Chapter Text
Footsteps.
Leon pushes himself off the wall and instinctively moves for the hilt of his pistol, but the sound retreats a moment later. One look at the man is enough to discern his restlessness; the two have been wandering the castle for hours now. He needs to find a safe place to slow down and determine their next course of action.
After another pause to ensure that they are, in fact, alone, he peers around the corner. “C’mon, this way,” Leon orders quietly.
Ashley stumbles forth and glues herself to his flank as they creep towards the end of the passage. He motions for her to stay put a small distance behind him once he approaches the door and carefully pushes it open. To his relief, he's greeted by what appears to be an empty room: small, dimly-lit, and sparsely furnished. A fireplace crackles in the corner, and the strip of light shining past him illuminates the ornate carpet at his feet.
He flicks his gaze to Ashley, beckoning her to enter first before stooping to prop a chair under the handle. With the door barricaded, Leon reflexively press-checks his handgun and deflates upon seeing a round in the chamber. As tempting as it is to lower his guard, his skull aches with a splintering pain, and he knows that there's no time for resting.
He glances over his shoulder. His charge hovers awkwardly by the glowing, orange flames, leaning against a desk—one hand jammed between her thighs as the other rubs a frayed spot in her tights above the knee.
Something's wrong. She hasn’t said a word since being pried away from a pair of scythe-wielding zealots in the Grand Hall. It suddenly occurs to him that he’d neglected to inspect the girl for injuries; in their haste to escape, mantled in fraught panic with a violent mob at their heels, he’d diverted all his efforts to finding somewhere to hide.
“You okay?”
Leon straightens his spine and takes a few steps forward, then cranes his neck to find her face. Seemingly startled, Ashley angles her body towards the hearth, and he grows still when he recognizes the defensive posture. “Y-Yeah, ‘m fine. It’s just a scratch,” she croaks.
Thoroughly unconvinced, he resumes his examination, but like a wounded baby bird, she just shies away from him. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re safe here.” She shakes her head, which causes the crease in his brow to deepen. “Show me,” he urges once he's close enough to place a hand on her shoulder.
She winces. Leon visibly softens and allows his hand to slip down to the small of her back. “Ashley.”
That does the trick. With little room to hide now, she reluctantly withdraws her hand from between her legs. The sight of her fingers, trembling and caked in blood, sends a surge of alarm through him, and he wastes no time in kneeling to pry her knees apart. Ashley gives a small squeak of protest, but Leon is more concerned with the laceration lining her inner thigh than any potential discomfort he’s just caused her.
“Shit.”
This isn’t good. The sheer fabric of her tights are split along her skin, freshly darkened by her injury, and the gore staining her thigh contrasts starkly with her ghostly pale face. It explains why she'd hardly said a word; the poor girl looks like she's on the verge of fainting.
“Don’t move.” Leon hastily rummages through his belongings for the first aid supplies. The sooner he cleans her wound, the lower the chance of infection. “Sorry,” he murmurs, bunching up some cloth to wipe away the excess blood. He offers her a rueful look. “This’ll sting.”
Ashley nods, jaw clenched in anticipation. He works fast, applying a small amount of antiseptic on a cotton swab before dabbing it along the length of the wound. As expected, she flinches and tries to squirm out of his hold, gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to leave her knuckles white. He knows it hurts; it kills him to see her like this.
“You're doing well," Leon tries to reassure her. “Just a bit more.”
“O-Okay.”
“Good girl.”
He doesn’t know why he’d just said that, but it draws a whimper from Ashley’s lips. Leon glances at her face again: her glassy green eyes gaze vacantly at the fireplace and a part of him feels inexplicably compelled to reach up and swipe a thumb along her lash line before the tears have a chance to drip down her cheek.
Willing the thought away, he returns his attention to the bloodied rag in his hand. Thankfully, the cut isn't deep enough to warrant switches. Leon tapes a piece of gauze to her wound with slow, methodical movements, but as he begins to wrap the bandage around her thigh, Ashley’s resolve crumbles a little.
He lifts his head to find her dragging her arm over her eyes. “Leon—I’m scared,” a shaky admission escapes her, barely audible over the sound of his own frantic heartbeat. “What if we don’t make it?”
His stomach sinks at her words. With a small sigh, he finishes dressing her injury. “We will.” He regards his handiwork for a few long seconds before releasing his hold on the back of Ashley’s knee and relaxing his shoulders. “I’ll get you home safe, Ashley," he says firmly. "I promised.”
She sniffles, falling silent and nodding.
"Does it hurt anywhere else?"
Against his better judgment, Leon's hand climbs up her other leg, pushing her skirt out of the way to get a clear look. His thumb dips into the soft, supple skin of her inner thigh, and with the scent of blood no longer dominating his senses, he becomes increasingly aware of his place below her. Still knelt on the floor, tucked between her shapely legs.
Ashley seems to notice this, too. She's tense again, sucking in a deep breath and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“...Leon?”
“Mm?”
“I… I wanna get out of these.”
Her voice has a profound effect on him, leaving his mouth dry and his hands clammy. Before he can even think to ask her what she means, Ashley sucks in a short breath and drags her fingernail along one of the frayed holes in her ruined tights.
He swallows thickly and stares at the spot. It's not a strange request; they're ripped and stained with blood—hardly salvageable.
"Yeah? You want 'em off?"
"Yeah…"
He should stand now. He should look the other way, should let her kick off her boots and peel the nylons off her legs in whatever manner she sees fit. But the searing headache reemerges and Leon grows weak to an obscene desire; with both hands, he hooks his fingers into the fabric behind her thighs and pulls—ripping her tights open at the crotch with ease.
Ashley gasps and fidgets where she stands, widening her stance to show off a pair of plain, cotton panties. In the low light of the room, Leon makes out a damp spot at the center; it activates a part of his brain he's left dormant for God knows how long.
“Like that?”
No—not like that. What the fuck is he doing? Moreover, how long has she been in this state?
Ashley hovers a hand over her bandaged thigh before inching it inwards. "Yeah," she replies again, and Leon feels the air being sucked from his lungs. It's impossible to ignore how sweet she looks with the color returned to her face.
“What else?”
She deliberates over his question, as though she's summoning the courage to answer him. “Your hand,” Ashley finally admits with difficulty, bashful. “If that's okay.”
That does it for him. With bated breath, he tucks a finger under the soaked gusset of her panties to pin it aside.
Jesus. Her pussy is so damn pretty. Pink and puffy, Leon thinks; the kind of tight, little cunt that'd grip whatever he pushed into it. He moves in spite of himself to test this theory, leaving a shuddering breath against her inner thigh and teases her entrance with the pads of his middle and index fingers. Before he slides them in, however, the more rational part of his mind screams at him to check on her again.
“Ashley,” he addresses her slowly, bristling with restraint, “You sure about this?”
She's gazing down at him with flushed cheeks and blown pupils, unable to do much more than nod dumbly. It sends the heat pooling straight to his cock, and he bites back a small groan in the back of his throat as he rises from the floor. For a brief second, her expression shifts to that of concern, but he soothes her with a low, “Not goin’ anywhere,” as he moves to stand beside her.
He’s not stupid. The coy tone of her voice, the lingering touches and glances, the subtle flirtations they’ve exchanged thus far… Ashley’s crush on him is obvious. But for all the times he’s tried to rebuff her, prioritizing her safety and his job above the complicated feelings she breeds within him, Leon Scott Kennedy is just a man. And the president’s daughter is sure as hell not making it easy for him to follow his moral compass.
If nothing else, she deserves some attention. A distraction from the pain radiating through her leg and the anxiety eating away at her insides. That’s what he tells himself as he wraps a protective arm around her waist and pulls her flush to him. His heart clamors wildly.
“I’ll take care of you,” Leon promises, ghosting his lips against her temple. He lifts his wrist to his mouth, wrenching off his glove with his teeth and discarding it somewhere on the floor. He then snakes his hand between her legs and prods her sex again.
Ashley moans, tipping her head sideways to lean against his chest and shoulder. She's breathless, letting out soft, labored puffs of air as his fingers begin to rub circles over her lips and swollen clit. Leon notes the way her hips rise, just short of humping the air for more stimulation. He finally pushes a digit into her, consumed by her heat.
“You’ve wanted this for a while, huh?”
“I tried to ignore it,” the girl heaves, desperately trying to make excuses for the shameless display, “but your hands, when you were…” A helpless whine. “You can’t really blame me.”
He huffs in amusement when she reaches down to wrap dainty fingers around his forearm. It’s likely an attempt to stay upright while he thrusts into her with steady motions. Her cunt drools, the strands of slick breaking and reforming every time his palm comes back, and each brush of contact with her clit has Ashley lifting her hips and keening with delight.
She's tight around him, even with how wet she is. Noticeably so once a second finger is added, and Leon quickly realizes that going any further than this means she should brace herself for the stretch.
“I've got you, sweetheart. Just relax,” he rumbles into her hair, nosing the soft strands. She shudders and tucks her head under his chin, and he feels an overwhelming warmth bloom in his chest. At this rate, she'll be the death of him.
“Leon… Oh, God…” The hand secured around his forearm falls away to grip the desk again and Leon finds himself even more determined than before to make Ashley cum. She deserves it, doesn’t she? She’s been so good for him. The least he can do is help her feel better. Leon picks up the pace as if to emphasize his resolve, finger-fucking her with hard, rough strokes and stimulating her clit on each pass.
Before long, Ashley seizes up; her pussy contracts, creating a tight seal around his fingers, and with a squeal trapped in her throat, she clutches the back of Leon's shirt for purchase. He feels the blood rush to his head as she squirts hard on the fingers still pistoning in and out of her—sending her slick splattering all over the wooden floorboards beneath them.
His cock is painfully hard now, pressing against the front of his trousers, and he has to close his eyes to gather himself. In much the same way, it isn't until the heady fog around their heads has begun to dissipate that Ashley registers how exposed she is.
She grips the hem of her sweater and lets out a flustered, little moan. "Sorry! I-I didn't know I could..." She trips over her tongue and trails off, thighs quivering and knees threatening to give. There’s a quick, sharp breath through her nose, followed by a disbelieving shake of the head. “Wow.”
God, she’s so fucking cute.
Leon presses a kiss to her crown, unable to suppress another breathless laugh. He slides his fingers out of her, shifting slightly to examine them under the fire's glow. Endeared by the way she moves to bury her face in his chest, dizzy and too blissed-out to speak, he claps his palm gently against her sex. She gasps and lifts her hips again, and he takes the opportunity to rub small, soothing circles over her tender folds.
“Feeling better?”
“Mhmmm.”
“Good. We have to keep moving.”