When life gets in the way and when the unbearable stress from work casts a looming shadow over your burdened mind, there's one place you're always eager to come back to, where you can let go of the reins, of any lingering thoughts or obligations, and simply relish the exhilarating rush of adrenaline, teetering on the edge between danger and pleasure. An alluring space in which you let Zeno roll the dice, take control and decide your hidden fate as you lie underneath him, completely at the mercy of Redemption, a ruthless single-shot pistol currently pressed against your skin. Is it loaded? Zeno won’t tell you. Are you at death’s door? You will never know. It's all part of the fun, anyway.

Amidst the tension, Zeno intently observes the little changes your facial expression makes. Your eyes, glazed over and devoid of any real fear, captivate him in the most thrilling of ways. He can never take for granted this deep, unconditional trust you have in him and he believes it to be the most precious, valuable thing in the world. Though, in contrast, it also excites each nerve of his own being, anticipation coming alight just by knowing the sheer power you’re allowing him to hold over the situation. So immersed he appears to be in this mischievous play, Zeno barely notices how firm of a grip he has on the pistol, his index finger hovering over the trigger. Obviously, he would never hurt you and will immediately stop once you utter the safe word previously agreed on. Even so, the way you look up at him so desperately, it only manages to rile him up much further to the point where the prominent bulge straining against the fabric of his pants starts to ache for any kind of relief. Not now, not when he’s got you so willingly wrapped around his finger.

Redemption’s muzzle steadily prods the side of your jaw causing a small gasp to escape from your lips. Heart racing, mind blank, solely lost on the feeling of his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, pinning you down onto the soft mattress

“Focus.” Zeno’s breath lightly tickles your ear as he leans forward to whisper, the pitch of his voice dropping low enough to unravel you and make you want more of him. “You need to focus, baby. Otherwise, you leave no choice but to cease this little game of ours. Is that what you want?”

Frantically, you react in an instant by tightly grabbing his bicep, a feeble attempt at bringing him closer.

“No, please, Zeno. I need you. I need this.” your voice almost comes out as a pathetic whine.

The cold, chilling metal against your skin becomes a stark difference to the pooling heat seeping straight down to your core, and in an effort to incite some kind of friction, you close the gap between your legs, rubbing your thighs together in pure anticipation.

Zeno suddenly pulls away, giving him plenty of distance to stare down at your innocent expression with a rather piercing look of glowing golden irises alongside a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

You can’t deny that the increasing pressure around your throat is as dizzying as it is tantalizing. It’s driving you crazy, goosebumps traveling all over your prickled skin, during which your hand absentmindedly slips from his upper arm and instead shakily grips the sheets below. Yet, it still takes you by surprise the second Zeno glides the pistol’s barrel from the column of your neck to the center of your chest.

“I have taught you better than to get distracted while a deadly weapon is pointed at you.” His deep tone of voice rumbles through his chest and resonates throughout the heavy, charged air. A devilish chuckle leaves him, solely amused by the faint whimpers falling from your lips. “You don’t listen. What should I do with you, sweetheart? Hm?”

Tutting, Zeno hungrily watches you jolt with each stroke from Redemption’s barrel as it smoothly moves lower and lower until it reaches your midsection, its muzzle now comfortably resting atop your pelvic area. Curiously tilting his head to the side, his eyes shamelessly devour the sight of your disheveled self sprawled on the bed, needy and panting. A burning sensation blooms inside of him, the need to absolutely ravish you overtakes his senses, and although it doesn't help how vulnerable and attractive you look with his hand restricting your breathing, his composure wavers between restraint and complete loss of control.

“Gorgeous.” Zeno’s praise is swiftly followed by his sudden proximity. Eyes shut, lips roughly crash against your own, savoring them so selfishly and seductively, drinking in each little moan that leaves you.

Another rumble reverberates from within him at the affectionate action of you wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and the electrifying sensation of your fingers threading along his silvery strands of hair while you close your eyes and kiss him back with the same fervor, somehow the feeling of the pistol’s muzzle tenderly caressing your inner thigh in a teasing manner elicits a shiver that runs down your spine and clouds your mind with nothing but dark, sinful thoughts.

Zeno’s abrupt break away from the kiss brings you back to reality as you open your eyes to his unrelenting gaze, surveying your reaction when he finally removes the gloved hand from your throat, evoking a short sigh of alleviation now that your blocked airway is freed. Though, you already miss that prior delicious and forceful squeeze of his deft fingers around your neck.

“Zeno.” you mewl, your hands lazily dip from his scalp to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to them.

“What do you want? Say it.”

Biting your lower lip, a bit shameful of your own desires. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

Zeno’s free hand settles on your waist in a firm, protective grip. “If you don’t say it, this stops.” He doesn’t actually mean it, but it’s the only way he knows to get you going.

A frustrated sigh departs your lips. You decidedly peer at him with a tempting, provocative stare and a sly, flirtatious smile. “Zeno, will you please fuck me with your gun."

Okay, it was stupid to go and break into a store at night. But leaving you there all alone was worse. Everyone had already evacuated as soon as the police sirens started wailing, and you hadn't managed to escape. On your way out, you were met by a dozen or so police officers who didn't believe your excuse that you were there by accident. Now you couldn't help but wonder how people you considered friends could just abandon you. You'd resigned yourself to the fact that you'd gotten handcuffed and ended up in the back of a police car. Two officers were in the car, one of whom, with white hair, glanced back at you. For a moment, you thought you saw amusement in his eyes at the whole situation.

“What's next for me?” You asked quickly. You wanted to believe his colleagues would find your fake friends and face them consequences. It was supposed to be just a stupid prank, and not wanting to stand out from the rest, you decided to go with them. And now you were going to the police station alone.

“I’ll have to question you,” he said firmly, his gaze once again focused on something in front of him.

At that moment, you wanted to lie down in your warm bed and forget you'd ever been drawn into this. Some people told you this wasn't the right company for you... It's a shame you found out so late. No one spoke the entire ride, and the only sound was the police radio.

Once there, it was the same man who'd spoken to you in the patrol car who grabbed your arm, leading you toward the interrogation room. He sat you down in a chair and sat across from you. The room looked almost standard, with a metal table in the center and a lamp hanging above it, flickering slightly. He looked you straight in the eye and then spoke.

“So, listen, how did this happen?” Considering the situation you were in, he was quite composed. You weren't sure if that scared or reassured you more.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” You kept to repeat that you were there by accident. The entire time, he was staring at you intently, as if he have a polygraph in eyes.

"Maybe I'll ask you a different question then. . Why would you be at the store in the middle of the night? It's too late to be shopping." He said firmly, refusing to be lied to, but you still stuck to your story. You didn't know what the consequences would be, because not only had you stolen something, but you'd also broken in with others.

"Maybe I was sleepwalking, why didn't you think of that, officer?" A slightly cheeky smile appeared on your face. Actually, it wasn't the first time you'd done something like this, only this time the police had managed to catch someone. They'd prepared you for this kind of situation, so you weren't even going to tell him whose idea it was.

His eyebrow rose slightly, and you sensed he wasn't going to be easily unnerved.

“Don't tell me such nonsense; you're wasting my precious time, unless I can somehow encourage you to talk?” His voice was still calm, and he continued to look you in the eye, as if he wanted to exert some influence. Hearing something like that, you laughed briefly to yourself.

“So the good cop is finally coming to an end? Well, I've grown to like him already.” You sighed a little. There was no way you could have said who the leader was.

“You’re not trying to make me angry; you’re making things worse for yourself…the longer you continue to resist, I’ll make sure you get a whole bunch of community service hours to think about your behavior.” You took a deep breath, feeling things starting to get serious.

He stood up from his seat and reached for your still buttoned hands to unbutton them, but then he spoke.

"I need to search you, so stand up and spread your legs slightly and spread your hands wide." He instructed you, and you stood up, waiting for him to do it. You wanted to get it over with. He was touching your body through your clothes when he suddenly stopped, feeling a protruding part. He didn't want to dive under your skirt, so he gently moved it, and a moment later, a pink vibrator was on the floor. He lifted it and, before placing it on the table next to him, said.

"If that's the situation, you'll have to take off your clothes... I need to check everything thoroughly." He said firmly, and you rolled your eyes. Trying to escape was pointless, so you just sighed loudly, starting to undress. A moment later, you were in front of him in your underwear, which you'd somehow managed to put on so quickly, still with the tag on it. He chuckled softly, and now this attempted search felt even more... imminent.

“You’re clever and quite agile.” He commented slightly, squeezing your bra as if he expected something hidden there too. You stood still, your back to him.

“You speak as if you’ve never seen a thief like me.” You answered him quickly, and his hands immediately moved to your hips, where he accidentally brushed his hand against your panties.

“If underwear is stolen, you should take it off.” He said, sitting down across from you, and you felt like it was probably too much. The room was small enough and certainly soundproof. You slowly realized where this was going and decided to use this fact to your advantage.

Very slowly, you stripped off your underwear and placed it on the desk where the silicone toy lay. He looked at you closely, tracing your body, and then stood up again. He moved your hair to the side, gazing down at your bare breasts.

“I’m surprised you haven’t hidden anything here, but I’m sure you’ll surprise me with something else.” He admitted in an amused tone and reached his gloved hand into your pussy. He slid two fingers in, beginning to move them slightly, as if he expected a small toy hidden there. You bit your lower lip, feeling a pleasant shiver run through your body whenever his fingers touched your sensitive spot. It didn’t last long, as he immediately pulled them out of you.

You remained silent now, adopting this as your current tactic. He quickly understood and took your wrists. He re-cuffed your hands, leaving you completely helpless. You were so helpless now. But it still wasn't enough to make you speak. The silence was so quiet you could hear your heart pounding in your ears when you suddenly heard him undoing his belt. At first, you didn't understand why, but when you heard a loud snap, you immediately saw what he wanted to use it for.

“How can I convince you to talk?” He asked, seemingly not expecting you to answer, and in one swift movement, he scooped you up and placed you on the desk. You were dangerously leaning towards him, completely exposed. You smiled to yourself and glanced at him over your shoulder.

"Are you going to spank me, officer? I'm afraid that won't make me talk."

When he heard this, his expression remained serious, and he only used the strap on you once, leaving a long red mark on one of your buttocks. He wasn't gentle, but you didn't mind at all. You still acted confident, a smirk on your face. He didn't like it, and he grabbed your arm again, finally bringing you to your knees, level with his crotch.

“I’m giving you a choice…You do as I tell you, you won’t have to reveal any names, and the punishment will be more lenient, so the deal?” He grabbed your chin, looking down at you.

He didn't look like he was lying, and you didn't even wonder for a moment if it was even legal for him to do so.

"I guess I've just hit my lucky day, huh?" You said with a slight smile, biting your lower lip. He didn't answer, just stripped off his dark police pants and underwear. He was now half-dressed in front of you. His stiffening penis was centered a few centimeters from your face. He leaned back against the desk, and since you couldn't use your hands, you started to satisfy him with your mouth. You'd never done anything like this before. His hands were immediately on the back of your head, forming a small ponytail, which he used to move your head as he desired. You hadn't expected anything like this. For a moment, he stopped watching as saliva dripped from your chin along with his pre-cum. Your chest was heaving, and you were gasping for breath. He ran his hand over your wet lips, looking into your eyes.

"You're a naughty little one, but you take my cock like any other whore." That was probably meant as praise. You didn't have time to respond because your head started moving back and forth again. You felt the tip of his cock hitting your throat more and more often. Maybe at first, it was an uncomfortable feeling, like a gag reflex. It went away on its own. During that time, you stared into each other's eyes. After each long moment of him literally fucking your face, he gave you a moment to breathe, and the area beneath you became truly wet from the amount of saliva dripping from your chin. In some strange way, the way he used his position affected you. Your mascara smudged slightly around your eyes. Your body trembled slightly, and once again, his cock almost entered your throat, only to slide it out again. He didn't finish in your mouth, but somewhere on your exposed breasts.

“This is what you deserve, to be cummed on like a common slut,” he said with amusement in his eyes. You breathed heavily, but your gaze drifted to the floor. You began to get the feeling that degrading you must be some kind of fetish of his, or that he was truly abusing his position as the good cop.

He lifted you far too gently for someone he'd just called you a slut. Your hands were still cuffed, but now he propped your butt against the edge of the desk.

You looked at him with a mysterious look in your eyes.

“I wish you would never steal again…but then you wouldn’t be brought here for questioning.” He joked, taking his hands on either side of your hips.

“You can always ask me out, cop…I promise not to take your wallet unless you really annoy me.” You also joked.

Wesker was not one for relationships. All his life he’s built walls around himself to keep anyone out. Kept everyone at arm’s length so they couldn’t get any information on him. In contrast, he’d find as much he could on people he worked with. Looked into their affiliations, their previous jobs, their families. Anything that could be used against them. Perhaps it was projection that propelled him to distance himself with others. The fear that he could be on the receiving end of deception and betrayal.

As a result, he’s never really been in any committed relationships. It doesn’t bother him much, though. The idea of love and romance seemed unappealing and far too trivial to take note of. He had more important things on his mind. Besides, Wesker found the notion of being soft and vulnerable around anyone repulsive. Why anyone would partake in such things was beyond him. To him, it was the same as a prey animal displaying its belly to a predator. He was much better than that, far above indulging in such human desires.

If he were to have a partner, it would have to be someone who could keep up with him. Someone who shared his ideals and drive for a better world. Who understood the importance of his work and viewed humanity the same way he did. 

Perhaps someone like you.

You, who has stood by his side all this time. An old friend and colleague during his days working under Umbrella. It did him good to recruit you after he returned from Antarctica. You’re good at what you do, more efficient than most would be. He wouldn’t have gotten along with you so well if he hadn’t considered you an intellectual peer. Though notably, you weren’t as prideful as Wesker was. You take his orders and do the work assigned to you without much complaint. Not because you were a pushover, but because you genuinely enjoyed it.

That’s why he kept you around. Yes, that’s all it is.

Or maybe not.

Admittedly, Wesker has grown a soft spot for you. After all he’s been through, you’ve stood by his side. When he told you that Umbrella was a sinking ship, you’d trusted him without hesitation. When he reached out to you after half a year of radio silence to work for him, you didn’t question it at all. You had an undying loyalty to him that made his chest swell with pride. It should annoy Wesker how trusting you are of him, baring your neck to him like this. The only reason why it doesn’t is because he knows you wouldn’t do this for anyone other than him.

Over time, the fondness he felt for you grew stronger. The more Wesker interacts with you, the more that affection is amplified. Every brush of your hand against his, every smile thrown his way after a dry joke, those late nights spent in the lab together. Just the two of you. He finds himself looking forward to seeing you, often replaying memories of the times he’s made you laugh. 

By the time he realises this “affection” was something more, he had fallen too deep. It surprises Wesker, he never expected himself to grow so attached to a person. No, it wasn’t just any person. It was you.

You, who understood him like no other. You, with your witty remarks and quick jabs that actually amused him. You, who kept up with him in intellectual conversation. You with your undying loyalty and complete trust in someone like him. And you, who believes him to be the greatest man to walk this Earth.

Of course it was you. You’re perfect.

The longer time went on the worse this “affection” became. He finds himself wanting to spend more time with you, to simply be in the same room as you. To crowd your space and wrap himself around you. The feeling slowly turns into a craving. A craving that got worse and worse, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Every glance at you, every whiff of your scent, only made him want more and more.

The feeling gnaws at him until one day he couldn’t bear it anymore. 

If he was a normal, well-adjusted person he could have simply asked you out. Take you out on a few dates where he gets to hold your hand, and drape his coat over you when you’re cold. Eventually he’d be able to hold you close and while you shower him in your affection. However, his patience had been worn thin and he’d rather die than admit he could feel love like any other person. Additionally, Wesker isn’t a normal person, but you knew that already. He’s sure you wouldn’t be too upset at him for what he’s about to do.

There’s a knock on the door before a voice rings out, calling out his name. It’s you.

“Come in,” he says, tucking the syringe underneath the sleeve of his coat. Your head pops in through the doorway, and you have a pleasant smile on your face. “Hey, Al.”

He gestures for you to enter and take a seat in front of his desk. As you saunter over to the chair, he stands to close the door. All the while, you’re rambling about your day and some minor mishaps in your lab. You don’t notice as the lock of the door clicks shut, but you notice a change in Wesker’s demeanor. For the first time, it seems he’s not fully engaged in your conversation, only humming noncommittally to show that he’s listening.

It’s barely noticeable to most, but you know him better than that.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Not at all, just a few things on my mind,” he mutters, moving to lean against the desk right beside your chair.

“Oh, is this about Tricell? They seemed particularly interested in the Plaga samples, if I recall correctly.”

Wesker simply nods and hums as you continue to rattle on, slowly pushing himself off the desk as he paces the room. Eventually, he places himself behind you. By now you can tell something is off, craning your neck to look up at him. Now you were getting nervous. Sure, Wesker was a quiet and reserved man, but he was always responsive in your conversations. Had you done something to upset him? The thought makes you anxious.

Your prattle had trailed off into silence, and the two of you were simply staring at each other. “Hey… you’re not angry at me, right? Did I do something wrong?”

The question amuses him. You? Anger him? The thought had never crossed his mind. His hand reaches out and grabs you by the chin, tilting your head forward. Wesker leans down until his face is beside yours, turning to whisper in your ear. “No, of course not.”

There’s a prick in your neck before you can even breathe a sigh of relief. Shocked, you push his hands off you and stand to your feet. The chair topples and lands at Wesker’s feet as you step backwards to create distance. 

Why did he do this? Is he done with you? Oh god, he’s getting rid of you isn’t he? The room starts to spin as your vision swims, your limbs starting to grow heavy. It’s so difficult to think rationally, not when you’re panicking and lightheaded. Wesker moves as you start to stumble, embracing you as you fall forward. In your haze, you try to speak.

“Please…”

He slowly turns you around so that your back is to his chest, arms wrapped around your waist. “What is it, dear? Please, what?”

You frown, realising it is getting increasingly difficult to form sentences as your cognitive function degrades. Still, you push the words out.

“Please don’t leave me.”

That sentence alone makes Wesker’s heart skip a beat. Even when he’s done something awful to you, you still want him. It inflates his ego like nothing else. He slowly drags you both to the floor, his back against the wall and you laid across his lap.

“I’d never think of it,” he reassures you. It seems it was what you needed to let go, eyes rolling back into your head as your lids fell shut. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he rests his chin on top of your head. You’ll be fine, he tells himself. The drug is fast-acting, so it’ll wear off quickly.

Why was he acting like this? It was uncharacteristic of him, to act so lowly and human. To degrade himself like this, to admit that he has basal desires, it almost enrages him. He tells himself it’s because of you. If Wesker himself chose you, it must be because you’re different. You’re special.

He moves his head lower to bury his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply to take in lungfuls of your scent. What is wrong with him? One of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head so he could bare your neck to him. The grip around your waist tightens as he takes another breath, mouth falling open as he lets out a small whimper. You had a dizzying effect on him, and his heightened senses didn’t help with that. He wanted to bite into you, the thought making him groan.

Repositioning your head, he lays kisses across your face. All over your forehead, over your closed eyelids, your cheeks. He runs his thumb over your cheek and down to your lips. The thought eats at him, but he knows he has restraint. He’s a respectable man, he tells himself. He’d give you a proper kiss when you ask for one.

He moves down to your neck as he kisses your throat and stops over one of your carotid arteries. With his lips he feels the steady beat of your pulse, trying to match his breathing with yours. Once he’s satisfied, he grabs one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist as well. This heart beats for him. He doesn’t need you to tell him that.

You’ve always been so good for him. Truly, you are what he deserves.

For the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do next. What would you do once you finally awake? Would you still trust him? Wesker can’t remember a time where he acted so rash, he usually had more foresight than this. However, all these problems could be dealt with later.