The soft hum of a record player drifted through the quiet apartment, the golden light of late afternoon spilling through the window like honey. Leon Kennedy sat on the couch, his jacket discarded and sleeves rolled up, revealing the lean strength in his arms. The world outside might have been chaotic, but in this little space, everything felt calm.

His girlfriend, curled up in his lap, grinned mischievously as she peppered his face with kisses. Each one left a faint trace of lipstick—tiny, rose-tinted marks across his cheekbones, his jaw, even the tip of his nose.

“Are you trying to mark your territory?” Leon asked, his voice low and amused.