exposing his aching cock to your eyes and the air of the room. Your mouth practically waters at the sight, the tip was red and already leaking a small amount of precum, and the girth and length of his dick was so perfect that all you could think about was it stretching you open.
His lips part to let out a quiet moan once your hand wraps around it, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as you start to stroke up and down the length slowly.
“Fuck, go faster,” he whines after a few seconds, his gaze only focused on your face while your own was glued to the sight of your hand moving up and down.
You listen to his request after a moment of hesitation, unsure if he would still feel that pleasure since you’d only given a handjob twice before, biting your lip as you try to remember what to do to make it feel better.
“Yes, shit– That’s s… so fucking good,” He breathes out when you lightly squeeze the tip of his dick, chest heaving up and down as he reaches one arm out to cup the back of your neck, his lips pressing against yours as he whines.
The pace of your hand falters at the action, wanting to focus on the warmth of his mouth before you adjust to divide your attention, thumb grazing his tip when it can.
His hips start to thrust upward against your hand, louder whines escaping him though they’re muffled by your lips.
“‘M close,” he whines. “So fucking close. Fuck, oh god.”
His hips stutter, white and thick ropes of cum spurting from his tip, landing on your hand and wrist as he pants heavily against your mouth, his dick softening slightly in your grasp though you don’t let go.
“Thank you,” he whispers through his harsh breathing, forehead pressed against yours as he nudges his nose against your own before his eyes open to look at you, his lips jutted out in an unintentional pout. “You’re an angel…”
There was no doubt that you were soaking your underwear right now, his moans and the pretty faces he made throughout the short duration of the handjob riling you up.
His hand leaves the back of your neck, trailing down your back as he looks at you with soft eyes, his fingers now resting at the waistband of your pants, gently tugging on it. “Make it up to you?”
You couldn’t even properly think it over before your body answers for you, head bobbing up and down once as you watch a small grin of victory make its way onto his lips, his fingers fumbling to pull your pants and underwear down. Too focused on the abrupt action, it takes you longer to process the fact that he had spun you around to press your back against him.
“‘M sorry,” he apologizes quietly, his middle and ring finger shyly dipping between your folds as he traps your body between his thighs, his dick already hardening again against your back.
“I’ve never really touched another girl like this, just… let me know if you don’t like somethin’.”
His admission has you gushing even more slick beneath his fingertips, the thought of the both of you having minimal experience arousing you further as he holds you against his chest, his fingers slowly going back and forth from your vagina to your clit to gather up some slick.
“Fuck, Leon,” You whisper breathily, clit throbbing against his fingerprints, aching for more of his touch. It’s impossible to spread your legs comfortably, which you learn from a few feeble attempts to do so. Quickly noticing your struggle, he takes his hands away from you to scoot back on the table, as far as he can without his ass hanging off the edge, and hoists you up between his legs without warning.
His hand quickly forces one of your legs up onto the table as well, effectively baring your cunt to the air of the room though not for long.
“You’re so pretty,” He mutters, the tip of his middle finger gently prodding your entrance before slipping in completely, nose nudging the apple of your cheek. His finger works the inside of your vagina for a while until your moans get louder, prompting him to take it two steps further by adding his ring finger to the mix as well as pressing his thumb to your clit lightly.
“God, I really didn’t want it to happen like this,” He whispers, loud enough for you to hear though there was no doubt in your mind that he was really talking to himself, a hint of guilt lacing his voice. Despite his admission, his fingers still working themselves inside of you at a steady pace while he holds you against his chest, only pulling them out once he can feel you tense up and dig your nails into the skin of his wrist.
He lifts you up yet again to lay you on the table instead, spreading your legs to slip between them with an embarrassed “sorry”, biting his lip as he looks down at your parted lips before he captures them with his own. His hands slide up and down your sides as if he was trying to engrain each curve of your body into his memory, nimble fingers working their way to unbutton your uniform.
“Fuck– want you to cum on my dick,” he shudders, voice wavering as the tip of his dick brushes against your slit, jaw clenching when he looks down at the sight between the two of you, just aching to be inside of you.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to bend over to get closer to you, foreheads pressed together lightly while he grips the base of his dick to guide himself inside of your cunt. “‘S so warm,” he grits out, nearly whining in relief when he slowly bottoms out inside of you, pushing your shirt to the side to expose your torso.
A quiet curse escapes his lips at the sight of your bra covering your tits, the still immature and inexperienced part of him nearly crying at the fact that there was more clothing than he had bothered to remember covering you, wanting to see and ravish you properly for your first time together.
He pulls out of you the slightest bit before working himself back in, setting a slow pace of thrusts that has you whimpering quietly, holding onto him while his eyes lock onto yours, sending him further to the rabbit hole of his admiration for you.
“You’re so pretty, so pretty,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, swallowing every quiet moan that you make while the pads of his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, as if he was trying to brand you with his unique set of prints. “Swear I wanted it to be different.”
The oil coating his body and your hands nearly makes it difficult for you to keep your own hands on him, nails only lightly anchoring themselves into his back before he speeds up and finds that certain spot that has you tightening around him in every way possible.
“Leon,” he hears you whine, his cock instinctively twitching inside of your cunt at the feeling.
His head drops down to the crook of your neck, huffing against it quietly before his pace finally adapts to your needs and what has you moaning louder.
“Wanted to ask you out properly… ask to be your boyfriend long before we had sex,” he admits, lips attaching to your neck gently yet eagerly to finally stake his claim. “I wanted to do it all right, but I couldn’t help myself. Just too good for me.”
A protesting whine escapes your lips and reaches Leon’s perceptive ear, instantly noticing that it was different from the previous ones of pleasure, but before he could even ask what was wrong, you were already answering.
“Don’t leave hickeys,” he hears you groan, a part of him suddenly starting to overthink everything, wondering if you were rejecting his indirect confession. “Parents… are gonna see.”
An instant wave of relief washes over him, lips trailing soft and open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, a hum of understanding rumbling in his chest.
Your back arches off of the massage table soon after, the tip of his dick hitting your g-spot over and over again, whether he had realized it or not. At the sound of your moans growing louder and more frequent, he tenses, trying so hard to hold himself from coming before you without stopping his thrusts at all.
He could feel the slick gushing out of your cunt on his cock and onto the table, the feeling of your nails scratching harshly down his back making him follow soon after, hips stuttering to a stop while he empties himself inside you.
“Shit!” He curses breathily, pulling out and letting the rest of his cum spurt out on your puffy pussy as if it was gonna do anything to undo the load he just dumped inside of you.
He runs his softening dick up and down your slit, just as he did earlier, this time spreading his cum between your folds before he collapses next to you on the table, narrowly avoiding you.
The silence between the two of you seems to stretch on forever, the only sound being the both of you panting harshly before he interferes with a boyish smile.
“Can I get your number? Just in case I can’t reach the front desk… y’know?”