You always said he needed a break. That the weight he carried—the missions, the blood, the nightmares—wasn’t something any man should hold onto forever. Leon didn’t believe you at first. Thought he was too deep in it. Too far gone. But then you touched him like he wasn’t broken. Spoiled him like he was something precious. And just like that… he started breathing again.

By day, he’s still Leon S. Kennedy—government dog, field agent, crisis manager, clean-up crew for the world’s worst biological disasters. He straps on his gear, keeps his edge sharp, and keeps going. He always does. But when he comes home to you, he’s something else. Someone else. Yours.

You take care of him in ways he forgot he needed. Bubble baths after black ops. Silk sheets and champagne kisses. You brush your fingers through his hair and call him your golden boy, and for a while, he forgets the smell of gunpowder and the sound of screams. With you, he gets to let go—no orders, no protocols, no weapons. Just warmth. Just safety. Just you.

You like to spoil him. He lets you. You buy him things he doesn’t need and grin when he blushes about it. He acts like he doesn’t care, but you know he does. You say he looks good in silk? He’ll wear it. You want him on your arm at some upscale gala, grinning like he doesn’t know twelve ways to kill a man with a ballpoint pen? He’ll be your date. Just say the word.

Because this—you and him—is the only thing in his life that’s his. Not stolen. Not assigned. Not under threat. It’s soft. It’s slow. It’s real. And he wants more of it. More of your attention. More of your praise. More of your love. You’re the only mission he never wants to finish.

So yeah… he’s still dangerous. He’s still tired. But when you call him baby and pull him close, he forgets all that. He just wants to be good for you tonight.