#secretmade

[traumamade]

@secretmade sent "what, no ‘hello’? no ‘glad to see you weren’t killed by a psychotic villain today’?"

Scoff pass parted lips as soon as he both sees and hears her. How many times must they do this song and dance? How many times must he get burned before he has enough of the flame?

But oh, he is like a moth to a flame when it comes to her. She draws him back in every single time, no matter how much he tries to fight it - there is just something so alluring about her.

And he's seen underneath that persona of hers. He knows what everyone else will say, that she's playing him - again - but who the hell cares what other people think? She's got him at her feet like a goddamn puppy dog and Leon's not sure he'd have it any other way.

"Hey, if you get killed by a psychotic villain - that's the bed you made for yourself, Ada." Yes, I'm glad you're not dead. I'm glad you seem to be doing well.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

"what sort of hygiene routine keeps that hair so infallible? it's almost impressive."

"It isn't that complicated to take care of. I just wash it regularly and use pomade to keep it in place."

[traumamade]

With intense focus, Leon carefully stitches up the wound as carefully as he can. Without much to take her pain away, he hopes that she can hang on a little while longer. He knows how easy it is to pass out from pain.

He glances up once from his concetrated stitching but quickly turns his eyes back to the wound, letting out an amused huff at her question. "If I wanted to get you naked, it wouldn't be like this."

Eyebrow arches at her next, "Yeah? And what would you have guessed I liked?" It's probably a question he's going to regret but if it'll distract her from the pain, so be it.

It burns like Hell and scorches her gut with a heat just as hot. Bitterly, she gives thanks that this sensation is, at least, not new to her. It is a mark of a bad spy to carry a scar. There is a vital importance in keeping oneself out of the line of fire and away from the trajectory of a knife, but she has weathered her share of pain on and off the clock. Her resolve hardens and she steels herself against the searing bite of his needle, efficiently maneuvered into her wound as though he had practiced it a thousand times. And he probably has.

Ada stiffens, releases a jagged grunt, but stays firm. The loss of blood blots her vision with gray and white, but the surging adrenaline of survival keeps her upright. To fall under the waves is to drown, and she has evolved herself to swim the tides without thinking.

A smarter woman would keep her mouth shut and accept help without question. Ada is smart most days, but Leon has a penchant for making her the fool.

"...is this what it takes for you to get me naked? How awfully romantic." She combats the restive urge to run a hand through his hair. How does he always get it looking so soft? "I would've guessed you preferred your women with less blood." It's a mystery to her why she chooses now of all times to start flirting. But their dynamic thrives when it lingers on the cusp of death.

[natalinahq]

𝔰𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱.

"10 more minutes!” natalina exclaimed as she set the small pig-shaped timer on the counter, turning back to face a flour-covered noel, a wide smile spreading on her lips. it wasn’t often that you would find nat cooking, much less wearing an apron to go with. she was used to handling ingredients and weighing powders but it wasn’t quite the same. in broad daylight, whisk at hand and hair tied in a high ponytail to prevent anything from getting in the way of a successful baking session, the brunette watched as noel put the last of the dishes in the sink and tried her best to tidy up the mess they’d made. 

it was practically impossible to keep her hands to herself at this point. having held back while they were mixing and whisking, natalina threw the remainings of self-control out the window and closed the distance between her and noel in a matter of seconds. her arms circling around the other’s waist, she placed her chin on her shoulder and let her eyes close for a brief moment, enjoying the scent of the female’s shampoo. truth was, natalina felt safe around noel and their untold secretmade her feel all kinds of things inside. to the rest of the world, she was to be the big, bad, and often not-to-be-messed with candy supplier. but not with noel. with her, nat could simply be herself and it appeased her. 

“changed your shampoo recently?” she wondered out loud, her nose still nuzzled in the other’s hair. “i like it” she dragged on “a lot...” 

@noelfm​

[traumamade]

He shuts up with her order, lips parting to make room for her fingers to slip into his mouth. He welcomes it with ease, there's something incredibly erotic about having her fingers in his mouth like this.

Her fingers drive deeper into his mouth and he has to relax his throat so that he doesn't gag on them., a muffled groan around them comes out instead. Not that he won't gag for her, if that is what she wants.

His hands continue to touch, explore, tease. He rolls her nipples between thumb and forefinger in an attempt to tease just as much as she is teasing him. Another whimper, another moan, as she keeps driving herself against his pelvis over and over again.

The sound of skin smacking against skin is heavy in the air, only interrupted by his own whimpers and moans. She looks beautiful like this, bouncing on top of his cock, breasts bouncing with every single movement and fuck, this is going to be imprinted in his mind forever.

It isn't hard to see that she's getting closer and closer to her release and so is Leon, but he's holding back, refusing to cum until he has her hitting that peak. He's always cared more about his partners pleasure than his own.

"No talking. Just let yourself feel good." Without opening an eye, Ada is slipping two fingers past his lips, massaging into his tongue gently.

She feels him. All of him. The calloused grip against her side, the pounding momentum of his pelvis beneath her, the whisper of a thumbpad gliding over her silken breast. All the ways he's speaking without saying a single word. She devotes it all to her soul. Her memory. And perhaps even, her heart.

Though, as much as his display moves her, she can't help but feel amused at all the wonderful noises coming from his mouth. She always knew Leon would be a whimperer. If only she could play this song every night.

Her fingers drive themselves deeper, ghosting near his throat, wondering if he might feel compelled to bite her. She's tempted to push her luck.

"...you're doing so well, Leon. Keep going." Ada sighs, the edges of her eyes pinching with tears, welled up from the restraint she's forcing to keep herself in control. The closer she inches towards release the harder it is to stay composed. Her breathing grows choppy and unpredictable, and there's a scorching pressure pressing the walls of her lungs. God, it feels good. It feels amazing.

[traumamade]

He does not say them because he needs to hear some sentiment in return, he says them because he means them and because he wants her to hear them. He wants her to know how much he worships her.

Especially if this is the only time he is allowed the privilege of being inside of her.

Lips part slightly when her thumb rubs over his bottom lip, resisting the urge to take her thumb into his mouth. Instead, he watches her while lips remain parted.

His eyes catch sight of the two scars and he is far more curious about the latter than the former but he doesn't say a word. He does not ask, will not ask, for he knows what it's like to dislike talking or even thinking about certain scars.

He opens his mouth to speak in return, but gets cut off by the moan she pulls forth from him. The intensity of the pleasure goes from a nice buzz to something far more overwhelming, leaving his lips parted in soft gasps, grunts, moans, and even a few whimpers there.

One hand remains on her hip, though he does little to guide her considering how well she's doing on her own, and his other moves to her now bare breast to brush a thumb over her nipple in a teasing manner, hips rocking upwards to try and meet her thruts.

"Nnn! Fuck."

Ada's lips part to release a startled gasp. They are words she expected to hear, and yet all the same, she was not prepared to hear them. Especially when it's him. Especially when he says them with such whole and burning devotion, as if he's the repentant worshiper to her temple, the recumbent soul who seeks her divine blessing.

And she cannot reciprocate. Not in the way she wants, not in the way she needs. To bridge their emotions is to ask for nothing less than misery of the highest severity, and so she abstains, choosing only to press a thumb against his bottom lip, rubbing the skin there with a soft push.

There are several notable landmarks on her body. A few nicks and tears, a few pebbling burns from any possibility of injury, self-inflicted or not. But there are two she remembers. Covets. Like cursed treasure on a sinking ship.

The branching divot in her right shoulder. A bullet wound sustained in 1998. The price she paid for weakness.

And the jagged strip of pink inching across her left torso, running from the hip to the diaphragm. It's faded, no doubt older than the rest, but it is a mark of an appalling procedure. The twisting and curling of flesh and shape indicates it was not the delicate work of a trained surgeon, but rather the amateur butchery of an untrained knife. Carved at her as if she held less value than livestock.

Ada looms above him, stuttering her hips a few more times, drawing from him a satisfactory groan.

"...I like the way your eyes feel on me. Drink your fill of me tonight. Who knows if you'll ever get the chance again."

Ada positions a hand against his chest, supporting her weight, and flexes the core of her body.

Then, she really starts to fuck him.

Hard. Slamming thrusts that drive him inside her deep and strong. She's an expert, knowing just the right speed and angle to compress each delicious spot. Her eyes sew themselves shut, lost in the rhythm, focusing on the way he feels. She'd never forgive herself if she forgot.

[traumamade]

His body jolts as soon as he feels her heel on his crotch. His breath hitches in his throat, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as the sole of her shoe grinds across his crotch. It feels....oddly nice.

Teeth clamp down on his lower lip to keep himself from groaning, he doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of any moans anytime soon but damn, she's a vixen, and the arousal that tugs at him certainly goes straight to his crotch, his finger curling tighter around the goblet in his hands.

"Nn. Ada. Is that so?" It's a lame response and he knows that but it's hard to focus with her heel applying pressure and grinding against his now fully erect cock.

Damn her.

And so, the gavel hits the block. Leon Kennedy’s fate is sealed.

“Alright then. Time for my snack.” Her foot is shooting out, the toe of her shoe gliding the inside of his thigh, pressing soft but firm against his crotch. With deadly grace, she’s leaning over to refill her cup, wicked burgundy sloshing the sides as her sole grinds and nestles across his pants, coaxing life blood into his other body.

“You wanna know something interesting? I hear this particular Cabernet pairs nicely with meat. Lamb, filet, even a nice, marbled wagyu.” Pressure is building, and she’s intensifying her push as she feels him stiffen underneath. “It’s not exactly a steak dinner…but I suppose you must improvise in our line of work.”

[traumamade]

"Who hired you?" Who could possibly know about the contents of the USB and who would want it destroyed? Surely not his own employers, right? He can handle this job just fine, they don't need to send anyone else - it doesn't make any sense. So who?

"Trust me, this thing isn't falling in the wrong hands again. Especially when there's a file on me in it, if it's got all the files of DSO agents. Doubt they'd be able to decipher the redacted parts but....just in case."

Should he be telling her this? Probably not but he doesn't much care if Ada knows. After all, she couldn't go through with shooting him.

"So, now what? You take off again? Pull some spy move and disappear into the night, leaving me here alone all over again?"

His assumptions do nothing to offend her, but she’s putting up a brief, theatrical display of mock-injury. A gloved hand is risen to her chest as he rises just scant above her eye level.

“You wound me, Leon. I’d never think that.” She’s briefly casting a once over stare at the spire of flame, the air now heavy with the stench of burnt sinew. At least the lighting is romantic. The sloped edges of Leon’s jaw is pooling with an orange glow, and Ada thinks he’s always looked the most dashing when he’s like this. Fucked up and smeared with dirt and gunpowder.

“...it might come as a surprise to you that I have no interest in the USB. In fact, I was specifically hired to make sure it got destroyed alongside Bordot.” Ada sheathes her pistol and wipes a hand against her thigh. “So, promise me you’ll take good care of it. Wouldn’t want to chase you down. That’s more your style.”

[traumamade]

Her clenching around him only adds to his pleasure and he grunts from it - she knows exactly what she's doing and it's driving him insane. She is always driving him insane. He is putty in her hands and she knows it.

His hips rock once more, a shuddering gasp leaving parting lips. She is in control here, he knows that and he enjoys it, but he cannot help the way he tries to move, to thrust into her, to seek more pleasure.

Take it off yourself.

A demand yet consent and he will not hesitate to obey, moving to make quick work of the rest of the buttons of her shirt and pull it off of her, tossing it to the side where the rest of his clothes lay and he's breath hitches in his throat. She's even more gorgeous like this, he thinks.

"....You're beautiful."

As if to prove a point, Ada flexes, clenching around him with a cinch of her cunt. She bristles with a dark smile, keening a bit when his hands find purchase on her chest. His demand, or request, registers in her mind, and Ada falls quiet as she considers her options.

It has been far and above her strict preference to perform sex clothed. There are chapters of her life that show on the canvas of her body. Stories she wishes to remain untold. Ada dips forward, lacing fingers in his hair, soft yet clammy, like melted cocoa. If there is anyone alive that should see her in full, it is him. Perhaps it will always be him.

She was kind enough to accept his scars and she has no doubt he will return the favor graciously.

“...take it off yourself.” A tantalizing command, and a simple conveyal of consent.

[traumamade]

The fingers around his jaw forces him to look at her and he does not fight it. He accepts her firm grip without hesitation, perhaps even enjoys it, and his eyes take in every twitch, every parting of her lips.

His body shudders under her ministrations as she finally grants him mercy and begins to bounce on his aching cock. It pulls forth the sweetest sounds from him, gasps, pants, and moans as he feels himself deep inside of her, rubbing against her walls.

She's so fucking wet, too, making it easy for her to glide along his cock like she was made to be there. He wants nothing more than to worship every inch of him. With her on top of him like this, she is a goddess and he is her faithful servant.

His hands roam from her hips, up to the curve of her sides, to her cloth-covered chest where he cups her breasts there. She's not naked on top of him and he wishes she was. "Take this off." It is meant to be a demand but it sounds more like a pathetic plea to his ears.

His eyes drift downwards, a groan releasing from his lips without meaning to when he sees her wet folds and how well she moves along his cock. It's a goddamn gorgeous sight that will be imprinted in his mind forever.

"Fuck. Nng. You feel so good."

She can feel him quake beneath her, vying for any amount of friction he can manage. So needy. But this enthusiasm is precisely what she’s craved all these years. This starving desperation, the way he’s grasping for her touch as if it’s the only thing that will save him.

Ada wraps fingers around his jaw, clutching him there, steadying his eyes to ensure they do not wander.

“...well, come back, darling. Can’t have you lost in your own head when you should be here with me.” Her hold on his face does not stir, not even when she begins to lift her hips. Finally, after a lifetime of stillness, she’s moving on top of him. Bouncing slow and careful, moving his length in and out with a languid tempo.

It’s faint, nearly indetectable, but Ada can recognize the pang of regret. All this time she could have had him beneath her, looking like a damn angel. The patience (or perhaps it’s stubbornness) is paying off finally. She feels good. She feels fulfilled. When so often she’s used to feeling nothing at all.

“...Leon-” She hums, letting his name fall delicately from her lips. “Look at what you’re doing to me.” Ada reaches down, lifting her skirt, flashing him with the perfect view of their union. Glimmering folds parted around his cock, now coated with her slick, thrusting in and out carefully.

[traumamade]

His back hits the mattress with ease, following her lead. Tongues dance together but there is no battle for dominance there, he is all too happy to submit to her. He groans into her mouth, no longer willing to hold back any sounds that shows just how much he enjoys this.

His heart thuds fast in his chest, he's sure she can feel it underneath her palm. His love for her is not something that can be contained, even if he'd been warned that there is no romance here.

His heart will break come the morning (or when she kicks him out) and she's gone again, leaving nothing behind but marks and lipstick stains to remember her by. He knows how badly it will break, he knows how bad she is for him, but he doesn't care.

When she parts to look down at him, his lips are parted in soft pants and he rocks his hips, a desperate needy attempt to get her to move along his aching cock.

That laughter. As dry as it is, it only makes him love her more. It's a beautiful sound, one he does not get to hear often. Oh, fuck, this is going to kill him.

"Yes." He answers honestly, in a near whisper. "Can you blame me? After all this time, it's hard to wrap my mind around this being....real."

All of his feelings seem to pour forth from one kiss. She’s letting out a satisfied hum, gliding her lips against him, pressing him further into the mattress. A palm ghosts up his chest, fingers wandering across his collarbone, tracing each acre of his flesh, noting every minutia of texture.

Then, tongues are melting together as she deepens the kiss, expertly tracing around his mouth, finally feeling alive for once.

Ada does not believe in true love and she never will, but only a fool would miss the way her chest cinches from the kiss. She has kissed many before and will continue to kiss many long after she leaves this hotel room, but it’s never felt like this. The realization is shocking her, forcing her to break away, almost glaring down at Leon with a bewildered expression.

And, shit, she shouldn’t have done that. He’s drenched in adoration, the ceruleans of his stare reflecting back starlight and rapture. To make matters worse? His mouth is now smeared with dark red. The remnants of her lipstick.

And Ada laughs for the first time in forever. Or, rather, more like a dry chuckle, but it was completely involuntary.

“You look too happy. It’s starting to scare me,” she whispers, and pushes stray locks of hair from his face. “Still afraid this is all a dream?”

[traumamade]

She's cruel and damn, if there isn't some part of him that enjoys it. Fuck, he really is a masochist, isn't he? He doesn't have much time to put much thought in it as his mind drifts to something far more interesting, watching the way she sinks herself down onto his cock slowly yet offering no reaction to him.

She's like a goddamn goddess and he is eager to worship her. His lips part in a gasping breath as he feels her sink down on him completely, filling her up and yet she does not move, driving him insane.

He has nothing to say for when she tells him to kiss her, his lips hungrily meet hers. One hand cups her cheek as lips press firmly against hers in a heated lust-filled kiss.

“You don’t know how cruel I can be, sweetheart.” But, there is one thing she can promise. Ada will always prioritize herself above all else. And right now, that self wants one thing and one thing only.

It’s a captivating sight; watching a woman sink down unflinching on a cock. Her eyes narrow, and flushing pink glows on her cheeks, but she offers no reaction as she descends hungrily, meeting his base with the kiss of her lips. His length is nothing to scoff at, and inside she is ablaze with sensation. She’s spread so wide, that enticing burn scorching her core as he splits her apart.

Then, and only then, does Ada lean forward, gliding her nose along his jaw, the feathering of her dark hair mingling against his.

“...you can kiss me now.”

[traumamade]

Oh god damn it. She always manages to find a way to escape him but not this time. He won't let her. But first, he has to deal with this bastard and hope like hell he can catch up to Ada.

"There are far worse things than death, buddy, but I don't have time for this bullshit." In the blink of an eye, his gun has aimed at the man's thigh and he pulls the trigger to lodge a bullet in his thigh. He doesn't even flinch as the man cries out in pain.

Then Leon's gun is aimed at his other thigh, "What do you want with the USB and where's Bardot? Answer me or the bullet goes in the next thigh! Maybe even your groin, after that. Bleeding out from those three places is a hell of a way to die."

How curious it is, though, Leon thinks in the back of his mind that Ada hadn't tried to snatch the USB drive from him.

Or had she? Shit! He doesn't have time to check right now.

God fucking damn it, Ada.

It’s all moving in a blur. The two culprits hardly have a chance to register the intrusion before one is knocked out cold on the floor and the other is cornered against a wall, hands up over his head. He’s burly, but steadily aged. Around mid to late 50s, if Ada felt like guessing. Silver hairs kiss against dark brown, marbling him with gray. His face is marred with a deep-set scar running down his right cheek, tipping right where his jaw meets his throat.

He remains still, hazel eyes steadily trained on Leon’s face. With the man occupied, Ada lets herself crouch beside the remaining one, tilting his head to verify the identity, but it’s not Bardot. She’s clicking her tongue impatiently, scanning the rest of the room for clues or contextual hints.

“...go ahead and shoot me. You won’t get me to talk.” The man growls, curling his lips into a mocking sneer.

Ada dips her head, hovering lips whispering into the shell of Leon’s ear.

“...our guy isn’t here and I don’t have time to play good cop bad cop, I trust you can handle yourself?” She isn’t planning to stick around for an answer, and in the next blink of an eye, she’s taking off again, leaving Leon to fend for himself yet again.

[traumamade]

Breath once more hitches and this time, lips part in a gasp as he is finally granted the pleasure he seeks. It, however, doesn't last long before she's letting go of him in favor of crouching to remove his pants.

He lifts hips allowing for easier movement but then he notices her looking at his thighs. His heart pounds in his chest for an entirely different reason and he wants to retreat, back away from her gaze, avoid any questions she may have about the numerous self inflected scars on his thighs.

They're old scars but not terribly old, clearly not something he had done in his youth but rather after Racoon City. After Spain. She doesn't linger on it long and Leon lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

His hands instantly find purchase upon her hips when she straddles him and Leon cannot help but roll his hips to grind up against her, feeling her still wet pussy against him that elects a groan from him.

"Come on, you're cruel but you're not that cruel." Is she?

Her smile is cool, a brief amusement at such a casual reply. He’s never been good with his words; always a man of action. Ada strokes up and down, almost lazily. The pads of her fingers grip and squeeze, memorizing the shape and warmth to a chest-deep remembrance.

“...feels a little weird without a knife to my throat. But I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

Ada shifts low, crouching at his knees, shimmying his pants lower, letting them pool at his ankles. For a moment, she’s focused only on the tent between his thighs. There’s a darker blotch where his head meets fabric and it nearly draws a dark chuckle from her throat. Then, her sight is descending, grazing the corded muscle of his thighs, and the tally marks that bevel and pinch the skin.

Her brow twitches. They’re not the remnants of a bullet or a knife or a bioweapon’s fury. They are agony given form. A lost and despondent attempt to reclaim feeling where there is none left to feel. None except pain.

There’s a suspicion, a paranoia skittering across her mind, but she stamps it out before it can materialize on her expression. Ada looks up at him smoothly and climbs the steeple of his form, straddling atop his pelvis, still mostly clothed in her own dressings of choice.

“...honestly, I’m having plenty of fun watching you squirm. Maybe I’ll just stare at you all night.”

[traumamade]

It's a disappointment when she tells him no but at least it leaves room for allowing him to kiss her later with the 'yet' attached to the end of her answer.

He helps her with his clothing, shrugging out of the jacket before lifting his arms up so she can pull his shirt off and over his head and then he's dropping his hands to press against the bed, breath hitching in anticipation.

And then, finally, she touches his aching cock. He's sure she can feel it pulsing and throbbing in her hand, signifying just how much he wants her. His breath hitches, eyes fixated on her face to watch her, and he finds himself rocking against her palm to get some sort of friction. Seeking, chasing pleasure.

"'Course I do."

It’s kind of him to ask, but she’s slowly shaking her head. “Not yet…” she whispers, reaching forth to undress him. Piece by piece. She wants to see him, in ways her imagination cannot conjure. The jacket is first to go, delicately laid across the carpet. Then, slender fingers swipe the hem of his shirt, lifting it at a breathtakingly slow pace. It reveals his body and soul, an inch at a time. The rolling slopes of his abdominal, lean but firm. The dusting of hair smoothed across his chest like sun-kissed grassland. The mark on his shoulder, discolored but faded from time. The sight of it unsettles her.

His shirt joins the jacket, and soon she’s working at his belt. There’s a metallic clinking, a bell to summon angels, and before his skin melts off entirely, she’s loosening his zipper and sliding a hand inside. Without looking, she finds his cock, the silhouette of it tense and bursting beneath his boxers.

“...do you like it when I touch you, Leon?”

She doesn’t have to ask, but she wants to hear him say it.

[traumamade]

Perhaps it is the part of him that yearns to submit to her or perhaps it is the part of him that is greedy, taking anything he can get as long as she gives it to him. He wants her, completely, in whatever way she is willing to give him. Even if it's just for the night.

He can tell she's surprised by the answer but is it really so surprising? He's been trailing after her like a puppy since day one, they both know that, even if Leon will vehemently deny it.

No romance. That is what he has to tell himself again as he follows her instructions, stepping forward to cross the distance between the two of them. He slides onto the bed next to her instead of standing awkwardly and when he does, he leans in closer and closer - though he does not kiss her. Not yet.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks instead, uttered in a whisper, as if he thinks speaking any louder will either ruin the mood or wake him up from a dream he believes he is having. After all, Ada giving herself to him after all this time? It can only be a dream.

Another answer that leaves her pleasantly surprised. This is really how he’s spending his night? Giving her everything? Scrounging up every scrap of food that she’s willing to toss him? The allure of power has never mattered to Ada. Brute force…ruling over others with an iron fist and a bloody hand…but circumstances always tend to shift past sundown.

Ada does not hunger for power. But how can she not yearn for his submission? This beaten, battered man with a heart of gold, even if it rusts. Everything he has loved and cherished stripped from his reach by a system he never wanted to take part in, and yet, he still cannot bring himself to ask for anything more. Ada Wong, the chamber of his heart he cannot amputate, is offering him everything and, in turn, he wants for nothing.

And that’s the issue at hand. The deal was: no romance. Black and white terms laid out with no possibility for misinterpretation. But it’s still him. The man who saved her, who would still, to this day, die for her. Through it all, he hasn’t changed. Doomed by his own justice.

Ada beckons him to step closer, eyes half-lidded and brimming with danger, like hues on a viper.

“Come here, then.”