Shades of Gray

AN: I just want to say that I hate, hate, HATE writing stories that take place so close to actual cannon game play. Especially when the subject matter is so easy to work with that everyone has already written their own version. But I just simply had to give this one a go. I also needed a break from my next chapter of Crossed Paths, and this fit the bill. Enjoy!

I don't consider RE nearly as sacred as SH. If you want to add a chapter, then knock yourself out. I'll probably ok it without editing.

 

 

Jill's vision was greeted with a blinding white when she finally awoke. She clenched her eyes shut again and protectively curled both hands in front of her face, straining to remember where she was and why she felt so dizzy. Her site was not quite restored, but clean lines and the sanitized aroma told her where she was. Squinting out into the hazy yet familiar operating room, her heart sank.

Jill let her weight settle back down onto the table with a defeated sigh. She was still here and not dead. How disappointing. Worse still, she felt the distinct presence of her captor.

Trying to sit, she noticed two very important things. The first was that she wasn't tied or chained down as usual. The second was that there was a very convenient tray of scalpels and clamps within reach. As nice as it was to have potential weapons at her disposal, it was also disturbing that this room was finally outfitted with the gear of it's intended purpose. Jill finally succeeded in forcing herself up with both arms, and she waited for the dark blur in the corner to speak.

"Careful now." The thick, sophisticated voice made her wince. "Your injury was substantial."

"What happened?" She let her head fall to her chest and focused her efforts on staying conscious. Wesker's footsteps neared with a calmness that put her on edge.

"The effects of the latest serum finally wore off and I was forced to detain you. Remember?" Indeed. The last thing Jill remembered was his hand slamming her skull into concrete. Not hard enough to do any permanent damage, apparently. For someone with his abilities it still seemed unnecessary overkill.

But knowing Wesker, that was  probably the point. "How long was I out?"

Now standing near enough that she could feel his body heat,  he wrapped a gloved hand around her chin and lifted. The other hand snatched a tiny flashlight from the nearby tray and brought it to her eyes. "Less than a day. It's about 3 a.m." He tried to examine her pupil dilation, but her uncomfortable squirming was not making the task easy. He exhaled a weary sigh and squeezed her jaw tighter to keep her in place. A silent anger flushed over Jill's face, but she remained still.

She blinked and looked forward, trying to ignore the beam warming her face. As objects came into sharper focus, her gaze wandered to the chair in the far corner. Always one to multitask, he had been typing away on a laptop. "Were you sitting in here the whole time?"

Wesker completely ignored the question and tossed the light aside. "How do you feel?"

She finally glared at him. "Fuck off."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in a display of frustration. Jill took the brief opportunity to steal a nearby scalpel and hide it under her thigh. Miraculously, the movement didn't make a sound. "You truly test my patience, Miss Valentine. Enjoy it while you can." He placed one hand on the back of her head and the other arm around her shoulder to guide her back down to a laying position. He expected her to fight him, but she was still too weak. "I'll take you to your quarters momentarily. You'll need plenty of rest for tomorrow. Assuming I didn't hurt you too badly." His fingers reached up and tugged at the top of Jill's body suit. When she realized he was unzipping it, her hands moved to stop him. Before she could grab Wesker's wrist, his inhuman reflexes had a gun gently pressed under her chin. His eyebrow raised with a defining smug superiority, daring her to proceed with the objection.

No match for him, particularly in this current state, she returned her arms to their respective sides. "Good girl," he said, reholstering the weapon. Jill stared up at the high ceiling as he peeled the suit from her shoulders and all the way down to her ribs. Her exposed chest rose and sank noticeably quicker. As Wesker removed his gloves, he saw a single tear trickle from her eye. His head cocked in confusion. It took him a moment to decipher why she was suddenly acting so concerned. Once he did, he smirked at the implication. "Calm down. You'll leave this room with the same amount of virtue you entered with." He waited for relief to wash over Jill's face. When it didn't, he merely shrugged. For reasons even he was uncertain of, Wesker's bare thumb wiped away the lone tear before he continued.

He looked over her chest and neck carefully, checking for bruises or other damage he may have inflicted earlier. He didn't find any. "Does this hurt?" Wesker firmly pressed a palm above her heart, studying her expression for any signs of discomfort. There was no response from her whatsoever. "Apparently not. Does this?" He moved a centimeter to the left and repeated the motion. Still nothing. He readjusted a third time, accidentally landing a bit too high on Jill's breast. Much to his surprise, the stray touch seemed to cause her nipples to harden.

Wesker stopped and gave the curious spectacle it's warranted consideration. It could have been due to the ambient temperature just as easily as the extended period she was denied a man's touch. Though she certainly didn't fit any psychological profiles that granted a susceptibility to Stockholm syndrome. Regardless, Wesker found himself more intrigued by the sight than he was comfortable admitting.

He had the information he required, but continued the examination anyhow. He smoothed his hand square over her nipple and pressed down. The gesture was slow enough for his enjoyment, but quick enough to escape suspicion. As expected, it didn't incite a pained response. Wesker worked his way across her torso and finished with the opposite breast. A voice in his head asked himself if he had just molested Jill for his own amusement. Whatever the reason, he didn't owe an explanation for it.

As an afterthought, his fingers caressed along her collar bone to check for breakage. She was most definitely intact. He nodded approvingly, pulling her suit back to it's original position. "You're battered but not broken. The operation can proceed on schedule. Marvelous."

Jill's blank upward stare didn't change, but she spoke. "What are you going to do to me tomorrow?"

"I'm going to do very little personally." He leaned in closer, red eyes peering into hers from behind ever-present sunglasses. "Our doctors, however, are going to install a devise on you." His fingers traced a large oval in the center of her breastbone. "Here, if I understand correctly."

"Wonderful," she replied sarcastically. "What does it do?"

The corners of Wesker's mouth twisted up into an amused grin. She was obviously stalling, trying to keep him poised this close. A quick glint of light beneath her hinted at why. "I'm sure you've already figured that out, dear. Really now; playing dumb isn't very becoming of you."

"I suppose having me topless is more to your liking," she shot back.

Upholding his share of the antagonism, he replied "Only when you aren't talking."

Something about the comment genuinely caught Jill off guard, and her lips parted slightly in surprise. Wesker quickly sealed his own mouth over the opening, and as he expected, she enthusiastically returned the gesture. She even had the wherewithal to moan and massage his shoulder; such grand acting skills. He slid his tongue past Jill's teeth and continued the charade, bidding time until she made her move. He was truly impressed. He honestly hadn't seen her take the blade initially. She might have even had a fair chance of sneaking it back to her room if she had simply hidden it better.

But it was most likely her plan to use it on him, and he wanted to give her the opportunity so it could be done with. He squeezed her hip closer against him, a ruse to prepare his hand for a defensive block.

Jill's arm curved around with all the speed she could exert, scalpel in tow. Predictably, she wasn't fast enough. Instead of slicing into Wesker's neck, the weapon was flung across the room with the same momentum her arm was forced over her head. No longer needing the kiss as a distraction, Jill released a frustrated roar into his mouth and struggled to get away.

Wesker jumped onto the table and straddled her body, pulling her other arm up into the same prone position. He held her wrists in place with one hand as the other pushed the tray to a safer distance. "Nice to have those out of the way, isn't it? I wouldn't want you hurting yourself." Too add insult to injury, he gave her a snide once over. "Do I need to frisk you for any additional toys?" His free hand caressed her body, thumb inching the zipper farther down along with it. When it reached her belly button, she defiantly spat in his face.

He wiped the fluid away, relatively unaffected. He then looked at Jill with an insightful gaze that made her blood boil. "How many times have you tried this now? Five? Six?"

Jill's expression twisted in mock consideration. "Are we counting the day I slapped you?"

The grip around her wrists tightened. He would usually be content to play along with the silly games, but Jill truly did need to get to sleep soon. Her recovery time was already uncertain without exhaustion as a factor. "It would be in your best interest to behave yourself. It seems you would've learned by now how fruitless it is to resist the inevitable."

"I'll never stop." Her head shook back and forth. "Never."

"Fancy that, Miss Valentine. We aren't so different after all."

Jill scoffed. "Think you could spare me the Bond villain monolog?"

"As you wish." With that, his feet hit the floor and he leaned in, preparing to pick her up. Her mannerisms indicated she was close to dozing off.

"Is that another reason you did all this to me?"

The question made him pause in midpose. "What?"

"Were you trying to make me more like you?" Jill's eyes shot daggers, but her tired tone betrayed a genuine curiosity.

Wesker's gut told him he was being baited into a discussion to stall for prospective escape time, but he simply dismissed the instinct. Jill would soon be chemically unable to defy him, and these fleeting conversations would fade under the severity of things to come. In a voice much softer than intended, he answered her. "There was a point in which I hoped you might adopt my goals as your own." He finally scooped her up and headed toward the door. "But we no longer have the luxury of time."

Without another word, Wesker carried Jill to her room. Along the way he remembered the last time she had been helplessly curled in his arms. She was a resilient specimen indeed to survive the fall. Her physiology proved to be unique in so many other ways as well, ultimately becoming the vital key to his plans. He held a degree of fascination for her that made him uncomfortable. Perhaps because, thanks to their past, it was intertwined with a certain sentimentality he deemed beneath himself.

He noticed Jill had fallen asleep again on the journey, and was thankful for it. With effort he made it through her doorway, which had been rigged to deny her the use of those masterful lock picking skills. Such measures would soon be unnecessary. He gingerly placed her limp body onto the bed and turned to leave.

He suddenly stopped, allowing himself a moment to look down at her. After checking her pulse, the idea struck him to brush the stray hair away from her face. He complied with the thought before having the opportunity to question why it arose in the first place. The touch made her stir, barely, with a confused and far away expression flashing underneath closed eyes. She managed to whisper a single word before drifting off again. "Captain...?"

Hearing Jill refer to him with that term made his posture even more rigid than usual. The memories that wanted to surface, and very nearly did, filled him with a deep and unexpected anger. Having any of his own residual humanity express itself was not something he was going to tolerate right now. He left and stalked across the complex to compose himself. None of his partners or underlings would be awake yet at this hour. He had plenty of time and space to gather his thoughts and calm down.

Jill was proving to be much more of a distraction than Wesker originally anticipated. He decided that Excella should keep Jill all to herself for a few days after the procedure. It would look odd at first glance, considering he would be expected to spend that time completing her training. But Excella luckily had a few minor odd jobs planned for the immediate future which required supervision. He could easily call it a test to observe Jill in the field. There would still be plenty of time after that to fine tune Jill's skills before they assigned her to be Irving's babysitter. In the end, it would probably take very little convincing.

A few days. That was all he would need to regain his focus.

Several hours later, Jill was briskly being carried to the operating room once more. Wesker decided to fetch her himself, and nobody on the payroll was in a position to question the seemingly odd decision. Much to his delight, she was still out cold and remained that way. He very pointedly did not look at her face during the small trip.

In his haste, Wesker burst through the door harder than he intended. He carelessly flopped Jill's weight down into the same place she had spent much of the previous day. As the surgeons looked over her body and murmured to themselves, Wesker suddenly remembered his earlier discarded gloves. His smoothly snatched them from the tray and pulled them back on, waiting on the doctors to ask for specifics on the final serum before they started. It was obvious to everyone present that Wesker was eager to leave. Accordingly, they rushed through the usual prep work at double speed.

As Wesker stood there, a shimmer caught low in his peripheral vision. Curious, he moved across the room unnoticed to inspect it's source. He bent down and picked up a small metal object from the floor. It was the scalpel from last night.

He looked at it with a blank expression. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that the instrument was a manifestation of Jill's character. That insufferable need to cut away all things unjust and evil. The forefront of his mind noticed a dent in the handle left by the impact; a semblance of the vivacious, misplaced spirit that marred her otherwise remarkable physical qualities. Each assessment was equally infuriating, and he wished to rid himself of both.  

He approached the group and placed a hand on the nearest man's shoulder. "I'm sorry sir. We're almost ready to begin," the surgeon replied, distracted.  

Wesker ignored the comment completely and extended his other hand. The scalpel was gripped between two fingers, and he slowly bent his elbow until the blade was raised to eye level. Satisfied the gesture had gained undivided attention, Wesker spoke. "You will use this, and only this, to make the first incision. After you're finished here, you are to dispose of it in whatever manner you see fit. I never want to see it again. Do I make myself clear?" Obviously accustomed to strange requests, the doctor firmly nodded. He accepted the scalpel, carefully placing it aside to ensure it would not get confused with the other tools.

After issuing further instructions and answering all relevant questions, Wesker exited the building. He set out to attend his other duties for the day sincerely believing he was doing Jill a favor.



























 

 

 

Jill Valentine stood in the corner of the sleek, industrial room. Her posture was soldier straight, and her features were concealed behind a cloak and mask she had grown a bit too fond of. The disguise granted her the false mentality of being even farther removed from the actions she witnessed herself performing against her will. In reality, whether her mind complied or not didn't change what she did. Though it did serve as another piece of her identity to latch onto, least it get ripped out of her hands by the sick plot she was now part of.

Wesker and Excella chatted a stone's throw away. Her delicate arm moved to inject his with the precious liquid that kept his body in working order. She took the opportunity to crack a cheap joke at Irving while her fingers were preoccupied, though it didn't seem to garner the reaction she was aiming for. She let her hand linger on him just a tad too long, and Wesker expertly wriggled away in a manner that wouldn't appear overly rejective.

It was painfully obvious to Jill, now trained to read Wesker's body language and vocal tones with precise accuracy, that he was using this woman. He would throw her away the minute that usefulness was exhausted, and feel absolutely no remorse. Ironically, that cold ruthlessness was likely the quality that Excella found so appealing.

The pair finally finished their dialog and stood. The soft click of Excella closing her attache case marked her impending departure, and Jill readied herself to follow close behind. Excella took note of the stoic posture. "It's getting late. I think I've finished with business for the day. Why don't you tell our girl about her little chore tomorrow, then send her to her room? It's past her bedtime." Despite their context, the words seemed intended for Jill more so than Wesker. With a parting flirtatious wink, Excella was quickly out of site.

"Can you keep a secret little one? Mommy is driving Daddy positively insane. It's a pity divorce isn't an option." Wesker finished Excella's joke for no discernible reason while watching her image on the nearby surveillance monitors. Her hips swiveled through the corridors carelessly, no doubt eager to sink into a warm bath. Once he saw her nearing the exit, he sternly added "yet." Wesker was noticeably drained, mentally more so than physically. Jill would've guessed his energy level to be higher than usual upon seeing his scheme so close to it's finish line. Paradoxically, that very fact was filling his mind with all manner of possible set backs and spoiling his enjoyment.

One didn't have to go wanting for entertainment when they had a pet Jill Valentine at their disposal. "Are you tired?"

The gentle, casual way he asked the question filled her with an uneasiness. Particularly considering he already knew the answer. "No."

Not an instant after Jill replied, Wesker unexpectedly rushed forward and pinned her. His hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head, symbolically boxing her in. Wesker's glowing eyes briefly flickered over the expressionless cover staring back at him. "Care to play then?"

Jill understood the request perfectly. "Parameters?"

"The first one to land three hits is the winner."

"Understood." As the confirmation left Jill's mouth, her muscles received the message to move. Her fist connected with his jawline at a velocity normally capable of shattering bone. She honestly wasn't certain if Wesker had simply allowed her the first shot for free, but it felt gratifying nonetheless. He pushed himself off the wall and skidded to the center of the room, one foot stylishly perpendicular to the other. His hand smoothed across the fresh sore spot as a grin blossomed above it.

Sensing the lull in his defenses prompted Jill to lunge forward. Wesker twisted to one side and easily avoided her. Jill increased her speed once she calculated that her efforts would fail, and doing so proved to be a smart decision; a kick aimed at her ribs struck empty air instead. She landed in a low stance, and quickly learned to rue his choice of locations. In a larger area she would've been able to back flip away from his next move without a second thought. But in this relatively small space, Wesker had her weight hurled high up into the opposite wall before she drew her next breath. Her limbs absorbed the impact by spreading into a nearly comedic 'X' shape before Wesker advanced to inflict more pain. Jill cast off her cloack in desperation and threw the mass of fabric at his head, inadvertently removing the beaked mask along with it. The stunt bought her enough time to retreat to a safer distance, but only just.

As she swerved passed, clawed fingers missed her shoulder by a hair's breadth. Wesker fumbled with the ample cloth only a moment before it was discarded on the floor. He faced her once again, beaming that unfaltering smile. She backed away to rethink her strategy, and Wesker took the opportunity to violently discard his shirt and personal effects. Jill couldn't decipher if the animalistic display was intended to portray anger or desire, though the former was a decidedly more pleasant alternative to the latter. "Looks like we're tied already," he mused. "I wonder how long the final rounds will take?" The last item Wesker removed from his person were the sunglasses that concealed his otherworldy eyes. The soft red gazing at her suddenly brightened ever so slightly, finally confirming her suspicions and stimulating her panic reflex. The feeling was kept in check by the device, of course; there was no beading of sweat or an increase in heart rate to speak of. There was only the ringing of alarm bells deep within Jill's psyche, muted by her inability to act on their warning.

Wesker rushed forward and spun her around 180 degrees, nearly forcing them both into yet another of the room's four walls. When she realized his arms were weaving underneath her own, she tried to drop down out of the grip. His fingers lacing at the nape of her neck prevented the escape, though she was only in the hold for a fraction of a second. Her heeled feet ran up the nearby wall, propelling her clear over Wesker's head. She landed directly behind him ready to slide her hands free, but not quite fast enough to avoid the boot that hooked around her ankle and sent her crashing to floor.

Wesker's taut frame was flush against hers in the blink of an eye. Everything was happening faster than Jill's innermost self could process, but one thought begged to be heard in the ocean of confusion. When Wesker gently sushed her, calling a pause to the twisted sparring match, the thought finally floated to the top of her perception and broke through the surface with a startling ferocity.

He's going to rape you tonight.

Her mind acceped the situation simultaneously as her body obeyed the order to cease it's assault. It was a complete and total acceptance that shook her very core with it's gravity.

There was a point in time she would have judged such an acceptance as weakness. Giving in? Giving up? These phrases simply could not be a part of Jill Valentine's vocabulary.  She was a fighter. A warrior for good. She was a founding member of an organization that sought to eradicate evil in the world. If someone like her could surrender so easily, surely all was lost.

Yet that was the exact lesson she had been overlooking all these years. The very detail that she, as well as Chris, had let escape their attention in the eternal quest for righteousness. They had been so focused on good and evil, right and wrong, black and white. Such an unrealistic, fairy tale landscape didn't leave any room to understand the very real shades of gray that colored the world. Jill and her colleagues had adopted values as polarized as those belonging to their adversaries. She now saw the extremity for the handicap it was, reflecting at her through red eyes from the opposite end of the spectrum.

Jill shed her proverbial superhero cape and watched it dissolve away, yet she remained. The law abiding  fire in her still raged, even as her visions for a cliche utopia dimmed to mere ashes. For a perfect moment of crystal clarity Jill was without fear, until she returned to the midpoint of the now gray sea.

The hue currently being cast on her was one of Wesker writhing against her body, eager to have her at his mercy. If she fought the approaching act within her own mind, as she had prepared to moments ago, she would emerge from the experience irrevocably broken. Wesker had ways of manipulating her heart and soul which extended far beyond any recent circumstances. This man outright taking her, along with her own tortured cries of protest in the background, would push her to a limit there was no coming back from. It would grant him even more wasted years of her life, and she absolutely would not award that power without a fight.

So she fought, tooth and nail, by embracing it with every fiber of her being.

"Shhhhhhh......" Wesker cooed. "I'm not playing too rough, am I?" Jill shook her head back and forth, feeling a telltale bulge press into her middle. The interlude seemed to be his way of taunting her about what was in store. "Good. I'll need you in top condition tonight."

With that, the game rules were reinstated. As quickly as Wesker had landed he was back up again, barely dodging the heel that tried to plant into his thigh. Jill stood as well, keeping her eyes forward in preparation for another tample. When he flew forward to attack she was able to avoid his fists, but not the strike from his knee. It came up square into Jill's stomach, lurching her torso forward. She followed through with the posture, placing both hands on the floor and front flipping over his leg before he could take advantage of the low position. After spinning around and noting his dangerous proximity, Jill sent a fist towards his face but he smoothly blocked it with his forearm. When her opposite arm followed suit, so did his. Needing her legs to retreat left only her forehead for defense, and she jerked her neck forward between the frame of their arms. The headbutt successfully bulls eyed the spot on Wesker's jaw she had previously targeted, bringing the tie back into effect.

"Very good Jill," he said as she backed away for a better vantage point. "Not interested in extended foreplay, I take it?" Jill took a turn rushing him, shoulder ramming into his chest to try to push him off balance. It should have occurred to her as suspicious when he didn't dodge the move, but by the time it had, the contact was inevitable. He only moved a few inches from the impact, and was thrilled to now have Jill directly in front of him. He had her torso gently clutched against his in the span of a heart beat, and he leaned forward to steal a kiss. The leg Jill had instinctively wrapped around his hip proved to be useful in avoiding the advance; it pulled Wesker's body up along with it as she back flipped away, sending him flying behind her. He rolled on his shoulder when his weight hit the floor, and cheerfully popped back up to a standing position, unaffected. "Suddenly so fickle," he chuckled. "Let's see what I can do to warm you up."

The three paces that separated them quickly closed as Jill struck out with a kick. Wesker twirled away at the last second, causing Jill's foot to crack the wall instead of his chest. She used it to force her body toward his new position, but failed again. As Jill came towards him with a jab prepared, he spun against her prone side to dodge it. Their backs rolled off one another like cogs, each helping propel the other in the opposite direction. When Jill turned to attempt another hit, she saw a whorl of darkness coming at her. She wasn't fast enough to step out of the way as her previously discarded cloak enveloped her and Wesker's grip prevented her from escaping it. With one arm he held her struggling form, as the other delivered a powerful punch to her in the kidney. She instantly stilled, accepting defeat.

"Looks like I win," he said, pulling the copious material back over her head and tossing it aside. He pressed the bare front of his body against Jill's back and nestled his mouth to her ear. He inhaled deeply and allowed the out breath to draw across her ever so slowly. "And what a lovely prize I've claimed." His fingers smoothed to the top of the long zipper that separated her skin from his, and pushed it down until it could move no further. He let his hand continue lower, firmly pressing between her legs. The vulgarity of the small act contrasted with his kind tone. "I won't bore you with assumptions of what I imagine you're thinking right now, Miss Valentine," he punctuated the sentence with a soft kiss to her neck. "The intricacies of our relationship don't lend themselves to simple words, and I'm not going to bother using any to describe it. What I do know, as an indisputable fact, is that you were once content to have us both cascade to death in each other's arms. That type of conviction dies hard."

The hand at Jill's center squeezed harder. The other pulled her cheek to the side and mushed it into his own. "I shouldn't consider that to be a problem under the circumstances. But I'd hate to have you so distracted from the festivities. It would ruin my fun as well. Consequently, I hereby order you to enjoy everything we do tonight. I'm removing you from the responsibility of over thinking this. So, darling, now that I've finished playing my part as your bad guy, do you have anything you'd like to say?"

The part of Jill's mind that was still operating normally felt a small amount of appreciation for what he was trying to do. As he had already distastefully mentioned, he was under no obligation to put her at ease in the first place. She took a moment to consider the situation for the kindness it was, but that didn't change the fact that it was an isolated incident. "Hurry the fuck up."

Wesker spun her around to face him and finally assaulted her with kisses, pulling the blue body suit down and away. "Kick it off," he said between their lips. She complied, standing before him completely naked and pulling his flesh harder into hers. The unignorable hardness pressed into Jill's stomach, increasing in size by the second. He practically clawed at her back, desperate to touch every inch of the gorgeous paled skin that captured his interest so profoundly. He massaged the back of Jill's neck and lifted her body slightly with the other arm, grinding their middles together almost painfully. She tip toed to help support her weight, soft tongue still lashing against his. Her mouth was so skilled he wondered what it would feel like elsewhere on his anatomy. "Get on your knees," he ordered breathlessly.

Jill's body instantly slid out from under his grip as her shins hit the floor. She didn't require any further instructions; her fingers worked Wesker's belt loose and his pants were crumpled at his ankles faster than even he could've managed. She obediently took the large tube of flesh into her mouth and started sucking at a pace that made his head spin. He smiled down at the effort, and did his best to keep his voice from shaking as he spoke. "No gag reflex, eh?" Understanding the cue, she slowed down. He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling, savoring the sensations caused by her bobbing head. There were so few instances these days where he was granted a moment of pure enjoyment. A fleeting few minutes to stop and smell the roses was a luxury he never really got around to, and he now regretted it. As his hand tangled itself in Jill's hair, he wondered what effect this would've have on him if he had allowed himself the pleasure years ago.

He remembered what a distraction she had always been, and indeed still was. She had a way about her; not overtly sexual, but just tantalizing enough to fill his head with all manner of sick fantasies. He had a haunting affection for her that should have faded away along with his humanity, but it somehow didn't. The amount of times he'd made love to her in his head was considerable, and the reasons why were something not even he would ever fully understand. Perhaps something inside him had always sensed her unique biological attributes, but it was also more than that. There was a compatibility of spirit between them that, despite being firmly set on opposing sides, filled Wesker with something annoyingly similar to comfort. An unacceptable concept to say the least in the midst of completely transforming the world. After all these years, he finally had the opportunity to have her and be done with it. He wouldn't necessarily cast her aside when he was finished with her, but atleast his mind would be clearer in her immediate proximity from now on.

Or so he hoped.

Not even Jill's slower rate was enough to prolong the deed, and Wesker soon found himself wishing he had started with her. He was dangerously close to a climax, and for once he wished it wasn't the case so quickly. He could stand there all night and enjoy how it felt inside her warm, eagar mouth. The way she sucked harder at the end of each upstroke, the way her hand gently perched on the back of his leg...Every miniscule detail exceeded anything his imagination was capable of, causing his pleasure to burst down Jill's throat with a satisfied cry. Her movement stopped as she swallowed every last drop, with Wesker's hand gratefully petting at her hair. When she was certain he was finished, she slowly released the still sensitive flesh and stood. Before the thought to do anything next crossed her mind, Jill was being backed into the couch Wesker and Excella had been chatting on earlier. Still encumbered by his lowered pants, Wesker ackwardly walked her backward until she plopped onto the cushion with a bounce.

Jill couldn't discern exactly what he was going to do until he took a turn dropping to his knees. His hands smoothed her legs apart, and his mouth went to work returning the favor she had just granted him. "Oh..." Jill's nails dug into the furniture to brace herself, and her reactions made Wesker smile against her folds. He teased her tiny nub into a hard dot, then started working his tongue against it with a dizzying pressure. The electrical impulses in her body all rushed to her center until Wesker was the only thing she could feel. Thanks to her orders, he was the only thing she wanted to feel. Due to her previous decision to not fight the situation, Jill found her inner self pondering why he was even bothering with this. Ensuring lubrication occured to her as a possibility, but it seemed unlikely. Maybe he had a personal code that dictated the thourough pleasure of all his partners. Jill wished she had enough free will to laugh at the sudden image in her head: Wesker on a date. A fine wine at dinner, no dessert after, and then the inevitable trip back to his place. He probably wouldn't be able to shut up long enough to make the first move, and his date would roll her eyes and resort to masturbation as he ranted about world domination in the background.

Despite the rather enjoyable journey into humor, Jill knew the assessment couldn't possibly ring true. It was apparent by her shaking legs that Wesker's tongue had plenty of quality experience. The realization begged the original question a second time. His neck tilting slightly and his intense gaze studying her left no doubt that he was genuinely interested in pleasing her. Why? Being at his mercy was a certainty in all measurable criteria. Was this some final demonstration of complete control? Jill realized his understanding of her was apparently more fine tuned, as his guess that she would over think this came to fruition. So she curled her back into the couch and returned the deep stare, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being correct. The line of sight created by their meeting eyes was tangible. Jill felt it both drawing her in and keeping her still at the same time. Wesker started timing his tongue's movement with her pulse, further intoxicating her. God help her; she was enamored with Albert Wesker. For a moment she had to wonder if it was a genuine feeling or simply his orders confusing her good sense. The man wracking her body with pleasure was capable of inhuman acts. 'Crimes against humanity' was actually an understatement for what he did every day before noon. No amount of high tech mind control should be able to overshadow her hatred for him. Yet it obviously was. Stop deconstructing it!

Jill's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she grew painfully closer to a release. She made the mistake of locking her gaze with his again, and the soft crimson penetrated her down to the bone. She wasn't able to contain a dramatic gasp as she was finally pushed over the edge. Her legs shook more violently as Wesker licked through the wave of sensation, extending it much longer than necessary. Just as Jill was about to burst from the inside out, he mercifully lifted his head up and away. Before she could recover, Wesker pressed her body flat into the couch with his. His lips were against hers in the same second, mingling their respective flavors on Jill's tongue. The taste intrigued as much as it bothered; something about it didn't seem as wrong as it should have. Being forced to scold herself for thinking yet again, she wrapped her arms around her captor and returned his affection.

Wesker ground his rejuvenated hardness against her still sensitive flesh, bringing the tremors back in full force. Her torso arched up against him as they tore at each other anew, anger and desire blending like water colors. Sharp nails dug into Wesker's back and pulled furrows of passion down to his sides. Golden skin slithered across a gentler white shade and dared to drown it completely under the weight of raw need. For a moment, Jill grew faint from the magnitude of the situation. There was no rhyme or reason, there was only blind lust. Feeling Wesker's tip tease at her opening was too much to bear. She finally broke and grabbed his ass, pulling him inside her with a force that surprised them both. The initial penetration filled Jill with his considerable length, as well as a sense of completion that would've infuriated her otherwise. The only thought to contend with now was the tiny candle flame that suddenly exploded into a raging inferno fueled by powerful thrusts. Jill wished the fire would consume her through, yet she prayed it wouldn't.

Jill's leg curled higher up Wesker's back until the angle coaxed forth moans. Her hips fell into the same rhythm as his, pulling her deeper into the chasm of dangerous heat. She braced herself by clutching a hand around the adjacent forearm, growing even more excited by how hard the muscle flexed there. She forced her body farther into the cushion, but the stroking inside her was far too intense so soon after an orgasm. Jill pushed against the furniture and rolled both of their bodies onto the floor and into the pile of discarded clothing. The clumsy crash didn't affect either of them except for the fact that Jill was now on top. Her back stretched upward and she resumed the previous rhythm, letting gravity pull her weight farther down onto him.

Wesker's hands reached up and kneaded the lovely breasts that caught his eye so many years ago. They caressed down milky skin and settled on her hips, pulling down as he thrusted up in time. The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of pleasure, sweat, and trembling limbs. There was blissfully very little thought involved besides a distant memory of Jill bending over in a miniskirt, plus the consequential irony of fantasizing about the same woman currently riding away. As silly as it was, it did the trick. Before he thought to slow himself down, Wesker's body went taut as he emptied another round of warm bursts into his beautiful partner. Cries of ecstasy bounced off the walls and echoed away to nothing, replaced by silence and quiet breathing. Just like that, it was over.  

Jill moved to stand, but the grip on her sides tightened. He sat up and warmly wrapped his arms around her. His lips quickly pressed over hers in a fiery kiss, desperate to stay inside her longer. Wesker inhaled to speak, but a static movement caught the corner of his vision and a frustrated growl replaced the words. "What is that idiot doing here this late? He's not due back until morning." He graced Jill with another kiss before standing. "Sit. I'll be back soon."

He quickly pulled his pants and belt up to their original positions and disappeared. As instructed, she sat on the couch quietly. It was the closest thing to rest Jill had gotten since this dance of theirs began. She peeked at the surveillance monitors and realized how miraculous it was that they hadn't broken any in the fight. On the screen, she saw the two men meet on one of the staircases and strike up a conversation. Even without audio on the feed, she already knew what they were talking about. She wondered if Irving would find it odd that Wesker was running around with no shirt on at this hour, but most likely not. Wesker already had him eating out of his hand. Despite his brilliance, Irving was a blind follower. He would probably suffer the same fate as Wesker's other patsies, taking his rare intelligence to the grave. That would almost be a shame if not for his creepy demeanor and selfish motives.

Irving was headed back out the way he came soon enough, and Wesker returned as promised. This time he kicked the door stop aside and sealed them in. He also reached down and finally liberated his feet from the heavy boots and socks that contained them. Jill was puzzled. She had expected to be commanded to her quarters now that they were finished. "Ignoring a minor hindrance, everything tomorrow is still going to proceed on schedule," Wesker stated, destracted. "I'm fairly certain I don't have to outline your involvement, do I?"

"No." He was correct, of course. They both knew she had been soaking in every detail like a sponge in the belief that she would stop their plans eventually. It was the reason he hadn't bothered to mention anything about it when Excella suggested as much.

"Good. Now, where were we?" His mood instantly changed as he crossed the room and enveloped her again. He quickly had two fingers plunged inside her, all weariness from Irving's interlude completely evaporated. Wesker's other arm tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. The action signaled to Jill that she would be preoccupied for most of the night, if not all of it. He didn't want to simply have fun with her; he was going for a marathon. Jill's body was quickly strewn across the couch in the same position as earlier, a pile of limbs and skin sloppily intertwined once more.

Wesker took her a second time, and a third. On the fourth attempt he paused, pressing against her opening but not pushing all the way inside."Tell me to stop," he breathed with a devious expression. Just when Jill thought the mind games had ended, they were back again.

"Please-" She couldn't finish the thought thanks to equal amounts of confusion and arousal. Not even P30 was strong enough to force her mind to focus in the midst of so much adrenaline and pheromones.

"Begging, are you?" He chuckled at his own bad joke, eyes eagarly jumping back and forth between hers. "Tell me to stop and I'll leave you be."  

God, how she wished he wouldn't have asked. She wasn't sure how to answer, and didn't want to either way. No. Surprising even herself, she moved her lips to meet his. "This doesn't change anything," Jill mumbled into his mouth, taking advantage of the precious little time she had to speak freely.

"It doesn't have to," he smiled, returning the kiss.

They had their way with each other a few more times before Wesker decided it was time for the night to draw to a close. After Jill's height was concealed by skin tight blue again, he took the opportunity to give her a final passionate kiss before ordering her to her room.

She walked through the complex with a new sense of hope and purpose. She hated Wesker, and always would, but he now had his own firmly cemented place in her history. After everything she learned about herself tonight, she would be forever grateful to him.

But she would also keep doing everything in her power to bring him down.