(no subject)

[steinette]

Title: Love and Leeches
Fandom: Resident Evil
Prompt: Something involving Marcus and his leeches :|
Pairing: Marcus/Birkin, the faintest bit of Wesker/Birkin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Where the fuck should I start? Non-con, leeches, Marcus, shameless porn, leeches.
Wordcount: 1,054
Summary: In which Birkin learns to never tell Marcus he's leaving early.
Author's Notes: I still don't really know why I wrote this. J-just idek guys.

For an old man, Dr. Marcus managed to grab his protégé's wrists, hold them together behind his back, and push him into the desk far too quickly. Birkin’s cheek hit the metal surface with a resounding crack. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here, Birkin?”

Building up a case to sue you for assault, evidently. Really, he was just trying to tell his mentor that he and Wesker were leaving for the night. But everyone knew Marcus was a bit unstable at this point so maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched to think the old bastard would go a bit nutty...

“You’re trying to steal my research, aren’t you?” Birkin really didn’t hear Marcus’s insane rambling after that; he was too focused on a hand unbuttoning his slacks.

“D-Dr. Marcus...?” Okay, scratch assault. He was evidently moving on to sexual harassment. Classy. Marcus said nothing, although he moved his hand to give Birkin’s hair a hard yank before he slipped Birkin’s red tie off his neck, using it to bind the young man’s wrists together and continued pulling his pants off and flipped the tail of his labcoat up onto his back. Marcus stepped back for a moment, admiring his handiwork and opening a case containing a single leech.

He smirked down at Birkin, who made no move to bother escaping. Out of embarrassment perhaps? Judging by how red his face was, it was a good guess. “A lesson needs to be learned here.”

Birkin nearly squeaked when something cold and slimy and moving - a leech, his brain filled in for him - was set on his lower back. It crawled downward, weird gooey substance dripping on his ass, its teeth biting slightly before the young scientist decided this shit wasn’t going down this way. Oh, fuck no. Just as Birkin was about to attempt some sort of escape, however, the older man was holding him against the table again.

He flung his head around to face Marcus, his too-long hair whipped around his face as he let out a dangerous snarl. “You’re a fucking psycho!” Marcus merely chuckled cruelly before running a hand up the inside of Birkin’s leg. Tears sprung to his eyes almost instantly. “J-James? Please... Stop this...”

Marcus clutched at Birkin’s hips, but that was the only warning the young man got before the old bastard thrust into him. A scream tore itself out of Birkin’s throat before the other man muffled his cries by shoving a hand over his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re not more used to this thanks to Wesker...” The young scientist let out a choked sob. In a sick sort of way, he was grateful Marcus had thought enough to keep him quiet. If anyone caught him like this...

He could almost hear the whispers over Marcus’s near-silent grunts. ‘I heard our little scientist is quite the slut.’ ‘So that’s how he got promoted so quickly.’ ‘Had a feeling it wasn’t all brains.’ ‘Cocky little fucker had been acting all superior this whole time...’ ‘Who knew that his “incredible genius” really translated to him keeping his legs open.’

Birkin was still lost in thought when Marcus suddenly let out a low moan and came inside the other scientist. The old man pulled out and quickly got to work untying Birkin’s wrists. The younger man didn’t bother moving even after he was free. Dr. Marcus scoffed at his protégée's behavior and simply grabbed the leech which had since made its way down to the back of Birkin’s knee, leaving tiny bites in its wake.

Then, something in Birkin’s mind snapped and he whirled around, snatching his pants up and glaring at Dr. Marcus. “You’ll pay for that.” His voice had taken on a dark quality since the last time he spoke. “You’ll pay for that dearly.” Without another word, Birkin spun on his heel and stormed out of the lab, stewing about revenge, and willing himself to not have a breakdown and cry.

---

“Did you tell him we were leaving?” Wesker asked grabbing Birkin by the shoulder. Birkin practically screamed, jumping about a foot in the air. The older man raised an eyebrow; his own little way of asking if he was alright. Rather than a proper answer, he was grabbed by the labcoat and a head was pushed into his chest, sobbing quietly. Wesker just stood there awkwardly, and gave Birkin a quick pat on the back.

“It was awful!” Birkin gasped out, tears running down his face. “Marcus... He...”

Whatever the hell happened, Wesker was damn sure he didn’t want to hear about it. “It’s okay... We’ll get him back for it...” He smiled to himself. What a good opportunity to get at Marcus’s research... “We should kill him. Make him feel all the pain you felt...”

Birkin looked up adoringly. “Could we?”

“Of course. It’s only fair to teach him a lesson, don’t you think?”

---

Three days had gone by and Birkin was barely speaking other than when Marcus pushed it and forced him to talk. It’s obvious what happened from the way that the little prodigy tensed up whenever Dr. Marcus comes a bit too close. The wicked little smile that always crossed the old man’s face confirmed the fact. The reaction around Marcus’s leeches (violent shuddering and quick, shallows breaths) would have broken Wesker’s heart if he had one.

Thinking on any of it made Wesker sick to his stomach. Or worse.

The few times he’d chosen to fight down the feeling of illness and continue thinking, he was left with the mental image of a naked, crying, red-faced Birkin pushed over an operating table being fondled by a crazy old bastard and his darling “children”.

There was a part of him that wanted to know if Marcus left bruises. A part of him that genuinely wanted to help. A part of him that hated the reactions Birkin had around the lab over the past few days. And then there was the part that wanted to stick it behind them and never mention it again.

But all he could really do was watch as this sick play unfolded before him. He’d kill Marcus for this. With his bare hands maybe. No one deserved that, especially not poor, innocent little William.

That fucker would pay for this.