Chapter Text
Working with Birkin was beginning to become a chore, and not a chore Wesker would perform enthusiastically. Since the arrival and monopolisation of the facility by the young Ashford girl, Birkin had grown sour and proud, more so than usual, and was attempting to compensate for his dip in authority by working himself into an early grave. His presence in the lab was guaranteed at almost all hours, often spending close to twenty-four hours at a time applying himself to his painstaking research. As is to be expected when a man becomes all consumed by his work, he had begun to neglect himself, heavily. A burden Wesker had to take on himself since it has been made abundantly clear that William has not an ounce of respect for anyone else, and even then, his immaturity seems boundless in his attitude toward his oldest and perhaps truest friend. Wesker’s patience, however, was not boundless. He had a tolerance for William’s childishness but not an appetite for it, and certainly not one that would be receptive to this amount of tantrum.
Birkin was a brilliant and talented scientist, even exceeding Wesker, but his complete disregard for his own health was beginning to show more and more each day and he became more and more irritable. He’d grown thinner, even over the last couple of weeks. Wesker did his best to not be repulsed at his friend’s self-disrespect as he did his best to gently encourage William to at least eat regularly, coldly informing him that he’d get nothing done if he didn’t fuel his body correctly. He even went as far as to prepare meals for William, lying to him and saying they were from the dining hall upstairs when he’d in fact tried to optimise William's calorie intake, fortifying his meals with butter and starch. When William suddenly stopped taking his meals at all, Wesker himself had taken up snacking, something he never particularly understood, to try and coax William into joining him. He took to having bowls of nuts or sugarless candies at his work bench, knowing William’s childish brain wouldn’t be able to refuse and when he’d leave he lab in the evening, he would slip a nutrition bar in to William’s pocket, the wrapper for which he’d usually find on the floor somewhere the next morning.
The scientist had been speaking less and less and when he did speak, his voice was hoarse from disuse and dehydration, the dryness of his lips and throat somehow audible in his requests for a pen or previous document. Wesker would cringe when the raspiness of his friend’s tone would reach his ears. His patience had begun wearing thin at this point and he was not known to be a compassionate man, but something about the way he watched his friend flounder under his own psychological pressure made his heart ache. He supposed it was just a manifestation of his own sleep deprivation, it was all becoming terribly inconvenient. Once again, regardless of his frustrations, he’d begun to leave paper cups of water around the lab that William would inevitably pick up and drink, thinking he’d gotten them himself and forgotten about them. At least this was working better than his candy theory. Every now and then, when he’d catch William sipping at a half empty cup of stale water, he’d let out an amused exhale, pondering again that he was essentially studying his friend like a mouse, or keeping him as some kind of pet. Then he’d shake his head and continue on.
They managed to continue their work regardless of the tedium that had now begun to ensue for another week or so, until Wesker had realised they were beginning to fall into the habit of him having to remind Birkin to use the restroom. It began as a tease when Wesker returned to the lab in the early morning following one of his hikes and found Birkin fawning over the same documents as when he’d left him the night before. He had seen the young researcher squirming in his chair, his leg bouncing restlessly. He’d rolled his eyes and let out an amused huff, leaning against his workbench.
“Will.” He’d said gently, which earned an absent hum from his counterpart, permitting him to continue. “When was the last time you went to the bathroom?”
William had blushed suddenly, not replying as he stood shakily and sped past Wesker to the men’s room, just barely making it in time.
Wesker didn’t necessarily care that this had occurred, paying not a second thought to it until it happened a second time, in much the same way as the first. Then it happened a third and fourth time and the novelty was beginning to wear off for Wesker, now causing him to feel like he was babysitting some great useless toddler. He was growing tired of this pettiness and had decided to put a stop to it.
The next morning, while on his hike around the dense forest, instead of giving heed to his typical thoughts involving Spencer and his plans for the lab, for his work, for him, he began to wonder how he could bring back the William he’d been working with before. Time and resources were of the essence and he would not be idle anymore by attempting to fix his companions' tantrums, no. He simply had to take matters into his own hand. So when he arrived at the laboratory, finding William in the exact position he’d expected, at his bench, peering through a microscope with his legs practically knotted under the table, clearly quite desperate for relief, he simply ignored him. He did not even say good-morning, the casual grunt he’d receive in reply wasn’t worth it he’d decided.
William did not seem to care, ignoring everything else around him and continuing his task. However this proved to not last more than an hour or two at most when he began casually humming, apparently to no-one in particular. Though it wasn’t musical, or chipper, it more sounded like sparse whimpers. He didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it which somehow further infuriated Wesker. And it wasn’t long before the leg bouncing started again. With a huff, Wesker set down his pen and stepped over to William, his hand coming down to gently rest on his shoulder, making the younger man yelp softly in surprise. Wesker didn’t say anything, just jerked his head to the side, indicating for William to stand up. He did, opening his mouth to protest but was pulled tight against the taller man’s body before the words found their way out of his dry mouth. A seconds delay later and he found himself clumsily sitting across Wesker’s lap, chair squeaking under the two men.
“What the fuck, Al? Let go…” William growled huskily, trying to push away Wesker’s arm that was clamped around his waist, conveniently pressing on his bladder. He squirmed helplessly as Wesker brought his other hand to William’s thigh, fingertips trailing along his inseam until he reached his beltline where he pressed his palm flat against the younger researcher’s bladder.
“Sit still.” He commanded coldly, though his breath was hot as it caught the ridge of his counterpart’s ear. Wesker warningly applied a small pressure with his palm that made Birkin squirm a little more, a soft whine escaping him before he finally yielded.
“Alright, alright.” He complied, earning a gentle huff from Wesker, who eased the pressure off slightly.
“Honestly Dr. Birkin, are we going to have to ask that you wear a diaper around the lab? Just until you learn to control your own body again.” Wesker teased but spoke in such a way that had William unsure of how much of Wesker’s words were truly meant in jest.
“N-No. Why would you say that?” He murmured weakly, too tired to fight Wesker off and too uncomfortable to move too much in case he burst right then and there.
Wesker gave a dark chuckle, pressing on Birkin’s bladder again, only this time with more purpose. It had its desired effect. The younger scientist felt a harsh twitch in his frustratingly tightening pants followed by a sting of warmth at the tip of his cock, instantly cooling as his tiny leak started being absorbed by his boxers. It wasn’t enough to be visible but Birkin knew it didn’t have to be, because Wesker eased off again, now working his belt open with one hand.
“Well I’ve effectively had to babysit you these last few weeks and frankly, this insipid company is not paying me enough to clean up after you.” Wesker bit his lip as he slipped his hand into Birkins slacks, palming him slowly through his briefs, unsurprised to find him half-hard already and slightly damp. “Or maybe you like getting permission from me every morning. Maybe you get off on me telling you when you can and can't use the bathroom? Is that it?” He breathed against Birkins ear, going as far as to curl his tongue along it, lightly nipping at the lobe.
Birkin moaned helplessly as Wesker began to touch him so casually, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he felt himself leak again against Wesker’s palm, the warm liquid creating a wet patch on his briefs that he tried his best not to buck into. “Al…stop…” he pleaded uselessly.
“No, I think someone needs to learn their lesson.” Wesker purred, moving his fingers past the waistband of his counterpart’s boxers, curling them around his pulsing cock. He begins to stroke him, his pace slow and agonising, his grip around Birkins waist tightening.
“Albert, please…I-I’m sorry okay, I’ll do better just…” His words were lost to a pathetic whimper as he bit down hard on his lip, an overwhelming wave of desperation hitting him and making him press his thighs together as if it would change a thing.
“I should hope so. I’d hate to think I was performing this experiment for nothing.” Wesker laughed cruelly, sweeping the pad of his thumb over the wetness at Birkin’s tip slowly, the feeling of his companion’s warm flesh throbbing in the palm of his hand made his own pants tight. His bulge firm beneath the seat of Birkin’s backside, he bit back a slight groan, his breathing becoming a little shaky as he fought to maintain his self-control. He growled almost angrily as sudden, vivid images of holding his best fiend down, fucking him too hard when his bladder was full, watching him writhe and beg as he burst pathetically. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, high pitched wail from William. Wesker quickly clamped his free hand over his lips to silence him, cursing under his breath as he felt hot piss starting to stubbornly trickle over his fist.
“Stop.” He commanded harshly, causing William to flinch, the bite in Wesker’s tone enough to stop his leak with a desperate moan into Wesker’s hand. The younger scientist shut his eyes tighter, tears pricking the corners of his eyes and slipping across his cheeks as Wesker began to rub him faster, stroking him quicker almost as punishment. William continued to moan and sob in succession to each flick of Wesker’s wrist, shamefully pressing himself into the older man’s lap, unsure of whether he was doing it out of spite or was genuinely this squirmy because of the situation, The seat of his pants was growing damp and he knew Wesker would be able to feel the warmth over his increasingly obvious erection.
“My, my…you are a lot more obedient than I anticipated. How curious.” Wesker grinned, leaning down to brush his lips over the back of Williams neck, giving him soft, almost affectionate kisses as his hand continued its motion around his companion's aching cock. “You’d better let go now, or you won’t be able to cum.” He whispered gently, his voice taking on a more tender quality to encourage William to relax. He took his hand away from the researcher’s mouth and gently cradled his jaw, his fingertips caressing his flushed neck.
“I-I can’t do that…” William whimpered quietly, although Wesker's newfound gentility was making it difficult to resist.
“Of course you can. Come now, think of how good it will feel. And after you’ve been working so hard…” Wesker all but cooed, slowing his pace down to tease William, once again thumbing his tip to smear the abundance of pre-cum down his modest length.
There was a needy whine from Dr. Birkin, promptly followed by a soft hissing sound as he began to flood himself. His moans of relief didn’t cease as the gentle splattering sounds of his piss pooling on the floor beneath him grew more apparent. He shut his eyes tight, his cheeks and ears burning with shame, humiliation and excitement as he heard Wesker give a quiet “That’s it..” into the back of his neck. Wesker couldn’t prevent himself from lifting his hips slightly to rub himself against the wetness seeping through the both of their pants, the heat spreading and making him ache for his own relief. He stilled his hand on Birkin until the steady stream of urine began to diminish, the wet fabric flighty clinging to his skin. A string of apologies and soft whimpering moans fell from Birkins chapped lips but Wesker hushed him at every syllable.
Birkin gave a soft huff as he finally felt the last few drops dripped down his shaft. He lifted a hand to his mouth, mortified by the sight as he looked down at his lap. His slacks were no longer a light khaki but a dark, glistening shade of brown, his socks and shoes were wet, and most obscenely, his cock was still tented, straining in Wesker’s hand beneath the wet crotch. He felt himself twitch and restlessly rolled his hips forward into Wesker’s grip, trying to get him to start the motions up again. He mewled softly as Wesker remained still, eager to make William work to chase his pleasure. But the pressure of Will’s backside rubbing against his own, now also wet, bulge was wittling his patience further than he anticipated. So he resumed his pace, his tight fist working the younger researcher’s cock the way he wanted him to, grunting into his ear to spur on his impending eruption.
“O-Oh fuck…” Will cursed, keeling slightly and bracing himself by gripping Wesker’s knee, which only made him stroke him faster. “A-Al that…that f-feels good…god, don't stop.” He whispered quickly, Wesker’s face beginning to colour at the way his nickname was moaned with such fervour. He buried his face into the back of William’s neck, determined to commit every sound, every sensation to memory so he could be sure to use it later on, when he knew he could finally get some rest of his own.
“Be quiet, someone will..” Wesker half growled, but was interrupted by a sharp cry from the man squirming and bucking on his lap as he came. Warm ropes of cum spilled over Wesker’s damp hand, sticky white strands tangling in his fingers before he could finish speaking. Birkin clamped his hand over his lips, groaning gutterally, tears gathering at the corners of his tightly closed eyes as he rode out his orgasm.
A moment or two of stillness passed between them, the both of them panting and blushing before Wesker took his soiled hand out of Birkin’s pants. He grasped William’s hips and helped him to stand, following him suit. His hands still remained on the younger man’s hips as he turned him to face him. With his clean hand, he brushed William’s bangs from his eyes and softly cupped his chin, wanting him to meet his eyes. “You okay?” He asked softly, lightly grazing his flushed cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Birkin nodded, smiling weakly, though the shame and humiliation was still written across his face, in the droop of his fucked-out eyes. Wesker nodded in return, taking his hands away from his companion. “Go to the second floor bathroom and take a shower. No one should be around to see you since it’s still early but I'll bring you some clean clothes once I’ve cleaned up in here.” He spoke low and quick, his tone returning to his usual briskness.
Birkin, still flushed, couldn’t bring himself to speak, but he nodded anyway, turning to leave with his tail tucked between his legs as it were. Wesker rolled his eyes playfully at his friend’s consistent patheticness. “Will?” He called after him before he could leave.
“Yeah?” Came Birkin’s trembling reply, his voice still managing to crack on the singular word.
Wesker smirked, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe now you’ll pay more attention to your body while you're working?”
Birkin almost scowled, but didn’t see he was in much position to do so and simply turned his gaze to the floor, giving a soft “Right…” before padding shamefully out of the laboratory and up the stairs to shower.
Following his long soak and intense scrubbing to try and get the encounter off him, he turned off the water and wrapped his towel around himself. He found Wesker had left his clothes on the edge of the sink with a post-it note nestled on top. Naturally the handwriting was unmistakable, rushed cursive without any punctuation, “You owe me”
How ominous… William blushed, infuriated.