4.09.2012:Minor task editing.

22.08.2014: Revised

Enjoy.

Chapter Two: Intimacy

Warm.

Lynne's mind was doing tedious cycles, dwelling in absentmindedness and craving the heat from the water raining down upon her. Memorably she traced the grout with her fingers, treated as fragile as a snowflake and pressed her lips against the tile, her back covered with water rolling down in ribbons. Lynne thought of Jon, her of once beloved fiance and sought to remember more of his personality, of the way they were and how they interacted with one another. "But something's missing..." Lynne winced as she pulled away — her arm still ached terribly.

Simple. Direct. Malicious and very hollow sounding - that voice was very hollow and malicious sounding. Lynne cast a wary backwards glance, keeping her breasts secured in good arm. "Let me see your arm." Albert. Albert Wesker. She remembered now. Lynne shakily emerged from the shower the cold uncomfortably frosting her skin and stinging her nerves. Obediently she came to him, unsure if she could really do anything otherwise. Not sure if she possessed the will... to keep going. "Trying to hide yourself behind meager defenses? I have seen all of you." But I've never been conscious for it... she added mentally. Wesker led her to the bed room and pressed her to sit, pulling out a rather advanced first aid kit and performing checks she didn't pay any mind to.

"Thank you." Wesker raised an eyebrow, his eyes appearing slightly over his sunglasses. "For saving me." He ignored that comment so far and released her arm rather abruptly as if to counter this kindness.

Wesker was outfitted in a black suit (with a bit of dust?) on it. Apart from that it was clean as far as she could tell.

Lynne began to shiver. He wrapped her in a soft robe. Lynne stopped shivering. "You're going to leave now, aren't you?" she let out. He smirked perhaps at this question, this thought, most likely assuming it meant she wished otherwise. But that much was true - Lynne wished he would stay. It had been a while since she had seen a real live human being, a person who wouldn't try to eat her or lunge at her primitively scratching at her body and clothes to sate its insatiable hunger. He breathed the air in the same way she did, he spoke the same language of sanity and he possessed human capabilities. Surely. Lynne bit back the reaction to cry — it was so exhausting to even think of being alone again.

"I have important matters to attend to." So simple. Direct. It rolled off his tongue. Lynne, in a moment, admired it. That plain directness, that non-bullshit answer that almost teased her for her weakness while kicking to the curb any real hopes of enjoying his presence any longer. Was this pathetic to want even someone like him to comfort her? To erase the decayed hungrily chasing down her own sense? Someone who willfully put her through trials with said monsters, who drowned her in fear and torment for his own pleasure?

And then she remembered. This was Albert Wesker. He didn't give a damn. There were no cares to give.

"Ah, I see." And then Lynne smiled at him, a reflex she wasn't able to control.

Warm.

Her skin was kissed and caressed, the soft fleece keeping her warm.

"Wesker..." Lynne started: he paused. In some sinister way he may have been amused by her, hesitating only to see what would happen. What could she do to make him stay? Lewd thoughts crossed her mind, uncomfortable thoughts. But it came back over and over again. If Lynne had given her body to him would he stay? Would it help erase recent memories? Would she be able to forget all the things she had drug herself through? He spoke words! He wasn't mindlessly shambling about the room ready to pounce and consume her flesh. He spoke words, had thoughts. These thoughts battered her brain.

"Yes?" his voice had lost that quality that she had come to know him by — that sound of somehow berating and cruel jesting. It became more human and more grounded. Was this a mask? Or a charade? Or was it the tone she was used to hearing that was the mask...?

"Will... you please stay with me a bit longer?" This was something to celebrate in and of itself. Not once had she been able to so easily speak her desires and this was a small victory in conquering herself.

"No." Shot down. "Unless you can suggest something that would be well worth my time." It came back. That jeering voice came back.

Lynne wondered why she still felt so strange. It hurt her head to act in this manner, this sickly and dazed manner but perhaps it was a side-effect of hitting her head so hard. Her head. it kept racing and she tried to steady herself. Was she going to faint again? Her head was rushing with pain. What should she do about it?

A black shadow came nearer and with a cold hand she reached out and grabbed the nearest thing: something rough like cotton.

He was perplexed by the appearance of one of the tyrant models but not enough to be too worried about it. It was something that he could better handle with more tangible data in his hands. That might have been something worthwhile. Nonetheless he found it amusing when Lynne tried to hold him there, tried to change his decision. His mind jokingly contemplated forcing Lynne to submit to him. Either way he might be able to garner some sort of attention to kill off his boredom.

My poor little toy is a bit broken at the moment though, he idly observed recognizing the damage to her arm, the minor cuts and bruises sustained from falling through the ventilator shaft and the rather obnoxious knock on the head she collected from striking a slab of concrete sticking up among the debris. That had ended his little game and had cost him some valuable entertainment.

Shame on that tyrant. He'd have to personally thank whomever left that particularly nasty B.O.W.

Wesker had to leave his seat and collect her before something worse happened. What objective had been implanted into that particular model? It was disturbing to realize he didn't know off-hand and perhaps it might have been sent after him — one of Umbrella's remnants threading the work. But it took to Lynne.

"I..." An unconscious murmur escaped her pretty lips. He recognized that she might still be a bit jarred from that fall and neared her, smiling when a hand jolted out to catch a part of his coat. If anything it would be nice to stay and make sure she was still alive so that he might continue to delight in her struggles. She was useful data.

Lynne dreamed:

She was walking back down to the labs to meet Jon. She thought that she should miss this person now, this person who was once her fiance. "Ah, Lynne, come here," he motioned, his back to her and face deep in a microscope sketching some notes. Lynne obeyed and was taken by surprise when he swiveled towards her, his eyes intense with some sort of goal and pulled her down onto his lap. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" She didn't have time to react as Jon slipped his hands under her clothes and rubbed her skin, pressing passionate lips onto hers.

Times like this always made her nervous. "J-Jon!" she started to squeak. "Not here!" He laughed and carried on as if nothing mattered which was rather nice but it conflicted with her work policy: Lynne liked to think that when she was at work she was actually working — not having some sort of sexual escapade. But... then again, weren't these kinds of situations always in those dirty novels? And not even the dirty ones but it seemed to be a popular theme of romance enthusiasts of free sex, and everywhere sex.

She should be enjoying this feeling, shouldn't she? There was no joy though, there was no bliss. If fact Lynne felt so cold and so numb, her heart beating a dead rhythm. She watched her body submit before Jon's wishes, watched him take her and fall back into his chair, returning to work after making some sort of cheesy joke.

Lynne felt disgusted, more than anything. She felt sick to have been touched, to have had someone touch her in this way and felt the urge to vomit. It was so powerful, this feeling of revulsion she was experiencing and couldn't quite reason or explain the cause. Something was killing her though. She hated it. She hated it more than anything in the world to be touched so intimately by someone: by Jon, whom she had loved. Had loved...?

Lynne awoke:

Her face was breathing in cotton and as her brain finally began to register the situation she felt glad. He was warm. She would steal this from him.

"Warm..." she murmured silently, muffled by the cloth that adorned his body. It was nice to be this close to someone right now. It was nice to not have to see the face of a monster growling and snapping at her. Lynne rubbed her face unconsciously on his chest, smothering and soothing her waking heart. So nice... It felt so nice to be able to do this.

She could feel her. Lynne could feel her body and that pleased her. She felt the softness of her lips as it was pressed against fabric, as it grasped the texture and grazed it continuously. She felt the smoothness of her skin that was tickled by her coat. It felt so nice. Lynne's hands reached Wesker's shoulders, willingly moving on their own and dancing around enjoying sensations. It felt nice to be alive in this moment. She let out a pleased moan, a final exasperation of her mood to be able to enjoy sitting comfortably in her body although she realized it would end soon.

Albert watched as she took to strange habits. He watched as Lynne pressed herself against him, pressed her face into his chest and rubbed her face into his shirt and coat, ignoring him in a way. It reminded him of a cat. The realization made him laugh but he contained it and watched her seek such physically simple pleasures. It made him happy in a way but he could do her better, couldn't he? But did he care to?

This is Albert Wesker. This man has done so much harm to me and here I am snuggling up to him.

Albert removed his gloves, unbeknownst to the cat in his lap and brushed his fingers through her hair. She reacted nicely, arching her head up for more and he obliged, smiling deviously and unseen as she shivered at his touch. Albert reached over with his other hand and caressed her face, twitching slightly as she tickled his palm by burying her lips and face into it. He felt mostly the former and retained his composure. "It seems you are well." Perhaps he had broken the trance Lynne had been immersed in for she pulled away, hiding her face in shamed reds.

"Y-yes." It'd been a while, hadn't it? For him as well. He had been so busy and women could be so hard to come across. Of course, he had his tastes to take into account:

Lynne was a small person, though of average height, perhaps, standing at five foot five with silky, curly, black hair. She had inherited that thick hair as well as her tan skin from her pacific ethnic background but she also came with a cute heart-shaped face, nicely filled lips and a splash of freckles set beneath her Asian tinted eyes. Her chest wasn't large but she had accommodating curves. All in all, Albert thought, she was actually quite beautiful.

Not quite the type he found himself enjoying on his breaks.

Her personality was quite something amusing too: she was so easy to tease and took most of it in good stride he had witnessed. Years hadn't changed that. What years had brought her though was wear and robbed her of comfort. Despite Umbrella's containment of the Raccoon City Incident several years ago, it was as if Lynne were still trapped in that time, re-living those terrors for which he was also partly responsible.

"Maybe...?" Lynne had always wondered what it would have been like to kiss Wesker. She had met him so long ago in the labs of the Arklay Facilities and had an instant crush on him. It was such a horrible feeling that she had indeed felt a strong pull towards him in the beginning despite her relationship with Jon. If only if only he would stop teasing her... Lynne sat flatly on Wesker's lap and stared at his face, curious. "You're... almost always wearing these sunglasses..." Slipping her fingers around them she paused, as if to ask if this were ok. He did nothing.

Lynne wasn't sure what to expect but her reaction caught her off-guard. His eyes looked... peculiar and somewhat reminiscent of the monsters who dragged themselves to her. However they had a beautiful nature to them, a strange quality that belonged only to Wesker.

Lynne leaned in, closing her eyes, and wondered when he would reject her. Is this a dream? I can't be right here right now - I'm on the table...