Anyway, the point of this post is this short fic here. To give fair notice, I'm really interested in the intimate take on their relationship right now and wrote this to explore that aspect, together with the character dynamic.
Title: On a Limited Time
Pairing: Wesker and Birkin, of course!
Rating: PG-13/soft R
Word Count: ~600
Summary: The early stage of Birkin and Wesker's relationship, namely their first attempt at intimacy. It happens faster than either of them would have expected. (Drabble-ish style, Wesker's perspective.)
Notes: This would take place a year or two after they started working together at Umbrella. Since there's not a lot of material covering that, it's heavily influenced by my take on the characters and how they got along. Most importantly, I found their using each other's given names fitting in the context of their ages and the contrast with their later relations (or my perception of them, anyway). Also, I think it's safe to assume Wesker would have worn jeans at least once in his life. (It's not like they don't make them, you know, black. XD) And that he wouldn't have been immune to any and all awkward situations, but that's starting to give away too much. On to the business!
Disclaimer: Resident Evil belongs to Capcom. I make no profit and intend no copyright infringement.
On a Limited Time
Perhaps, all things considered, this was only a matter of time.
If so, it’s irrelevant now. They had gone for a walk at dusk to relax from their endless tasks in the lab, they talked somewhat, and then the ultimate slip came easily. Not even Albert could tell for how long it had been there, brewing just under the surface, ready for discovery and use. When they finally touched standing by the door to Albert’s bedroom, they didn’t speak of it.
They end up in bed as if it were the last resort. For once, Albert doesn’t mind the position he has found himself in, lying on his back, looking up at William expectantly. There are fingers on his shirt, fumbling with the buttons but eventually prevailing. William lowers his head. Mouth on Albert’s neck, he circles one random spot with attention; Albert can barely concentrate enough to keep his eyes open. The room tilts to one side in surreality. His mouth feels dry; swallowing, he feels his Adam’s apple bob up and down against William’s tongue. He can’t resist an involuntary whine. Triumphant, that’s what William looks like when their eyes meet again: he has made the icy facade drop is all he could be thinking. Albert can’t be bothered with irritation now. It’s enough when William finds one spot at his collarbone that actually makes Albert shudder—entitled bastard—and dips his tongue into the central hollow. Teasing, tentative. It is clear that he has never done this before.
Albert just might give him the satisfaction for all his trouble. His hands attach themselves to William’s sides, under his jacket, running up and down in slow strokes. That alone makes William’s breath against his skin come harder. His quickly dissipating composure is quite remarkable. When Albert starts taking off his friend’s shirt, having managed to push him aside slightly, it is all William can do to hold out until it’s been discarded.
And then they kiss. Albert would prefer for it to retain some semblance of refinement, but William pushes past his lips, which makes a dignified approach next to impossible. It’s starting to be almost amusing, Albert finds. If intimacy is what William wants, he can give it to him. That much is not a problem.
For the following few minutes, this will have been his last coherent thought. Before he knows it their still clothed hips are sliding together, denim on skin on sweat, and their faces are aligned in the frenzy and suddenly one of them bites down and Albert’s hand digs into the other’s back as if cramped. He knows for certain that he has bruised. He feels William gasping against him and a hot wetness spreading in the front of his trousers. It takes him a moment to catch his breath.
“So unsystematic,” he remarks dryly then, knowing precisely how annoyed William the Diligent is going to be by this. Surprisingly, no vengeance befalls him worse than a half-hearted shove and a forcibly caustic reply.
“Spare me that. You liked it well enough.” A waft of cool air on Albert’s chest as William sits back on his haunches, observant.
The night is at its beginning. As darkness presses against the windows, so do their bodies, the muscles and the sharp angles, in preparation to strike again. They will have other opportunities to master the system.
With anybody else Albert could maintain a sense of detachment, but William fascinates him. There is one person he has no reason to look down upon. The more he dwells on it—as his trousers are loosened and his socks disposed of, quite systematically now—the more he realizes he and William could achieve. Already he suspects there won’t be enough time.