Archive of Our Own

"Oi! Kennedy! We’re closing! Hurry up, man. You’ve been here all day."

Frank’s voice cut through the stagnant air of the dive bar, but Leon didn't move. He just stared into the amber depth of his glass, watching the way the dim neon light fractured through the condensation.

In his head, the ghosts were screaming louder than the bartender. Images of horrors – blood, smoke, dead comrades, and the absolute futility of everything he had sacrificed for a government that viewed him as a highly classified tool – swirled in the liquor. He was drowning in a suffocating cynicism that made him wonder if the world was even worth saving anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of the men he couldn't save, and more agonizingly, the phantom of a woman he could never catch.

"I heard you the first time two hours ago, Frank," Leon slurred, letting his head thud back against the leather booth. The seat felt damp with a day’s worth of his own sweat and the bar's sticky grime. He felt utterly weighed down, as if his bones had been cast in lead and his blood had been entirely replaced by cheap bourbon.

He reached for the bottle again, his fingers clumsy and trembling from a cocktail of tremors and intoxication, when a sudden shadow fell over the scarred wood of the table.

"Touch that bottle again, and I’ll ensure you never have the motor skills to hold a glass, let alone a gun, for the rest of your miserable life."

The voice hit him like a bucket of ice water straight to the chest. It was a sound carved into his very soul, yet it sent a jarring, discordant note through his alcohol-soaked brain. Before his sluggish reflexes could even attempt to process it, a figure slid into the booth directly across from him, the sound of a trench coat rustling against the leather.

Leon didn't look up immediately. He just scowled, his fractured pride bristling instantly through the heavy fog of the alcohol. He hated being seen like this, hated the vulnerability of his own decay. "Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are?" he spat, the words thick, jagged, and dripping with an uncharacteristic venom. "Get lost."

"Look at me, Leon."

The command was quiet, yet it carried an absolute authority.

Leon forced his drooping eyelids open, squinting hard against the dim overhead light. He forced his eyes upward, and the moment they focused, his heart did a slow, sickeningly painful roll in his chest.

It was her. But everything inside his brain screamed that it was impossible.

The sharp, asymmetrical bob he had memorized over a decade of heartbreaks was entirely gone. Instead, a dark, luxurious river of hair spilled elegantly over the collar of her trench coat, cascading all the way down to her waist. The sight of it was a physical jolt, a violent tear in his perception of reality. It was enough to snap the fraying tether of his intoxication, forcing his brain into a frantic, stumbling sobriety as his mind tried to reconcile this… seemingly older, more grounded version of Ada Wong... with the elusive spy he had fought beside just a year ago.

"A-Ada? How... how are you even here?"

"You look pathetic, Leon," she said, her eyes scanning his disheveled clothes, his stubble, and his bloodshot eyes. "What’s your deal? I’ve seen you at your worst, but this? This is new."

She shifted slightly, resting her hand flat on the table. Leon’s breath caught. If she had been a dangerous enigma back then, she was completely lethal now. There was an untouchable gravity to her presence—a quiet maturity that made her seem entirely out of his reach, though he couldn't find the words to define it through his haze.

As Leon’s eyes roamed desperately over her, trying to find a familiar anchor in the beautiful stranger sitting before him, his gaze landed directly on her left hand.

A ring. A simple, elegant platinum band catching the dim light of the dive bar.

The sight of it sliced through him deeper than any blade ever could. A suffocating jealousy flared up, mixing violently with his self-pity. Leon let out a harsh, bitter laugh that rapidly degenerated into a rough cough. "Great. Just goddamn great. Now you’re married?" He reached for the bourbon bottle again, his movements frantic and desperate, needing the alcohol to numb the sudden, agonizing ache in his ribs. "More reasons to reach for the bottle, Ada. Toasts to the happy couple and all that bullshit."

Thwack.

She swatted his arm away with a blindingly fast motion, her palm hitting his skin with a sharp, echoing sting. "You didn't answer me. What has gotten into you? We talked about this, Leon. You promised you were done letting the ghosts pour your drinks."

"Promises change! People change!" Leon roared, the pent-up frustration of a decade of near-misses, unacknowledged love, and relentless heartbreak finally boiling over. He didn't care that Frank was watching. "You of all people should know that! You show up every few years, play with my fucking head, and then vanish into thin air! And now you walk in here, looking like that, wearing that on your finger, and you want to lecture me on how to live my life?"

"I’m here because you’re making a scene in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere," Ada countered. 

"I’m making a scene? I’m living my life! This is it, Ada! This is what’s left when the goddamn missions are over and the world is 'saved' again!" He slammed his open hand flat on the table, making the empty bottles rattle violently against the wood. "I'm a soldier with no war and a man with no one. So yeah, I'm drinking. What's it to you? Go the fuck back to your husband!"

"Leon. Enough."

She didn't shout; she didn't have to. The weight of her tone froze the air between them. She leaned across the table, her hand darting out to grip his bicep. The unyielding strength in her fingers was startling—far more commanding and solid than he ever remembered.

"I’ll take it from here, Frank," she called out over her shoulder, her eyes never once breaking contact with Leon’s trembling form.

She stood up, her grip shifting to his arm, pulling his heavy frame upward with an effortless surge of power that left him entirely disoriented. She casually tossed a handful of hundred-dollar bills onto the sticky table—an amount far exceeding his tab, buying both Frank’s silence and his immediate departure. Before Leon could gather the coordination to protest, she had his arm looped securely over her shoulder. Her grip was like an iron vice as she hauled his stumbling, reeling body toward the exit.

The crisp night air slapped him in the face, making his head spin as the bourbon fought the sudden rush of adrenaline. Ada dragged him across the asphalt, essentially throwing his large frame into the passenger seat of a sleek Porsche idling at the curb. She slammed the door shut with a definitive, heavy thud, marched around the hood to the driver's side, and slid in beside him.

Oh, she is absolutely pissed, Leon thought, swallowing hard as he watched the tight clench of her jawline in the dashboard's glowing light.

"Still living on 5th Street?" she asked, her leather-gloved hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly the material groaned.

"Y-yeah," Leon muttered, his bravado completely evaporating as he leaned his throbbing head against the cool glass of the window. He was still reeling, his chest heaving as the shock of her sudden appearance fought a losing battle against the remaining alcohol in his veins. "Still there."

Ada didn't say another word. She slammed the car into gear and tore away from the curb with a screech of rubber, leaving the neon glow of the bar and Leon’s shattered dignity far behind in the rearview mirror.

The elevator ride was a claustrophobic symphony of mechanical groans and Leon’s ragged breathing. Ada didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the glowing floor numbers as they ticked upward, but her grip on his bicep was unwavering—an unyielding anchor he couldn't shake off even if he tried.

When they finally reached his door, Leon fumbled blindly with his keys, his coordination entirely shot by the adrenaline and alcohol. Ada didn’t waste time waiting. She slid her hand into his pocket, brushed past his thigh to yank the keys out, and had the door unlocked in a single, fluid motion.

The depressing reality of the apartment hit her immediately—stale tobacco smoke, piles of unwashed laundry, and the cloying, sweet rot of cheap liquor. It was a physical manifestation of his surrender.

"Stay here," she commanded, her voice sharp as she pushed his heavy frame toward the sofa. She disappeared into the kitchen, the lethal click of her heels the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. A minute later, she returned, placing a glass of water onto the stained coffee table.

"Drink this. All of it," she said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were scanning the room, charting the wreckage of his life. They landed on the pathetic graveyard of empty bottles by the TV, the overflowing ashtray, and the layer of dust coating everything.

Leon stared at the clear liquid, then forced his eyes up to meet hers. Sobriety was violently clawing its way into his skull now, bringing a dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes that only fueled his irritation.

"Ada, stop," he choked out, his voice cracking, "You don’t get to do this. You can’t just disappear for years—literal years without a single goddamn word, leaving me to wonder if you choked to death in some ditch—and then waltz back in here acting like my protective little caretaker."

He tried to push himself up from the cushions, but his knees felt like water, his equilibrium ruined. Angry, hot frustration began to blur his vision, making his jaw clench until the bone ached. "You don’t get the right to play the worried wife when you haven't even been a ghost I could reliably count on!"

"I am doing it," she countered coolly, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Drink."

"Why?" Leon roared, the sound ripping violently from the depths of his throat as he finally forced himself onto his feet, swaying dangerously. "So you can slip out the window and leave me with another hangover by sunrise? Since '98, Ada... I’ve been a stray dog waiting by the back door. I’ve spent more of my goddamn life waiting for you than I have actually holding you. Every time you vanished, I played the understanding idiot. I told myself your 'work' demanded it. I stayed completely loyal to a phantom, Ada! I turned down stability, I walked away from real relationships, I threw away a normal life—all because I was tethered to a woman who only exists when she needs a favor or a getaway driver!"

He stumbled blindly toward his bedroom door, his finger shaking as he pointed at a crumpled piece of faded red fabric draped over a dusty chair—the dress she’d left behind during a panicked, midnight exit years ago.

"I kept that! Like a pathetic, goddamn relic! I’d hold it in the dark just to remind myself you were flesh and blood and not some recurring hallucination brought on by my PTSD! Do you have any idea what that does to a man's mind? To be the only one white-knuckling the rope while the other person let go before the smoke even cleared?"

He was heaving now, his chest tight. Ada stood perfectly still, letting the venom wash over her. She knew he needed this. He was a pressure cooker that had finally exploded.

"You think your occupation makes you hard to love?", Leon laughed, a jagged, pathetic sound that tasted like bile. "No, Ada! That’s the easiest part! I can handle the bioweapons. I can handle the bullets and the lies. The problem isn’t me loving you—the problem is you won't let me! Every time I think we’ve finally crossed that line of ambiguity, every time I think the games are over and I can finally breathe... the morning comes. And reality slaps me in the face because your side of the bed is cold, and I’m back to the same miserable routine. It’s exhausting. I’ve tried to force myself to hate you, heck, even considered the idea of sleeping with other women just to get the taste of you out of my mouth because you’re making a fucking fool out of me, but I can't! I just can't!"

He slumped heavily against the wooden doorframe, his head hanging low, his knuckles white where he gripped the wood.

"Not loving you feels like a sin, Ada. It feels like I’d be tearing out my own heart. If the world ended tomorrow, if the sky started falling, you’re the first and only person I’d look for. And that’s the goddamn tragedy of it. I’m a man who’s saved the world a dozen times over, but I can’t save myself from you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating, and thick with the scent of his exposed wounds. Ada waited a beat, her expression completely smooth.

"Are you done?" she asked quietly.

It wasn't a taunt. It was worse. It was borderline pitiful, like she was looking at a broken child.

"Get lost, Ada," Leon whispered, the violent energy leaving him all at once, leaving him hollowed out and shivering. "You’re just twisting the dagger deeper than it already is. Just go back to whatever life you’ve built. Go back to the man who gave you that ring."

He turned to retreat into the dark safety of his bedroom, but Ada’s hand shot out, catching his wrist.

"Leon, wait."

"Let go," he hissed, glaring down at her fingers. "Whatever this is that we have… consider it done. I’m too tired to play your games anymore."

"Leon Scott Kennedy. Look at me." Her voice was soft, but it carried a terrifying cadence of absolute command that bypassed his stubborn brain and went straight to his marrow. He turned his head slowly, his eyes bloodshot, weary, and dripping with resentment.

"Come here." To his absolute shock, she stepped directly into his personal space, her warmth cutting through his chill as she pulled his trembling frame into a tight hug.

"Ada, please," he whispered hoarsely into her shoulder, his hands coming up to her waist to push her away. He wanted to be strong, to finally break the cycle of his own dependency, but she remained firmly planted, her arms tightening like steel bands around his shoulders. "Stop making it so hard for me to let you go."

"Wash up first," she murmured against his hair, unaffected by his resistance. "Then we’ll talk. I’m not going anywhere, Leon. I want you sober enough to absorb everything I have to say next. Because this time, the morning isn't going to change anything."

Leon pulled back just enough to look down at her, his blue eyes sharp with a deeply ingrained suspicion. "Ada, I swear to god, if this is another play—if this is about some stolen file, a new corporate client, or a virus—"

"It isn't," she interrupted, her gaze softening in a way he hadn't seen in over a decade. "Trust me one last time... please?"

That one word—please—hit him harder than any physical blow. It was a word she rarely used, a distinct crack in the porcelain armor she wore for the rest of the world. His entire resolve, the years of carefully nurtured bitterness, crumbled into dust.

"Okay," he breathed, defeated and entirely pathetic in his hope. "Okay."

He dragged himself toward the bathroom, the phantom weight of her promise trailing behind him.

“And shave that damn beard too!” she called out before the door clicked shut. “It makes you look like a vagrant.”

When Leon finally stepped out of the bathroom, the heavy steam clinging to his damp skin, he was nearly blinded. Ada had  turned on the bright overhead lights while he was showering. His eyes immediately scanned the room—the empty bottles were gone, the filthy ashtray had vanished, and the air actually smelled like oxygen again.

He had a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, but the sudden chill of the apartment forced him to grab a pair of pajama pants. He didn't bother with a shirt; his skin felt too raw, his nerves entirely fried from the emotional whiplash of the last hour.

He found her in the small kitchen.

Ada had shed the trench coat, draping it over a stool. She was busy at the stove, her hair pinned up in a loose, messy bun that exposed the elegant, pale curve of her neck and the entirety of her bare back. The sight nearly made his knees buckle.

The red dress was completely backless, a plunging, lethal V that dipped dangerously low, past her ribs, toward the small of her back. But it wasn't just the smooth skin that stopped his heart… It was the ink.

Traced along the delicate ridges of her spine was a vertical masterpiece. At the nape of her neck sat a slender, sharp dagger, flanked by the ethereal, gossamer wings of a butterfly. As the design traveled down her vertebrae, the cold metal softened into organic grace, transitioning into a long-stemmed lily that curved seductively toward her lower back.

Leon felt a sudden, heat coil violently in his gut. It was an aesthetic punch to the throat.

God, she’s beautiful. Then, the toxic, gritty bitterness roared back to life, hotter than before.
Fuck her husband. Whichever bastard got to claim her, I hope he rots in a random hole. I hope he takes a bullet to the skull for getting to wake up to that every morning.

"Ada..." he choked out, his voice rough as he leaned heavily against the kitchen island to keep his balance. "Since when do you get inked? The Ada I know doesn't leave identifying marks on her body."

"This?" She didn't turn around immediately, finishing her task of ladling a steaming clear soup into a porcelain bowl. "Some time in the future, Leon."

She turned, her movements fluid, and slid the bowl toward him before climbing onto a high stool opposite him. Leon’s eyes immediately betrayed him. As she shifted, the fabric at her front gaped slightly, revealing the edge of another tattoo peeking out from her sternum, buried right in the shadow of her cleavage. He gulped, his throat completely dry. He grabbed the spoon, shoving a massive mouthful of soup into his mouth just to give his trembling hands something to do.

"Careful! That’s—"

"Gah! Dammit!" Leon hissed, coughing violently as the scalding liquid seared his tongue and throat. He slammed the spoon down, his eyes watering. "The what? The future? If you told me to wash up just so you could spew some sci-fi, time-travel nonsense to cover up your real life, Ada, you should’ve left thirty minutes ago."

Ada’s expression didn't flicker, but the tight way she gripped her own spoon told him her patience was paper-thin. "Are you done being a child? Because what I’m about to say will sound insane, even coming from me. I need you to use whatever brain cells you haven't drowned in bourbon to listen, not react."

"Just tell me already," he snapped, his tone only softening when she shot him a glare that could have decapitated a Tyrant. "S-sorry. Yes... I’m listening, Ma’am."

Ada leaned forward over the counter, "I am 52 years old, Leon. If your drunken eyes haven't caught the math yet, I am from the year 2026."

Leon sat frozen, his spoon hovering. He looked at her skin—it was flawless, but possessed of a certain wisdom, a settled, mature strength he hadn't seen in the flighty Ada of his current timeline. "52? You... you don't look a day over thirty."

"Good genetics and an incredibly expensive skincare regimen," she countered smoothly. "Anyway, there is a new strain—the A-Virus. It causes localized temporal fluctuations. A glitch in the fabric of the immediate area. In my time, I was investigating a containment breach. I didn't consciously travel here; the virus's energy spike swapped me with the version of me that was supposed to be in your timeline tonight. It’s temporary though."

Leon rubbed his face with both hands, the friction scraping against his freshly shaven jaw. "A time-glitch. Right. Of course. Because zombies, ancient parasites, and mutant cults weren't enough for one lifetime. So, what? You’re a ghost from a future that hasn't happened yet?"

"Sort of. My husband and I are currently working with Sherry to contain the fallout, but—" She stopped abruptly, the name 'Grace' nearly slipping past her lips. She tightened her jaw, pulling back from the edge of revealing too much of their domestic reality. "The research is ongoing. That's all your security clearance needs to know."

Leon’s mind raced, his thoughts kept snagging on that one, sharp word like a piece of rusted metal. Husband.

"So what are you saying?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with defensive sarcasm. "I should just sit tight? Just let the clock tick for another twelve years until I finally reach 2026 to see you happily settled with a man that isn't me?"

"Don't try to change the course of your life to fix it, Leon. You wouldn't want to."

"I sure as hell want to change it right now," he growled, leaning his chest over the counter, his eyes boring into hers. "Aside from the fact that I apparently survived another decade instead of eating a bullet like I planned to do last week, look at you! You're married to some guy, living the high life, and I’m still sitting in this shithole apartment waiting for a phone call that never comes."

Ada watched him and saw the pulsing jealousy radiating off his shoulders, the way his gaze kept angrily flickering to the silver band.

"You want to know who he is, don't you? The man who finally convinced me to stop running."

"No," Leon lied, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. "You look great, Ada. Truly. He must be treating you well if you're out here playing Mother Teresa for your ex-fling."

"Are you sure you don't want to know?" Her voice dropped, turning sultry and intentionally provocative. She stood up slowly, rounding the kitchen counter until she was leaning against the edge right next to his stool. Her perfume clouded his senses. "He’s everything you aren't right now, Leon. He’s stable. He’s strong. He doesn't hide his trauma in a liquor bottle when the world gets difficult."

"Stop it, Ada," Leon warned, his heart hammering against his ribs. He could feel the heat radiating off her bare back. "You’re just rubbing it in my face. Kicking a dead horse because you know you’ve finally won the game. You got the happy ending, you found a real man, and I’m just a miserable footnote in your past."

"Maybe you're just a coward," she baited him, her eyes flashing with a sharp, predatory light. She wanted him angry. She needed Leon—the fierce, uncompromising soldier who fought with a relentless, brutal intensity—not this self-pitying wreck drowning in bourbon. "My husband knows how to take what he wants. He doesn't sit around begging for permission to love me. He just commands it. Unlike you, sitting here waiting for the world to give you a written invitation."

"I said enough!"

Leon exploded out of the chair, the stool clattering to the hardwood floor. The anger—fueled by a decade of rejection and the jealousy of a future he was locked out of—completely boiled over. He turned to storm toward his bedroom, needing to put a physical wall between them before his possessive rage made him do something he’d regret.

But Ada was faster. She followed him into the narrow hallway and right into his bedroom, her voice a whip-crack cutting through his retreat. "Running away again, Leon? That’s exactly why you lost me back then. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be. He’s a better lover, a better partner, he actually knows how to handle—"

Leon spun and slammed his hand into the drywall right beside her head with a deafening crack. He pinned her body flush against the wall, his chest heaving, his face inches from hers. The last remnants of the alcohol were utterly incinerated, replaced by adrenaline.

"Shut up," he growled. His blue eyes were wild with a primitive hunger she recognized all too well. "Shut the fuck up about him before I lose my mind."

Ada didn't even flinch. She looked up into his shadowed face, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her swollen lips. "Make me."

Leon didn’t think. Thinking had been his enemy for years, a vicious cycle of logic that always ended in a bottle and isolation. He simply reacted. He lunged forward, crashing his lips against hers in a desperate, brutal attempt to consume the very memory of the other man, to erase the poison she was spitting about her future life.

Fuck her husband.

Fuck him for touching her.

Fuck him for being better.

He fully expected her to pull away, to slap his face, or to laugh at his desperation as she usually did. Instead, Ada let out a low, muffled moan against his mouth and kissed him back with a feral, hungry intensity that perfectly matched his own chaotic rage.

That was it. The last of Leon’s discipline, morals, and self-preservation shattered into dust.

He hooked his arms under her thighs and hoisted her up in one powerful motion, pinning her back hard against the bedroom wall. Ada instantly wrapped her long legs securely around his waist, her high heels digging into the small of his back as she pulled him closer. Leon groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through both of their chests as he ground his hard length against her, the thin fabric of her red dress providing maddeningly little resistance to the friction. Her fingers tangled into his damp hair, tugging sharply, forcing his head back so she could trail biting, possessive kisses down the tense line of his throat.

"Ada..." he gasped, his breath hitching as her tongue flicked directly against his pounding pulse point. "We... we have to stop."

He forced himself to pull back, his chest heaving as he set her feet back down on the floor. He stepped three paces away as if the very air between them was electrified, his hands trembling violently. "I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m sorry. I’m not... I’m not that guy. I’m not going to be the pathetic reason you cheat on a man who actually deserves you."

Ada stood against the wall, her hair messy and her lips swollen, a smirk spread across her face. "My husband doesn’t need to know, Leon. He’s in 2026. We’re in 2014. What happens in this room stays here. I promise."

Her slender fingers reached out, trailing slowly down the center of his bare chest, tracing the jagged white lines of old bullet scars on his shoulder and the hard, defined planes of his abs. Leon’s eyes fluttered shut, a shaky, defeated exhale escaping him as he felt the burning reality of her touch. Then, he caught her wrist, stopping her hand before it could slide lower.

"No. We can't," he whispered, his voice thick with a painful sort of nobility. "Don't break that man’s heart for a quick fix with an ex-fling. He chose you, Ada. And somehow, you chose him too. Don't ruin that."

He pulled her into his chest, not for a kiss, but for a crushing embrace. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her, selfishly holding onto the one treasure the world had never allowed him to keep.

They stayed like that for a long time, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the distant city traffic outside. Finally, Leon found the courage to ask the question that was actively rotting in his gut.

"What’s his name, Ada?"

"Do you really want to know?" she whispered against his skin, her hands sliding up to frame his jaw. "You know him well, Leon. Really well."

Leon’s heart tightened into a freezing knot. A fellow agent? Chris? Someone from the government? The thought of it being a trusted ally made the betrayal taste like pure ash.

If it's Chris, then he’ll be damned. I pointed a gun at him once, and I won't hesitate to do it again.

"Just spill it, Ada. If you’re going to execute me, do it in one clean shot. Who is he?"

She pulled back just enough to look him directly in the eye, her gaze shimmering with a beautiful mix of mischief and affection.

"His name is Leon S. Kennedy. And he’s still just as stubborn, jealous, and self-sacrificing as he was twelve years ago."

Leon froze. His fingers tightened around her waist, a sudden flash of white-hot anger sparking in his eyes. "You think my feelings are a joke? You think it’s funny to play with my head like this when I'm at my breaking point?"

"I'm not lying to you, Leon. Look."

She grabbed his right hand and firmly pressed the silver band into his palm. It was still warm from her skin. Leon held the ring up to the dim bedroom light, squinting at the tiny, elegant script engraved on the inner circle:

AW & LSK 08-2017

August 2017. Three years from his grueling present.

"We’re... we’re married?" The air completely left his lungs. He felt dizzy, his legs suddenly too weak to hold his massive weight. He retreated to the edge of his unmade bed and sat down heavily, staring at the ring as if it were an alien artifact. "You and me? In a church? With a legal license?"

"A courthouse in Zurich," she corrected softly, stepping into the space between his knees and looking down at him. "I used an alias, for obvious reasons. I wore red, because you insisted, you wore that same damned navy suit you love so much, and you haven't let me out of your sight since. That officiant cost me a small fortune to shut his mouth.”

Leon looked up at her, the confusion and bitter jealousy melting away into a terrifyingly beautiful hope. "How? After everything we've done... how do we ever end up there?"

"Because eventually, we both got tired of running from the inevitable," she said, her hands gently brushing through his messy hair and settling firmly on his shoulders. "And because you never gave up on me, Leon. Even when I gave you every reason to."

She slid the ring back onto her finger, "Now that we’ve cleared up your little jealousy crisis, I believe I still have some unfinished business to settle with my husband—the one currently throwing a tantrum in 2014."

She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Well, Mr. Kennedy? Are you just going to stare at your wife, or are you going to make her pay?"

Leon’s gaze darkened, the intensity of his emotions returning tenfold. His hands slid down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her flush against him so there was no mistaking his intent. He let his touch roam along her smooth legs up to her inner thigh, then at the curve of her waist.

"You want me to make you pay? If I start, Ada, I’m not stopping until you forget what year it is. I’m going to remind you exactly why you chose me, and I’m going to make sure that when you go back to 2026, you’re still wearing my marks."

Ada felt a delicious ache bloom in her core. "Be angry with me, Leon. Angrier than you were after Spain… Don't hold back, hun."

He didn't. He hauled her into his lap, the bed creaking under the weight of a decade's worth of built-up longing finally snapping.

His hands dove beneath the hem of her dress to grip the curve of her ass with a possessive, bruising force. His breath hitching as he felt the friction of her thighs against his hips.

"You’re a menace, Ada.”

He didn't wait for a witty retort when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, trailing hot, wet kisses along her jawline. He found that specific, sensitive dip behind her ear—a spot he’d memorized—and nipped at it. Ada let out a sharp, broken whimper, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Even in 2026, that was her undoing, and Leon smirked in knowing some things remained unchanged by time.

"Leon…”, her voice trembled.

He ignored the plea, moving lower. He licked a path down her throat to the swell of her breasts, his tongue swirling over the fabric before he caught the fabric in his teeth and tugged. “Take this off.”

Ada bit her lip, a flush creeping up her chest. She loved this version of him—the man who stopped asking and started taking. She reached back, unzipping the dress with a fluid motion that let it pool around her waist like a spill of wine. She stepped out of it, standing before him in nothing but black lace underwear. When she reached up to peel away her pasties, Leon’s pupils blew wide, swallowing the blue of his irises until his eyes were almost entirely black.

There, arching across her sternum and trailing down toward her navel, was the companion piece to her spine tattoo. Leon leaned in, his breath hitching, he saw it. Woven into the very center of the design, hidden in plain sight among the dark ink, were his initials. LSK.

"Fucking hell, Ada. You’re so sexy inked up like this."

"Like what you see, Leon?" she challenged, arching her back, her chest heaving. "I wanted to make sure I always carried a piece of you, even when you weren't there to hold me."

The sight of his name etched permanently into her skin was the final blow to his sanity. Leon went feral, burying his face between her breasts, squeezing them together with hands. 

He began to suck the skin right over the ink of his initials, his tongue tracing the letters with a desperate intensity. "My name on your skin… Every time you look in the mirror, you see me. Every time some guy looks at you, he sees that you’re mine. And I love it."

He grabbed her by the waist and laid her onto the bed. She fell against the pillows, her long, dark hair unravelling from the bun and spreading like a silken halo around her head.

"You’re so beautiful," he hovered over her, his hands fondling her breasts roughly. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, occasionally pulling on them until she arched off the mattress with a hissed breath of pleasure. "So goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at you."

"Then don't look," she gasped, her hands wandering down to the waistband of his pajama pants. "Just feel."

Suddenly, Leon paused. He looked at her, his eyes unreadable for a moment, before he pushed himself off the bed. Ada blinked, confused and suddenly cold as he turned and strode out of the room.

"Leon?" she called out. What has gotten into him?

A moment later, he returned, but he wasn't carrying handcuffs or silk ties. He was holding the nearly empty bottle of bourbon from the fridge.

Ada sat up slightly, propping herself on her elbows. "Handcuffs would have made sense, Leon. But bourbon? Even my husband hasn’t tried that particular trick. Interesting."

Leon set the bottle on the nightstand and climbed back onto the bed pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. "Stop talking about your husband," he snapped, "Even if it’s me, I’m your lover tonight. I’m the man you left behind for years, and I’m still angry at you."

Ada felt a shiver of pure, unadulterated heat race down her spine. She liked the bite in his words.

"You want me to stop drinking, Ada?" his tongue flicking over her nipple.

Silence.

"Answer me," he demanded, giving the sensitive peak a sharp pinch.

"Yes, Leon!" she hissed, her head tossing back against the pillow. "Yes, please."

"Then make my last bottle memorable."

He reached for the bottle. The scent of alcohol filled the space between them as he unscrewed the cap. He took a long swig and crashed his lips against hers, forcing the liquid into her mouth as their tongues danced; a trail of saliva formed between their lips as he pulled away and took another shot. 

He leaned over her chest, letting the cool liquid trickle slowly over her collarbone, down the valley of her breasts, and over her aching nipples.

"Oh..." she shivered from the contact and as her realization sank in, "Oh, Leon… you're going to... you're going to drive me insane," she choked out.

"That's the plan, Mrs. Kennedy," he whispered, "We're just getting started."

His focus narrowed to the amber droplets clinging to the ink of the tattoo on her sternum; his tongue flicked out, lapping the spirit from her skin. The taste of alcohol against his tongue only seemed to fuel the fire in his eyes. 

He moved to her left breast, his hand cupping the underside and lifting the weight of her toward his mouth. He circled the areola with the tip of his tongue, teasing the perimeter before sucking it into his mouth.

Ada’s back arched sharply off the bed. The combination was overwhelming—the rough texture of his tongue, the sharp burn of the bourbon remaining on her skin, and the relentless suction. 

"Please…”

"Please what, Ada? Please stop? Or please remind you whose name is on your chest?" He pulled back just enough to look at her, his lips glistening. He reached for the bottle again, pouring a small, steady stream directly onto the peak he had just been worshipping.

The contact made her gasp, the evaporative chill clashing with the heat of his gaze. Leon didn't wait for the liquid to settle. He lunged back in, his mouth hot and hungry as he drank the bourbon directly off her, his cheeks hollowing as he applied a pressure that made her toes curl and her vision swim.

He switched to the right, his hands working in tandem with his mouth. While his tongue flicked and licked at one side, his thumb and forefinger were busy with the other, pinching and rolling the nipple. "You’ve been gone too long…years of me dreaming about this... years of imagining the taste of you."

He began to use his teeth more, grazing the sensitive skin with a controlled aggression. He caught the nipple between his incisors, tugging and twisting just enough to elicit a sharp cry from her, before soothing the sting with a long, slow lap of his tongue.

"Leon, I'm... I'm going to..."

"Not yet," his hand slid up to grip her chin, forcing her to look at him as he licked a stray drop of bourbon in her navel. "I want you to remember this. I want this taste to be the only thing you think about when you go back to your 'perfect' future. I want you to feel my mark on you for a week."

He returned to his task with a renewed ferocity, his tongue flicking over the tips until Ada was sobbing for breath. The scent of the bourbon was a haze, the heat of Leon was a sun, and the focused, relentless attention he was paying to her chest was driving her to her limit.

Every time she tried to find her composure, he would change the rhythm—a sharp nip, a deep, pulling suck, a light, teasing lick—keeping her perched on the very edge of a precipice. 

When Leon finally gathered both of her aching, alcohol-slicked nipples together, squishing them into a singular point of focus and taking them both into his mouth at once, Ada’s fingers clawed into the mattress as her climax ripped through her. 

Leon pulled back, releasing her tips with a wet pop. He didn't look pleased.

"I told you not to come yet, Ada.”

“Sorry, Agent," both knew that her “apology” didn’t hold much weight. She shifted her hips, instinctively trying to find the hard friction of his erection, but Leon’s hands pinned her firmly on the bed.

"You're becoming a problem, Mrs. Kennedy," he said, his gaze raking over her trembling form. "First you show up unannounced, then you lie about your husband, and now you’re taking your pleasure without permission. You’ve been in the future so long that you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here when you make me mad.”

He stood on the mattress, "On your knees. Now."

The command was absolute. Ada didn't hesitate; the authority in his voice was a drug she couldn't refuse. She scrambled into position, her long hair spilling over her shoulders. Leon reached for the bottle again and poured a slow, steady stream over the length of his shaft, the amber liquid glistening against his skin.

"Drink up," he demanded, his hand finding the back of her neck.

Ada leaned in, but she wasn't ready to surrender her power entirely. She began to tease him, her tongue flicking out to lap the bourbon from the sensitive underside of his head, moving down the shaft with agonizing slowness. She kissed the base, her tongue swirling around his balls, tasting the alcohol mixed with the salt of his skin.

Holy shit, she’s gotten good, "Ada... don't play. Just take it."

She ignored him, looking up through her lashes with a smirk as she used her lips to pull on the skin of his inner thigh. She was a master of her craft now, far more experienced than the version of her he had ever known in this timeline. She knew exactly how to make him crumble.

"Ada, I'm warning you—" His fingers threading into her hair, his grip tightening as he fought to keep his composure. He was whimpering now, a pathetic sound of need that stoked the fire in her gut, before she finally took him in.

Leon’s assertive demeanor just seconds ago collapsed. Ada was relentless, using her tongue and the roof of her mouth to create a vacuum of heat that made his breath hitch in jagged sobs. She used her hands to massage his balls, her fingers working with a precision that drove him to the brink of madness.

"God... Ada... fuck!" he groaned, his head falling back. His hands clutched desperately in her hair. As he began to thrust, the filter between his brain and his mouth disintegrated.

"You’re so much better at this... why are you so much better? Who taught you this in those years?" he rasped, his voice breaking. "God, your mouth is a sin. You’re absolutely cruel… leaving me with nothing but a memory of this when you go."

The more he struggled, the more Ada pushed. She tightened her grip on his balls and sucked him harder, the added pressure sending him over the edge.

"I’m coming... Ada!" he choked out, "Don't you dare stop. Drink it. Take all of it, beautiful—ghh!"

With a final shudder, he climaxed. Ada drank every drop, her eyes locked onto his as he watched the sight with a mixture of awe and renewed hunger. When she finally pulled back, a stray drop of white traced the corner of her mouth. 

"Is that all you've got, Agent?"

"You’re unbelievable.”

He guided her back onto the pillows, his body hovering over hers like a shadow. He began to trail a line of biting kisses from her collarbone down to the valley of her breasts. "You turned me into a whimpering mess in my own bedroom time and time again."

He moved lower, his teeth nipping at her already swollen nipples. Ada hissed, her back arching as a fresh wave of electricity spiked through her.

"What am I supposed to do with you, Ada?" he murmured against her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. "You walk in here from a decade away and think you can just break me?"

His hand slid down, his palm flat against her toned stomach before his fingers dipped lower, disappearing beneath the elastic of her lace underwear. 

"Shit, Ada... you're absolutely drenched."

"Leon, please… Stop the lecture. Just take them off. My husband... he wouldn't make me wait this long. He would’ve gone down on me in the kitchen."

The word husband triggered him again. This piece of shit–

"I told you not to mention him," he rubbed his thumb over her clit in slow, agonizing circles through the wet fabric and gently pinched the nub. The friction sent sparks behind her eyelids. "Do you want me to eat you out, Ada? Is that what you’re dying for?"

"Then beg for it. You’ve gotten so complacent, so used to how he treats you. I told you—as of this moment, I am not that man. I am the man you haven't seen in years, and I’m starving."

The power play was making her lightheaded, the desperation in her core reaching a fever pitch. "Leon... please. Get on with it. Do it now, or I swear I’ll walk out that door and you can go back to your bottle."

"Don't you dare.”

He hooked his fingers into the lace and tore the underwear down her legs in one swift motion, tossing them somewhere across the room.

He paused at the sight before him, the Ada he knew in his timeline was always perfectly groomed; but this version of her – his wife – had a soft, trimmed patch of hair that made his vision swim and darken at the edges. It was domestic.

"Fucking hell," he breathed out, the awe evident in his voice. He leaned down, his nose brushing against her slick, swollen bud, inhaling the scent of her, "Holy shit, Ada. You’re perfect."

“You’ve said that a dozen times already, Leon. I get it.”

“I don’t care,” reaching for the bourbon bottle again – it was nearly empty, just a few amber ounces swirling at the bottom. He took another swig.

Using his fingers to spread her folds wide, exposing her completely, he trickled a slow, steady stream directly over her clit and down into her heat.

He has gotten insane. Ada let out a strangled, high-pitched cry as the alcohol hit her sensitive tissues, "Leon!"

"Shh, I’ve got you."

His tongue lapped up the bourbon, making sure to suck the bourbon from her clit. His mouth hot and vacuum-sealed, before diving deep inside her with long, wet strokes that mimicked the act of sex.

Ada’s hands flew to his hair, her fingers locking into the blonde strands as she tried to pull him closer, then push him away, then pull him back again. 

"Leon... please... you're going to break me!" 

Leon didn't slow down. He used his teeth to gently graze the sensitive hood of her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, before flattening his tongue and dragging it upward again. He reached up, his fingers finding her breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumbs while his mouth continued its relentless assault below.

"You're so loud tonight, Ada," he growled, the vibration of his voice buzzing against her sensitive flesh. Ada’s hips bucked, her heels digging into the mattress as she tried to find a rhythm she could survive.

"I can't... I can't think..." she sobbed, her fingers clutching his hair so tightly she was sure she’d plucked out a few hair strands, "Everything... it’s all you, Leon. Just you."

He let out a sound of approval. He pulled back for a fraction of a second, just long enough to see the mess he’d made of her—her skin flushed, her eyes rolled back, and her body trembling. Then, he moved lower.

He spread her cheeks, exposing the puckered skin of her asshole. Ada let out a strangled, shocked sound as she felt the hot tip of his tongue swirl around the entrance.

"Leon! What—ah!"

"I've been waiting years for you," he countered, his tongue sweeping over her once more. "...I'm not leaving a single spot untouched."

He began to lick her there with the same focused intensity he had shown her clit. He alternated between the two, his tongue flicking back and forth in a dizzying pace that made Ada’s vision blur.

"Leon!”

He returned to her clit, his suction becoming more frantic. He was drinking her in, his hands moved to her waist, thumbs digging into her hip bones to keep her pinned. 

"I’m going to—Leon! Please!”

The build-up was unbearable. She felt the pressure mounting behind her eyes, the muscles in her legs locking up. Leon sensed it, too. He increased the pace, his tongue a blur, until Ada’s body finally gave way. She screamed, the sound echoed off the walls as she squirted in his mouth, her entire body vibrating under the relentless, masterful power of his mouth. He drank every drop and did not stop until Ada’s feet pushed his shoulders away.

"Th-that was… fuck," Ada gasped, her frame going entirely limp. 

Leon pulled back just enough to look down at her, his lips shining in the dim light. "Don't tell me you're breaking character already, Ada. That was just the foreplay. I haven't even entered you yet."

Before she could form a witty retort, he drove two fingers deep into her heat. Ada’s eyes snapped open, her legs parted further instinctively. She was incredibly warm, her internal walls pulsing and clamping tight around his knuckles.

"Leon… More... Put a third one in… I can handle it."

He added a third finger, stretching her wide. The ease with which she accommodated him—the way her body seemed perfectly calibrated for this level of intensity—fueled another wave of jealousy. Leon, if you’re hearing my thoughts, fuck you.

"Fuck, Ada," he rasped, picking up the pace, his thumb hooked to grind ruthlessly against her clit. "Just how often do you and your husband do this? You’re so damn ready for me."

"Every night," she panting, her voice fracturing as he hit her deep. "Whenever he’s home... twice, three times... he’s just as greedy and impatient as you are."

The number made Leon’s vision go dark… Fuck that man. I hate him so much.

As her voice climbed to that breaking register, he pulled his fingers out completely.

"Leon!" she groaned in pure frustration, her hips bucking against the empty air. "Don't you dare play games now! Give it to me!"

"Not yet… You wanted the man who doesn't ask for permission, right? You've got him."

He reached down and stroked his shaft until he was throbbing, the tip glistening. He didn't plunge in; instead, he slowly dragged the head of his length up and down between her folds, painting her slit with his heat, teasing the entrance until she was trembling beneath him.

"Leon, please," she begged, her fingers digging into his biceps. "I’m losing my mind. Just put it in."

"Oh? You’ve been persistent in telling me how much better the future is, how much better he is." The alcohol in his veins made him braver, "Beg me for it then. Tell me you need this Leon. Not your husband."

"You ARE him. What are you rambling about?”, Leon paused his movements at her sassy remark.

“Fine, I need you…" she whimpered, her pride completely disintegrating. "I need you inside me, now."

Instead of giving her what she wanted on the bed, Leon scooped her up, his hands splayed under her ass, squeezing her cheeks and spreading her wide as he carried her across the room. He sat in the armchair facing the full-length mirror, settling her on his lap.

He turned her around so she was facing the glass, her back pressed against his chest. "Be a good girl and place those legs on the armrests, Ada. We both know you’re flexible enough."

This little– has he forgotten that I am 52?

Despite her thoughts rejecting his command, Ada complied, a breathless chuckle escaping her as she gripped the boundaries of the chair. She spread her legs wide, the mirror reflecting how her pussy waited for him. Leon’s pupils blew wide at the sight.

"Put it in yourself, hun," he commanded, "Do it slowly. I want to watch you take me."

Ada reached down, her trembling fingers guiding his tip to her entrance. She let out a deep, shuddering groan as she lowered her hips, the mirror capturing the exact moment her body stretched to accommodate his width. When she finally hit the hilt, burying him completely, both of them let out a unified moan.

"God... you're still as tight as I’ve remembered," he rasped, his hands locking onto her waist.

Ada didn't waste another second. She began to ride him, her movements fluid. She was too damn good at it—every tilt of her pelvis was designed to ruin his control. Leon fought for his life, his head falling back against the chair as she set a punishing pace.

"Fuck your husband for getting this every damn night," he hissed, his eyes snapping open to watch the reflection of their bodies slamming together.

Ada managed a breathless laugh between her moans. "My husband... might have tripped already... with all the curses you’ve sent him... since I arrived tonight."

“He deserves it,” Leon gritted his teeth and matched her pace from underneath. He clutched her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he drove upward to meet her every thrust. He was completely mesmerized by the sight in the mirror—how her breasts jiggled with every impact, the dark ink of the tattoo on her chest shimmering, and the way she was taking all of him.

He reached up, his large hands engulfing her breasts, squeezing them roughly and rolling her nipples between his fingers. Ada whimpered, her rhythm faltering. "Leon—stop—I'm going to—"

"No, don't stop," he growled, his other hand sliding down between their soaking wet bodies, finding her clit, and flicking the swollen bud as she continued to slam herself down onto his lap.

The combination was a total sensory overload. Ada’s breath caught, her entire body going rigid as her internal muscles clamped around him in a suffocating grip. A sudden rush of heat exploded from her, drenching his thighs and the leather of the chair. She screamed his name, her head falling back against his shoulder as she squirted again.

The internal clamping of her walls dragged him right over the edge, "A-Ada... I'm so close," he choked out, his voice breaking as his hips stuttered against her. "I can't... I can't hold it."

Ada looked at him in the mirror, her lips parting into a triumphant smirk despite her own exhaustion. "Give it to me, handsome…Right inside."

This woman… is going to be the death of me.

With a cry, Leon buried himself to the absolute hilt and exploded. He whimpered as he clung to her waist like a drowning man, his body twitching inside her, completely overwhelmed by the emotional and physical weight of the climax. His forehead resting against her shoulder as the tremors finally began to slow.

Ada let out a satisfied hum, her internal muscles giving a lingering squeeze around his softening length. "It’s been years—way too long since you’ve done that, huh?" she teased, her smirk deepening as she felt his heart hammering against her spine.

Leon didn't answer right away. He couldn't. 

"Shut up," he finally muttered, the words stripped of any real malice. He lifted his head, his blue eyes dark and heavy with exhaustion as he met her gaze in the glass. Slowly, carefully, he shifted her weight, sliding his length out of her with a soft, wet sound that made them both catch their breath.

The edge of his anger and jealousy earlier had bled away. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, moving her damp hair away from her back. His lips found its way to the very top of her spine—the exact spot where the dark ink of the dagger tattoo began. 

Ada let out a shuddering breath, tilting her body forward to give him unhindered access as he began to trace the masterpiece etched into her flesh.

He kissed the nape of her neck, his lips lingering over the intricate butterfly wings, before tracing a path down the delicate ridges of her vertebrae. Each kiss was a silent vow pressed into her skin. He let his hands slide down to her hips, his fingers anchoring her as his mouth traveled lower and lower until he reached the small of her back, where the lily flower bloomed across her sacrum.

"I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but you're beautiful, Ada," he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with an emotion he could no longer hide. "Inked or not... future or past... you're the only thing in this world that makes sense to me."

Ada arched into the touch, letting him savor the moment; giving him the silent reassurance he so desperately needed.

But Ada Wong was still Ada Wong. And the peace in the room became too quiet for her liking.

She shifted slightly on his lap, looking back over her shoulder. Her eyes shimmering with a wicked light, "Such sweet words, Agent. But tell me... is that all you can manage? A single round, and now you’re reduced to poetry?"

This woman, I swear to god–

Leon froze. His lips hovered just above her lower back. He chuckled, "Try again, sweetheart.”

He gripped her waist and stood up from the leather chair, lifting her effortlessly back to bed.

"You think one of your playful little jabs is still going to affect me? Probably yes, but my point is… you’ve been testing my patience tonight, Ada. In more ways than I could count. I’ve been lenient with your antics because I missed you. But you’re really pushing it."

He stepped back just enough to look at her. "On your knees. Now."

Ada didn't hesitate, she rolled over, rising onto her hands and knees; her hair cascading over her face as she deliberately accentuated the curve of her hips.

Leon’s mouth momentarily slack at the sight of her. His large hands traveled from the smooth swell of her ass, up to the narrow dip of her waist, and finally underneath her chest to cup her breasts. He lifted her torso slightly, pulling her backward until her spine was pressed firmly against the hard planes of his bare chest.

He buried his face behind her ear, nipping at the sensitive skin until she hissed. His length, already fully erect and throbbing once more, began to slide between her thighs, his shaft grinding hard against her swollen clit with every thrust.

"Leon... stop teasing me.” 

“Be patient, hun.”

His hand traveled up to cup her jawline, forcing her to turn her head just enough over her shoulder to meet him. Leon leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, bruising kiss.

"Say it, Ada… Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Ada bit her lip, her eyes wild as she looked back at him. "I want my husband, Leon. I want the man who knows exactly how to take what’s his."

Leon groaned in annoyance, "You’re certainly not letting that go, are you? Fine. If you’re still so hooked on him, I’ll just have to ruin your fantasy. I'm going to take you so hard that when you finally go back to him, he won't be able to pleasure you without you thinking about what I did to you tonight."

He’s getting so worked up over himself, it’s cute…

He shifted his grip, his thumbs locking firmly over the shallow dimples of her lower back before driving his dick completely home in one deep stroke.

Ada’s fingers clawed at the tangled sheets as he pounded on her, reminiscent of the way he claimed her back in Europe. He slid down his grip to the swell of her cheeks, pulling her upward and backward to meet him even deeper. "Leon... ah!... God, Leon! F-fuckkk.”

"You like this, don't you? It’s your favorite position, right, sweetheart?" he growled against her shoulder, his chest heaving as he maintained the punishing pace.

Ada swallowed a moan, twisting her head back to look at him through a haze of sweat and dark hair. "Hit it, Leon."

His pacing faltered for a fraction of a second, his brow furrowing. "W-what?"

"You said you wanted to ruin me for my husband," she panted, her lips curving into a sharp, breathless smirk that pushed his buttons perfectly. "Then spank me. He does this whenever I push him too far. Show me if you can match him."

The mention of the future version of himself—the man who apparently knew every single shortcut to her submission— for the umpteenth time fired a fresh wave of heat straight to Leon’s brain.

"You can’t be serious, Ada," he sounded amused as he pulled back, his length drawing nearly all the way out of her slick heat, and brought his palm down flat against her left cheek with a sharp, echoing smack.

The skin bloomed a beautiful red. Leon’s heart hammered against his ribs, a brief flash of guilt freezing him—until Ada let out a loud moan that vibrated straight through the mattress. She pushed her ass back against him, her hips twitching in silent demand.

Ada Wong. Write that down as my cause of death.

The guilt died instantly as her reaction finally dawned on him. "You want me to match him?" he plunged back inside her while simultaneously landing another heavy strike on her other cheek. Smack. "Fine. Let's talk about what you deserve."

Smack.

"That one is for 1998," he rasped, his pace turning brutal, his thrusts mirroring the sharp rhythm of his hand. "For letting me think you died on that catwalk in Raccoon City."

Smack.

"This one is for Europe.” 

Smack.

“Another for Lanshiang," he continued, his voice dropping to a breathless register as his palm connected with her reddening flesh again. 

Smack. 

"For disappearing into the smoke and leaving me with nothing but questions every damn time."

Ada was singing a beautiful symphony of high-pitched whimpers and desperate gasps. She loved it. She loved the way the sting on her skin amplified the maddening pleasure spreading between her thighs. "More... Leon, please... more!"

"And this one," Leon hissed, driving himself into her so hard the headboard cracked against the wall, his hand landing one final, stinging blow that made her entire frame shiver.

Smack. 

"Is for walking into that bar tonight, making a fool out of me with that ring. Mentioning your husband over and over."

He stopped striking her, his fingers instantly threading into the strands of her hair at the nape of her neck. He gathered the dark silk in his fist, pulling back just enough to force her head up, exposing the elegant line of her throat. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Look at you," he whispered, "You're so tight, Ada. You're squeezing me like you're trying to bleed me dry. Your pussy is so wet it's dripping down my thighs. Tell me who you belong to right now."

"You," she choked out, her head rolling back against his chest as his thumb slid down to find her drenching clit, flicking it in tandem with his heavy, rhythmic thrusts. "Leon... it's you. It's always been you."

"Damn right it is," he growled, his own orgasm building into a tidal wave he could no longer contain. The walls of her heat were contracting around him, dragging him toward the edge once more.

"Leon, I'm so close! Please, make me come. Don't stop. Give it to me!"

He felt the exact moment her climax was about to break—and he pulled out completely with a sharp, wet sound.

Ada let out a loud, frustrated groan, her hips collapsing onto the mattress as the sudden void left her cold. "Leon! You bastard!"

"Not yet, sweetheart," he whispered and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her wrists to the mattress beside her head, looming over her flushed, trembling form.

"Oh, fuck you, Kennedy," she gasped out, her chest heaving as she stared up at the man who held her fate tonight in his hands.

“You’re already doing it,” that earned a scoff from her. He dropped his weight between her thighs, his hips grinding heavily against her opening, smearing her slick heat along his length. He crashed his mouth into hers. Ada whimpered into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his tongue as his large hands immediately found her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh.

He pulled back, his lips wet as his gaze dropped. He trailed his mouth down the center of her throat, bypassing her collarbone to bury his face directly into the dark ink of the tattoo on her chest. He bit softly at the curve of her sternum, right over his own now reddened initials. 

"Leon... please," her hands came up to grip his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. "No more games. I'm begging you."

He lifted himself up on his forearms, his blue eyes boring into hers with a fierce, burning intensity. He grabbed her hands, guiding her fingers down between their bodies until she was touching his throbbing shaft.

"Put it in yourself, Ada… If you want it that badly, claim it."

Arrogant bastard. You’re lucky I love you, Kennedy. I would’ve cut your dick off.

With a tilt of her pelvis, she guided the head of his length into her wet heat and pulled him downward. Leon let out a guttural groan as he slid smoothly inside her, his thrusts slow and deep, making every single connection count. He wasn't trying to punish her anymore; he was trying to pour every ounce of the love, grief, and longing he had carried for years straight into her soul.

"Look at me," he whispered, his face inches from hers as he drove inside her again and again, the sounds of their union filling the space between them. "Ada... look at me."

She opened her eyes, her gaze heavy and glazed with pleasure, entirely stripped of her usual masks. "I'm looking, Leon. I'm right here."

"I love you," he rasped, the confession tearing from his throat like a wound opening up. "God help me, Ada. I love you so much it's killing me."

Tears pricked the corners of Ada’s eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down until their foreheads rested together. "I know, handsome. I know. I’ve always known."

As the rhythm picked up, turning frantic, Leon’s hand slid up to wrap gently around her throat. He applied a light, grounding pressure to completely dominate her senses. He drove deeper, his pelvis slamming against hers until Ada was crying out his name in a constant, breathless loop.

He pulled her legs up and draped them over his broad shoulders, folding her body in half. The change in angle made him hit her at an impossible depth, touching places that made her entire abdomen tighten.

My spine is going to hate me tomorrow.

"Leon! Oh god, Leon, I'm breaking!" she shrieked, her fingers clawing on his back, her nails scratching deep tracks into his skin as her body wound up like a spring.

"Come with me," he growled, his voice breaking as his own climax hit him like a physical blow. "Ada!"

Ada’s internal muscles clamped around him, her body bucking wildly beneath him. Leon, on the other hand, let out a cry, as he exploded inside her again. He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her hair, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the harmony of their breathing. Slowly, the fog began to clear. Ada let out a soft, trembling exhale, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to his temple, using her other hand to swipe his damp blonde bangs away from his face.

As her fingertips drifted over his shoulder blades, she inadvertently brushed against the raw scratches she had just left behind. Leon hissed, an involuntary twitch rippling through his muscles.

"Sorry," she murmured softly, though a fond smile tugged at her lips.

As she shifted her hips slightly beneath him to ease the pressure, her eyes widened. Even after a release that violent, his length inside her hadn't fully subsided. It was already swelling back to life, rigid and throbbing against her internal walls.

Another triumphant smirk spread across her face, the soft tenderness of the afterglow instantly giving way to her signature, playful confidence.

Oh no, what is she up to this time? I’m running out of load, Ada!

"Still hard, aren’t you, Agent?" she teased, her voice a low purr as she gave his hip a firm squeeze. "You really are a glutton for punishment. Let me handle it."

She patted his back gently, nudging his weight off her. "Come on. Get up. Be a good boy and get on your knees." he rolled onto the mattress with a grunt, his limbs feeling like lead.

"A-Ada? What are you doing?" he was flustered. Even as the confusion warped his features, his body betrayed his lack of resistance. He complied with her instruction, shifting his weight until he was up on his hands and knees and looked back over his shoulder at her.

She knelt behind him, her gaze raking over the sharp, muscular slope of his spine, the deep tracks her nails had left across his shoulder blades, and the vulnerable expanse of his lower half.

"Arch your back, honey," she commanded softly, bringing her palm down to gently pat against the curve of his right butt cheek. He swallowed hard, his elbows trembling slightly as he lowered his chest and pushed his hips upward, offering himself up to her completely.

Ada reached across the mattress, her fingers wrapping around the neck of the bourbon bottle. There was barely an ounce left of puddle swirling at the very bottom of the glass. She set it beside him on the bed, before spreading his cheeks wide, exposing the tight pucker of his entrance to the cool air of the bedroom.

Before he could question her, Ada leaned in close. She pooled a thick gathering of saliva in her mouth and spat directly over his opening. She used two fingers to smoothly smear the warm moisture over the sensitive skin, her touch agonizingly thorough.

Okay, what the fuck…

Leon’s entire frame went rigid, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the tangled bedsheets beneath him. "Ada... holy shit—"

"Shh," she murmured, her thumb soothing the rigid line of his hip bone. "Don't ruin the silence, honey."

Without a single second of warning, she pressed the tip of her middle finger against his opening and slid it inside.

Leon let out a strangled, high-pitched gasp, his back arching so sharply his spine cracked in the quiet room. It wasn't a painful sensation, but the absolute, sudden invasion of his body—the sheer vulnerability of having her inside him in a way he had never experienced—shattered whatever remained of his masculine pride. His internal muscles clamped down hard around her finger in a panicked, defensive reflex, his breath coming in short, ragged pants.

"Relax for me, Leon," she whispered, her voice a soothing contrast to the violation of her hand. She hooked her other hand around his waist, her fingers digging into his hip to keep him from bucking away. She slowly moved her finger in a tight, twisting circle, stretching him out until a low, helpless moan slipped past his lips. "There... see? You're built to take me just as much as I'm built for you."

"Ada...fuck, please," he whimpered, his head hanging low between his arms, his blonde bangs hiding his burning face. "It's too much... I can't..."

"You can," she countered softly as she inserted another one. 

“Ada…” What have I gotten myself into? W-wait…it actually feels… good?

"Considering you're the one who wanted to make me pay tonight, I think it’s only fair I return the favor. Don't tell me a little bit of pressure is enough to break a DSO agent."

She withdrew her fingers, Leon whimpered at the sudden loss of contact. She reached for the bourbon bottle, uncapping it with her teeth and spitting the cap onto the floor. She lifted it to her lips, chugging down the very last of the burning liquid and leaned over his lower back, her face inches from his skin.

Leon’s breath hitched as he felt the sudden, evaporative chill of her breath against his coccyx. Then, she tilted her head, letting the amber liquid trickle slowly out of her mouth, a burning, golden stream that ran straight down the center of his lower spine, pooling over his tailbone before cascading directly down into his freshly stretched opening.

A violent shiver ripped through Leon's body. The alcohol hit the sensitive tissues of his entrance like a match thrown onto gasoline. It was a sting that sent an immediate shockwave of pleasure straight to his pulsing erection, which was now leaking a heavy stream of precum onto the sheets beneath him.

"Ada! God!" he cried out, his voice cracking as he tried to pull his hips away from the heat.

Fuck… my wife is making me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.

"Stay," she smacked his ass before her hands anchored him in place.

She didn't give the sting a chance to fade. Ada lunged forward, her mouth wide as she buried her face between his cheeks. Her tongue, flat and heavy, lapping up the remaining bourbon from his skin. The contrast of the cool alcohol, the burning heat of his own flesh, and the wet, rough texture of her tongue driving directly over his ass hole made Leon lose his mind.

He became a whimpering, moaning mess, his dignity entirely evaporating into the humid air of the bedroom. He thrashed his head from side to side against the mattress, his voice a constant, breaking loop of pleas and curses. "Stop... Ada, please, stop... I'm going to break... you're breaking me..."

Yet, even as his mouth begged for release, his body betrayed him. With every stroke of her tongue, his hips twitched backward, instinctively arching his spine deeper to force her mouth closer, begging for the very destruction he was fighting against.

Ada was relentless. She didn't just focus on his opening; her tongue traveled lower, swirling around the heavy, sensitive weight of his balls, tasting the sharp tang of the bourbon and the salt of his arousal, before diving straight back into his heat. Her teeth occasionally grazed the sensitive skin just enough to make his toes curl.

To ensure his complete undoing, Ada reached underneath his torso. Her hand wrapped around his pulsing erection and began jacking him off with an unforgiving rhythm, her thumb occasionally sliding over the head to smear his own fluid across the shaft, while her mouth continued to thoroughly devour him from behind.

The double assault made his lungs tight, his vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure mounted into an unbearable, localized pressure in his groin. He was entirely at her mercy, pinned by his knees, his body shaking like a leaf in a storm as she drove him toward a cliff he couldn't see.

"Ada... Ada!" he sobbed out, his voice completely broken, his fingers clawing uselessly at the pillows. "I'm coming... I'm coming, please—"

She didn't stop. She increased the pace of her hand, her tongue giving one final, deep, thrust into his hole.

With a pathetic whimper of her name, Leon climaxed. He didn't have the strength to thrust or hold himself up; his arms gave out completely, and his torso slammed flat against the mattress as thick, heavy ropes of his release shot out, splattering across the white sheets beneath him. His lower half continued to twitch violently in her grasp, shot after shot spilling out of him until he was completely empty, his body rendered entirely useless under the masterful, corrupting touch of his wife.

Leon turned to lay flat on his back, his chest heaving as he stared blankly up at the ceiling, his thighs were still trembling with the aftershocks of a release that had utterly shattered his defenses.

With a groan, he rolled his head to the side, his hand blindly reaching over the edge of the mattress. His fingers brushed against a discarded piece of his clothing on the floor—his pajama pants. He dragged it up, using it to clean the messy aftermath of his orgasm from his skin and the sheets, before tossing it aside.

Once he was decent, he reached out, his arm hooking around Ada’s waist to pull her flush against his side. She came willingly, sliding her head into the hollow of his shoulder with a contented sigh.

"Where... and when... did you learn how to do that?" he rasped out, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly register that betrayed just how thoroughly he had been undone. He kept his eyes closed, his forehead resting against the crown of her head as his heart gradually slowed its frantic hammering. "Because the Ada I know wouldn't have even dreamed of putting me in a position like that. Not that I’m aware of?"

“Oh, she absolutely would if she’s not busy letting herself get tangled in her job,” Ada let out a soft, melodic chuckle, the vibration of her mirth warm against his ribs. "Believe it or not, Leon, you’re the one who told me to try it on you a few years into our marriage…”

I did what now?!
“...You had a particularly stressful operation in Eastern Europe, came home with half a bottle of scotch in your system, and became remarkably... experimental. You muttered something about wanting to see how submissive you could get for me. I merely took notes." 

Leon opened his eyes, a faint, flustered flush creeping up his neck despite his exhaustion. "I told you to do that? Damn. Note to self: lock up the liquor cabinet in the future. I totally lost it."

"He didn't lose it," she corrected softly, her tone shifting into something uncharacteristically tender. "He just learned to trust me with every single piece of himself. Even the parts he keeps hidden from the rest of the world."

They lay in the quiet for a while, the anger, the jealousy, and the desperation that had fueled the earlier hours of the night had completely evaporated, leaving behind a profound intimacy that neither of them could easily articulate.

Ada shifted slightly, a small, dramatic sigh escaping her lips as she adjusted her hips against his thigh. "You were completely relentless earlier, Leon. Especially on that armchair. I am convinced my limbs are going to scream at me tomorrow morning. Your wife is not getting any younger, you know. I can’t quite bounce back the way I used to."

He let out a chuckle, his lips curving into a mischievous, boyish smirk that was reminiscent of the man he used to be before the world went to hell. "Oh, please. You’re the one who told me to show you what everyone was so afraid of. Don't go blaming me for your own lack of stamina now, Mrs. Kennedy. Besides, if I recall correctly, you were the one demanding a third finger and telling me my pacing was too slow."

"It was a well-placed taunt," she shot back, though there was no bite to it. She leaned up just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to the center of his chin. "And it worked perfectly."

Leon’s smirk softened, the playful banter melting away into something infinitely deeper. He reached down, his large, calloused hand finding hers where it rested on his chest. He slid his fingers between hers, interlacing them tightly, his thumb coming to rest directly over the platinum band on her left hand. The ring caught the dim light – a tangible proof of a future he had spent the last years believing was a mathematical impossibility.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss directly over the metal. "We really did it, huh?" he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with a vulnerability that made Ada’s breath hitch. "After everything... Raccoon City, Spain, Eastern Europe, Lanshiang... we actually found a way to make it work."

 "It wasn't easy, Leon. God knows we fought every single step of the way, and there were times I thought we’d end up killing each other before we ever found peace. But... you never gave up on me. Even when I gave you every reason to."

"I could never give up on you, Ada. It’s not in my DNA," he murmured, leaning into her palm, pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to the center of her hand.

"It feels like a dream," Leon murmured, his hand coming up to gently stroke her hair, his fingers smoothing the strands down her back. "Sitting in that bar tonight, drinking myself into a stupor because I thought you were just another ghost... and now you're here. In my bed. Wearing our wedding ring."

He leaned down, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead, then to the bridge of her nose, before finally capturing her lips in a slow, deeply affectionate kiss – a quiet, domestic reassurance of a promise that had already been fulfilled somewhere in the future.

They cradled each other in the center of the mattress, the tangled sheets forgotten as they simply absorbed the warmth of their bodies. Leon’s thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over the ink of the lily tattoo on her lower back, while Ada’s fingers continued their lazy, comforting exploration of his chest.

"So," Leon asked quietly, his voice breaking the stillness after several minutes of peaceful silence. He tightened his grip around her waist just a fraction, "When are you going back?"

Ada’s fingers paused on his chest, her gaze drifting toward the window where the first faint, gray fingers of dawn were beginning to bleed into the night sky. "Probably a few more hours. I can already feel that strange, tingling sensation in the back of my neck—the same one I felt right before I was pulled from the laboratory in 2026. It started getting stronger when you were... well, when you had my legs over your shoulders."

Leon let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh, though his eyes darkened with a quiet sorrow. "Great. So my own lack of restraint accelerated the timeline."

"Don't flatter yourself, Agent," she teased, though she reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray drop of sweat from his temple. "The virus’s anomaly is just unstable. It was always going to burn itself out once the compound dissolved completely in my system. We knew this was a temporary window."

Leon turned his head slightly, pressing a warm kiss into the palm of her hand again. "A few hours isn't enough."

"It never is with us, Leon," she whispered, her eyes softening as she looked down at him. "But it's more than we’d ever had in your timeline… and it's a promise of what's waiting for you."

He didn't reply. I hate saying good bye, Ada. You know that.

"Hey," Ada whispered, noticing the shift in his energy. She nudged his chin downward, forcing him to look at her. "Don't do that. Don't look like the world is ending. I'm going back to you, Leon. The man waiting for me in 2026 is the exact same man who is holding me right now. You just have to survive a few more years of bullshit to get there."

Leon let out a breathy, dry laugh, kissing her forehead. "Yeah. Easy for you to say. You don't have to live through the next three years twice."

"Consider it your punishment for being so rough with me tonight," she retorted playfully, though she leaned up to kiss his jawline, her lips lingering on the pulse point at his throat. "Just promise me one thing, Kennedy."

"Anything."

"When the time comes... when you finally find your way to that safe house by the coast... make sure you still look at me exactly like this. Don't let the job take this version of you away from me. Even if I try to push you away that night, continue being stubborn and persistent. She will eventually say ‘yes’".

Leon looked at her, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective warmth that completely overshadowed the lingering depression of the last few months. 

He smiled, "I promise, Mrs. Kennedy," pulling the heavy comforter up over their tangled forms and pressing one last kiss to her forehead, "I'll be waiting."

“And Leon?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

She heard him sniffling, “I’ve waited for so long to hear you say that,” he choked out. “Hearing you say it now…”

“Shh… oh, sweetheart,” Ada shifted as she kissed a tear before it ran along his cheek, cradling his head. “She will eventually say it, don’t worry. As I have told you, just bear with the world for the next three years… she’s going to say it to you everyday once you tie the knot.”

He let out a shuddering breath, “Okay…”, tucking his head into the crook of her neck, his arms tightening around her waist. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I saw you, Ada,” he murmured.

Ada gave him a firm squeeze as they settled deep into each other’s embrace, their breathing syncing into a unified cadence as they lay in the dark. 

Together, they simply closed their eyes, letting the remaining hours of the virus's strange effect tick away, waiting in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom until the future finally called her home to the man he was supposed to be. 

And he is more than okay with that.