Part Two: The Bitch in the Red Dress

A touch mixed with temptation.

A woman flush with secrets.

A man teetering on the edge. How far can he lean before he falls?

Kagoshima, Japan - 2005

Ada leaned on the railing, feeling the soft breeze off the ocean, and watching him sleep. She'd thought he was dead when she found him. He was covered in blood and lying on his side. His eyes had been the only thing in his face not red.

He'd been feverish and loud. He'd nearly gotten them killed. The infection set in before they could catch it.

He had multiple stab wounds over his back and chest. Something had cut him the fuck up. What? She'd had a team raid the compound to find it empty. The gas released had turned all of Leon's men into monsters. They'd slaughtered each other in some kind of blood bath that was still a mystery.

She'd found a bloody hook in the center of the pit where they'd likely found him. Alive, he'd been taken back to that lab and kept there while the nerds that ran it tried to decide the best course of action. Apparently, science didn't extend to medicine.

Two hours more of being kept in that place and he'd have died from blood loss. The least they could have done was bind his damn wounds. She wondered sometimes how the best minds in the world were often the dumbest.

Itsuki had muttered and cursed in heavy Japanese - the Kyoto Ben dialect that flavored his speech had been particularly thick. He'd spouted off angry rants until Ada had told him, "Enough. Can you fix him or not?"

He'd given her an angry expression and returned, "...you bring me this mess. You give me no explanations. I do this for you now, because you are my blood...but you do not make it easy."

Ada had lifted her brows at him, "That's not a yes, Itsuki."

"I cannot say yes. I can only say - I will try."

It worried her that he couldn't say yes. Itsuki was the best healer in the world. What did it mean when he was unable to save someone?

For eight days Leon lingered somewhere between life and death. The infection being drawn from him often resulted in his screaming. Itsuki had bound him to the table before each extraction, but it didn't stop the man from fighting it.

Jerking. Screaming. Roaring. Raging. He was a beast.

Finally, unable to listen anymore, Ada had gripped his face and slapped him back on the table while he hissed and spit. She'd warned him, "Quit resisting, Leon. Stop fighting him or I will sedate you."

Glassy eyed, confused, he'd still been enough of himself to know she was threatening him with drugs. He kept resisting those too. He seemed adamant about it. She gave him that courtesy and didn't shoot him up with morphine or anything else, but it made the pain he felt nearly unbearable.

Shaking with it, he'd held her gaze and told her, "...alright," Voice hoarse, scratchy, weak, "...whiskey. Please."

A small thing really in the face of all that pain. She'd gotten the sake off the shelf behind Itsuki and popped the cork. With a hand behind his head, she'd elevated Leon's neck enough to let him swallow it down.

After a third of the bottle had disappeared, he flopped back on the table, panting, "...thank you...shit."

It was the moment she realized it wasn't just the pain, it was the withdrawals. Whatever else he'd been, Leon was an alcoholic. He'd gone days without a drink, and his body was letting him know it. Without it, his body might start to hurt itself trying to detox.

She brought him sake every morning and evening after that. It wasn't right to feed his addiction, but she couldn't risk him having a goddamn heart attack from going cold turkey either. Besides, he was much more pleasant with a few drinks in him.

Even Itsuki was grateful for the change in his demeanor.

When he was stable, she had him moved from Kyoto to Kagoshima. It was more remote. It was less likely to bring attention. Eventually, he'd need to get out and start moving again. She didn't want him sticking out like a sore thumb and drawing attention during his recovery.

At dinner the night before, Itsuki had studied her until Ada had broken the silence, "...what?"

"What is this warrior? He is not like the others."

By "others", he meant the men, or the occasional woman, she sometimes brought home to her bed and never saw again. Selective, Ada was always careful about anyone she bedded. She never took a man to her bed without thoroughly vetting him first. She didn't do one night stands in bars. She made sure each lover that shared her bed was clean, safe, and unconnected to her world by any tether.

They were always, always, always brief. Never more than a day or two of time with her. She didn't date. She never, ever secured a relationship with a man. It wasn't her style. It wasn't of interest to her.

That Leon had been here, in her house, for weeks was a mystery to Itsuki.

She'd held the eyes of the older man and returned, "He is not a lover. He's an asset."

Itsuki had given her a droll expression and remarked, "He is not just business, kodomo. I can see you on him."

Curious about it, Ada tilted her head, "Can you?"

Itsuki had held her gaze, "What is he?" Not who; what.

Ada had finally answered, "He's like a part of me I can't let go of...let's leave it at that."

Now, as she stood watching him, Ada tried to make sense out of what it meant to be part of someone. It wasn't a good thing. This, with them, was toxic. It wasn't safe or good or reliable. They'd likely use the other up in some kind of race to the win.

She found it odd to know, under the layers of anger and resentment, she trusted him. It brought her pause. She trusted him. She knew, by this point, if he was going to turn her in, take her down, or take her out...he'd have done it. He didn't want her dead. Why?

Someone, somewhere might be stupid enough to use trite cliches such as love. But what was love anyway? A bullshit idea invented by someone to explain away what was, often, just common sense. Common sense said you wanted to fight harder to keep alive those weaker than you. It said protect what was yours. It said pick your battles and don't back down when you did.

People didn't fight for love, they fought to preserve what belonged to them. In whatever way might chafe or discomfit, she'd stamped some kind of possession on Leon Kennedy. He was hers. When she was done with him, maybe she'd set him loose and let him marry or retire or jump off a building to find his own peace or drink himself into oblivion - or maybe not. Maybe she'd reward him by letting him lay claim to her for a handful of days until he'd wrung his balls empty filling her up.

That's what men wanted after all, the fuck of their lives. Hell, the promise of it was making him fight on. Whatever else was true, men fought to get women. At one point, a man had put a horse filled with warriors into a city to claim back his woman.

Likely, Leon saw her as something he wanted to own. He'd keep on pushing until he did. The sad news was that he would never own her. She wasn't something you caught and kept. He'd spend his life chasing an idea instead of a real woman.

She almost felt sorry for him. The power of the pussy, after all, was a potent aphrodisiac.

He stirred on the bed. The ravaged and angry wounds across his sternum brought her padding in barefoot from the balcony. She dipped the cloth in the copper bowl on the nightstand by the bed and bathed away the sweat on his belly and chest. The fever had broken, finally, some time in the night.

The question now was how much damage it had done while it had tried to ward off the infection that was trying to kill him.

The interesting beard on his face was soft when Ada touched a finger to it. It was a curious strawberry blonde that reminded her that someone on his side of the family was a natural redhead.

With a groan, he opened his eyes to slits to find her looking at him. She'd perched a hip on the side of the bed. She wore a kimono in pretty red and black. It was stenciled with cherry blossoms.

The room was beautiful design of glistening dark wood and a wall entirely made of windows that led out to the balcony. The water beyond the raise tossed prettily in the rising sun. He could just make out the volcano beyond the cloud cover.

The cloth slid over his collarbone as he remarked, "...a curiously pretty view for being in hell."

His voice was hoarse, cracking, and his dry lips hurt. He almost asked for water and she slid the cloth of his lips instead and soothed him. His eyes fluttered as he added, "...shit. Am I dead?"

Ada smirked, "Not yet."

"I fucking feel dead. How'd I get here?"

With a sigh, she bathed the cloth down the left side of his ribcage, "This new fangled contraption known as an airplane. You might be familiar with it. It often traverses great distances at incredible rates of speed."

The second the cloth touched his wounded stomach, he hissed and his hand shot out. It grabbed Ada's wrist to halt it.

She tilted her head at him, "...wimp."

The slits of his eyes flashed. Bloodshot, they were still pretty under thick dark lashes in the pooling red of early morning light. "You gut me?"

She laughed now and tugged her hand free to put the cloth back in the bowl. "If I gutted you, you'd know it."

Hoarsely, he asked, "Yeah? How's that?"

"...because you wouldn't have survived it."

She had a point there. He had to admit it. She slid off the bed and disappeared through an oval opening. He heard water begin to strike metal and she returned with a towel to tell him, "Up. The fever broke. The infection is finally done trying to finish you off, but it's time for you to bathe the stench off you."

Softly, he told her, "...I'm naked."

Charmed that he actually sounded slightly sheepish, Ada told him, "Nothing I haven't seen before if you'll remember."

Right. He was being silly.

Leon felt the ache of a long illness in his bones as he shifted. Ada moved to put his arm over her shoulders as she guided him into the bathroom. It was a beautiful room that was glass on three sides and a huge tub in the center. The steam off the churning water alone looked incredible.

Ada eased him toward the steps and he went down into the water. It was fragrant, smelling like jasmine, and felt like nirvana on his tired skin. He let out a sound like he'd just had an orgasm and sank under the water.

Ada retrieved a bar of soap for his hair and set it on the out cropping beside the tub. She picked up a razor and some shaving cream as his head popped free and queried, "How brave are you?"

His eyes, looking alert and inquisitive, turned up to her, "...depends on what you're asking."

She lifted the razor and the cream, "Ever had a spy shave you?"

He considered her. He figured it was stupid to mistrust her at this point. If she wanted him dead, why go to all the trouble of making sure he'd lived? So she could slit his throat with a straight razor and watch him bleed out?

It seemed far fetched even for her, but that didn't mean he had to just do what she wanted either.

So he said, "Sure. You get to put that razor near my throat, but you do it naked, in here, with me."

Her brows winged up. He eyes sparkled with amusement. "You do like to share hot water with me, Mr. Kennedy. Do you think we'll finish what we started the last time we were in it together?"

He gave her bland eyes and replied, "I've been mostly dead all day, Ada, I don't think I'm in a place to fuck your brains out."

She tilted her mouth on a sly smile and set the razor with the cream beside him where his forearm rested. Her hands lifted to the ties on the kimono. He waited for her to ask him to look away, but she didn't even bother.

She held his gaze as she unbelted the kimono and let it drift and fall off her smooth shoulders.

When she'd been dangling, he hadn't looked. In the water when he'd held her and fucked her and nearly had her, he'd been unable. With his fingers inside her while she bucked and moaned, she'd still been in undergarments.

She was none of those things now. She stood there with her head tilted and her eyes on his, almost challenging him to look away. Her hips flared over legs so long they might as well have been their own person. Her breasts were surprisingly full above her nicely toned belly. He wasn't sure why it mattered, but he liked the fact that she hadn't waxed her mons bald either. She had a tasteful little triangle of hair above her slit that was nicely shaped.

Voice almost bored, he asked, "What...you don't like to go bare down there?"

Ada's mouth twitched as she slid into the water, "I'm neither a child, nor a boy so I don't pretend to be by waxing away all my body hair."

As she slid up beside him, he surprised her by shifting in the water. His hand went right between her legs. Her left one caught his biceps in surprise as he cupped her groin. She made a small sound of surprise and he remarked, "I like it."

A dangerous game. It seemed mostly dead or not, he was still a man.

She answered that move with her own. She slid her hand down his lower belly, tickled her fingers through the hair on his own groin, and gripped his dick in her hand. Like a charm, he hardened in her eager palm. She tilted her head at him. "I should say the same."

They studied each other in the steamy water. Finally, amused, they both left go. His arm shifted over the back of the tub again, as she bobbed forward to pick up the razor and the cream.

Leon laid his head back as she lathered him up. Eyes closed, sighing, he admitted, "Maybe playing with you is more fun than asking about where you found me."

Ada brought the razor over his skin. He didn't even flinch. A trusting man, when he wasn't sure the woman at his throat was even on the same side. "We're still trying to figure that out. You...were the only survivor, Leon. I need to know what happened."

He was so quiet she was pretty sure he wasn't going to answer...and then he did. He said quietly, "...I don't know if the hookman was real. I don't know what was. I just know...I've never been that afraid."

Interested, she murmured, "Ever?"

He cracked an eye to look at her, "...ever."

Ada swept the razor over his adam's apple - not even a flicker on that face. She smiled and shook her head, "Brave or stupid...I haven't quite figured it out yet."

"Both. Why am I here, Ada? Why do you keep making sure I don't end up six feet under?"

Softly, she responded, "I told you why. Is it so hard to believe that I like you?"

The razor swept over his cheek. He turned his head and it cut his skin. The blood was very read among the white cream. Their noses brushed as he answered, gruffly, "I don't think you like anyone, Ada. I think you don't like to lose your toys."

He was right about that, but not the first part. She leaned over until their lips brushed and replied, "I like you, Leon. What's not to like? Handsome hero with more balls than brains sometimes. You're charming and funny and ridiculously skilled. You're the package."

He started to speak and her free hand encircled his cock again. Instead, his adam's apple bobbed as he tried to swallow and she added, "And I like your package. Why does it have to be any more complicated than that?"

Hoarsely, he queried, "...you only like me when you can't have me."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement and delight. Did he really think she couldn't?

He was too sore to fuck her, he was right about that. The damage to his body had been extensive. He needed more time to heal. So she started stroking him in the water while the razor stroked down the cleft in his chin.

He trembled, she scraped the razor against the delicate place where his jaw met his neck, and her hand tortured him in the water. Quietly, she taunted, "Don't fight me, Leon. Don't move. Is any of this worth getting your throat slit for?"

Just like that, she had him. He knew it, she knew it - she pulled him with her on that line between danger and need. She had both in her hands. The key to his body and the key to his soul.

Checkmate.

He twitched like he might have a seizure. She watched him try to resist the pleasure she was milking out of him. The razor skimmed the bottom of his jaw. She felt his body shiver as his hands clenched on the wall of the tub and he grunted, "...fuck."

Ada laughed breathily and sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth, murmuring, "You can't. Even you have your limits. Relax, Leon, and let me show you how much I like you."

Stupid. It was stupid. He knew she didn't have any kind of fondness for him. It was just another game, but it was one he enjoyed playing. Here, naked, exposed and vulnerable...it was just them in the water.

It was yards and years of conspiracy, but it was them.

Maybe it cost him nothing to let her jerk him off, and maybe it cost him everything. Either way, he let it happen. Good, bad, or otherwise - he liked her too. Even though he was pretty sure she was the most accomplished liar he'd ever met. Even though she let him touch her, ran away, and came back to torture him.

That would always be his greatest draw for her. He was just willing to walk that line between right and wrong. The right side of him told him to resist her. He kicked that side in the balls and went wrong, enjoying the dirty pleasure that came with giving up some part of his control to a spy.

For a handle of seconds, she'd been sure he'd play right into the hands of that goddamn Redfield girl. She was like a pimple, popping up to mar the surface of a perfectly laid palette. Ada was fairly certain if she didn't hook him completely, that stupid redhead might get right in under the wire and lay claim to some part that was best left buried.

To her surprise, he bypassed the Redfield girl for the frivolous SWAT one. He didn't want the emotional bond with Claire. He wasn't looking for that.

His careless, filthy, uninterested fucking aroused Ada. She liked him bored and balls deep in a woman without feelings. It was so much more honest when it came to sex. Enough holding each other in the moonlight, sex was as simple as orgasms and goodbyes.

While she stroked him, she urged into his ear, "Tell me about the compound."

He was aware she was milking him for information. She was literally milking his body to get him to talk, but she didn't have to. He'd have simply told her if she asked. In one hand, they were on the same side. Whatever she was doing, Ada always made good on her promises to him.

She'd replicated the vaccine like she'd promised. She'd assisted him in rescuing hostages as promised. She'd backed him up in a firefight as promised. Bad guy or not, she was a valuable asset.

He wanted whatever had killed his men in that compound destroyed. He'd tell her anything she wanted if it made sure that happened. The hand on his dick? That was just an added bonus.

Voice hoarse, he responded, "Put your mouth where your hand is, and I'll tell you anything you want to hear."

She laughed and kissed wetly along his cheek until he turned his head to her tongue. The kiss drug out, the razor skimmed delicately over his jaw and finally retreated, and they both let go - watching each other with swirling expressions.

Softly, she urged, "Let me help you, Leon, and let go."

Of what? His seed? His soul? His intel? Hell - there wasn't much difference anymore.

But he told her all about the hookman in a shaky tone that spoke of intense pleasure. She liked it. It was the best interrogation she'd ever done.

"And that's when I went down-fuck, Ada, stop. I mean it. I'll go otherwise."

"You'd rather it was me who went down?"

He couldn't stop the snort of laughter, "You kidding? Y.E.S."

She laughed too and set her razor down. The residual smears of blood tinged shaving cream spread to her as he turned his head and pressed their mouths together. Open eyed, they kissed almost delicately and he warned her, voice cracking slightly, "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop."

"So cum," She kissed him again, gently, "It'll feel good, I promise."

Oh, he was aware of that too. His hand caught the back of her neck, drawing a gasp of surprise and excitement from her. His hips tried to meet the pull of her on him and it caused pain to lance up from his belly. He hissed, Ada cautioned him, "Just take it."

And he did.

He took it.

She felt his body quicken. Ada slid over him. She straddled his body with her feet laid flat on either side of his hips. She brought the length of him to her to rub it over the lips of her pussy. She was, without a doubt, the biggest cock tease he'd ever met.

Curious, she cooed, "Should I put it in me? I think it would kill you."

He'd been mostly dead all day anyway. Maybe it was the best possible way to finish the job. He started to surge, the pain lanced and stole his breath instead, and Ada took his hands to slap them on the wall of the tub and hold them down.

Surprised, aroused, his breath caught again as she mewed, "No. You can't tear your stitches. Be still."

Shit.

He watched her face as she sank down on his body. Jesus. She was right about that. The hot water made them both insane or something. Her thighs, her hips, her planted feet and her body - she held his hands down and fucked him.

It was that simple.

It was smooth and almost gentle. No rough ride this time, a seduction. She didn't let him kiss her while she did it. She avoided his mouth and nipped his lips instead. She didn't even bother to pretend they weren't going to watch each other the whole time either.

He saw the pleasure. He felt her body suck him in. Tight and begging, the walls of her contracted to signal she was close. Her nails dug into his wrists, her back bowed, and she sucked his lower lip into her mouth with a mewl as she clinched and came.

He watched it on her, felt it in her, and knew the second he was there himself.

Feeling it, she hissed, "...not yet...beg for it and I'll let you claim me."

Bitch. He flashed his teeth and stuck his tongue in her mouth instead.

Stubborn. He was so fucking stubborn. She liked it. She didn't want to break him, she wanted to rule him. It was a fine line to walk.

Her feet pushed. His throbbing girth slid out of her and she spilled against his front still holding him down. She pinned him to the wall while he came, fighting the urge to hump through it, sending curls of cum into the swirling water around their hips.

Ada let go of his wrists. She'd carefully avoided his wounds while she'd pinned him. She slid away in the water while he trembled.

Voice shaky, he wondered, "What do I gotta do to earn you, Ada?"

Picking up the kimono, she kissed him upside down and said against his mouth, "...survive, Leon...and find out."

He watched her perfect ass head for the door. He knew by the time he got out of this tub, she'd be gone. There was no point in chasing her. It was like trying to catch a butterfly.

So he stayed in the water with the smell of her on him, and knew she'd find him again when he needed her.

He spent almost eight weeks in her safe haven. He was tempted, at one point, to pry and see what he could find on her, but he knew that was limited. Her man servant, or old friend, or medicine man was stoic but supportive.

He tended Leon's wounds. He spoke kindly. He was very, very tight lipped about Ada herself. He referred to her as kodomo which Leon was pretty sure meant child to some degree in Japanese. Was he Ada's father?

It seemed unlikely. Ada was Chinese...wasn't she? Again, her heritage was unclear. Her name was Chinese - Wong- but that was likely a pseudonym. He had no doubt Ada Wong wasn't her real name.

He had the option to leave her bedroom as he recovered. He didn't. He stayed. There was some kind of pleasure in being around her things. She had little left behind anyway, but what was there was telling.

A gun safe, locked with some code he couldn't fathom. A dresser filled with silky negligees and panties, stockings and tools of seduction. A closet that opened to show that Ada had a variety of ways she kept herself entertained.

There was a soft sided whip that hung there and some furred cuffs. Dangling from the hook where the cuffs were, a small note waited for him to open it. It had a red, red kiss and a single set of words: If you ever want to really feel...tied up.

Amused, he wondered which person would wear them. The woman in red? Or her prey?

Leon considered the truth of that: was he? Was he her prey? It felt wrong somehow. It felt she'd simply tell him if he was meant to be her slave. In a way, he already knew she was using him.

Hell, he'd probably always known that. They were using each other when it suited. Maybe the perverse pleasure came from knowing whatever game they were playing, there were no concrete rules.

She was keeping him alive. Why? Eventually, he'd get to know the answer. Most likely he'd be eye ball deep in danger before he did, but she'd let him know. He watched the pretty play of light on the volcano while he thought of her with a small bottle of sake beside him.

She was the volcano, in her own way, she erupted when it suited her and left him behind covered in her ashes. He should get rid of her. He knew, in his guts, he could turn around, go home, and start something real with a woman who'd love and respect and appreciate him.

Hell, Claire did her level best to flirt with him openly and clearly whenever they were together. She was smart, beautiful, good in her bones, and brave. He could marry her, fill her belly with babies, and never look back.

His finger trailed over the cuffs that lay beside his thigh on the chair where he lounged.

And he just kept on staring at that quiet volcano.