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Birkin didn’t like the way they pressed against his skin. It stung. Maybe the slick substance coating those black tentacles was acidic. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wesker sounded so... Proud of this ugly creature. Was it one creature? Or was it like an anthill? A collective intelligence manifesting into a B.O.W. would be rather interesting to study, he had to admit. Birkin didn’t bother answering, but Wesker didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “It’s still experimental; I created it myself.”
A thick black tentacle caressed Birkin’s cheek, a tingle following in its wake. “Did you? It’s... Interesting...” Creepy was more like it. A mass of tentacles. A mass of tentacles that seemed strangely obsessed with... Touching him. Another one snaked around his neck, recoiling almost immediately when it realized how badly it made Birkin tense. “Wh-what do you call it?”
Wesker smirked. The tentacles were vaguely reminiscent of their creator - all black, slick, beautiful in a rather disturbing way, and dangerous. Extremely dangerous. “Uroboros.” The word slid off his tongue. They looked more like worms, but there was something snake-like about them, about the way they moved. Or maybe it was just because Birkin was reading too much into the similarities between the creature and Wesker. “I think it likes you.” Wesker’s voice was something of a purr.
The tentacles continued curling around him, occasionally poking here, stroking there. It seemed fascinated by his clothing. Or at least that’s what Birkin had to guess at, considering the way the tentacles liked curling against his legs, liked nestling between his labcoat and his shirt. One of them flicked against his tie. It was... Cute almost. They were curious little things, weren’t they? With a slight smile, one most people reserved for their own children, Birkin took off his labcoat and tossed it on the floor between the bulk of the creature and himself. A peace offering. A toy. He figured the B.O.W. would appreciate the gesture of being given something it so obviously wanted.
The slick black tentacles didn’t even spare the dirty, discarded scrap of clothing a glance. More of the tentacles simply gathered closer to Birkin, nuzzling against the scientist’s clothing. Wesker frowned slightly behind his sunglasses. He wasn’t sure what to expect from his creation but this sort of... Affection - at least he assumed it was affection - was slightly jarring. This creature was supposed to be a weapon not a family pet, damn it.
Birkin giggled slightly as one of the worms stroked itself against his lips. It was reminiscent of a dog licking its owner on the mouth in a way. Must have been the creatures’ way of showing it was docile. His tongue darted out unconsciously, part of him forgetting about whatever substance was being secreted by those tentacles. His tongue tingled along with his lips. A few more tentacles repeated the action. His giggles got a bit stronger. “I think you’re right about this thing liking me, Wesker,” Birkin mumbled, his head lolling over to look at the older man.
Wesker’s frown deepened as he took in the sight. The younger blond’s eyes were dilated, the blue of his eyes forming a thin ring around the engorged pupil. His breathing came in shallower and shallower pants. And the expression on his face... Birkin looked like he was in this state of complete and utter bliss as he stared at Wesker, his neck bent at an odd angle, but still so completely relaxed...
Birkin’s face contorted in pain as a scream ripped out of his throat. Wesker must have been focusing so much on his face he didn’t even notice when the stray tentacles had moved to hoist the younger scientist by his wrists while a few slid his pants down and now one of them was... The older man wasn’t sure if he was supposed to turn away or stare. The look of Birkin so helpless - well, more helpless than usual, Wesker had to secretly admit - with that blissful look back on his face... And Birkin was staring back at him, lips trembling, low whines and occasionally loud moans flew out of his mouth as the creature thrust inside him.
It was an incredible show, watching his soon-to-be-prized-he-was-sure creation fucking his lab partner. His friend. Birkin moaned again, still staring directly at Wesker, even while the tentacles sped up, pushing deeper. A single tentacle stretched forward and moved itself along Birkin’s cock. One languid movement from base to tip. That was all it took for Birkin to toss his head back with a shout as he came, his body spasmed in the grip of the tentacle still diligently holding onto his wrists.
The tentacles retreated as Wesker calmly strode across the laboratory towards it, leaving Birkin in a messy heap on the floor. “Are you alright?” The blush was high in the scientist’s cheeks, but he slowly nodded, ignoring the way he shivered. Wesker patted him slightly on the head, hoping it would make him feel better. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” As he helped Birkin struggle to his feet, Wesker decided to deem Uroboros a failed experiment. He’d kill it and destroy the paperwork later. That wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to put his name on.
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Author's Notes: Originally for Kink Bingo on DW.
Birkin didn’t like the way they pressed against his skin. It stung. Maybe the slick substance coating those black tentacles was acidic. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wesker sounded so... Proud of this ugly creature. Was it one creature? Or was it like an anthill? A collective intelligence manifesting into a B.O.W. would be rather interesting to study, he had to admit. Birkin didn’t bother answering, but Wesker didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “It’s still experimental; I created it myself.”
A thick black tentacle caressed Birkin’s cheek, a tingle following in its wake. “Did you? It’s... Interesting...” Creepy was more like it. A mass of tentacles. A mass of tentacles that seemed strangely obsessed with... Touching him. Another one snaked around his neck, recoiling almost immediately when it realized how badly it made Birkin tense. “Wh-what do you call it?”
Wesker smirked. The tentacles were vaguely reminiscent of their creator - all black, slick, beautiful in a rather disturbing way, and dangerous. Extremely dangerous. “Uroboros.” The word slid off his tongue. They looked more like worms, but there was something snake-like about them, about the way they moved. Or maybe it was just because Birkin was reading too much into the similarities between the creature and Wesker. “I think it likes you.” Wesker’s voice was something of a purr.
The tentacles continued curling around him, occasionally poking here, stroking there. It seemed fascinated by his clothing. Or at least that’s what Birkin had to guess at, considering the way the tentacles liked curling against his legs, liked nestling between his labcoat and his shirt. One of them flicked against his tie. It was... Cute almost. They were curious little things, weren’t they? With a slight smile, one most people reserved for their own children, Birkin took off his labcoat and tossed it on the floor between the bulk of the creature and himself. A peace offering. A toy. He figured the B.O.W. would appreciate the gesture of being given something it so obviously wanted.
The slick black tentacles didn’t even spare the dirty, discarded scrap of clothing a glance. More of the tentacles simply gathered closer to Birkin, nuzzling against the scientist’s clothing. Wesker frowned slightly behind his sunglasses. He wasn’t sure what to expect from his creation but this sort of... Affection - at least he assumed it was affection - was slightly jarring. This creature was supposed to be a weapon not a family pet, damn it.
Birkin giggled slightly as one of the worms stroked itself against his lips. It was reminiscent of a dog licking its owner on the mouth in a way. Must have been the creatures’ way of showing it was docile. His tongue darted out unconsciously, part of him forgetting about whatever substance was being secreted by those tentacles. His tongue tingled along with his lips. A few more tentacles repeated the action. His giggles got a bit stronger. “I think you’re right about this thing liking me, Wesker,” Birkin mumbled, his head lolling over to look at the older man.
Wesker’s frown deepened as he took in the sight. The younger blond’s eyes were dilated, the blue of his eyes forming a thin ring around the engorged pupil. His breathing came in shallower and shallower pants. And the expression on his face... Birkin looked like he was in this state of complete and utter bliss as he stared at Wesker, his neck bent at an odd angle, but still so completely relaxed...
Birkin’s face contorted in pain as a scream ripped out of his throat. Wesker must have been focusing so much on his face he didn’t even notice when the stray tentacles had moved to hoist the younger scientist by his wrists while a few slid his pants down and now one of them was... The older man wasn’t sure if he was supposed to turn away or stare. The look of Birkin so helpless - well, more helpless than usual, Wesker had to secretly admit - with that blissful look back on his face... And Birkin was staring back at him, lips trembling, low whines and occasionally loud moans flew out of his mouth as the creature thrust inside him.
It was an incredible show, watching his soon-to-be-prized-he-was-sure creation fucking his lab partner. His friend. Birkin moaned again, still staring directly at Wesker, even while the tentacles sped up, pushing deeper. A single tentacle stretched forward and moved itself along Birkin’s cock. One languid movement from base to tip. That was all it took for Birkin to toss his head back with a shout as he came, his body spasmed in the grip of the tentacle still diligently holding onto his wrists.
The tentacles retreated as Wesker calmly strode across the laboratory towards it, leaving Birkin in a messy heap on the floor. “Are you alright?” The blush was high in the scientist’s cheeks, but he slowly nodded, ignoring the way he shivered. Wesker patted him slightly on the head, hoping it would make him feel better. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” As he helped Birkin struggle to his feet, Wesker decided to deem Uroboros a failed experiment. He’d kill it and destroy the paperwork later. That wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to put his name on.