By littlemaiko

Even the most muffled sound amplified as it bounced off of computers, large-paned windows, and sterile walls of the lab. One chair remained overturned near a desk. Albert Wesker wondered what had entered his mind as to allow this outrage. Here he was, subjected to a thorough fucking at hands of a man who considered sex as a form of casual pastime. Time was well past 2 a.m., but there was no guarantee for privacy. Once roused, Birkin had been insistent and swift. There had been no time for locking down the room. In the very least, the current state of half-dress saved Wesker's back from scraping against the floor. His jacket alleviated what friction may have been there. The feel of cotton slacks hanging from his knees annoyed him, but he could live with that. Now, if William would be considerate and adjust the uncomfortable hold on his thighs...

"Have you ever tried riding a man?" William Birkin asked without slowing his thrusts. His breathing was labored, but his dull blue eyes had no passion and all curiosity.

Wesker stifled a groan as the other man's hardness shoved deep into his body. It was fortunate that Birkin could inspire a conversation without interrupting the sexual moment. Had the younger man broken the moment, Wesker would have shot him between the brows. He decided to pretend not to have heard the question, but only until a calloused hand clasped over his own erection to torture him. Birkin looked bored.

"Al, I asked you a question," said a non-committal voice.

"No, I haven't. For goodness sake... Will, can we not talk?!" Wesker wanted to scream at the other man to get on with it. He didn't because he couldn't; damn Birkin for being a multitasking genius. Fingers curled around his length and began to squeeze lightly. All he knew about those fingers besides their talent at a hand job was that they typed 120 wpm. It was a shame, really. He reminded himself to put Birkin's right hand under close scrutiny sometime.

One particularly brutal push reduced Wesker's nerves to two throbbing points at his genitals and prostate. A howl bounced off of walls, and the older blonde refused to admit that the sound had come out of his mouth. His hands clenched into fists where they had been clawing at the tiled floor. He abandoned his Ray Ban before he crushed it in his left hand. It cluttered on the smooth floor and ended up under a desk.

"Do you want to ride me?" Birkin leaned in to study Wesker's tight expression. He strengthened the hold he had around the other's waist, more to still the relentless hips than to encourage physical contact.

"No!"

Carelessly parted hair shuffled as Birkin tilted his head a little. He shifted from back and fro motion to circular grinding before forcing Wesker into orgasm. He waited until the older man had finished shuddering to demand clarification. "Do you mean 'No, don't immobilize my ass' or 'No, I don't want to ride you'?"

"Presently... I'm leaning for... 'No, I'm not going for a second bout'," panted Wesker. He bit his lower lip against whimpering when Birkin poked around his weak spot. No matter how much he glared, he could not take control of the other man's climax. He wondered for the millionth time how Annette tolerated her husband in bed. Did she always wait so long too?

"I doubt that we will today." Birkin swallowed back a breath when release finally overtook him. He froze and spasmed with minimal dramatics before untangling from Wesker's thighs which had wrapped about his waist. Exit left both men with a hollow feeling. "Remind me to ask again tomorrow, Al."

"About riding you?"

"Yes."

Wesker sat up slowly and took out a hand towel from a drawer of a nearby desk to tidy himself up. Some loose golden strands fell over his forehead when he shuffled to wipe between his hips. He reached for his sunglasses at the same time, and hid his ice-blue irises between the familiar curtain of thick shadow. At last, he managed a mock scoff. "I don't believe that you are interested in new positions."

"I'm not. Annette suggested it. Less work for me and apparently more pleasure for her... and you," shrugged Birkin. It was obvious that he couldn't care less himself. He took the towel from Wesker and zipped up his pants when he was done drying off. Faint aroma of sex wafted in the lab, but they both knew that the smell would go away soon enough. Ventilation of this room was excellent.

Rolling his hidden eyes at the mention of the female Dr. Birkin, the older man returned the shrug. "Leave it to Annette to know such interesting facts."

"She does her research. If you call fashion magazines a good source of information."

Wesker curled his pale lips in a trademark smirk. "You'd be surprised at what those magazines can teach you."

"Perhaps," Birkin said with terminating authority. His dusty-blue eyes began to swim over the room, from one corner to another until they rested at a stack of petri dishes he had prepared earlier.

Finding a speck of release on the white floor, Birkin wiped it with a fingertip. He didn't say anything more as he rose, stretched once, and went back to his desk at one end of the room. Wesker watched the slim waist and hips of the younger man. He could ride that waist for exactly the effect Birkin had explained. Less work for him and more pleasure for Wesker. Deciding that it might not be a bad idea to ride that waist, the older blonde licked his lips and reminded himself to bring up the riding issue tomorrow night.

Author's notes:

Disclaimer: Resident Evil series and all its elements are properties of Capcom. Fanfiction belongs to littlemaiko.

Description: I was getting tired of writing the paper. This one will be short and forthright... I can't afford to spend more than 45 minutes on this snippet. Birkin/Wesker reversible stuff, yay!

- littlemaiko