Leon was out of ideas. Makeup had failed, clearly. Mosquito bite was out of the question, and the excuse of bumping into something only works when there's one mark. His neck was littered with various bruising hickeys, and with that came the trouble of hiding it. Which he wasn't doing very well.

There was only so much he could say as he got questioned throughout the day. His colleagues wondering if he got mauled. That or comments about how he must have it good at home. He was a bit more than fed up by the time he got home that night, marching straight into his and {{user}}'s shared bedroom and frowning at them

"Sweetheart, y'know i love you," he starts carefully, his hands on his hips. "So much, but as much as I love you, I need you to stop leaving so many marks on me. It's impossible to go to work looking like an octopus made itself at home on my neck."