Title: I'll Show You Rhythm
Series: Resident Evil
Pairings: WeskerxSteve
Rating: M for sex, mild violence
Warnings: yaoi (gay love)
Summary: When a training session between Wesker and Steve gets a little hotter than planned, both tyrants let themselves get lost in a sensual mix of dancing and music.
Disclaimers: I do NOT own Resident Evil, or the characters, nor do I own either of the songs involved in this fan fiction. (Play God by DeathStars and Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance)
Author Notes: Okay, so maybe, just maybe, I wanted to imagine Steve shaking his ass around to seduce Wesker~ Critics are welcomed. 3
"Calm yourself, Burnside." said Wesker, his body moving like water against the rocky movements of Steve's.
"I can't!" growled the younger. He punched forward, only to have it blocked and a counter administered to his stomach. He coughed and sputtered, but he did not stagger for a moment. A kick flew out from the slighter body and it was stopped with a hand. Steve could never, ever win.
The other tyrant was just better.
His leg was flipped over his head and Steve's back connected heavily to ground, all of the air rushed from his lungs. The redhead was just about ready to get back up, to hit the rebound full force, something crash downed and shattered his world.
It was Wesker, or rather, his knees. They were on either side of him, effectively pinning the younger's arms.
His captain was hovering over him. Sweating. Hair a mess. Ever-so-slightly panting. Hands pressing firmly on Steve's neck, though he wasn't breathing anyway.
"-de. Burnside. Steven!" commanded the blond, looking cross.
Recognition flooded into the red lizard eyes. "Huh?"
The hands retreated quickly, and Wesker sat back a bit, allowing for the movement of his captive. "You've died, Steven. I told you to calm down."
Then he got up, as if it was nothing. As if his inferior wasn't laying there, looking like a dumbstruck fool.
"I died…?" Then this is Heaven? Looks a lot like the facility. Maybe Hell, then?
"You lose our sparring match, yes." recalled Wesker, sounding distant. Like it really was nothing. Like it happened ages ago, not seconds. Like his baggy clothed cohort wasn't sporting quite the pop-tent.
Opps, seemed as if Steve didn't notice the last bit either. He shot into a sitting position, and sat Indian style, covering himself with his casually placed hands. Hopefully Wesker hadn't noticed. From the way he was standing, he hadn't; relaxed, perhaps a bit agitated that he was being kept waiting, but calm and cool. Just like he should be, but something was off. A slight bit of movement. His nose. Why had his nose twitched..?
"Up, Burnside. Another match." The voice was a slight bit more uncontrolled than it should have been.
And it gave the Veronica-Tyrant a very, very naughty idea.
"Another round, huh? I'm game." he said, standing, though he was very conscious of how he stood. He was bent forward slightly so his baggy cargos would fold the correct way.
Both males fell into a fighting stance, one more relaxed than the other, but it was Steve who had the fluid movements now.
He had nothing to hide now, nothing he wasn't willing to blame on increased blood flow and whatever (he never was good with the book stuff about the body). But he could notice that Wesker was hiding something; that nose kept twitching. Sniffing. And that's when Wesker got a boot to the face.
What the hell was worth smelling so much that Wesker would take an easily deflected blow to the face?
Steve didn't know, and he didn't care. His idea was getting easier and easier to complete as Wesker was on the floor, head spinning.
Steve decided that it was now or never, and settled for straddling his higher-up. It received a strange look, but he didn't care. He had been thinking about it recently, more and more. But he was a good boy, always telling himself he's just doing the hormone thing. He wasn't in love or lust with Wesker.
He couldn't be.
However, neither lie nor truth was going to keep him from this. Not now. It was too late to go back.
"What are you doing?" hissed Wesker, trying to move his arms between himself and Steve's form. However, his question was answered with another question, "What do you keep smelling at like a freaking dog?"
Wesker knew the reptile eyes were on him, and they were watching every twitch of his facial muscles. And he still let his lips fall into a smirk.
"You reek of arousal, Steve." The statement was punctuated with a directed glance to the younger's crotch.
"And? You were acting like a bitch in heat."
Now the games had begun.
Wesker's brow had moved just the slightest bit upwards, but for Steve's enhanced eyes it was completely obvious. It was questioning and challenging. He wanted Steve to try to get him hot and bothered.
Steve couldn't defy an order, now could he?
It started out slow. The red head had no (real) experience in this area, just some poorly written yaoi mangas that Sherry had kept hidden under her bed (Not very well, mind you.), and mixed with some wet dreams. He tried to nip at the blonde's neck and kiss it, but the actions brought no reaction.
Fine.
Next, Steve began to nuzzle the neck, while wrapping rushed fingers around belt loops. Again, clumsy and to no avail.
"You have no rhythm." injected the current sub. A laugh hid within that tone. It was bubbling under the surface.
Rhythm? Rhythm?! He had a perfectly sexy, young and painfully erect teen, in his lap, wanting in his pants like the world was going to end in the next five minutes… And he was worried about rhythm?
Steve snorted and held back the comment about little blue pills. Seemed Wesker needed some.
"Rhythm, huh? Well, what do you want for it, huh? Throw me a bone, will ya?" At least it sounded cooler than in his head.
"Please. Puns are the lowest form of comedy."
So much for dirty jokes. Well, maybe… Steve's head popped up. If he was anymore animated in his actions, there would have been a light bulb.
"Your room. Stereo. Now." commanded Burnside, feeling himself throb slightly. Damn pants.
It seemed that Wesker's interest was caught enough to pick the smaller teen up and carry him, thrown over his shoulder, to the desired destination.
Now that they stood in Wesker's chambers, (and Steve noted vaguely that it was indeed a chamber. Maybe it was all of the computer screens and the papers. It was just a cold, desolate room.) the teen pushed hard against the elder's chest, making him stumble slightly, back onto the four-poster bed.
"I'm going to grab a CD. Don't move." commanded Steve, enjoying the feeling of superiority. He made sure to pluck the shades from the blonde's face. "You won't be needing these." he quipped, then headed out the door.
Wesker did as told and did not move, though he was a bit annoyed at the confiscation of the glasses. He was more amused at what Steve was going to do to linger on it.
The blonde was fairly certain that his pupil was going to do a little dance for him. He was going to play some sappy love song, or some hormone filled sex ballad, then expect them to 'make love'. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. That wouldn't happen, and if he expected it to, then Steve would be promptly be put out on his ass. But, when the t-Veronica tyrant returned and popped a CD into a computer, a light piano tune drifted from unseen speakers.
Steve was happy with the look of confusion Wesker had given him. It was slight, but as much as Wesker ever gave. It even increased when the hoarse voice began to whisper "I…I want to play god, with you… I… I want to rule it all…". As the music crescendoed, the younger's hips began to sway, head rolling without inhibitions.
It was amusing to watch, even Wesker would admit it. Steve was an accomplished dancer, and for that, Wesker both damned and blessed that infernal MTV he insisted on watching. He must have been paying attention. It was damn sure he had learned.
"And the strike of the night will trash the skyline" sang the red head. He was growing closer and closer to the bed. Perhaps it was the lyrics of the song, combined with his sadistic, over-ruling nature, but Wesker seemed to be shifting uncomfortably. Steve finally had reached the bed, and he just took Wesker's arm.
He pulled the blonde man from the bed, whispering, "And darken the marks I've put in your skin." Smooth, nimble hands brought stronger ones to Steve's throat, and allowed them to press, making bruises. They vanished in seconds, only to be made again. Wesker broke a small smile as the redhead nipped at his wrist, drawing small bubbles of blood.
The gentle copper scent filled the two bodies with a pleasant tingle, and the affects were beginning to show on them both. Steve's body dipped low, his knees pointed out so he could bring his face to Wesker's front. He hovered for a moment, letting the song continue it's complex rhythm, looked up to the other's face to meet crimson to crimson, and licked gently at his crotch through the black material.
A moan.
The effect was immediate, and from the look of horror on Albert's face, involuntary.
A smirk formed on Steve's boyish face and he brought himself up, pressing a kiss to the taller man's lips before crouching again. This time he pressed his own particular parts against Wesker's thigh, then leg. It created a small spasm and a light growl.
"Here's a future that'll feed on sheep…" It was nothing if not a seductive hiss. Steve bit the other's thigh, and it bled some. This was causing Wesker's defenses to crumble, and he was growing tired of the foreplay. The room was a buzz with the music, the scent of blood and arousal mixing in between the beats as if they were created to do so, however it didn't seem that Steve was ready to end it.
The song was coming to an end, but the dancing didn't stop. In fact, Steve's annoy little brushes and nips became more frequent, erratic - No, not erratic, just… more…"Upbeat" mused Wesker with a smirk. As he expected, a new song took the last's place with a beat that would certainly drive him to insanity, or climax.
As it were, Steve seemed much more prepared for this song, and smirked at his elder. He saw the look of intrigue in the fire eyes, and it filled him with a sense of blissful lust. It was almost like walking on air.
Wesker was left between the computers and the bed, stuck in a limbo of business and pleasure that he wasn't particularly fond of; Mainly, because he was finding himself leaning towards his bed. Eyes were raking over his pupil's body with the look of an incubus before his prey. From Steve's point of view, there need no comparison, for that was what he was dealing with. Wesker was the sexual demon, and he was certainly prey.
And that was just the way Steve wanted.
The lyrics of songs were being sung in a breathy, whispering voice. "'Cause I love all the poison, away with the boys in the band." A slender leg wrapped 'round on of the sturdy columns, and he gather momentum, then the second leg followed. Steve's wiry body twirled round the makeshift pole for only a few seconds be for he stopped himself, and returned to the black clad man's side.
Behind them, the music thrummed with a pulsing beat and heated words; "And you can take all the pain away from me. A kiss and I will surrender."
It was a simple sentence, and Albert took it upon himself to carry through with it. The dancing was grand, and all but sex on legs, but even a tyrant had limits. So it was get involved, or rip every bit of clothing from the red-head's body and not let him leave the room until tomorrow's light.
At this point, both options were looking pretty damn good.
The kiss was deep and passionate with a gnashing of fangs and teeth, but it didn't last for more than a few seconds. It did its job, however.
Steve's head lolled back and his mouth drooped open in a sort of awestruck admiration. A soft smile can to his lips, staining red with bites. The music flooded the over zealous teen's senses and he gave up on the real seduction. He was nothing in Wesker's clutches beyond putty.
"In love with all of these vampires…" said Steve in a husky voice, then bared his throat and neck to his superior, who took it readily.
Wesker was worrying the tender skin between a Hellish Heavenly combination of fang and lip, then applied a good deal of suction. The red-purple marks healed within moments, and for the first time in his super-human life, Wesker cursed the t-Virus. He would never be able to make permanent marks on the boy, nor any scars to mar his skin in a possessive sign of dominance.
"There's a place in the dark where the animals go…" sighed the red head before his knees gave way. Burnside was caught quickly, but not before he was pressed firmly against Wesker's body. He let out a slight whimper before he bucked into the elder man, and that was it. Breaking point.
It was suddenly unbearably annoying that Steve wasn't touching skin and continued to (try to) sing.
"in the caNNIBAL GLOW!" Steve was obviously not ready for the sudden jerk that Wesker had applied to his wrist and arm. They were rushing towards the bed; Steve stumbling over his feet in the rose colored haze, Wesker as graceful as always. Steven was flung onto the bed non too ceremoniously and the training room scene was acted out again: Steve's arms were pinned to the sheets below him, loosing circulation as the weight of a full-grown male bore down on them. And he didn't care. Nothing matter beyond the fact that it was Wesker above him, eyes absolutely burning with an animalistic lust and the primal, carnal need.
"Steven, you were trying to drive me insane, weren't you?" growled Wesker, voice husky and rasping.
The question was met with a half-ass smirk and a nod. Insanity for Wesker would be pleasant for them both; mindlessly fulfilling themselves until Steve would be unable to walk for weeks.
Again, the neck was assaulted and the small wounds appeared and disappeared in such rapid numbers that no one would be able to count them, though the mentality of someone counting such a thing would be question. The music urged them on, fueling Wesker to caress maddeningly lightly.
The touches were nice, Steve would admit that, however he didn't care to be receiving such treatment. He bucked once or twice and growled. "Just fucking do it." he commanded. His superior mind-set was shattered with a sharp gasp, followed by a low groan.
Wesker ripped the black wife beater from his little toy. He trailed his fingernails down the lean, muscled chest, with blood bubbles following in pink lines. Soon as they were made though, annoyingly, they were erased like marker from a dry board. Both rumbled in annoyance at the disappearance. But no matter.
The elder moved himself to free Steve's arms, which immediately around his neck, crashing their lips together. Both were hungry and obviously starved.
A hand reached down to ghost across the rims of each pants, though neither Albert nor Steve knew, or cared, whose it was. They had lost track, and didn't care to find it again. They broke away, a grand line of saliva connecting them for a moment longer. When their eyes connected, the tyrants knew this was like a growing tidal wave, waiting to crash down.
First to go was Wesker's shirt. It was a black button-down, which made it easy to remove the offending garment. Next came Steve's pants, followed by his boxers. It was relieving and slightly cold, but oh so wonderfully freeing. He bucked a bit, rubbing against Wesker through the other's pants and heard both groan. "Allllbeeert. Come oooon." For a moment, the blonde mused that the red-head sounded like a small child asking for a piece of candy. There was only one thing left to do.
Indulge him.
Wesker pulled himself up and removed his own black jeans, glad that he always got a size bigger than he needed. He felt burning eyes on him as his boxers fell to the floor.
'Would it be cliché to purr?' thought Steve. His eyes were working on their own, soaking in details like a sponge. A defined chest, strong arms, deadly fast legs… Albert Wesker was generally the pinochle of perfection.
Then the world began to blur. No longer could Steven see straight or clearly. Everything was a haze of color, pleasure, pain. Everything was a symphony of groans and moans and pounding music.
The pair only came back to reality when the underling was sticking to the higher up, bellies stained with white essence. Steve felt the stomach rolling feeling of being left empty, and he glared lightly at Wesker, but really they were both too far lost in the afterglow to care.
The blonde man fell beside the other. He was awkward when he wrapped his arms around Steve's middle. It was a loving, caring gesture, and he was unfamiliar with it, but he imagined that Steven had earned a scrap of affection.
Besides, Steve made up for the awkwardness. He nuzzled heavily into the shoulder junction and returned the protective arms.
"See? I have rhythm." he yawned, smirking. Wesker nodded vaguely, smirking himself.
"Indeed."