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Day 36
The room's temperature is turned down to freezing.
Wesker's body seem to disagree with too heated environments. Possibly a side effect of his virus. A weak point.
"It's an ancillary chemical." He says, walks around the laboratory with vials in his hands.
"The drug is a part of the Progenitor."
Jill lies still on the cold slab, listens to the impromptu lecture on virus origins.
It's useful she thinks, whatever objective detail he decides to spit out. It'll be more useful if she can get out of the facility.
"You're the only subject for it right now."
He leans over the slab. Gloved hands clasp over the edges. His eyes run the length of her. Head to toe and back again.
"The virus inside of me is born from the Progenitor. I am the first success. Ascended."
Jill feels like rolling her eyes. She has already heard that he fancies himself a god. No need for reinforcement.
"Your body's quite resilient."
He places two fingers over her sternum, presses against the bone.
"Adaptive."
His fingers slide down. Inhale. Between her breasts. Exhale. To the dip of her stomach.
"It responds to me so well."
His palm settles on her lower abdomen.
"To what I want."
He feels colder than the room.
Day 76
A second finger, slick with medical grade lubricant slides into her ass.
She feels the twin digits slowly pull out. Her breath releases with every centimeter freed up.
Without warning, the fingers are knuckle deep inside of her. She throws her head back, suppresses her cry.
"Stop!" She pants. "Fuck!" Her insides squirm with the pressure. She'll make a mess.
She'll make a mess if he fucking moves again. Piss herself or worse.
"Relax, Jill."
She closes her legs tight together. He begins to move, experimentally increases the pace.
"You're getting wet."
She is.
The stimulation in her anus. She feels the slick forming between her rubbing thighs.
She wants to fight, push him out.
But she's helplessly swept under the blend of pain and pleasure.
Day 56
She watches him slowly pull out, expects the empty and messy sensation right after.
He is still hard. As expected as well.
Her insides twitch. Sensitive but wanting more.
He suddenly slides two fingers into her.
"Do you feel sore?" He asks in time with the pumps of his fingers. She bites back a moan as his knuckles brush over that sensitized patch inside.
"Yes."
"Torn?"
Torn? She doesn't think so. She doesn't feel like it.
She's still embarassingly wet.
"No."
His fingers come away with specks of blood mixed with his seed.
"You're bleeding a little." He says. His tone discomfit.
He holds her legs open.
The expression on his face hard to read.
Day 06
She hated herself for it. Knew it was beyond wrong. Felt guilt eating her bones.
She couldn't deny him.
"You'll stay the night?" He asked from the kitchen.
She grabbed a packet of cigarettes on the table, lit one for herself.
"Take that outside." He said irritated.
She ignored him, blew a big white smoke in his living room out of defiance.
She could nearly see Chris shaped in the gray cloud.
"I don't feel like a cop."
Her hand traced the edge of a surgical scar at her side, knew it runs all the way to her back, ends before it reaches her spine. It felt tender even after years.
"I miss the streets."
She lay back on the couch, completely naked. The fabric was rough against her skin.
Her eyes met his across the room. Thinning smoke in between them.
"You shouldn't have taken me out."
Day 96
"Take this."
She takes the long coat from his hand, dutifully folds the heavy and thick material over her wool-covered arm.
"It will be below zero degrees."
"You'll leave this off?" She asks, one hand over her clothed chest. She adjusts on the cream leather seat across him. Her chest feels weighed down with a dead jewel mounted over it.
"I believe you have no plans of jumping out of this plane."
She lets herself get caught staring past his shoulder, to where a red light hangs over the exit door.
"I want to rest."
"Finish the tea then."
She reaches for the gold-rimmed ceramic, studies the remaining half of a light green liquid. He has incorporated the disgusting herbal concoction in her diet over a week ago.
She tips the cup over her lips, eyes not leaving his watchful ones.
Something coils in her core with each little swallow.
