Chapter Text
Leon S. Kennedy had a stalker.
He had tried everything. Called the police, showed them the texts he received and the photos taken of him from angles that made his skin crawl - the profile of his head in a coffee shop, him standing at his window from what seemed like it was taken from right below his apartment in the middle of the night. Hired a private detective to find out who the guy was. To no avail. They couldn’t find out who he was or even why he was interested in Leon, much less a restraining order or an arrest. All Leon got was a very perplexed detective promising they would get this guy. Leon was starting to think he had been hallucinating the black truck with tinted windows that occasionally appeared in his rearview like a recurring nightmare.
Whoever was doing this knew how to avoid cameras, leave no prints, route messages through encrypted channels that the police department's IT guys couldn't even begin to untangle. Leon had Googled it once-what kind of person can do this-and the answers that came back were not comforting. Government. Military. Intelligence.
The kind of person who could follow you for six months without once showing their face.
So Leon had done what any sane young man did when the system failed him. Tried to make the most out of it. Leon stopped flinching when the phone buzzed from texts from an unknown number because somehow the guy kept finding out his numbers after he changed them and stopped scanning for the black truck because it was always going to be there. What was the point. He got used to the creepy texts messages that came through - you didn’t eat lunch today and you look tired, baby. go to bed.
The stalker called him baby. It bothered Leon more than he'd liked.
At some point Leon couldn't pinpoint when, exactly, but the texts stopped making his blood run cold and started making it run warm. He didn't think about that too hard.
***
Leon was standing in his bedroom in nothing but underwear, the overhead light off and the warm glow of his desk lamp casting the room in amber. His closet was open. Three outfits were laid out on the bed - the usual crisis of a morning class he'd pre-planned for, jeans and a sweater and a flannel, all in varying shades of I didn't try that hard. But it was the underwear he was deliberating on.
He held up two pairs. Pale blue, lace-trimmed. Soft pink, cotton, with a tiny bow at the front.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Unknown: the blue ones baby. makes your cunt look sweet. wear those for me
Leon stared at the message. Then he looked at the blue pair in his left hand. Then he looked instinctively, stupidly, toward the window. The blinds were always shut. But that didn't matter.
He chewed the inside of his cheek. Held up the pink pair toward no one in particular.
"What about these?"
His voice came out quieter than he meant it to. A little rough. Like talking to a ghost he'd made peace with.
Three dots appeared.
Unknown: those are pretty too. but I like the blue on you. soft enough to fold nicely into your cunt
Leon's face went hot. He dropped the pink pair on the bed, stepped into the blue ones, and pulled them up his thighs in one quick motion, like ripping off a bandage. The lace sat snug against him, cupping his pussy obscenely. He could feel the way the fabric pressed into the seam of him, how it would outline every contour if someone were looking.
Someone was always looking.
"Happy?" he muttered, and tugged his jeans on before the heat in his face could spread any further south.
***
That night, Leon lay in bed with his phone face-down on the mattress and one arm thrown over his eyes deliberating a problem. Ever since this stalker surfaced, he had always been too terrified to get himself off. He knew the stalker could see him, hear him and he wasn’t keen on giving some creep a show.
But things change. He had needs and being watched kind of made his stomach flip now and his thighs press together under his blanket. Leon thought back about this low electric hum every time he felt his stalker's attention on him like a physical thing, a hand hovering over the back of his neck.
He'd be in the grocery store and his phone would buzz with get the strawberries, you liked those last time, and something deep and hot would curl through him, because someone was paying attention. Someone was always paying attention. To every mundane, insignificant detail of his unremarkable life, and that shouldn't be hot, that should be cause for a restraining order and a therapist and maybe a taser, but Leon's body had not received the memo.
He was properly wet now, the kind that had soaked a patch into the blue lace and made the fabric cling to the split of him like a second skin. He shifted under the blanket. Drew his knees up slightly. His hand, almost of its own volition, drifted down his stomach and settled between his legs, heel of his palm pressing against the damp lace.
The pressure sent a spark through him and his breath hitched, soft, barely audible.
He rubbed. Slow. Just the heel of his hand grinding against his pussy through the soaked fabric, the lace rough enough to catch on his clit with every pass. He kept the blanket pulled up to his chin like armor, like plausible deniability- I'm just sleeping - even though he knew, he knew, that the person watching him could probably see the subtle movement of his arm under the covers, his legs shifting apart, his breathing changing.
His phone lit up.
Leon went still. His heart was in his throat, his clit throbbing against his wet palm, and he turned his head to look at the screen.
Unknown: I can hear you breathing faster
He shut his eyes.
Unknown: are you touching yourself baby
"No," he whispered. Liar. He was the worst liar in the world.
Unknown: don't hide from me. I want to see
The words sat on the screen, glowing in the dark room. Leon stared at them while his pulse hammered against his ribs. His hand hadn't moved. It was still pressed against his cunt, wet lace sticking to his fingers, and he could feel himself clenching around nothing.
"You can't see?" he asked, barely above a breath. A little sarcastic, given the stalker seemed to be all-seeing, all-hearing.
Unknown: I can see the shape of you under the blanket. I can hear those pretty little breaths. but I want to see your hand on that pussy. pull the blanket down for me
Leon made a sound. A small whimper. His face was so hot he felt feverish. He pulled the blanket down to his hips.
The air hit his bare stomach and he shivered, he'd gone to bed in just the panties, and now the lamp on his desk was off and the only light was the pale wash of streetlight through the blinds, painting his body in streaks of silver and shadow. His hand was still between his legs. The blue lace was dark with how wet he was, clinging to the shape of his cunt, and he could see his own fingers pressing into the fabric.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown: fuck. look at you
Leon's cunt twitched against his palm. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips up into his hand, grinding against it with a slow, shameless rhythm that punched a breath out of him.
Unknown: rub yourself through those panties. slow. I want to watch you get them wetter
He obeyed. God help him, he obeyed. Dragged his fingers down the seam of his cunt, tracing the outline of his slit through soaked lace, and his lips parted on a shaky exhale that was embarrassingly loud in the silence of his room. The fabric was so wet it was practically a dark blue now, and he could feel every ridge of lace catching on the swollen fold of his clit, could feel his folds parting under the pressure of his fingertips, plush and hot and slippery even through the barrier.
Unknown: that's it. nice and slow. you're so wet I can see it from here
"Where-" Leon started, voice cracking. He licked his lips. "Where even is here."
Unknown: close enough to hear you. keep going
Leon rubbed in tight circles over his clit, the lace bunching and dragging, and his hips rolled up to meet his hand in a rhythm he couldn't control. His thighs were trembling. He was making sounds now - soft, involuntary mewls and hitched breaths that he bit down on too late.
Unknown: don't bite your lip. I want to hear every sound
"This is insane," Leon panted. "You know that, right? This is-ah-"
Unknown: you're so pretty when you're desperate. you have no idea what you look like right now
Leon could feel his own desperation - the wet heat of his cunt pulsing under his fingers and his stomach muscles twitching with every circle he rubbed over his clit. He was close. Embarrassingly, humiliatingly close, and it had been maybe five minutes, because the knowledge that someone was watching this - watching him rut against his own hand, needy and undone - was doing things to his brain that he'd definitely needed to book a therapist appointment for.
Unknown: use two fingers. press them flat against your clit and grind
Leon whimpered high and thin and pressed two fingers against himself, the lace trapped between his fingertips and his swollen clit. He ground his hips up into it and his whole body arched off the mattress and he said oh in a voice he didn't recognize.
Unknown: you're close aren't you
"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I'm-"
Unknown: Want you to do something for me. when you cum
Leon's fingers stuttered. He forced his eyes open, vision blurry, and looked at the screen.
Unknown: my name is chris
His breath caught.
Unknown: say my name when you cum baby. I want to hear it in that pretty voice
Chris. His stalker's name was Chris. A real name, a thing that was tangible and nothing like the faceless phantom he'd constructed in his head. It made the whole thing suddenly, devastatingly real. There was a man named Chris watching him through the dark, breathing when he breathed, hard when he was wet, and Leon was going to cum for him.
Unknown: say it
Leon rubbed his clit in frantic, messy circles, lace rasping against slick flesh, and his back bowed and his toes curled and the orgasm hit him like a truck-
"Chris-"
It ripped out of him, wrecked and broken, and his hips jerked up against his hand as the pleasure crested and rolled through him in waves, his cunt clenching and pulsing under soaked lace. He could feel himself gushing, fresh slick seeping through the fabric and coating his fingers, hot and obscene. His thighs shook. He moaned breathlessly, and his head pressed back into the pillow as the aftershocks rippled through him.
Leon laid there panting. His fingers were still pressed against himself, twitching. The blue panties were ruined. His phone buzzed.
Unknown: fuck. you sound so good when you say my name. one more for me
Leon made a strangled noise. "I can't-no, I'm-that's-"
Unknown: one more baby. I need to see that pretty cunt this time
"I'm too sensitive," he breathed, and he could hear the pathetic whine in his own voice. His cunt was throbbing, each pulse a sharp little sting that was half pain and pleasure.
Unknown: I know you are. it's okay. nice and easy. take the panties off for me
Leon stared at the ceiling. His chest was heaving. A sane person would stop here. A sane person would pull the blanket up and turn off their phone and maybe call a therapist in the morning.
Leon hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his panties and lifted his hips and slid them down his thighs.
The air was cool against his bare cunt, flushed and dripping, and he felt more exposed than he'd ever felt in his life. He kicked the panties off one ankle and let his legs fall open, knees bent, and the sound he made was involuntary, a shaky little exhale at the feeling of being seen.
Unknown: oh baby. look at that pussy. you're so swollen. so pink
Leon covered his face with his free hand. His other hand hovered over his pussy, trembling.
Unknown: spread yourself for me. I want to see your hole
"Oh my god," Leon whispered into his palm. His face was on fire. His whole body was on fire.
Unknown: use two fingers. pull your lips apart. let me see
He brought his fingers to his cunt. They were shaking. He pressed his fingertips against his folds, hot and slippery with slick and spread himself open.
The sound was obscene. A wet, sticky parting, and he could feel the cool air against his hole, exposed and clenching around nothing. He whimpered behind his hand.
Unknown: there it is. fuck you're gorgeous. so wet and tight. I want to lick you until you're crying
Leon's hips bucked involuntarily at the words and a moan escaped him, louder than before, desperate. He was still holding himself open, two fingers pulling his folds apart.
Unknown: touch your clit baby. real soft. you can take it
"I c-can't, it's too much-"
Unknown: you can. for me. nice and gentle, just your fingertip
He brought his index finger to his clit and barely grazed it and his whole body flinched. A sharp whimper punched out of him.
Unknown: that's my good boy. so responsive. keep going. slow circles. I'm watching every twitch of that pretty cunt
Leon rubbed himself gently, circling his clit with one shaking fingertip, and the sensation was just on the knife’s edge. His hips hitched and his breath came in stuttered little gasps. Slick was running down his ass and pooling under him on the sheets, making a mess of himself, and someone - Chris - was watching all of it.
Unknown: faster. you can go faster now
Leon’s finger slipped against his clit, wet and frictionless for a second before he found the rhythm again, tight urgent circles that had his thighs trembling. The pleasure was building again, different this time, sharper, edged with pain that made his eyes sting.
Unknown: I can hear those little sounds you're making. you don't even know you're doing it do you. these tiny whimpers every time your finger catches
He was rubbing his clit frantically and his mouth was open and his eyes were squeezed shut and he could hear himself, pathetic, desperate sounds, and Chris, Chris, fuck-
Unknown: cum for me. let me see that cunt clench. say my name
Leon's spine arched off the bed. His fingers stuttered against his clit and then pressed hard and the orgasm slammed through him so violently his vision whited out briefly.
"Chris- oh god, Chris-"
He came with a broken cry, his whole body jerking, cunt clenching in visible pulses.His thighs snapped shut around his hand and then fell open again, shaking, and he could feel his hole fluttering, desperate and empty. The pleasure was so intense it hurt, wringing him out in wave after wave until he was gasping, boneless, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
He lay there, wrecked. His hand was still between his legs, cupping his throbbing cunt like trying to soothe it. Leon was a mess and the orgasm hit so hard he couldn't form a coherent thought.
His phone buzzed again. He turned his head. The motion felt like it took everything he had.
Unknown: perfect. you're perfect. taste yourself for me. put your fingers in your mouth
Leon blinked slowly. His eyelids were so heavy. He lifted his hand from between his legs, fingers glistening, the light catching on the wet strings between them and brought them to his lips. He pressed two fingers into his mouth and tasted salt and musk and he made a soft, exhausted sound around them.
Unknown: that's it baby. you did so good for me
The phone screen blurred. His hand fell from his mouth to the mattress, fingers still damp, and the room swam and tilted until it went dark.
***
Leon woke up warm.
His blanket was tucked up around his shoulders. The sunlight was pressing against his eyelids and for about a couple of seconds everything was peaceful and uncomplicated.
Then he remembered.
He sat up too fast, his head spun and all the memories from last night slammed back into focus. His phone; the texts. Chris. His own voice, wrecked and desperate, moaning a stranger's name while-
He looked down at himself.
He was wearing the pink panties.
Leon stared. He'd fallen asleep naked from the waist down, drenched in his own slick, the blue pair kicked off somewhere in the sheets. But now he was wearing the pink cotton pair,, sitting neatly on his hips with the little bow at the front. And the blue ones were on his nightstand next to a glass of water.
He picked up the blue panties with numb fingers. They were stiff in places. Dried. It wasn't just from his slick, there was something thicker, something white and crusted into the lace at the front, and he knew what it was before his brain finished forming the thought.
Cum.
But it wasn't his.
Leon's hands were shaking. His phone was on the nightstand, propped against the glass of water at a deliberate angle, and the screen was lit with a notification.
He picked it up.
Unknown: good morning beautiful. you slept so well. you looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you
Leon's mouth was dry. He took a sip of the water and scrolled down.
Unknown: I couldn't help myself. you were lying there with your legs open and your cunt still wet and swollen and I had to taste you. you're even sweeter than I imagined. I licked every drop of slick off that pretty pussy while you slept. you made the softest sounds
Leon dropped the phone.
His stalker had been in his room. While he slept. Had changed his underwear, cleaned him up, tucked him in, left him water like some kind of deranged caretaker, and came on his panties.
He picked his phone back up.
Unknown: I came so hard baby. I was so worked up from watching you. got it on your panties, sorry about that. put you in the pink ones instead. you looked so cute in them I almost wanted to wake you up for another round
Leon pressed the phone against his forehead and breathed. His pulse was hammering. His cunt, even now, sore and oversensitive from the night before gave a traitorous clench.
He looked down at his thighs.
There were marks. Pink, rasped patches of skin on the insides of both thighs, concentrated near the crease where they met his hips. Beard burn, Leon suspected. The rough scratch of stubble dragged against soft skin - evidence of someone's face pressed between his legs, nuzzling into him, licking him open while he slept through it.
It should have terrified him. Every rational cell in his brain was screaming that this was a violation, a crime, dangerous, that he needed to call the police again, move, change his name, do something-
Instead, he was getting wet in the clean pink panties and he could feel his pulse between his legs like a second heartbeat.
He was so fucked.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown: how are your thighs? I might have gotten a little carried away. you taste so good it's hard to stop
Leon ran his thumb over one of the tender skin. The skin stung faintly, a hot prickling that traveled straight to his core.
"They're fine," he whispered to the empty room. Then, quieter: "You're insane."
Unknown: probably. but you liked it. I can tell
Leon pressed his thighs together under the blanket and bit his lower lip and hated himself a little, or maybe a lot, for the warmth pooling in his belly.
His phone buzzed again.
Unknown: wear a skirt for me today. that gray one in the back of your closet. and the pink panties. leave them on
Leon deliberated this for a moment, then swerved into seriously thinking if he needed to check himself into a psych ward for even considering following his stalker’s instructions. Fuck it.
He got out of bed, walked to the closet. He could feel the ghost of the beard burn stinging with every step. He pulled the gray skirt off the hanger.
Leon held the skirt against his hips and turned toward the window. "This one?" he asked.
Unknown: perfect. you're going to look so pretty baby. have a good day
Leon stared at himself in the mirror, assessing the absolutely insane situation he was in. “I’m totally going to end up in a psych ward.” he said helplessly to himself.
The response was immediate.
Unknown: I'd find you there too