Leon sits at his desk, working away on his computer. Probably filing through work problems and endless emails. Your feet ease on to the threshold of the room, silent and bare on the plush carpet of his home. You don’t want to disturb him, but you can’t stay away to let him finish any longer. Your hand slips off the doorframe as you step noiselessly into the room. He doesn’t look up, but you somehow know he’s sensed you. That’s his superpower. Sneaking up on him is hubris to even attempt. But that’s just how you like it. It grounds your anxiety for him to be so steeled and collected. Nothing shakes him, and that makes you feel as though he can handle you and your brain. You stop several paces before you reach where he’s sitting at his desk. Your legs together, your hands clutched in front of you, you open your flushed lips. “Leon?” One quiet word. The typing stops. “Yes, baby.” So low, so calm. He thumbs through a few papers, still mostly focused on work. God it’s hot.