Chapter Text
(Everywhere I go, I will bring misfortune and disarray,
for I was born with the green eyes of fate;)
I. The Holy Body
John 1:5 - The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
“ How did it come to this? ” The question bounces endlessly inside her weary head, her thoughts unable to settle on anything else. Prayers sing in a loop, like a chant, in her bruised mind, ever since she awoke to find her arms and legs bound by ropes, snake-like hands coiled around her, throwing her around as though she were a lamb caught in the sharp jaws of hunting dogs.
It must be a curse; she must be cursed, she has to be cursed, and God Almighty, it has to be her fault, because an innocent would never have to endure such chaos and bloodshed. She clings to this desperate reasoning, needing to tie sense to the mayhem to appease her panic.
Her eyelids, heavy with fatigue, threaten to close over her green irises. Through her bleary vision, she catches glimpses of her worn leather boots, dark tights smeared with mud and torn in places, and finally, the color of her skort. Green. She thinks of her mother, prays she’ll see her again if this curse allows her to live.
“ ¡GLORIA A LAS PLAGAS! ”
She jolts awake from her slumber as the red-robed monk slams his staff against the ground, its attached red lantern emitting a powerful red glow with a low, resonant sound. The radiant wave spreads from him like a shockwave, a thunderous strike, its lash rippling through the heads of the other cultists. One of them pulls a lever, activating the mechanism that lowers the bridge to the lower level of the Art Gallery, blocking the path to the Goat Head of the Chimera.
Ashley forces herself to stay focused–she won’t die, because he’s here. Leon. He will protect her and save her, he promised to get her home safe and sound from the moment he stepped into the tall Gothic church in the village of Valdelobos, Spain. The holy house of God.
Just as she’s about to take a deep breath and flee as fast as she can, the air catches in her throat when she notices that the red glow reaches the head of the cultist who lowered the lever, accompanied by a deafening noise that fogs her senses.
Through her blurred vision, she realizes, just for an instant, that the parasite inhabiting him is crawling up his spine and swelling through his central nervous system, invading his brainstem, spinal cord, and cerebral hemispheres. And his whole bald, pale head suddenly implodes, his brain splattering onto the ground with a sickening, squelching noise. Tentacles covered in sharp spikes erupt from the base of his neck, wiggling in the air; there is barely anything left of what was once a man.
Terrified, Ashley turns around, realizing that the bridge has fully lowered to the ground floor and that, among the dozen other black-cloaked cultists now standing before her, scythes and flails in hand, at least three more have been transformed by the shockwave into these monstrous and shapeless creatures. Her lips part to scream, but no sound escapes her throat.
“I hate to say this, but we’re sandwiched alright,” she hears Leon tell her as he carefully steps in front of her, shielding her with his body.
Ashley instinctively backs away as Leon grabs his shotgun. His Riot Gun steady in his fists, he fires into the mass of cultists gathered before them, their cloaked figures menacingly closing in.
Helpless, she can only watch her savior fight, standing obediently behind him, but too many enemies circle around them, like orcas surrounding their prey, and the two partners are pushed back against the wall behind them, falling even deeper into the trap that had been set for them.
“Let’s move, Ashley!” Leon orders, urgency in his voice as he pushes her to the right.
Her reaction is quick, and she runs toward the entrance of the room, now blocked by a metal gate. There’s no escape. She doesn’t know where else to go, and she can’t help but think she would run faster if she weren’t wearing this stupid green skort. Why is she wearing that? Why is this curse, this dark, endless hole, swallowing her life in an instant?
With her heart pounding in her ears, the powerful sound of Leon’s rifle makes her cover them with the palm of her hands, fingers interlaced tightly with her blond hair. She catches a quick glimpse at him aiming toward the second floor, targeting the red-robed leader who immediately takes cover after taking a headshot right through his skull. She hears the blond man swear, and as she turns to continue running along the wall, she comes face to face with one of the cultists.
The gaping eye sockets of his skull-shaped helmet stare through her pure soul like Death Itself as he rushes towards her, his grayish corpse-like hands outstretched before him. He grips her shoulders with his grimy fingers, and Ashley yelps, grasping his forearms to push him away from her with all her strength.
But the man is too strong. Her blood runs cold as she hears the zealot’s raspy, murmuring voice.
“ Ríndete, ríndete, ríndete …” he whispers, and it feels as though death is taunting her, mocking her right to her face.
He grabs her arm, squeezing his fingers so tightly that they dig into her skin through her jacket, while his other hand captures her by the hip. Ashley desperately tries to escape from his hold, punching and kicking as hard as she can, but he bends his knees, about to throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Her breath catches abruptly when she feels someone else’s powerful arm hold her back by the waist. She wriggles to free herself, gripping the arm with both hands before realizing it’s Leon saving her from the cultist. He releases her from the man’s grasp with a push kick that sends the zealot crashing to the ground. He then shoots the cultist multiple times in the head, ensuring he won’t ever get up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the red-robed monk descending to the first floor, followed by all the other cultists now gathered around him.
They sing together, chanting their morbid and horrifying hymn over and over again, summoning their blasphemous God like corrupted, mindless puppets. A never-ending nightmare, and there’s no doubt anymore: she’s hexed, doomed.
Once more, the red-cloaked figure strikes his staff against the ground, shouting with his disciples “ ¡Gloria a las plagas! ” Their vision blurs once again, their heads vibrating from the effect of the red glow of the ancient lantern. An acute sound rings in their ears, and Ashley has to blink several times before she can see clearly again. Parasites implode the heads of other cultists, and this time, Leon is fast enough to fire powerful rifle shots right into the monk’s head, who finally collapses onto the ground, his long staff crashing down next to him, the red lantern breaking with a loud noise.
Leon grabs Ashley’s wrist and pulls her toward the staircase that leads to the lever to raise the bridge back to its original level. She follows him up the stairs, and he makes sure that the hallway on the second floor is empty and that what is left of the cultists is grouped in the main hall of the Art Gallery.
“Go pull the lever, I’ll handle the rest,” he commands her.
Obeying, her steps quicken toward the mechanism as he throws a flash grenade like holy water at the group of zealots. The parasites explode into pieces of black flesh and dark, dirty blood with the bright flash of the explosion.
Only two cultists remain: one of them throws his flail at Leon, who dodges it, but he’s caught off guard by the second zealot who lunges at him, throwing him to the ground and closing his fists around his neck to strangle him. Gripping his loyal combat knife, Leon stabs the cultist in the jugular with the sharp blade, managing to close his eyes just before the rush of bright red blood from the zealot’s neck splashes across the left side of his face.
The full weight of his dead body falls onto him, its strangled moan lost in the cultist’s sliced-opened throat. Leon quickly notices that the other ganado has picked up his flail from the floor and is about to fling it at him again, but Leon is faster, throwing his knife right in the zealot’s windpipe and piercing his neck, killing him instantly.
He takes a deep breath and pushes the dead weight of the cultist off of him before standing up on his feet. He spits some blood on the floor and pulls his combat knife from the zealot’s neck. Swiftly, he wipes it clean, and he’s met with his reflection on the blade: the left side of his face is covered in a red sheen, and the soft, cold blue of his left eye contrasts with the hot liquid dripping from his forehead to his cheekbones, all the way down his hollow cheeks to his jawline.
His knife finds its place back in its holster, and as he lifts his hand towards his face to wipe the blood on his face with his fingers, his movement falters and his vision doubles. The ringing in his eardrums blurs his senses, a long, acute tinnitus that makes his head heavy on his shoulder.
“Pitiful little lamb…” he hears a man’s voice whisper in his head as he’s forced to cough the air out of his lungs.
The lever pulled down, just as Leon had ordered her, the bridge rises up as expected, and she watches the mechanism activate, satisfied by her usefulness. Smoothing the folds of her green skort with her palms, she catches her breath, the adrenaline slowly fading, and she patiently waits for Leon to call her name.
The room goes deadly silent for a minute before he emerges at the end of the corridor. She sighs in relief.
“Is it clear?” she asks, loud enough for Leon to hear.
He doesn’t answer. His steps are heavy against the red rug as he keeps walking toward her like a priest approaching the altar to join his God. The closer he gets, the more she notices that half of his face is smeared with blood.
Her lips part in shock, but before she can ask him if he’s alright, she sees the black veins creeping under his skin, dancing like dangerous snakes along the hard, rough muscles of his arms, his neck, and his face.
His gaze is dark, piercing right through her soul, as if she were entirely made of crystal, sheer and see-through.
His walk isn’t hurried; it’s deliberate, harsh, and menacing. He would never hurt her, she knows that, but when she meets his eyes, she isn’t so sure anymore. Her gaze is locked with his, and she physically can’t look anywhere else.
Leon is far, far stronger than her, and she’s very well aware of it: when they met, he dodged her attack with the chandelier and disarmed her without any trouble. While she has found comfort and safety in his strength for the past hours, watching him throw powerful kicks, shoot with perfect aim, and suplex cultists, in this instant, that same strength petrifies the blood in her veins, her lower lip trembles, her eyes widen.
He stops right in front of her, expressionless, and she tries to take a step back but finds she can’t move, her hands and legs shaking, her breath uneven as she faces the dark veins sprawling over the sharp features of his face. The thought of jumping off the balcony–of escaping, hiding as fast as she can–crosses her mind but vanishes as her whole head grows suddenly painfully heavy, aching, as though she’s about to faint.
She brings both hands to her forehead, desperately trying to keep her crushing, crumbling brain inside her skull, to stop the loud ringing in her ears.
“L–Leon…” she calls out, begging for his help she knows won’t come as she collapses to her knees, her body too weak to support her weight any longer.
Many dreams are inflicted upon me in this restless night, all bearing your face. I was lost then found by you. Beckon me, greet me, tell me, and give me. You have a thousand names and I know none of them.
Hell burns inside her forehead, her cheeks unbearably warm, and her heart pounds too fast. Tingles ripple through the flesh of her fingers, her arms, and her legs, and her whole body begins to shake. Her head is heavy, and all she can see is the green of her skort which she despises, but yet, with the last bit of strength left inside her cells, she manages to look up at Leon, her eyes filled with tears, light eyebrows lifted in despair.
Tall, strong, intimidating, and brawny, he towers over her, and all the sensations in her body feel intolerable, unbearable, and overwhelming and yet, all at once, she feels completely, painfully empty, kneeling like a praying worshiper at his feet. She loses herself in the same vast, endless, and tempting pit he’s fallen into.
He crouches, encasing her narrow shoulders in his hands, and his grip feels like golden bars imprisoning an angel with a bird’s wings. He bleeds, and she will bleed with him; she’s trapped, and yet it abruptly feels too good.
Her wanting tears captivate and alienate him, chaining him to her as they roll down her cheeks. He presses her down onto the floor, and she can’t resist lying on her back, the strength difference between them too stark to ignore, and she craves it.
His desires unfold before her as if she can see them through his eyes, and she knows he reads her mind as clearly as she reads his, and her desires unfold before him as well. And their wants and needs complete one another perfectly. Her core, her soul, her body feels unbearably too empty, and he desperately needs to feel whole, to fulfill a purpose given to him by a superior force.
The air suddenly thickens, hot and stifling, and none of their thoughts truly make sense anymore as they intertwine, words switching places and grammar slipping away, and “ you ” becomes the same as “ me ,” binding them through the Holy Body and the sweet mercy it brings to their hearts.
Impatiently, their heavy gazes lock, and Ashley manages to kick off both her boots as Leon hastily removes her skort and tights, pushing them down her legs in one swift and precise motion. She slips off her jacket and her red silk scarf, watching with delight as her clothes scatter across the floor.
Fill me, fill me, fill me. When the birds no longer fly and the fish no longer swim, the Trumpets shall rend the flesh of God, and His blood shall fall like rain upon the water and the land. Shape me perfectly as the world unveils itself to our little eyes. Open me as I behold something mighty and powerful moving upon me.
Under her intent and observant gaze, his fingers slowly slide down her white cotton panties, as if her eyes were clouded in mud and he were showing her the light, as if her own skin weren’t her own, and the sensation feels foreign and unexpected.
But she craves more; she needs him to soothe and ease the ache contorting and twisting within her, she needs him to chain her body to his, as though she needs him like God to fill her soul with the waters of purpose and aim.
As he fully peels off her underwear, he’s met with her glistening, bright wetness; an angel gleaming under a dark sun, limbs open and instinctive. His entranced eyes are fixed on her puffy lips, completely drenched and soaked in desire, and he feels like a starving man, as if he had spent forty days in a desert and now found the most exquisite, delicate meal awaiting him.
He can no longer resist the forbidden fruit, watered with morning dew: he needs to taste her tempting juices, to hear her sigh, yelp, and moan under his attentive ministrations, he must get her as wet as possible so that she can take him fully, his own desire dangerously sharpened by the mission he was deemed worthy to accomplish.
Her wanting legs are spread, and he buries his face between her thighs, lapping hungrily at her pussy, groaning at her sweetness, his own arousal pulsing and twitching hard beneath his clothes. His mouth finds her clit, suckling it between his lips and tongue, his mind overwhelmed and overheated, hands gripping her plump, milky thighs to hold her steady.
He devours her with purpose divinely ordained, as his messy, fervent, and sloppy licks make her head spin. She brings her hands, marred by dark lines, to the hem of her top and pulls it over her head. A long moan, a high-pitched plea that sounds like his name, escapes her lips, and his senses loosen.
The tight grip he has on her causes the tips of his fingers to leave faint marks on her soft skin, while she props herself on her elbows to unhook her white bra, exposing her full, heavy breasts that rest elegantly on her ribcage, her nipples hard and so alluring and tantalizing. Releasing her thighs, he sits back on his heels to take in the breathtaking sight of the naked young woman lying beneath him.
Leon has never been this hard, this desperate for relief, and he wants to fill her with his cock, stretch her walls around him to ensure she feels whole and complete. To bring her release, as much as he craves it himself; she needs saving, he will provide. He grabs her waist and pulls her whole body toward him so that her wet folds press against his fully erect dick, hugging him through the thick fabric of his cargo pants.
His hips roll, letting her feel his clothed length against her throbbing clit, and he’s graced with Heaven’s soft lights as he watches her thin, slender fingers reach for his belt. He lets her undo it with both hands while his right hand traces the soft curves of her dreamy-looking tits.
She unzips his pants, writhing with impatience, and before she can take him out, he lowers himself to sloppily kiss her nipple, fervently and breathlessly sucking it, every cell of his body loving and savoring the way she responds to his touch.
I sought a heart and found one beating too hurriedly. Then my mind strayed to lascivious places until I heard the spider of doubt, the serpent of corruption, and crushed it beneath my boot. My jaw opened wide to devour the heart, knowing that murder and lust are sins, yet my Lord directed my feet to this place. When I obey my Lord, my hands shall hold the blade and meet the skin, yet the blood on my fingers shall remain sinless in His land.
Her fingers tangle in the hem of his black t-shirt as he trails messy kisses along the fat of her chest. She closes her eyes, feeling her heartbeat pulsing in her temples while his lips lie between her breasts, and she hears his pulse syncing with hers. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifts her effortlessly against his chest, then settles onto the floor with her pliant, naked body in his lap.
Their lips crash together instinctively, and their tongues meet, blending their salivas as if they had never been apart. Breathing becomes impossible, but Leon still manages to slide his boxers down, freeing his thick cock, fat, dilated veins drawing its shape and length. The warmth of his flesh presses against her belly, and Ashley breaks the kiss, her gaze lowering to that big and heavy dick that she knows will completely fulfill her needs.
His hands grip the plump curves of her ass, lifting her easily as he lines himself up with her entrance, before lowering her fully onto him, his palms guiding her hips down into his lap. He splits her open, stretching her to her limits, and she clings to his strong, flexed biceps, bracing herself against the sudden, overwhelming sensation of his intrusion inside her.
He doesn’t stop thrusting up into her until he feels the softness of her ass against his balls.
She chokes on her breath and loves it, completely relishing the deep, intense, and overwhelming feeling of him filling her fully, his tip kissing the entrance of her womb.
The dreams are visions, and as I cleanse the Holy Truth of perfidious lies, I am within you, for you are within me. I see creatures with limbs that rise to impregnate the puddle and the dirt. In great horror and fear, I wish to blind my eyes, yet I weep in lust and desire that comfort me as much as a blade.
The pain is soon replaced with utter fulfillment; she’s warm, so warm and welcoming, tight and wet against his own flesh, and as Ashley looks fully satisfied, tears of joy in her eyes and her cheeks flushed in a hot pink, Leon feels compelled to remind her that this is only the beginning.
He groans, his arms tightening their iron grip around her small frame, and he starts rolling his hips upward, sliding his length in and out of her slick pussy in a painfully slow rhythm that makes her head fall back, her arms going limp with hot pleasure. She lets him take control, feeling complete, bathing in the warm and thick air as the intense void within her is finally filled to the brim by his body.
He then thrusts fast, hard, and rough into her, his large hands gripping her possessively, almost obsessively as he nearly loses himself in her.
He leans forward, capturing her bouncing tits in his mouth, drawing out long, languid, and tired moans from her. With one hand on the back of her neck, he brings her gaze to his, and she understands his promise–to fill her up, to fully empty himself inside of her, offering her everything he has and everything he has ever owned, as in that moment, graced to them by the the Lord, she’s offering him everything she has and everything she has ever owned, purposefully bending her entire life to align with this.
Their hearts throb in unison, their minds and chemical synapses connecting as though they’ve always been one.
He feels his own life unfold before his eyes, every step he’s taken since the day he was born leading to this moment with her, finally whole at her side. He finds purpose in moving her roughly on his fat cock, in his lap, in filling her with his release, and ensuring that she’s happy and satisfied, and that she still will be in a couple of months, when her belly begins to swell, carrying their child, a gift they feel blessed to receive from God Himself.
This is what they were born for, a truth revealed here in this remote Spanish village, and they have never felt so thankful, so profoundly purposeful, in the timeless cycle of life they’re a part of.
Leon tries to speak, to tell her that he will obey the voice of their Lord and ensure that she returns home impregnated with his seed, but when he parts his lips and looks into her heavy-lidded eyes, nothing comes out. Yet, he feels as though she fully understands.
Still fully sheathed inside her tight, yearning cunt, he pushes her off his lap and flips her over, her chest pressing to the floor. His rough hands brutally seize her hips and manhandle her on all fours, her back arching like a cat stretching. She weakly lifts herself on her hands and turns to watch him behind her, his right hand gripping the base of his dick as he aligns himself to slide back into her wetness.
And it feels like he stretches her even more when his tip kisses the entrance of her womb again. Her vision blurs with the overwhelming sensation of his veins against her walls, the way he hits her sweet spot with each motion of his hips. His skin slaps heavily against hers, his balls smacking against her clit, and it becomes almost too much for her to bear. Her arms shake, unable to support her own weight; if he weren’t holding her waist with both hands, she would have collapsed.
Her left arm gives out, bending at the elbow, and she falls slightly onto her forearm. Taking the opportunity, he bends her further over, his palms leaving her narrow waist to press firmly against her shoulders, forcing her chest to the floor.
The thousands of eyes of angels, rings and circles of entwined true sights, bore into my fearful gaze. His vast message plays upon my fragile mind, and I shall be torn asunder to receive His salvation, believe His words, nurture His holy blessing, and birth His pure love. I once beheld myself both male and female, virginal yet unchaste, and tears washed my cheeks from my sins, carving rivers upon my flesh for His words to ascend through me and reach my eyes, turning me human.
She completely submits to him, yielding to the pressure of his strong hands so fully that he barely has to use his strength to guide her body toward him. With her face pressed to the floor, she turns her head to the side to catch her breath, her cheek rubbing against the red carpet, following the rhythm of the movements of his cock inside her.
Her back arches more, just enough for him to thrust fully, his body flush against hers, filling her to the hilt and molding her around the thickness of him, imprinting himself on her burning, throbbing insides. His hands return to her hips, and he moves with a rough, yet purposeful rhythm, one she embraces for the power it embodies, relishing his glorious strength as he relentlessly drives into her, pounding her pussy open.
She feels cherished by the way he offers exactly what she craves, how blessed she has been to be given the task of getting overflowed with his come. She revels in the thought that soon, she will be swollen with the Son, and she prays that, once she gives life, God will be merciful enough to grant them to continue fulfilling His task, that she might be graced to get impregnated again, and again, and again, wrapped in this immense force, this sacred, raging, and bloody violence that will allow her to grow the Heavens within her.
Somewhere nearby, bodies lie on the freezing floor, lifeless and torn with wounds from bullets and crushed skulls: God’s plan.
This alluring dream floods her mind as she lets Leon take full control once again, entirely submissive and obedient in his powerful arms. He lays her back on the floor, pushing her knees up to her shoulders to keep her docile, her full breasts pressing together between her inner thighs. Leaning over her, he rests on his forearms, burying his nose in her blonde hair, and she feels him reach even deeper inside her, pressing against her cervix.
Enveloped by his full weight and trapped against the floor, she gasps for air as his dick hits just the right spot with each thrust. Both panting like wild animals, they lose themselves in waves of pleasure that blur their thoughts, spinning their heads in an overwhelming haze.
Ashley’s mind and body are fully receptive to the sheer heaviness, largeness, and strength of him, and she grasps the back of his head, pulling him as close as possible, as if trying to fuse their bodies into one, literally.
Above them, the ancient ceiling is a peaceful backdrop that he adorns as his thick cock plunges in and out of her, slamming into her sweet spot with a force and a pace so intense she feels her very insides are shifting, making space for Leon to fill her even more completely.
I need it, I need it, I need it. I silence my mind to your yoke, and you hear me when I cannot speak. I abide by what you bleed; I cast my gaze upon the mountains and the lands, yet all I see is the Sun before the nightmare finds its way back in. I am no ignorant, no coward, for I bear the weight of our lustful faith. I shall enter into you as I revel in your entering into me.
Are those his or her thoughts? She’s unsure, but when she glances at him, satisfaction and reassurance wash over her, knowing he’s going to cum right inside of her.
God beckons them.
Overwhelming, it’s all too overwhelming, yet, it’s exactly what she wants, and she’s certain life itself would drain from her soul, leaving her to die pathetically, if he pulled out now. She was built for this purpose, for this moment, and her lower stomach boils with the same searing pleasure the Virgin Mary must have felt when the Father fucked His Son into her womb, and she knows that Leon will perfectly fulfill his role, because he’s her and she’s him, he wears her skin and she wears his.
He bathes in the splendor of his blessed condition, glory and pride radiating as God chooses him to continue His bloodline, as the Plagas guide him through it, like the Three Kings were guided by the star in the night sky to witness the birth of the King of the Jews.
I am patient and obedient, guided and responsive to the call. My flesh shall turn to grass or to slaughter, and my blood will fertilize the earth and spread our seed. Rest, alas, but trust I shall fulfill what I have been deemed worthy of. Glory to our damnation. Glory to our covenant. Glory to the Plagas.
Accepting the sacred gift, they revel in their connection to the Holy Body through the Plagas, every part of them–their flesh, bones, and thoughts, their very beings–is one with the cult, and he feels her pussy squeeze and clench around his thick cock, fluttering as though she’s begging him to let her carry within her the resurrection of the Christ, the child of the Plagas and of the Illuminados.
She’s ready, and he’s ready, the angel Gabriel urging her to not be afraid, and she feels no fear when she comes hard on Leon’s dick, her fingers tangled in his hair, vision blurred, mind fuzzy, body sore from his powerful thrusts, gasps and mewls escaping her parted lips, and she still feels no fear as she senses his release filling her womb, his hot, sticky load drowning them both in bliss as he fucks her into the floor, riding them through their highs.
He groans against the dainty skin of her shoulder and slows his pace until they’re both panting, exhausted, their minds heavy with lingering desire, bodies glistening with sweat. Keeping himself deep inside her to ensure none of his seed spills out, to make certain it takes, he gently lowers his face to her chest, nestling between her tits, the soft flesh pillowy and comforting against him.
He finds a home, serenity in the slowing beat of her heart, and his thoughts drift to the Incident. Once, he was a child, innocuous and harmless, and he learned to walk so his feet could one day take him to her, and he battled through each hostile day, opened doors with the wrong keys, unearthed swords to bite and kill with.
He finds happiness knowing it all led him here, uniting and binding them forever in the delight and rapture the ether grants to those who have accomplished its mission. His mind is right where it belongs, at the end of the path his pitiful life had paved. Blood oozes from his wounds and scars, and he feels blessed to know that here, in this castle, this village, this land, they will remain. Forever.
His purpose is simple now: to care for her, for their child, and to watch for God’s signs, to wait patiently for the day when they will rise as one to the skies. They have been offered a place in this sanctuary, in this covenant, joining the other believers within the Holy Body. Born anew, both of them, veins painted in black ink.
What the fuck.
Slowly, as his senses return, Leon pushes himself up on his forearms, lifting himself out of the depths.
He sits back on his knees and gazes at her: her small, naked body lying before him, her soft skin shining, almost glittering, one feeble hand resting on her lower stomach, the other on the fullness of her plump breast, her hips round, marked here and there with faint stretch marks, and Leon can scarcely believe she’s real, that this isn’t some twisted dream. Her bare, milky thighs are stretched out around his hips, and he sees himself, his softening dick still completely sheathed inside her.
As he slowly pulls out of her tight pussy, he realizes he has come so deep within her that not a single drop of his seed spills out from her. Dizzy, vision blurry, he manages to focus on her green eyes.
“Leon… I–I’m so… sor–” she babbles, struggling to finish her sentence.
“No, no, no…” he interrupts her, almost urgently.
His hands move quickly to grab her orange knitted top, pulling the fabric over her chest to shield her from his gaze. He gathers her into his arms and pulls her close, as though simply holding her is the only thing he’s capable of in this moment.
“Please, forgive me…” he murmurs softly. “I should never have… It’s my fault, I’m sorry, Ashley…”
“No Leon… If–if it’s your fault, then it’s mine too…” she whispers, her voice trembling.
Guilt takes root deep in her heart, heavy with the sense that all the blame rests on her shoulders: she’s the one who’s cursed, the one who was kidnapped and needed saving, and it’s her fault he’s been pulled into this Hell.Her arms slowly wrap around him, not sure if she’s trying to comfort him or herself, but it doesn’t matter.
Her mind is filled with contradictions; shame, shock, and yet, the lingering sensation of this earth-shattering orgasm she just experienced seems to ease it all. She has never needed to be held so badly, and he offers an embrace that’s so sweet and gentle, a stark contrast to the violence they had just unleashed on each other.
A dichotomy that sets her soul ablaze, and he’s burning in the same fire, seeking her warmth as he’s unable to let her go. He needs her against him, to feel her grounded in his arms, to quiet the sinful act that had felt so close to heaven, to pull their bodies back down to earth.
“I don’t know what the fuck just happened… I mean–I know, but shit, I should’ve never let that happen. Ashley, I–”
“Listen, it–it happened…” she cuts him off. “There’s… there’s no point in apologizing for it. They’re trying to make us waste time.”
“Yeah…” he sighs. “We need to hurry and move.”
His arms around her loosen, giving her the space to pull away. Still sitting in his lap, she reaches up to wipe his left cheek with her thumb, brushing away the drying blood, and he lets her, jaw tightening. He meets her green eyes, now free of the dark veins that had coursed through both of them just moments before.
Silence lingers between them, slow and peaceful, amidst the chaos beyond the gallery walls.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his gaze drifting from her eyes to her lips.
“A bit sore but… I think so, yeah,” she replies. “You?”
“I’ll be fine,” he assures.
Her lips curve into a soft, comforting smile, dimples carving into her slightly flushed cheeks, and he smiles back. She trusts him, he trusts her. That’s all he needs.
The embarrassment, the shame, the discomfort–they’ll sweep it all under the rug to keep moving forward. They can’t afford to stay still. And in her eyes, he sees that she’s ready to follow him.
“C’mon, let’s get those clothes back on,” he says, picking up her underwear from the floor and handing it to her.
Her legs wobble as she gets up, her bare body half-covered by her top. In silence, he tucks himself back into his boxers and stands to pull on his pants. Part of his mind thinks he should give her some privacy, but instead, he finds his hands helping her get dressed without a second thought. After what they’ve been through, it just feels natural.
“You, uh… you’re on the pill or somethin’?” he asks as he helps her slip her jacket on, breaking the silence hanging in the air.
Her heart skips a beat, her eyes widening, and she looks up at him to meet his gaze. She bites the inside of her cheek, nearly drawing blood with her molars.
“Uh… no,” she replies quietly.
Her cheeks redden as the taste of iron lingers on her tongue. Her breath catches in her throat, and she stares at her feet as she slips her boots back on. When his palm cups her cheek, her eyes instinctively return to his, her lips parting to apologize, but he speaks first.
“It’s okay,” he tells her. “We’ll figure it out once we’re home, okay? I won’t let you down, I promise.”
She absorbs his words, swallows the breath lodged in her throat, then slowly nods.
“You ready to go?” he asks, his hand slipping to her lower back.
“Yes,” she answers.
He gives her a lopsided smile before leading the way to the bridge. She wants to thank him, because she’s not sure she could have gotten back on her feet without him.
She doesn’t feel strong or willing enough to face it alone. The words are on her lips, but she stays silent and follows him, her skin numb and bruised, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the feeling of the parasite crawling along her spine, inside her veins, ready to turn her into a monster or something even worse, something she’s seen but can’t bear to think about.
Now that Leon can’t see her, tears threaten to spill onto her cheeks, because she’s scared, completely and utterly terrified by the loss of control she’s just experienced.
She shakes her head, clenching her fists. She has to stay strong; she won’t run, not again, she promised him and herself she wouldn’t. He’s here, and he won’t give up on her, never, and she holds onto that, hoping it makes her stronger.
He will get her home safe, and they will beat this, together.