Absolute Zero
❄️ Synopsis - After a risky decision on a mission and subverting his orders, Captain Wesker chews you out in his office.
❄️ Pairing - STARS Albert Wesker × STARS (Rising Rookie) Reader
Word Count - 6.2k
CW - MDNI - Brat taming, Temperature play, Ice play, Spanking, Pussy spanking, Bruising, Dirty talk, Banter, Cockwarming, Nipple play, Creampie, Gags, Teasing, Praise, Praise kink, Dacryphilia, Reader is a masocist, Albert is a sadist
Authors Note - I love STARS Wesker, I’ve replayed RE1 remaster 3 times. I needed an excuse for this version of him to tame the brat and maybeeee fall in love along the way 🩵 This is pure filth I don’t apologize. Also HR doesn’t exist.
4:47pm
Second floor RPD
STARS office
Raccoon City
"I would expect this kind of behavior from Redfield, but from you?" Wesker's voice was cutting. "Incredibly disappointing."
The color drained from your face. "Captain, I am so sorry-“
"I shouldn't have paired you up with him." He cut you off, blue eyes simmering behind his dark sunglasses. "Bad habits." He trailed off under his breath, tossing the files onto his desk. "Do you realize the kind of jeopardy you put yourself in? You are one of the brightest in my squad, and yet your bullheadedness gets in the way of that brilliance." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Captain, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Hindsight is 20/20. I-I just need a chance to acclimate."
"How many chances do I give you, then, rookie?" He spat.
You took a step toward his desk, bracing your hands on the back of the chair in front of you. The wood creaked. "With grace, I would accept a second chance." Your voice steadied. "It’s the only one I’d need. If you really believe me to be an asset to STARS, you know that I can evolve and adapt."
Wesker blinked at you. He took a moment, his hidden gaze taking over your assertive figure. "Evolve and adapt." A low chuckle. "How fitting."
You gave a quizzical nod. "Yes. I only want to be stronger… to make the team stronger. I'll take any punishment needed to prove I can continue to function at this level, Captain. I do not take your endorsement lightly."
"Hm. How honorable of you."
"Captain, I have admired you for a very long time. Longer than you know."
He was quiet, steepling his fingers and leaning in toward you. "Go on."
"I see how you carry yourself. No nonsense. The best record in the RPD. That's why I wanted to be on STARS. Why I pushed so hard. To get that recognition and to be able to grow as apart of this team.” You swallowed, eyes flicking to the bookshelf behind him. "And I can't stand Irons. He's not a true leader. He doesn't command respect… he demands it without earning it. He’s a pig.” You finished off, “You're different."
The low hum of his desktop filled the space.
Wesker studied you, eyes unreadable. A slow smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
"Flattery," he said in a low purr, "is a currency I don't often accept. But from you..." He tilted his head, a predator considering a particularly interesting prey. "I'll allow it." He rose, circling the desk to lean against its edge, close enough that the faint scent of cologne and gun oil reached you.
“Sir… is it really flattery if it’s genuine?” You chanced, placing your hands on the straps of your tactical vest.
“I suppose not. You want recognition, sure. But what you're really saying..." He removed his sunglasses, pinning you with those glacial eyes. "is that you want to be seen."
"I don't think anyone pursues anything without wanting recognition of their efforts, Captain."
"Well, my dear, you certainly are special. A special pain in my side." His smile sharpened. "So tell me, how prepared are you to show this devotion?" he mused.
"I think you know the answer to that, Captain." A small, flirtatious smile curling over your lips.
He studied you a moment longer. "I do." Now close enough that his voice dropped low. "But I want to hear you say it when you're not standing at attention. When it's just you and me."
His fingers grazed your chin, tilting it up just slightly. You held his icy gaze, unwavering. The silence stretching like a wire pulled taut. Then he laughed a low, genuine sound that seemed to surprise even him.
"You know what I think?" He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the tiredness at the corners of his eyes. "You are not just devoted. I think you're hungry."
His hand came up, fingertips brushing the collar of your shirt with deliberate slowness. A spark of goosebumps fled down your skin.
"And I think," he continued, voice dropping to a near-whisper, "you've been hungry for a very long time. Not for recognition. Not for rank." His fingers stilled, resting just above the pulse point of your neck. "For this. For someone who sees all that fire in your eyes, in your actions, and doesn't flinch."
You exhaled, not realizing you'd been holding your breath. "And do you flinch, Captain?"
"I don't flinch. I consume." His smile turned dangerous as he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Can you handle that?"
"Yes," you whispered, breath hitching.
"Good girl." The words rumbled low in his chest. "Now, what was that you said about a punishment?" His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair with a deliberate pressure. "A fire needs to be controlled after all.“ You swallowed, pulse hammering as he tugged your head back gently, exposing your throat to the low light of his office.
“I’m a woman of my word, Captain.” Adjusting your stance, you steadied yourself. Eyes glinting. “Make the call.”
"Eight o'clock. Here. Don't make me come find you." A pause, his breath warm against your skin. "And don't think for a second I'll go easy on you. That's not what devotion earns you." He released you slowly, stepping back with an unreadable half smile.
“What would it earn me, then, Captain?”
“Everything.” He took a seat behind the desk. Picking up his pen. “Dismissed.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The analog clock in the wall ticked as you busied yourself with paperwork. The mundane rhythm mixing with your keyboard strokes as you sipped on a cup of lukewarm coffee. As you worked Chris rapped his knuckles on your desk. “Hey, what are you doing here so late?”
“Just catching up on some reports. Figured it would be less of a pain if I didn’t have them waiting for me tomorrow.” You grimaced at the stale taste as you set down the cup.
“I could never. Love that dedication though.” He offered you a knuckle bump which you accepted.
“Done for the night?” You asked, shaking your hand from how hard the impact was.
“Yep! Take it easy, yeah? He looked toward Weskers office. “Listen, the Captain can be a pain in the ass to deal with. But you’re a tough cookie,” he winked. “You can take whatever he throws at you. Just keep showing up.” He paused, “And maybe stick to following orders before going off on your own. At least until you get promoted.”
“Thanks for the reassurance.” You caught his dopey grin and couldn’t help but let a smile slip yourself.
“Ah, happy to help. Have a good night!” He waved as he left.
You didn’t think his words would be that true.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
When his fingers started to curl inward on the rebound, brushing against your bare sex with each strike, you flinched. A muted whine leaving you as your knees snapping shut and grabbed his toned forearm. That was the single sound that had left you since you laid over his lap. With that, your stoicism had ended.
"That won't do." His voice was calm, instructive. "Keep your knees spread. Do try to be good, yes?" He pressed his palm against your raw and reddened cheek, rubbing soothing circles.
You obeyed, legs widening, and he felt the heat radiating off you from underneath his fingerless gloves. His hand slid up your thigh, gripping the soft flesh there.
With each hit you noticed him getting harder underneath you. You couldn’t resist.
"Is that your gun, Captain? Or do you just like watching me take it?” The small, shaky laugh that left you quickly silenced with another slap to your ass.
"Still so cheeky." His voice was dark, amused. "I wonder how much more you can endure before that attitude of yours cracks."
"The night is young, sir."
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "So it is. Lean over my desk."
Slowly, you pulled yourself off his lap and bent over the polished wood.
"There we go." He took your cheeks and spread them, exposing you fully. You whined at the exposure to the cool air of the office, face burning. “You know, you’re cute when you try so hard to be quiet.”
The next strike lands, hard.
A cry leaves your throat and your knees buckle beneath you. You fully expected the slap to be on your ass again. That expectation was severely incorrect.
The delicious sting of his firm palm connecting with your dripping cunt is enough to drag that startled cry from somewhere deep in your chest.
The second smack is raw, the wet, audible splash of your pussy against his unyielding hand searing through your core. A sharp bite of pain ripples through your trembling body in waves. The sting that follows burns even hotter than the first. Your traitorous clit throbs.
"Captain! Oh fuck-"
"Language." Third slap, harder. "Another nasty habit, hm?" He pulled off one of his gloves and pressed it against your cheek, “Open.” A command.
You did so. The rich smell of leather filled your nose as you bit down on the waxy material, feeling it give slightly between your teeth. You can faintly taste your essence that clung to the material.
You felt his eyes raking over your skin from behind those dark glasses. Seeing your pussy jiggle with each hit, how your swollen clit rubs against the tips of his gloveless fingers as he pulls away. Wesker takes in your countenance. The tears welling in your eyes, the tremble in your thighs, whines swallowed up by the material between your teeth.
"Look at you taking it so well." He murmured, tilting your chin up over your shoulder. Your cheeks were flushed pink, heated from humiliation, from the exposure of it all. “Soaked from it. I wonder…if you’re one of those women who love pain.” He let the statement hang in the air.
You can't help the strained moan that tears from your throat when he pinches roughly at your swollen clit. Your petals had darkened from blood flow, arousal dripping like a flower holding too much nectar. Your ass is surely bruised now, his thumb grazing your clit in relentless circles until you let out a desperate wail into the leather.
"So you are a little glutton for punishment, aren't you?" His voice is low. "I’m not fond of doing this..."
"Liarrrrr-!" you manage to wail through the makeshift gag.
Of course it's a lie.
You can tell from the way his eyes glitter. looking at you from above the glasses only to be hidden moments later as he tilts his head. Pupils blown wide and dark, swallowing the icy blue until there's nothing left but hunger. That gaze. The one that rakes over you and savors every second of this, tracing every tremor, enjoying every sharp inhale. He's loving every second of punishing you and he knows it.
The way he draws out each command just to watch you squirm under the weight of your own obedience. It's a game he plays with devastating precision.
And you?
With the way your pulse quickens at the authority in his tone. The shameful thrill of being taken apart, piece by piece, under those glacially merciless eyes.
You would have to love it equally as much.
"There it is," he breathes. Lip curving, slow and dangerous. "Not even trying to hide it anymore, are you?" The question was rhetorical. His hand tightens, just enough to remind you who's in control.
"Good. I don't want you to."
More slaps. Harder. Relentless.
Each one landed with a sharp crack that echoed through the room and through your overwrought nerves. The sting bloomed hot and immediate, spreading across your skin like wildfire. Before you could catch your breath, another came. A rhythm without mercy, each impact driving you deeper into that haze where thought dissolved and only sensation remained. Hips bucking instinctively, his other hand pinned you firmly in place, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Your lips drew up, but no sound came out. Just breath, ragged and broken, swallowed by the leather of his glove clenched tight between your teeth. Your skin was left red and raw, tender to the point of agony. Still your pussy wept arousal that dripped down your inner legs, pooling onto the polished wood of his desk beneath you. You were sobbing. Silently. Hips twitching helplessly as you clenched around nothing, aching and desperate.
You may have thought twice of playing this game if you had known he was a sadist.
Hot pain seared up your thighs, over your swollen folds, radiating outward with each strike. God, maybe it was pleasure. Perhaps it was all the same now, the fire that licked through you, the way your body responded so certainly. The lines had blurred so completely that you couldn't tell where the sting ended and the wanting began.
All you knew now was that thick, salty tears carved hot paths down your blush-ridden cheeks. Your breathing came in ragged, hitching gasps, each one punctuated by a strangled moan. Your fingers hooked against the desk's edge, searching for purchase, for anything to ground you.
You tried to catch his eyes over your shoulder through the blur, searching for something in his covered gaze. Mercy? Approval? A flicker of humanity?
"Such pretty tears, my dear." His thumb caressed your cheek before bringing it up to his lips, licking the pad of his finger as if to savor the salty taste of your frustrations. Paired with him stopping the onslaught, that small amount of praise felt as soothing as a cold stream. “If you take orders half as well as you take punishment, you would excel.” He trailed his bare hand over your sex in soothing caresses, your jaw dropping open in a keening whine.
"Do you know why you're being punished?"
His question cut through your spiraling thoughts. An attempt to ground you. Nodding, you fought to steady your breathing and force away the low whimpering sound that threatened to leave your throat.
"Enlighten me, then." His hand coming up to take his glove from your mouth.
Your brain buzzed with static. You tried to speak, but your tongue felt thick, clumsy. "I-I should have followed orders. Your orders, Captain!"
"That's right." He agreed, dragging the flat of his fingers in soothing caresses up and down your aching pussy, watching the way they glided gently against your puffy clit, spreading the slick that bubbled there. "And what do you say?"
"I'm sorry-Captain- I-it won't happen again!" You cried, looking back at him through tear-soaked lashes.
The image was almost devotional, like a Madonna carved in grief, frozen mid-lament. Except the meaning of the prayer had dissolved, your thoughts blurring into fog. The haziness of submission blossoming in your eyes. Everything drowned in your own arousal.
Your voice trailed off when his slow rubbing paused, leaving the pad of his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.
“Does that feel good? Do you like it when I rub your swollen little cunt like this?”
“Y-yes, Captain.“ You whined in a breathy mantra, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.” He purred. "I think you deserve something to soothe you."
You head a faint clink behind you as he reached into the empty whiskey glass on the desk, taking out the circular ice cube, slightly melted. Gently, he trailed it along the inside of your thighs peaking into the outside of your folds.
The freezing water trickled down your center, a droplet forming on the peak of your clit before falling to the floor. You cried and moaned as he worked the sphere up and down, circling closer to your heated center. It trailed over your clit like a frozen dagger, nerves screaming as you tried to jolt away.
"Hah- too cold, it burns!” You gasped into a whimper.
"Easy there. No running from me." He chided. “Arch your back.”
The ice had shrank considerably as he began teasing your entrance with it. You yearned for the warmth of his touch again. Those sweet doting caresses, even the blood-rushing slaps he gave, as he pressed the circular ice cube inside you. A small moan left you as the sphere seated itself completely inside.
"Hold it." His voice was steeled. "There we go. I want to see you keep it in."
Minutes passed. You felt trickles of water and arousal snake down your thighs. All the heat in your body seemed to have flooded your cheeks as you lay on your palms on his desk propping your head up. Tears welled on your lash line.
"Sir?”
"Yes?"
"Please," you gasped, voice cracking. "It's so cold."
"Poor thing." He cooed, patronizing, sweet. "I know." His hand pressed against your lower back, holding you steady as you trembled over his desk. The ice inside you was a foreign, numbing cold. It sent shocks through your core with every involuntary clench no matter how much time passed.
"Breathe," he instructed calmly. "You're tensing. That only makes it worse."
A shuddering inhale and exhale left you as you focused. The ice shifted inside you, a broken whimper escaping your lips.
"There you go." His thumb traced the curve of your spine. "Good. A little longer."
Minutes stretched like hours. The cold seeped into you, mingling with the heat of your flushed skin, the forceful sting of the slaps still radiating through your ass and cunt. You felt full and achingly empty all at once.
When he finally reached between your legs, his fingers were pleasantly warm against your frost-bitten skin. He curled them inside you. The ice had vanished into the cold water trailing down your thigh.
"Not so bad, was it? Think you’ll be able to follow orders now?”
You nodded your head, tears still wet on your cheeks. "Yes, sir."
“That’s a good girl.” His hands found your hips, turning you to face him. Your back pressed against the desk, legs spread, cunt bare and dripping. Weskers eyes swept over you, appraising, hungry.
“Lean back on my desk,” there’s nothing behind you. Let me see how you take a reward now, darling.”
A vibration went through your body at the word as you followed his instructions. He took a seat in his office chair. The pet name rolls off his tongue with such casual nonchalance that it makes you question if he meant to say it at all. A crack in his usual composure. But his voice gives nothing away, smooth as ever, and you don't dare ask.
With both of your hands splayed over the fat of your ass, fingers digging into your own heated skin, you obey. Spreading yourself open for him, presented like a meal laid out on his desk. The polished wood is cool against your thighs, a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from where his palm had been. His fingers find the temples of his sunglasses, sliding them off. He closes them with a soft click setting them neatly onto the desk beside you. His eyes finally exposed to you.
That glacial gaze the one you've seen command rooms, silence subordinates, cut through lies with a single glance filtered through those dark lenses. Reminiscent of winter, of something untouchable and remote. The weight of it is almost physical, trailing over every exposed inch. But beneath it, burning with a heat that makes your breath catch, there's a deep-seated lust that strips you bare more effectively than his hands ever could.
His eyes drop lower, fixing on the center of you. Swollen. Dripping. Glistening in the low light like an overripe fruit split open and waiting to be tasted. The sight makes something flicker in those frozen eyes. Hunger, or perhaps ownership of making you like this. His tongue traces his lower lip.
"Look at you," he breathes, “Absolutely ruined. And I've barely even started.”
He dipped his head down, beginning with little pecks, each one wetter than the last, dragging a pathetic little sound out of your throat. His tongue doesn’t even come out yet, lips mouthing at you like you’re something delicate and delicious he’s allowed to savor.
“Captain, I-ah!” You whined. A daring swipe of his tongue was scorching hot against you.
“Careful… How is that?” He asked from between your thighs, trailing his tongue up your center.
“Feels, ah feels good… your tongue- it’s so soft. So hot. I’m numb b-but I can feel everything-“
“Mhmm, good,” he hums into you. “Let me know when you’re close.”
He brought his hands up to your thighs, using his thumbs to spread open the lips of your pussy before his licking further settled into a rhythm as you threaded your hand through his blond hair.
Soft, sloppy sounds from the icy wetness and your arousal filled the office. Drinking you in like water, he runs his tongue in circles around your swollen clit, making your hips jump. His hands slide under your ass, each hand groping a cheek. He presses you closer to his mouth, tongue slurping back down to your leaking hole. Each move was calculating. Observing what made your hips twist, your thighs twitch, your mouth open and close in silent, wanting moans. You whimper and shift your hand, pulling the blond strands.
That feeling that had simmered all evening beneath your skin had been wrought to the surface, coiling tight in your abdomen, ready to snap. But his hands stayed firm on your thighs, his tongue pressing a drooling, deliberate lick over your swollen bud.
The heat of his breath and tongue is scorching, you’re sobbing, begging him. But he pulls away. Sucking on your sensitive skin of your inner thighs. A well-placed bite making you whine.
“Captain, I’m gonna- I need to cum-“ you whined.
“So sweet and obedient for letting me know.” He purred against you. “But no, you don’t need to.”
“Sir please! I’ve been good-“
"Stand."
You obeyed, legs wobbling. He guided you into his lap. Even through his tactical pants, you could feel the heat of his erection, the length pressing against your aching center.
“Enduring so much," he observed, dragging a finger against your jaw, tilting you line of teary-eyed vision up to meet his. "And yet you still want more?”
"Yes, sir." You affirm.
"Why?"
You swallowed. Honesty welling in your chest. "Because you make me feel like I can take anything. And I want to prove it."
"That's what I wanted to hear.” His eyes darkened. “You’re proving to meet my expectations.”
“I’ll do anything-,” you trailed off momentarily, “Anything for you, Captain.”
You hear the unmistakeable sound of his zipper being drawn down underneath you as he brought out his cock. The sight of him thick and flushed made your mouth water and your stomach flip. His cock was handsome. You couldn’t think of an apt descriptor otherwise.
It was long and thicker at the base, curving up toward a pretty, blush-pink head that had a pearl of precum beading at the tip. A well-maintained blond happy trail traced a neat line down his stomach, drawing your gaze to the sharp cut of his v-line, the muscles tensing beneath his skin.
You couldn't help but wonder what you'd have to do to trail your tongue over it. How he'd react. If he'd let you take your time, or if he'd grab a fistful of your hair and push you down before you even got the chance.
He worked the shaft in his fist for a couple of pumps. His thumb coming up to tease the underside of the head as he hissed softly at the sensation.
"Ride me." His hands gripped your hips, eyes locking onto yours. "Show me that devotion you were so eager to promise."
“Yes, sir.” You shifted your hips and sank onto him slowly, inch by devious inch. The stretch burned, the cold deep inside you replaced by searing heat. Wincing as he grabbed the bruised skin of your ass, you bit your lip. Your nails dug into the taught muscles of his back, forehead falling to against his shoulder.
"That's it," he breathed, voice rough. His fingers petting your spine as he watched your sex swallow him greedily despite the tenderness. "Take all of it."
When you bottomed out, you stilled, trembling. He filled you completely. A pressure that bordered on too much as you rocked your hips. The thickness of his base working you open cruelly as you shifted to get used to the sensation. Something told you that would never happen.
“There we go,” he murmured to himself.
His hands found the zipper of your tactical vest the metallic rasp loud in the quiet room as he pulled it down, tooth by tooth, exposing the thin fabric of your STARS shirt beneath. Then his with a deft motion his fingers hooked under the hem, grazing the bare skin of your stomach as he lifted it upward revealing you to the cool air.
Your breath caught as the fabric cleared your ribs, your chest, hovering just below your collarbones. He paused there, watching.
"Open," he murmured, voice low, eyes dark.
Your lips parted, and you took the hem of your shirt between your teeth, holding it there, baring yourself to his gaze. The fabric was warm, slightly damp with sweat, and you were exposed. Your skin prickled under the weight of his attention.
His eyes traced over your figure like he was accounting every curve, every shadow, every place where your skin flushed at his touch. The rise and fall of your chest, still uneven from before. The way your nipples pebbled in the cool air. The softness of your stomach, the dip of your waist, the way your hips still straddled him, how your pussy accommodated his cock. You clenched around him at the attention.
"No bra." He murmured, a low rumble of amusement. "Out of dress code… How perfect." His fingertips traced the underside of your breasts with an aching slowness, feeling the curve beneath. A slow exhale left him, almost reverent. Tracing the curve upward until his thumbs brushed over your nipples in featherlight, teasing way. The fabric of your shirt still clenched between your teeth to muffle the small sound that escaped you.
The warmth of his hands cupped you fully, weighing you in his palms like you were something precious. His thumbs circled, pressing softly into the flesh. Drinking in the way your back arched into his touch, the way your thighs tensed around him, the way you held yourself open, waiting.
"So beautiful like this," he murmured, voice rougher now. "Mine to admire. Mine to take apart." His thumb pressed a little harder into a pinch and you bit down on the fabric, a whimper escaping. “You can move for me now.”
You began slow at first. A deliberately dragging rhythm with your hips. Rising, falling. Enveloping him deeper with each pass of your hips. The stroking drag of your Captain’s cock inside of you is narcotic.
His eyes stayed locked on yours, drinking in every sharp inhale, every tremble in your lips around the cloth, the way your body clenched around him the moment his voice dipped low with praise.
"Good. Do you think you can go faster for me?"
You nodded before the question fully landed, eager, aching to show him what you could take. And of course he seized that hunger, twisting your willingness into something heavier. Requests from Wesker were never really requests. They were challenges wrapped in velvet, and he knew you'd never back down.
Your thighs tensed as you rose, then dropped with more weight, more intention, the rhythm deepening into something hungrier. Each bounce was quicker than the last. The soreness in your center melting into pleasure as your hips grind into his pelvis.
His jaw tightened. A low shadow of a groan that rumbled up from his chest before he could swallow it down. That sound alone nearly undid you, your own moan spilling out raw and broken through the shirt fabric as he hit that spot again, the one that made your stars burst behind your eyelids.
Strands of blond hair fell across his forehead, sticking to the sheen of sweat gathering there. He didn't bother pushing them back. Maintaining appearances has long passed. Plus his hands were otherwise occupied, sliding up your ribs until they cupped the weight of your breasts. Letting them rest there for a moment, feeling your heartbeat race beneath his fingers.
Then his thumbs found your nipples, circling the tender skin around the buds before his fingertips pinched as you came down on him again. The timing was cruel, sending a shockwave through your spine. You gasped, and he did it again on your next descent, matching your rhythm.
His belt buckle clinked with every shift of your hips, a small metallic counterpoint to the drenched rhythmic sounds of your bodies meeting over and over. That sound filled the room, heavy and obscene. You had dropped the hem of your shirt in favor of the moan that tore from your chest. He allowed it. Your forehead softly leaned against his as you took a moment to catch your breath. It was broken, tangling with his.
He leaned in, the motion slow and deliberate as his lips parted, just barely, aiming to catch yours.
You leaned back an inch. Enough that his mouth found only air, hovering where yours had been a heartbeat before. His cool eyes flickered surprise, then something sharper, something curious, as he registered the space you'd put between you.
Your hips didn't stop. You kept riding him, keeping that rhythm steady and punishing. His hands, still on your breasts, tightened reflexively as his fingers pressed possessively into the flesh.
A beat of silence stretched between you, broken only by the wet sounds of your bodies, the creak of the chair, your own ragged breathing. His head tilted. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not in anger or offense, but interest.
"No?" he murmured, voice low and rough. His thumbs traced lazy circles over your nipples, testing, waiting to see if you'd break.
Your answer was in the way your pace quickened, in the way you dropped harder onto him, in the way your gaze held his without flinching. No kiss. Not until you earn it. His smile widened fractionally as his hands slide from your chest to your waist.
He was slipping. You could feel it in the way his grip tightened, in the way his rhythm stuttered for just a fraction of a second before he forced it back. But you weren't far behind and he knew it. His eyes found yours again, icy and half-lidded. The corner of his mouth twitched like he was daring you to fall apart first.
You almost did. Until thumb found your clit, circling soft and tight and the pleasure that was brewing low and deep quickly simmered to the top.
“Cum for me.”
"Captain-!!" The title came out a sob, torn from somewhere deep in your chest as the pressure inside you coiled too tight to hold. Your nails raked crimson lines down his shoulders, through his shirt, searching for something to anchor you as the world began to splinter.
"Let go." His forehead pressed to yours, breath hot against your lips. Voice anchoring you from the chaos. “I have you."
You shatter. Unraveling around him in waves that tore through every nerve, every thought, every last shred of control you'd been clinging to. Wesker presses his hand firm against your mouth, muffling your pleasured cries into something barely human.
The thought flickered somewhere distant. It was late, the walls were thin, and the risk of someone hearing sent a thrill of danger through your haze.
Wesker didn't stop. He couldn't. His hips kept moving, slower now, dragging out every last tremor as you clenched and fluttered around him, oversensitive and trembling.
Tears streaked down your cheeks and you weren't sure when they'd started. He caught one with his thumb, smearing it across your cheekbone like a benediction. You felt the softness of his tongue against your skin, licking at the salty tracks in a way that sent a shiver down your spine and blush rising to your already warm cheeks.
In that moment, his composure finally cracked. Rhythm stuttering, pulling you flush against him, burying himself deep, filing you up to the point where you could feel his release slipping out between you. Adjusting your position, you kept him snug against you. A groan sounded low against the crook of your neck where he buried his face. His body tensed beneath you, every muscle locked tight as he spilled inside, holding you there like he needed you to take that last piece of him.
Then stillness.
You collapsed against his chest, boneless and breathless, forehead tucked into the hollow of his throat. His arms came around you immediately, one hand cradling the back of your head the other against your lower back. The leather of his remaining glove was cool against your bare skin, a sharp contrast to the heat still radiating from both of you.
"Well done," he murmured into your hair, his voice rough as gravel. His lips brushed your temple. "That's my girl."
You closed your eyes, letting the praise settle into your bones. His heartbeat was still racing beneath your cheek, slowly steadying, a rhythmic drum that grounded you. For the first time that night, with his arms wrapped tight and his scent filling your lungs, you felt truly warm.
The silence stretched, soft and heavy, until he spoke again, quieter this time.
"I have work to do." But his hands didn't move to push you away. Instead, you felt him shift slightly, settling deeper into the chair. One arm still firm around your back. “Stay like this.” It was so quiet you almost missed it. Like the words had slipped out before he could stop them.
You nuzzled into him, pressing your nose against the skin of his neck, breathing him in. Sweat and the lingering air of his cologne from the day, something woodsy and warm. Cedar, maybe. You let yourself sink into it.
A deep sigh left him, heavy with something that felt almost like relief. His fingers began to move, absentmindedly at first, tracing slow patterns up and down your spine. The touch was shallow, featherlight, barely there. But it sent a shiver through you, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you twitched involuntarily around him.
"Easy," he inhaled sharply, the word strained, his hand stilling on your back. But you felt the flicker of renewed heat in the way his fingers flexed against your skin.
You smiled against his neck, hidden, and did not move. The silence returned. His hand resumed its path, slower this time, as if he was memorizing the curve of each vertebra.
Then his voice came again but carrying a weight that made your breath catch.
"Don't forget darling, you're mine now."
The words settled over you like a brand. Not harsh, just certain. A truth he was speaking into existence.
"Some sparks should be nurtured." His voice dropped lower, intimate as a secret shared in the dark. "Others burn too hot, too fast. They consume everything around them, and then they're gone." You held your breath, feeling the shift in the air between you. His free hand came up, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your face just enough that he could meet your eyes.
"I believe you have potential…" A pause. His voice dropped to barely a whisper against your lips. “But tonight, you're just mine."
His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, waiting for some sign of understanding. His thumb traced your cheekbone, featherlight.
You should have asked. Should have pressed for more.
But the weight of the moment pressed down on you, warm and suffocating. His hand slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer and as you turned, his lips caught yours. There was nothing tentative about it. His mouth moved against yours with the kind of certainty that came from knowing exactly what he wanted, and taking it. His hand pressed into the small of your back, arching you into him, while the other slid up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head.
You melted into him, your fingers finding his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt. His lips parted, and his tongue swept against your lower lip, a demand. When you opened for him, a low sound of approval rumbled in his chest. He kissed you like he was memorizing the softness so he could keep it with him. When he finally pulled back, it was only an inch. His forehead rested against yours, breath hot and uneven against your lips.
"There," he murmured. "I've been wanting to do that all night."
Your fingers found his chest, splaying over his heart. It beat steady beneath your palm.
But as his arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him, as his heartbeat echoed beneath your ear and his scent filled your lungs, you knew one thing with absolute certainty:
You were already his. And you weren't sure you wanted to be anywhere else.
I hope you enjoyed! My asks / requests / DM’s are CRIMINALLY empty please give me fic ideas or just to gush about this fictional pixel man who has taken over my mind 🫶😩🩷