One moment, Excella had been walking, replaying what had happened again and again in her head.
She was having some difficulty coming to terms with it.
Albert hadn't responded to her advances. He hadn't actually said 'no' but he'd still gotten it across clearly enough.
She had been . . . rejected.
No man had ever rejected her before. How could they, when she was the perfect woman? Beautiful, intelligent, witty, charming, fun, devoted—
It was simply inconceivable.
But yet . . . it had just happened.
So one moment, Excella was walking, woefully unaware of her surroundings as she wallowed in her disbelief, and in the next instant, pain exploded in her leg and she was falling, her hands automatically flailing out to brace herself against the floor. When they connected, it was jarring, and her elbows gave out, sending the rest of her collapsing down.
"It is . . . very impolite to try to seduce a man who's already taken, Excella . . ."
Redfield. His voice was low, a hiss, and the way he said her name, with a disgusted, purely loathing lilt, made her heart start to beat faster in the beginnings of panic.
"And if you didn't know . . . Wesker is taken."
Excella gritted her teeth, letting her sudden anger overwhelm the fear. "Albert can do better than a filthy, ugly, mindless freak like you. He deserves a beautiful woman by his side—"
Redfield stepped into her field of vision and slowly crossed his arms over his chest, blinking his weird, silvery eyes down at her curiously. "A 'beautiful' woman? Then where do you factor into this?"
Then he pulled his foot back and kicked her in the side. She screamed, partially out of the new burst of pain radiating out from the impact point, but also from the sheer horror of actually hearing something inside her break with a sick, wet snap.
She skidded across the floor from the force, only stopping once she hit the wall.
"I don't think," Redfield continued, stalking across the room and grabbing her hair, "that you understand that Wesker has no interest in you personally. Tricell is providing funding and you happen to be Tricell's representative. He puts up with you for that reason, and that alone."
He pulled her up, the long black strands going taught around his hand as they were forced to support her full weight.
Excella felt as though her scalp was being ripped apart, and the sensation only doubled when Redfield braced his foot against the small of her back and pushed, flinging her away into the nearest piece of furniture, a glass table that shattered when she landed on it.
The broken shards cut into her exposed arms and neck, and as she laid there, trying and failing to get her limbs to respond, she realized that her head was dripping something . . . scarlet.
Moaning, she laboriously reached upward, running her fingers along the top of her head. They came back warm and wet, just as Redfield stepped back in front of her, a large chunk of her hair still clutched in his hands.
"My—my—"
Redfield smirked, eyeing the clump of bloody black strands. "Wesker and I . . . we've been together for a long time, you know? He says twelve years . . . I'd rather die than be unfaithful to him, and I know he feels the same way . . . he'd never fuck a whore like you . . ."
The expression on his face suddenly changed, darkening dangerously. He let her hair slip out of his fingers and leaned down, moving so that their faces were almost touching.
"But it still really, really pisses me off that you tried to take him away from me."
He grabbed the back of her head and slammed her face down onto the floor. Once, twice, three times, four times, even as her nose snapped and her vision went blurry and she started shrieking at the top of her lungs.
"Filthy slut!" Redfield was screaming, moving with his free hand to pull her arm tight around her back.
"Stop!" she begged, writhing and struggling as hard as she could. It had no effect. "Stop! You're not allowed to hurt me! Stop!"
Redfield abruptly let go of her head, leaving it to fall limply against the floor.
Excella choked on her own blood, her breath caught in her throat as she listened carefully for what Redfield was doing. She could hear him breathing, but nothing else; had he realized Albert would be angry with him for hurting her and decided to stop?
Her question was promptly answered when he took her hand, grabbed her pointer finger, and broke it.
She opened her mouth and screeched, resuming her pointless struggle even as Redfield moved on to the next finger, and the next and the next.
"Oh, but I can hurt you, Excella!" he said, laughing insanely. "I can hurt you as much as I want! There's no one here to stop me!"
"A—Alb—" she tried to gurgle.
"Wesker doesn't care! He doesn't give a fuck about you! But yet you persist! I've had to deal with you for the better part of a year, and I believe I've been patient, oh yes, so patient. But what you just did ten minutes ago . . ."
Ten minutes, she thought wildly. Had it only been ten minutes? Not ten hours since this had started?
". . . was too much! No one touches Wesker except for me! No one! He. Is. Mine!"
Her last intact finger, her left ring finger, was snapped to emphasize the last. Blood trickled out of her mouth and down her chin as she tried to summon up another scream, only for no noise to come out.
She could only lay there as Redfield grabbed her wrists and flipped her over onto her back like she was nothing more than a ragdoll.
Then, he let go and simply stood there, his face blank and blood splattered.
"But I suppose," he finally said, "that if you just can't understand that the object of your affections is in a loving, committed relationship with a long term partner . . . that if you just can't stop trying to lead him away from me . . ."
He slowly reached up, pulling his knife out of his shoulder holster. ". . . I can resolve the problem permanently."
She managed a low, terrified keening noise. "You—you can't kill me . . ."
A smile split Redfield's face. "Oh no, Excella-dear. I wouldn't kill you. Just . . ." He ran his fingers over the tip of the knife, his eyes flicking down to her crotch. ". . . make it so that you physically can't fuck Wesker, or anyone, for awhile."
Warmth trickled down the insides of her thighs, sliding down onto the floor. Soon, the urine accumulated into a small puddle, and Redfield was smirking once again, sliding his knife back into the hostler.
"I'm glad we're clear," he said, turning on his heels and walking back through the destroyed room in the direction they had come, only to pause suddenly at the doorway.
"And stop calling him 'Albert', for fuck's sake."
Then he was gone.
RE--RE
"What did you do to Excella?" asked Wesker amusedly, leaning back in his chair as Chris entered the room.
He walked around to the front, an innocent expression on his face. "Nothing, Wesker. What would make you think that?"
"I heard some interesting . . . noises. The woman certainly has volume, if nothing else. What did you do?"
The façade dropped off of Chris's face in an instant, replaced by a deranged glint in his eyes. "She touched you," he spat, reaching out and resting his hands on Wesker's chest. "She put her filthy hands on you." Chris glared at the spot his own hand now covered, renewed anger simmering inside him. "And you didn't protest right away . . ."
Wesker shook his head, threading his arms behind Chris's back and pulling him down to straddle him, pushing their lips together. The kiss was short but intense, as they usually were, with teeth clanking together and tongues twisting around each other with a practiced ease. Chris was stiff at first, his muscles tight, but eventually the tension receded and he wrapped his arms around Wesker's neck, as the other's hands moved down to cup his ass.
"You're quite funny, Chris," Wesker murmured when they broke away. "Worrying over something so utterly insignificant, so imagined, when we have much larger problems."
Chris swallowed thickly. "So you're not . . . interested in Excella?"
Wesker rolled his eyes. "The woman is irritating, overbearing, and generally whorish. I don't even like her as a person."
Finally, he managed to smile, and it was genuine. He pressed his face into the crook of Wesker's neck, nuzzling and licking down to the collar of his shirt, where he continued his trek downwards with small, open mouthed kisses, pausing only to gently nip and mouth his nipples through the thin material.
Wesker laid one of his hands on Chris's head, encouraging him as he slid off his lap to kneel on the floor, reaching for his zipper.
"You have to try to understand," Chris said abruptly, even as he reached in and wrapped his hand around Wesker's semi-erect cock and began stroking it to full hardness.
"What would you do if you thought, if I was, with someone else?"
Wesker didn't answer immediately and Chris didn't wait for a response, instead lowering his mouth to kiss the tip, sliding his tongue along the leaking slit.
Wesker pressed him forward, sliding fully into his mouth, and let his head fall back against the chair as he began thrusting into the slick, wet heat.
"I'd kill you, Christopher," he whispered to himself. "I'd kill you."
RE--RE
RE--RE
Author's Note: Hide from my Ikea porn! Hide from it! Shield your eyes!
I had a large fight with someone today. And I really, really hate her. So I had anger to vent. Can you tell? Gratuitous violence ftw!
The reviews were awesome, guys!! Thanks so much!
Anna