Project: Ganymede (Resident Evil ChrisxWesker) 4/?
The rest of the trip, however long it lasted, was torture for Chris. The two ruined orgasms meant his skin was still too sensitive, and the bonds only kept him still as fought, his mind continually coming back to the fact that it had been Wesker who made him hard, Wesker’s involvement that allowed the thing to take him, and Wesker was the one who’d made him…who…
Chris’ body had taken too long to stop singing from undirected pleasure and the painful areas of overstimulation he still felt, both from the BOW’s torment as well as Wesker’s later joining in to finish his torment. By the time the drug started to pull Chris back into his own mind, Chris’ self-loathing at his inability to fight and keep himself from nearly begging, from once more giving into that weakness he’d first given into when Wesker had raped him, sickens Chris. He’s stronger than that; he should be able to fight him no matter what, but the moment touched him in such a way, Chris’ body reacted.
It’s the drug, that’s all, Chris thinks frantically, pulled back into the quiet without his body’s need for release that he wasn’t given. I just need to keep myself focused, I just need to fight this and escape.
Please let me escape. Please let this just be the drug.
His mind briefly comes back a few times, jostling or cool touches bringing him back from the darkness that he’s trapped in but now wants to be in. It means he’s not being touched, raped, by Wesker, and it also means it gives him time to think of a way to escape. The only problem is that it also makes him think of all the ways he can’t escape - Chris doesn’t know the area that well, let alone where he is or how he’ll be able to navigate it. When he’ll be able to try to escape…
I will get out of this! I can’t think like this. I can get out of this. I’ll get out and survive this.
Chris doesn’t know how long he’s out and moved, only that when he’s brought back by the sensation of someone touching him, he’s in a new position, arms held over his head in something like a Y-formation, though he’s low enough that there’s no real strain on his shoulders. His legs are spread apart by a sort of long bar, but he’s too low to be in a true X-formation, his knees bending as Wesker moves around him, touching him as Chris struggles weakly in the bonds. The touching, light and sensual, Wesker’s hands free of the usual gloves, the coldness seeping into Chris’ skin, making him shiver a bit as he tried to move, letting out a low curse as he feels the drug’s effects still keeping him from doing much, feels Wesker’s hands slide down to once more cup Chris’ ass and massage the flesh there, a low chuckle coming from him as he moves closer to Chris, the feel of leather and cloth making Chris tense in fear of what could happen. He can’t fight it right now, he can’t do much besides endure whatever torture Wesker has for him, and figure out an escape plan before then.
“You’ve been showing some interesting signs, Chris,” Wesker whispers in his ear, the nearness making Chris move his head away from the hot breath and turn, trying to not bare his throat anymore to the man. “Let’s test it. You should know by now how much I enjoy testing things.”
“Bastard,” Chris growls out, weakly struggling as Wesker moves away, getting Chris to struggle a bit to stay aware. He can’t let himself lose track of things, he can’t fall back into that darkness simply because it means being unmolested by Wesker. Already, Chris has no idea how much longer it will take for the drug to wear off, and so he can’t plan around it. He doesn’t even know where he is in relation to the place he was captured or even the first place where he saw Wesker. All he knows is that he has to get through this, get control of his body back fully, and get out.
“You were so verbal when I first took you,” Wesker mutters from somewhere behind Chris, “Though I’m sure your time with the experiment did not help your throat either.” Chris managed a glare as Wesker’s hand moved down his sides, briefly catching a ticklish spot that got Chris to jump before settling on his hips. Chris’ fear peaked as he struggled to move away, unable to get far from the combinations of the drug, the last few attacks and rapes leaving Chris just too tired to fight back as much as he wants to, needs to, so he can escape. Wesker’s fingernails lightly graze down the center of Chris’ back, the sensation of them getting Chris to jerk forward, trying to get away from the weird and almost nice sensation that he feels. He shivers when the hand moves away, glaring at Wesker as he moves around him and smirks at Chris, turning away to look at something else as he says, “I will have to try out something for a bit, and then a few other things.” He shifts as Wesker walks over near him, Chris struggling to move away before he feels something pushing against his ass, the blunt thing and the steady pressure, at one point the thing too big, the pain causing tears to come to his eyes as he pulls weakly against the restraints on his ankles and wrists, the pressure finally disappearing as Chris jumps, the touch to some spot inside of him sending a bolt of pleasure through him, enough that he curses quietly as he hears Wesker’s footsteps, heat rising in his cheeks as he recalls that the madman is the one behind this torture, that whatever he put in can’t be any good.
“You’re always so against any other item besides my fingers and my cock.”
“bastard,” Chris growled, shivering and trying to struggle, though the new feeling of fullness, seated too far in him, not even moving as he tries to shift or get himself free, even if he doubts he can get far. Wesker simply chuckles as he walks a bit away, pulling out something that looks like a small remote. He doesn’t speak, instead watching as he pushes a button and the thing in Chris comes to life, getting him to gasp in surprise, the movement making the thing in him go in right where the pleasure-spot inside of him is. Chris glares at Wesker as he begins to curse, the buzz filling the room as his curses were still too quiet to carry. It means he hears when the remote beeps again, getting him to stop his long line of curses as the vibration and feeling intensifies, reminding him of the monstrous thing that Wesker had used on him last time. He shivers as the thing begins to buzz faster, cursing as his body shakes, his head falling forward as he finds himself looking at his flaccid cock. He shakes his head in denial as the vibrator spikes again, this time getting Chris to let out a yell of pain, pleasure, and frustration. His body shifts and moves as he tries to get some sort of release, not even hearing Wesker’s steps as Chris body goes through a full-blow shudder, feeling like the ruined orgasm that he’d had only an hour or less ago. He barely manages to get out a curse when a hand comes up to his hips, pulling him back against leather and cotton, the pale hand he knows too well at this point reaching to slowly trace and stimulate his cock and balls. The other arm doesn’t come up until the sensation dulls down, Chris pulling in heaving breaths as he curses Wesker, growling out, “you bastard, you damned coward, let me go.”
“You seem incapable of pleasurable functions without me,” Wesker whispers in his ear, his other arm coming around to hold near his chest, pulling him back so his body is flush with Wesker’s as the other man begins to slowly bring him to hardness, Chris cursing him before his whole body jerks at the renewed pleasure from the vibrator, Wesker’s strength keeping him still as he tries to shake and fight, the drugged weakness keeping him still as he feels a new orgasm building, getting him to shake and try to escape, but between the tight bonds on his wrists, the angle, and Wesker’s powerful hold on him, as well as the slow, careful, and consistent pressure and movement gets Chris’ curses to turn more into moans.
“You’re enjoying this quite a bit,” Wesker mutters in Chris’ ear, Chris trying to move his head away but unable to get too far as he shivers, his body’s signals and needs trumping his mind’s horror and anger at what is going on, at how the he only wants to give in, to-
“bastard, you damned bastard,” Chris pants as his body responds, shaking from how sensitive it was, how much he wants…he needs…he…
No, no, not him! Not with him!
“let me go,” Chris pleads, sweat and tears running down his face as he pants and gasps, the steady pleasure from Wesker’s hand on his cock contrasting with the frantic vibrations of the thing inside of him. “please, let me go.”
“You say that so sweetly,” Wesker tells him, teeth lightly grazing along Chris’ exposed neck as his hips try to move, the hold keeping him still and at Wesker’s mercy as the vibrator inside of him began to go faster, pulling out another cry of surprise and pleasure from Chris. “I’m glad that pride of yours disappeared, if only for this moment.”
“fucking coward,” Chris pants, his mind and body fighting for what to say - if he wants to plead for more, for a release to his pleasure, or if he wants to threaten the man raping him, torturing him - and as he feels himself get closer to the edge, he can’t quite get out the words. “fucking coward I’ll…ah…fuck…”
“You held out longer last time. Already fatigued? Or do you simply like it when it’s only us?” Wesker’s laugh reminds Chris of the other times the man had tried to show off his power, his ability, only for Chris to defeat him, but…but this time it’s triumphant and too close, everything is wrong and Chris can’t…he can’t… “How romantic of you, Christopher.”
“f-fucking…bastard…I…I’ll kill…ah…fuck!” The last part was cut off as Chris came hard, his load shooting off into the distance as Wesker hummed his approval, the vibrator inside of him slowly dying off as Wesker released him.
“Now then,” Wesker said, still as confident as ever as he once more pulled out the remote, “time for a few tests to pass the time.”
=
It was after the fifth, and driest, of the orgasms that Chris simply fell forward, his body twitching when touched and, obviously, his mind trapped in the oversensitive mess that Wesker had made him. Really, the only thing keeping him even somewhat upright was the rope restraints, and they were also cutting painfully into Chris’ wrists, too much so for Wesker to want to continue without having to completely stop in order to ensure his Pointman still had working hands.
A pity too - Wesker wondered if fucking Chris now would result in a similar painful orgasm, of if his overstimulated body could even take it. After what happened with the Uroboros prototype, there was no telling if he would be healthy after that, but that didn’t mean Wesker couldn’t do a quick medical scan and, if things were alright, find his own pleasure in Chris’ responsive, now-submissive body.
The timing was getting good as well - Chris would be free of the drug in a few hours, and honestly Wesker was of the opinion that if he allowed Chris some time to stew in his sorrow and think about his current state, it would result in far more fun taming the young man.
“Are you so spent already?” Wesker teased as he walked forward, getting Chris’ ankles undone and frowning briefly at their red and raw state. He’ll have to look into that rope-technique Lenka sent him, especially ones designed to restrain and distribute weight.
Spencer’s training was quite flawed, if he kept such things from us. The old man probably wanted us to simply pop out children, not create something far better.
The idea made Wesker’s teasing of Chris take on an edge. He didn’t need to think about the old man and his ambitions when he had something he found so interesting. Even if the impotence was a side-effect of the drug alone, it was still something Wesker enjoyed - that it was his touch, the pleasure he gave Chris, which got him to respond, even if he fought. That it was Wesker’s hold which caused Chris to finally give in and which could overpower whatever fight he had.
That he was still the captain to Chris’ distrustful, angry, volatile but talented pointman.
“I’ve wasted more than enough time dealing with the fawning women.” Wesker mutters as he releases Chris’ hand, holding him a bit more gently than he thought he could as the younger man twitches at the touch, a moan that sounds painful getting him to slowly run a hand through Chris’ short brown hair. Like before, when overstimulated and out of himself, Chris’ body reacts before his mind does, leaning into Wesker’s touch before he jerks and tries to fight. As weakened as he is, Wesker holds him easily, hearing the muttered curses against his shoulder as he takes Chris’ wrist down, seeing the bits of blood and raw-rubbed skin. “I must admit, having to deal with you has been quite enlightening, Chris.”
Wesker is very sure that Chris mutters something along the lines of ‘fuck you’ at him, but Wesker doesn’t care, easily carrying him over to a side bench and bending him over it. The scanner reveals what Wesker thought - Chris is dehydrated, hurt, but can be fucked senseless so long as he gets what he needs afterwards.
Wesker slowly, almost as slowly as he’d done when pushing the plug into Chris, takes it out, holding his hips as Chris squirms and cries out in protest. “I’m sure you’d love to have this in your ass all night, considering how much pleasure it’s given you.” More cursing, though it’s far too intelligible to make out, and shaking of Chris’ head, reminding Wesker of a particularly wild horse that, in his youth, he’d set out to tame. It had not gone well, and he’d been told by the groomsman and various ranch hands, over the course of those weeks, exactly what he’d done wrong.
“It’s called patience, kid,” the gruff farmhand had told him, after forcing him to clean the barn and throw bales of hay for the day - a menial chore that left Wesker far too exhausted by the end to think of revenge against him or the others, “You didn’t listen to us ‘cause you thought you knew best. Your type of smarts don’t get ya a horse, it gets ya in trouble. You listen and learn, then you figure out a better way. The point there is you learn first before you try to do everything better’n everyone else.”
He’d repeated that to Birkin, when the order came down to kill Marcus, only it had been a bit more elegant. Birkin had laughed, and been more than happy to take the leeches and the t-virus, then turn it all over to someone else and work on his own G-virus. They’d learned, and then they’d made their improvements, but when Umbrella’s own incompetence had created the Raccoon City incident, as well as all the others that Wesker had taken advantage of to further his own research. He’d learned, and built upon that as Spencer and the others hadn’t, and now he’d learn and build upon this new thing - breaking and taming Chris Redfield.
The plug came out far easier than it went in, Chris panting and cursing as he struggled to get some hold or purpose on the couch he was bent over, apparently not hearing Wesker as he opened up his leather trousers and released his cock, smirking as he lined up and drove into Chris’ abused ass, forcing him forward. The younger man let out a yell of pain and fear, tinged with frustration and pleasure, before Wesker began his pace, long strokes getting Chris to cry and fight as much as he could, unable to get enough strength or leverage to fight back. His body was a livewire already, and each purposeful, strong stroke landed squarely along the abused clump of nerves that had been rubbed for the better part of a few hours, making Chris fight and cry as his body’s signals began to overlap, his mind unable to command his body to do whatever it was that it wanted, or even to get out the right words, it seemed. Chris was a mess of pleasurable sounds and pants as Wesker began to speed up, a hand firmly on Chris’ hips as another went to his upper back, pushing the man down for a better angle as his shallow-but-quick thrusts hit his prostate each time.
Wesker let out his own satisfied growl as he came, hearing Chris’ sobs and feeling his body’s reaction to another dry orgasm, the pain of it causing the younger man’s body to go limp as soon as it was done. That helped out Wesker in moving him to the new place, and also allowed him time to examine and properly admire Chris’ body, as bulked up as it was in places. He liked Chris better was he was slim and muscled, more like a fighter than a body-builder, but he’d make sure that, when Chris was his completely, the other man got into the shape that Wesker liked, one that would be advantageous towards everything Wesker needed to do.
He’d finished with the preparations when the intercom beeped, getting Wesker to frown before moving back over, seeing it was two things - a rather urgent message from Ada, and a call from Lenka.
He answered the call from Lenka as he skimmed through Ada’s quick message, frowning at the implications as he heard Lenka say, “Sir, the woman from Tricell is here.”
“Of course she is,” Wesker muttered, annoyed at being interrupted for the trivial thing, “and I told you to take care of her.”
“She has…news…to report, about the subject.”
Wesker’s glare was obvious, even through his dark-colored glasses.
“The subject who graciously donated the t-virus antibodies. Apparently, there was a misstep.”
Wesker glanced at Chris, still asleep, then back to Lenka. “I will be there in a moment. I’d best hear the reason for this…misstep, and there had best be a plan in place to correct it. I am a bit busy at the moment.”
Lenka’s brief smirk was enough to make Wesker glare at him before the other man nodded and cut off the transmission. He seemed happier that Wesker was going to leave him to do the work than he was at having to call Wesker in, but considering that Excella believed herself to be the only one worthy of him…
He quickly sets up what he needs, the medical analysis of Chris’ blood, the drug, and his own blood and semen would be interesting, at least, and he has to assume that if he leaves Chris to brood while he deals with this new mess that Excella had created, the young man will be recovered enough to fight a bit more when Wesker took him again.
Chris’ body had taken too long to stop singing from undirected pleasure and the painful areas of overstimulation he still felt, both from the BOW’s torment as well as Wesker’s later joining in to finish his torment. By the time the drug started to pull Chris back into his own mind, Chris’ self-loathing at his inability to fight and keep himself from nearly begging, from once more giving into that weakness he’d first given into when Wesker had raped him, sickens Chris. He’s stronger than that; he should be able to fight him no matter what, but the moment touched him in such a way, Chris’ body reacted.
It’s the drug, that’s all, Chris thinks frantically, pulled back into the quiet without his body’s need for release that he wasn’t given. I just need to keep myself focused, I just need to fight this and escape.
Please let me escape. Please let this just be the drug.
His mind briefly comes back a few times, jostling or cool touches bringing him back from the darkness that he’s trapped in but now wants to be in. It means he’s not being touched, raped, by Wesker, and it also means it gives him time to think of a way to escape. The only problem is that it also makes him think of all the ways he can’t escape - Chris doesn’t know the area that well, let alone where he is or how he’ll be able to navigate it. When he’ll be able to try to escape…
I will get out of this! I can’t think like this. I can get out of this. I’ll get out and survive this.
Chris doesn’t know how long he’s out and moved, only that when he’s brought back by the sensation of someone touching him, he’s in a new position, arms held over his head in something like a Y-formation, though he’s low enough that there’s no real strain on his shoulders. His legs are spread apart by a sort of long bar, but he’s too low to be in a true X-formation, his knees bending as Wesker moves around him, touching him as Chris struggles weakly in the bonds. The touching, light and sensual, Wesker’s hands free of the usual gloves, the coldness seeping into Chris’ skin, making him shiver a bit as he tried to move, letting out a low curse as he feels the drug’s effects still keeping him from doing much, feels Wesker’s hands slide down to once more cup Chris’ ass and massage the flesh there, a low chuckle coming from him as he moves closer to Chris, the feel of leather and cloth making Chris tense in fear of what could happen. He can’t fight it right now, he can’t do much besides endure whatever torture Wesker has for him, and figure out an escape plan before then.
“You’ve been showing some interesting signs, Chris,” Wesker whispers in his ear, the nearness making Chris move his head away from the hot breath and turn, trying to not bare his throat anymore to the man. “Let’s test it. You should know by now how much I enjoy testing things.”
“Bastard,” Chris growls out, weakly struggling as Wesker moves away, getting Chris to struggle a bit to stay aware. He can’t let himself lose track of things, he can’t fall back into that darkness simply because it means being unmolested by Wesker. Already, Chris has no idea how much longer it will take for the drug to wear off, and so he can’t plan around it. He doesn’t even know where he is in relation to the place he was captured or even the first place where he saw Wesker. All he knows is that he has to get through this, get control of his body back fully, and get out.
“You were so verbal when I first took you,” Wesker mutters from somewhere behind Chris, “Though I’m sure your time with the experiment did not help your throat either.” Chris managed a glare as Wesker’s hand moved down his sides, briefly catching a ticklish spot that got Chris to jump before settling on his hips. Chris’ fear peaked as he struggled to move away, unable to get far from the combinations of the drug, the last few attacks and rapes leaving Chris just too tired to fight back as much as he wants to, needs to, so he can escape. Wesker’s fingernails lightly graze down the center of Chris’ back, the sensation of them getting Chris to jerk forward, trying to get away from the weird and almost nice sensation that he feels. He shivers when the hand moves away, glaring at Wesker as he moves around him and smirks at Chris, turning away to look at something else as he says, “I will have to try out something for a bit, and then a few other things.” He shifts as Wesker walks over near him, Chris struggling to move away before he feels something pushing against his ass, the blunt thing and the steady pressure, at one point the thing too big, the pain causing tears to come to his eyes as he pulls weakly against the restraints on his ankles and wrists, the pressure finally disappearing as Chris jumps, the touch to some spot inside of him sending a bolt of pleasure through him, enough that he curses quietly as he hears Wesker’s footsteps, heat rising in his cheeks as he recalls that the madman is the one behind this torture, that whatever he put in can’t be any good.
“You’re always so against any other item besides my fingers and my cock.”
“bastard,” Chris growled, shivering and trying to struggle, though the new feeling of fullness, seated too far in him, not even moving as he tries to shift or get himself free, even if he doubts he can get far. Wesker simply chuckles as he walks a bit away, pulling out something that looks like a small remote. He doesn’t speak, instead watching as he pushes a button and the thing in Chris comes to life, getting him to gasp in surprise, the movement making the thing in him go in right where the pleasure-spot inside of him is. Chris glares at Wesker as he begins to curse, the buzz filling the room as his curses were still too quiet to carry. It means he hears when the remote beeps again, getting him to stop his long line of curses as the vibration and feeling intensifies, reminding him of the monstrous thing that Wesker had used on him last time. He shivers as the thing begins to buzz faster, cursing as his body shakes, his head falling forward as he finds himself looking at his flaccid cock. He shakes his head in denial as the vibrator spikes again, this time getting Chris to let out a yell of pain, pleasure, and frustration. His body shifts and moves as he tries to get some sort of release, not even hearing Wesker’s steps as Chris body goes through a full-blow shudder, feeling like the ruined orgasm that he’d had only an hour or less ago. He barely manages to get out a curse when a hand comes up to his hips, pulling him back against leather and cotton, the pale hand he knows too well at this point reaching to slowly trace and stimulate his cock and balls. The other arm doesn’t come up until the sensation dulls down, Chris pulling in heaving breaths as he curses Wesker, growling out, “you bastard, you damned coward, let me go.”
“You seem incapable of pleasurable functions without me,” Wesker whispers in his ear, his other arm coming around to hold near his chest, pulling him back so his body is flush with Wesker’s as the other man begins to slowly bring him to hardness, Chris cursing him before his whole body jerks at the renewed pleasure from the vibrator, Wesker’s strength keeping him still as he tries to shake and fight, the drugged weakness keeping him still as he feels a new orgasm building, getting him to shake and try to escape, but between the tight bonds on his wrists, the angle, and Wesker’s powerful hold on him, as well as the slow, careful, and consistent pressure and movement gets Chris’ curses to turn more into moans.
“You’re enjoying this quite a bit,” Wesker mutters in Chris’ ear, Chris trying to move his head away but unable to get too far as he shivers, his body’s signals and needs trumping his mind’s horror and anger at what is going on, at how the he only wants to give in, to-
“bastard, you damned bastard,” Chris pants as his body responds, shaking from how sensitive it was, how much he wants…he needs…he…
No, no, not him! Not with him!
“let me go,” Chris pleads, sweat and tears running down his face as he pants and gasps, the steady pleasure from Wesker’s hand on his cock contrasting with the frantic vibrations of the thing inside of him. “please, let me go.”
“You say that so sweetly,” Wesker tells him, teeth lightly grazing along Chris’ exposed neck as his hips try to move, the hold keeping him still and at Wesker’s mercy as the vibrator inside of him began to go faster, pulling out another cry of surprise and pleasure from Chris. “I’m glad that pride of yours disappeared, if only for this moment.”
“fucking coward,” Chris pants, his mind and body fighting for what to say - if he wants to plead for more, for a release to his pleasure, or if he wants to threaten the man raping him, torturing him - and as he feels himself get closer to the edge, he can’t quite get out the words. “fucking coward I’ll…ah…fuck…”
“You held out longer last time. Already fatigued? Or do you simply like it when it’s only us?” Wesker’s laugh reminds Chris of the other times the man had tried to show off his power, his ability, only for Chris to defeat him, but…but this time it’s triumphant and too close, everything is wrong and Chris can’t…he can’t… “How romantic of you, Christopher.”
“f-fucking…bastard…I…I’ll kill…ah…fuck!” The last part was cut off as Chris came hard, his load shooting off into the distance as Wesker hummed his approval, the vibrator inside of him slowly dying off as Wesker released him.
“Now then,” Wesker said, still as confident as ever as he once more pulled out the remote, “time for a few tests to pass the time.”
=
It was after the fifth, and driest, of the orgasms that Chris simply fell forward, his body twitching when touched and, obviously, his mind trapped in the oversensitive mess that Wesker had made him. Really, the only thing keeping him even somewhat upright was the rope restraints, and they were also cutting painfully into Chris’ wrists, too much so for Wesker to want to continue without having to completely stop in order to ensure his Pointman still had working hands.
A pity too - Wesker wondered if fucking Chris now would result in a similar painful orgasm, of if his overstimulated body could even take it. After what happened with the Uroboros prototype, there was no telling if he would be healthy after that, but that didn’t mean Wesker couldn’t do a quick medical scan and, if things were alright, find his own pleasure in Chris’ responsive, now-submissive body.
The timing was getting good as well - Chris would be free of the drug in a few hours, and honestly Wesker was of the opinion that if he allowed Chris some time to stew in his sorrow and think about his current state, it would result in far more fun taming the young man.
“Are you so spent already?” Wesker teased as he walked forward, getting Chris’ ankles undone and frowning briefly at their red and raw state. He’ll have to look into that rope-technique Lenka sent him, especially ones designed to restrain and distribute weight.
Spencer’s training was quite flawed, if he kept such things from us. The old man probably wanted us to simply pop out children, not create something far better.
The idea made Wesker’s teasing of Chris take on an edge. He didn’t need to think about the old man and his ambitions when he had something he found so interesting. Even if the impotence was a side-effect of the drug alone, it was still something Wesker enjoyed - that it was his touch, the pleasure he gave Chris, which got him to respond, even if he fought. That it was Wesker’s hold which caused Chris to finally give in and which could overpower whatever fight he had.
That he was still the captain to Chris’ distrustful, angry, volatile but talented pointman.
“I’ve wasted more than enough time dealing with the fawning women.” Wesker mutters as he releases Chris’ hand, holding him a bit more gently than he thought he could as the younger man twitches at the touch, a moan that sounds painful getting him to slowly run a hand through Chris’ short brown hair. Like before, when overstimulated and out of himself, Chris’ body reacts before his mind does, leaning into Wesker’s touch before he jerks and tries to fight. As weakened as he is, Wesker holds him easily, hearing the muttered curses against his shoulder as he takes Chris’ wrist down, seeing the bits of blood and raw-rubbed skin. “I must admit, having to deal with you has been quite enlightening, Chris.”
Wesker is very sure that Chris mutters something along the lines of ‘fuck you’ at him, but Wesker doesn’t care, easily carrying him over to a side bench and bending him over it. The scanner reveals what Wesker thought - Chris is dehydrated, hurt, but can be fucked senseless so long as he gets what he needs afterwards.
Wesker slowly, almost as slowly as he’d done when pushing the plug into Chris, takes it out, holding his hips as Chris squirms and cries out in protest. “I’m sure you’d love to have this in your ass all night, considering how much pleasure it’s given you.” More cursing, though it’s far too intelligible to make out, and shaking of Chris’ head, reminding Wesker of a particularly wild horse that, in his youth, he’d set out to tame. It had not gone well, and he’d been told by the groomsman and various ranch hands, over the course of those weeks, exactly what he’d done wrong.
“It’s called patience, kid,” the gruff farmhand had told him, after forcing him to clean the barn and throw bales of hay for the day - a menial chore that left Wesker far too exhausted by the end to think of revenge against him or the others, “You didn’t listen to us ‘cause you thought you knew best. Your type of smarts don’t get ya a horse, it gets ya in trouble. You listen and learn, then you figure out a better way. The point there is you learn first before you try to do everything better’n everyone else.”
He’d repeated that to Birkin, when the order came down to kill Marcus, only it had been a bit more elegant. Birkin had laughed, and been more than happy to take the leeches and the t-virus, then turn it all over to someone else and work on his own G-virus. They’d learned, and then they’d made their improvements, but when Umbrella’s own incompetence had created the Raccoon City incident, as well as all the others that Wesker had taken advantage of to further his own research. He’d learned, and built upon that as Spencer and the others hadn’t, and now he’d learn and build upon this new thing - breaking and taming Chris Redfield.
The plug came out far easier than it went in, Chris panting and cursing as he struggled to get some hold or purpose on the couch he was bent over, apparently not hearing Wesker as he opened up his leather trousers and released his cock, smirking as he lined up and drove into Chris’ abused ass, forcing him forward. The younger man let out a yell of pain and fear, tinged with frustration and pleasure, before Wesker began his pace, long strokes getting Chris to cry and fight as much as he could, unable to get enough strength or leverage to fight back. His body was a livewire already, and each purposeful, strong stroke landed squarely along the abused clump of nerves that had been rubbed for the better part of a few hours, making Chris fight and cry as his body’s signals began to overlap, his mind unable to command his body to do whatever it was that it wanted, or even to get out the right words, it seemed. Chris was a mess of pleasurable sounds and pants as Wesker began to speed up, a hand firmly on Chris’ hips as another went to his upper back, pushing the man down for a better angle as his shallow-but-quick thrusts hit his prostate each time.
Wesker let out his own satisfied growl as he came, hearing Chris’ sobs and feeling his body’s reaction to another dry orgasm, the pain of it causing the younger man’s body to go limp as soon as it was done. That helped out Wesker in moving him to the new place, and also allowed him time to examine and properly admire Chris’ body, as bulked up as it was in places. He liked Chris better was he was slim and muscled, more like a fighter than a body-builder, but he’d make sure that, when Chris was his completely, the other man got into the shape that Wesker liked, one that would be advantageous towards everything Wesker needed to do.
He’d finished with the preparations when the intercom beeped, getting Wesker to frown before moving back over, seeing it was two things - a rather urgent message from Ada, and a call from Lenka.
He answered the call from Lenka as he skimmed through Ada’s quick message, frowning at the implications as he heard Lenka say, “Sir, the woman from Tricell is here.”
“Of course she is,” Wesker muttered, annoyed at being interrupted for the trivial thing, “and I told you to take care of her.”
“She has…news…to report, about the subject.”
Wesker’s glare was obvious, even through his dark-colored glasses.
“The subject who graciously donated the t-virus antibodies. Apparently, there was a misstep.”
Wesker glanced at Chris, still asleep, then back to Lenka. “I will be there in a moment. I’d best hear the reason for this…misstep, and there had best be a plan in place to correct it. I am a bit busy at the moment.”
Lenka’s brief smirk was enough to make Wesker glare at him before the other man nodded and cut off the transmission. He seemed happier that Wesker was going to leave him to do the work than he was at having to call Wesker in, but considering that Excella believed herself to be the only one worthy of him…
He quickly sets up what he needs, the medical analysis of Chris’ blood, the drug, and his own blood and semen would be interesting, at least, and he has to assume that if he leaves Chris to brood while he deals with this new mess that Excella had created, the young man will be recovered enough to fight a bit more when Wesker took him again.