You leaned back against the office chair. One foot kicked up against the edge, the other tossed over the left arm. Your hands were busy, petting idly through the soft blonde hair between your thighs. Your head tipped back; your eyes slipped shut as you relished in the feeling of a hot, slick tongue working obediently across the folds of your cunt.

The tip of Wesker’s nose bumped over the swollen, twitching bud of your clit. You took your bottom lip between your teeth and hummed, pleased. Wesker lapped at the wetness beading between your lips. Wesker’s tongue curled into your hole; you nudged your hips forward to encourage the action. He dove forward. Now, the bridge of his nose was pushed firmly into your clit. Each rocking motion of Wesker’s face brought pleasure singing across your nerves. You released your bottom lip with a sigh; arousal swirled up the rod of your spine, making you stiffen.

“There.”

You dropped your head back down and looked lazily over his features. Wesker was peering up at you, blue eyes locked on your face. His palms were laid along your thighs. Fingertips pushing, squishing and leaving little divots in the muscle. Wesker tugged at you. Your fingers brushed down across his cheekbone until you could hook them behind his jaw. Wesker obeyed the slight pressure and moved even closer.

“Perfect.”

You started to rut your cunt against his face. Sloppy, starved noises left Wesker’s mouth as his tongue slithered up between your folds. The pressure from his nose disappeared, and you nearly chastised him. But then his lips closed around your clit, sucking until it was pushing into the flat of his tongue. Your mouth fell open; soft pants huffed from your lungs. Close, you thought. And as though Wesker could taste it, he dropped one hand from your thigh and trailed the pads of his fingers over your opening.

The tips of his fingers had barely teased you open when a flicker from his tongue made you come. You choked down your cry of his name, and Wesker made a delighted noise in the back of his throat. Wesker released your slippery clit from his mouth, leaning back to catch his breath. Wesker rocked back, and the light caught the shine of your juices all over his skin; sleeve rolled up, Wesker wiped his face on the back of his arm.

“That’s good,” you murmured nonchalantly. You folded your arms over your chest and nodded. “Go ahead.”

With a quick movement, Wesker tore at the button and zipper on the front of his jeans. He pulled his cock free, and you relished in the sight. Wesker’s hand hovered above it, knowing you were looking, and he waited to let you get your fill. His cock was flushed, red and throbbing; pre-come leaked generously from the slit on the tip of his dick. It spilled down the head, slipping over the ridge and running in rivulets down his shaft.

“May I?” Wesker growled out, voice thick with his need. You nodded again.

“You may.”

Wesker took hold of his cock. His fingers gathered the fluid and lubed his palm with it. You watched with dark, burning eyes as Wesker, too eager to even stroke, bucked forward and fucked his cock into the tight grip of his fist. You smiled.

“You know when to stop.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a reminder. Wesker did know. You just wanted to yank up on the invisible leash you kept on him.

“Yes.”

The deal was, each time he could make you come, he was allowed to jerk himself off. But he wasn’t allowed to finish. Not until you felt like it. This was number five.

Wesker’s hips still rocked, a little less urgently now, but his palm made up for it. He paused to squeeze around the head of his cock. More fluid oozed, dripping over his knuckles. Wesker was a mess. It stirred the coals of pleasure that burned low in your gut. Wesker’s brows furrowed; his lips parted. Close, echoed in your mind again. He knew it better than you, and Wesker snatched his hand away. Wesker’s cock bowed, aching in protest at being denied again. Wesker rested his fists against his thighs. He took deep, steadying breaths while he fought back his orgasm. A little too close this time.

“Good boy.”

You didn’t often bring it out. Wesker’s nostrils flared. It was something that, used any other time, would earn you a reprimand–professional and personal. But here, in this space, it made his dick twitch visibly. A little pathetic. Something you would remind him of another time.

“One more,” you mumbled, snapping your fingers and pointing to your sopping pussy. The fabric of the chair was dark, soaked. You licked along your lips. Wesker did the same.

Wesker dipped his face close to your cunt again. A soft exhale left his lungs, his breath hitting the wet skin and cooling it until you shivered. Wesker decided to raise his fingers up and press them in first. Two digits prodded at you. Your muscles relaxed, inviting him in, and Wesker’s eyelids fluttered at the feeling of your walls practically dragging him in. Wesker tilted his wrist until his fingertips slid along the soft spot at the top of your cunt.

One of your legs fell from its spot over the arm of the chair and hooked over his shoulder. Your heel bumped against his back, spurring him forward until his mouth covered your sex. Wesker stuck his tongue out and dragged it in a heavy pet over the entirety of your cunt. You moaned. Five orgasms–encroaching on six–had made you sensitive. It didn’t take long, especially with Wesker’s fingers gliding in and out of your wet heat.

“Fuck. Come on. Good boy.” You dragged your nails through his hair and tangled in his blonde locks. Your hips jerked. Wesker lifted his other hand to push down on your pelvis to keep you still. It teased past the edges of your rules, but you were too close to the edge to care for the moment.

Another orgasm crashed over you as Wesker jammed his fingers into your g-spot again. Fluid gushed from your cunt; Wesker pulled his fingers from you, and he raised them to his lips. But you flew your hand out to grab his wrist. You flicked your eyes down to his cock.

Wesker’s eyes flashed. Delighted, Wesker reached up and slid his fingers and his palm between your hips. Obscene sounds rose up as Wesker gathered up your slick before dropping his hand to slide it over his cock again.

“That’s it.” You threw your other leg across his other shoulder. You tipped forward until you were sitting up straight, barring Wesker between your thighs. Your hands cupped each side of his face and tilted him to meet his gaze. One of your thumbs slid along his lip, pink and swollen from the time he’d spent eating you out. You dragged it down, just to see the whites of his teeth. Wesker’s jaw fell open slightly. “You want to come for me, don’t you?”

Wesker nodded once. “Yes.” His tongue peeked out to tease at the tip of your thumb. His hand stroked over himself in a fever. You flexed your thighs around his head, brow raised and waiting for the next part. “Please.” There was a spark of a smolder, some part of his everyday demeanor that wanted so badly to pin you against the chair and fuck you stupid. Until you were a drooling, cock-drunk mess slurring out whimpering apologies for making him wait so goddamn long.

But he would have his chance.

“Up, then.”

Wesker lifted himself from his knees as you drew your legs back. He bent forward to brace his arms against the office chair. You wrapped around his hips, angling your pelvis until he could slid the length of his cock along your folds.

“Not inside,” you warned. For no other reason than you wanted to tell him no, wanted to see the frustration on his face.

And oh, did Wesker deliver. His lip curled up, and his whole face darkened with a scowl. He sank his cock into your folds. You took him greedily, warm walls clamping down, eager to feel the friction. Wesker’s head fell, pressing into your chest as he snapped forward with each annoyed thrust. Heaven, finally, in the form of your pussy squeezing him so perfectly, with the stinging promise of an unsatisfying end.

You loved it.

Wesker moved his hands from the chair to grip your waist. He tilted you up slightly even as he let all his weight lean against you. It left you breathless. Your hands flew back to grip at the headrest of the office chair. At your squirming, your writhing, you heard Wesker growl. Oh, you were going to pay for tonight. It made your toes curl in anticipation.

Wesker didn’t take long. He pumped his cock deep into you a few more times before drawing back in a rush. His cock slapped wetly onto your belly. You took pity and wrapped your palm around him, giving him enough to make him moan into your skin. The twist of your hand finished him. Wesker came, back folding forward from the rippling not-good-enough orgasm. Spurts of come shot from his dick onto your stomach, up far enough that coated your chest and nearly hit his chin.

As you continued to stroke him, more oozed out with each twitch. Your hand was sticky, warm, by the time he was really done, and you lifted your fingers to his mouth. Wesker laved his tongue up your digits and licked up his own mess. It sent a spike of heat directly to your clit.

“You did good. You’re getting better at this.”

“Quiet.”

And the game was over. That was emphasized when Wesker took your wrists and pinned them against your thighs. You grinned up at him.

“You know,” you began. “I thought you liked playing like this. But I think you just let me do this to piss you off so you can hate fuck me afterwards.”

The smallest smirk pulled at the corner of Wesker’s lips. “Perhaps.” He’d never tell you which one was true. Or maybe they both were. “Now why don’t you be good and spread your legs? I’m taking what I’m owed.”