Captain Wesker and Lieutenant Krauser had been having an on and off “coworkers with benefits” relationship for a few months now. When at its height it was one of the best things Krauser had ever experienced, the problem though, was that Wesker liked to push.
Constantly pushing kinks from no's to maybes to having Krauser bent over Wesker's desk while the S.T.A.R.S team is dutifully working a wall over despite empty protests. During that transition Krauser would push back, bratting and disobeying orders both in and outside their play. Although the act of submission was addicting, Krauser would eventually come crawling back tail between his legs ready to give in to whatever Wesker has asked for.
Again they were having a spat, during their last session Wesker had been incessant on being Krauser's owner. Being treated like his dog, a pretty pet to be used for pleasure, was typical for Krauser, but the emphasis on being Wesker's was new. It felt nice, uncomfortably nice, so when Wesker had demanded he start wearing a collar Krauser had refused immediately. Wesker sent him back home with the collar stuffed into his back pocket, and an off handed remark.
“If you continue misbehaving I may start seeking out more… obedient dogs.”
Krauser had rolled his eyes, assuming he was just being a bastard as usual. When he got home he threw the collar into his top drawer, out of sight out of mind. He would soon find that the comment would haunt him over the coming days.
It started out small. The following morning Krauser clocked in, half awake as he dragged himself to the breakroom. Punctual as usual the only other person there this early was the station’s newest rookie, he stood hovering around the coffee table. Leon Kennedy was a good enough worker, a bit too eager to impress for Krauser’s liking. The kid wasn't even under his jurisdiction, yet he wasn't even as much of a kiss ass with Branagh.
He tended to get rather skittish in Krauser’s presence. Upon seeing him enter Leon straightened, stumbling over his, “Good morning, Lieutenant” as if there was a time limit on the greeting he was afraid of missing.
Krauser shot him a sideways glance, grumbling back a casual, “Mornin’, rookie.”
Leon wilts at the response, looking like a kicked puppy as he hunches in on himself continuing to nurse his coffee.
Krauser finishes brewing his own coffee, moving away from the table to lean against the opposite wall.
Then came Wesker, again Leon gave his nervous yet chipper, “Good morning, Captain.”
Typically Wesker would respond as equally uninterested as Krauser had, but this morning he grinned back at Kennedy. Amicably replying with, “Good morning, officer Kennedy.”
Leon perked up at that, his smile growing from small and polite to wide and earnest. The response from the captain was certainly odd, almost out of character, but if he was in a good mood Leon was sure to take it for granted.
Wesker approaches the table, standing hip to hip with Leon as he makes his coffee. As he leans over to grab a cup he steadies himself on Leon's shoulder, murmuring in his ear. “Excuse me, just need to grab this.”
Leon's face lights up, he swallows thickly stammering out. “It's no problem, sir. Sorry to be in your way.”
Wesker only hums in response, remaining close as he finishes making his cup. He gives Krauser a pointed look as he walks out, one which Krauser doesn't fully meet, choosing instead to look past him at the wall.
Over the next few days Wesker would take an unprecedented interest in Leon. Allegedly seeing some big potential in him. That's what he said to Chief Irons anyway, which is why he took it upon himself to help the rookie during his training period.
It’s like they were attached at the hip, wherever Wesker went Leon was close behind. Sometimes if he hung back too far Wesker would place a hand on Leon's lower back to make sure he kept pace.
In meetings Wesker made sure they were seated together. Most people paid them no mind but Krauser could see how Wesker was pressing their legs together, in what could be considered an average man-spread if not for the fact Wesker rarely sat without his legs crossed. He'd then escalate to resting a hand loosely on Leon's knee, slowly moving it up to his inner thigh before revoking the touch all together. It wouldn't be so obvious if Leon didn't chase it, leaning over so fast he almost falls from his chair.
He'd find them together again at the shooting range. Wesker was apparently helping Leon with his form, as they stood almost front to back. Wesker had one hand on the boy's hip and another adjusting his shoulder, giving him pointers as he shot at the targets. Although the way Wesker's hips pushed against Leon's pert ass was definitely unnecessary, seeing as every small movement would cause Leon to miss his shot by a mile.
Krauser elected to ignore the obscene display, walking past them to take his own lane. Wesker saw the way his eyes would stray over to them. Looking back over to catch Krauser’s gaze he pulled Leon closer to again press their hips together. Not even the sound canceling headphones could properly muffle the way Leon whimpered.
Krauser furrowed his brow and went back to focusing on his own shooting. He ignored how from the corner of his eye he could see every shot Leon missed, and how a muffled whine would often accompany it.
When the shots stopped he took one more look over and saw that Wesker's hands had made their way under the boy's shirt. He was groping Leon as he trembled, the gun forgotten and discarded on the small counter.
Not wanting to look so affected, Krauser empted the rest of his clip into the target, staring forward as he pretended to analyze the results. Leon's whining had turned to moans, how Wesker had convinced him that the headphones would actually block out how loud he was being was beyond him.
Pretending he couldn't hear them he reloaded and continued his exercise, trying to at least get some actual practice in. He continued until he heard them start to leave. Looking over his shoulder he caught Leon staring at him, face flushed in embarrassment. The red only got deeper as they made eye contact and Leon quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, big blue eyes as wide as his skull could accommodate. Wesker was swiftly ushering him out with his hand on Leon's lower back, the sight making Krauser feel something he classified as annoyance.
It'd been a couple days since he saw them at the range together, and still Krauser felt rather hot and bothered about the whole ordeal.
“You and Kennedy have been getting awfully close.” He stood in front of Wesker’s desk, handing over some benign paperwork while fighting to keep the resentment from seeping into his tone.
Wesker arched a brow at that, not looking up from the papers as he says. “Is that envy I hear? We have never been exclusive, and I told you I'd be seeking out other partners if you were going to continue your disobedient streak.”
Krauser huffs, crossing his arms as he scowls down at the floor. “Guess you were right about my uniform hiding it well then. Thought at least someone as observant as you would notice.”
That gets Wesker's attention, he sets the papers off to the side and looks up at Krauser. “How long have you been wearing it?”
“Since last night.” The urge to extend that time was strong, but Wesker would see through a lie like that with ease.
Wesker smirks, clearly pleased with himself, he pushes his chair back and motions for Krauser to stand between him and the desk. “Go on then, show me.”
Without hesitation Krauser walks forward to stand before his owner, carefully unbuttoning his uniform top to reveal the black leather taught around his neck. He stops at three buttons tugging the fabric apart to really put it on display.
Wesker hums in satisfaction, reaching up to tug on the collar’s metal D-ring. “I knew you would look good like this.” He leans back in his chair, pulling his sunglasses off to leer at Krauser. “Keep going.”
Krauser feels heat concentrate in his gut, it felt good to be ordered around again. He unbuttons the shirt the rest of the way, untucks it from his pants and lets it fall to the ground. Wesker likes it when he leaves a little more rumpled than how he came in.
Feigning annoyance Wesker motions to the last piece of clothing on his chest. “Has our time apart made you more dense? That too, off with it.”
Krauser shudders, gripping the hem of his sports bra to tug it off, leaving it to the floor as well.
“There's my good dog. Now kneel for me, hands behind your back.”
Wesker's commands flowed over him, he obeyed without even thinking. On his knees Krauser leans forward intending to take Wesker's co*ck out from his pants using his teeth, as was routine. Much to his dismay however he receives a harsh slap to the face, not hard enough to turn his head but enough to leave a nasty sting.
Wesker grips his jaw, burying his fingers into the red mark left by his hand. “You don't get to have the privilege to touch until you've earned it, understood.”
“Yes, Master.” Krauser spits back, disappointed and frustrated at being denied.
Wesker ignores his dissatisfaction, turning Krauser's face so he's forced to face him. “Now then, I've invited Kennedy to my office after his shift ends. It would be rather unfair to deny such a pliant boy after all that teasing, isn't that right?”
Krauser scowls down at the floor, although it comes across more as a pout with how his face is still squished by Wesker's hand. “Yes, Master.”
“Look at me when you are speaking, mutt.” Wesker chides.
Sighing through his nose Krauser looks up at Wesker, petulant as he repeats. “Yes, Master.”
“Good. If you want to finish your apology to me you'll come back here after hours, understood?” Krauser nods, anticipation making him press his thighs together despite the way he forces his brow to furrow in discontent.
“Good boy, I hope by then you'll have learned how to share.” Wesker releases his face, moving out of his space to allow him to stand.
Gathering his clothes Krauser quickly redresses before scurrying out of Wesker’s office. The collar felt tighter the whole walk back to his own desk.
To say Leon was nervous would be a gross understatement. The closer it got to his shift ending the more he felt his stomach churning. It was getting harder to grip his pen with the way his palms were sweating. Captain Wesker had asked to see him after hours, intent clear with how he'd been crowding in his space.
After they left the shooting range Wesker brought him to his office to look over some of Leon's work. Leon had felt desperate, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Wesker read papers. The mild groping had already made him cum and yet his t-dick was still throbbing against the fabric of his boxers. As if ignorant to his plight, Wesker had continued their workday as normal, not initiating anything further. It was the closest Leon ever got to outright begging.
However his patience was now seeming to pay off, he finished up what he was working on and stood to make his way to Wesker's office. Hoping that maybe he'd get the release he really wanted.
Walking through the station Leon kept glancing over his shoulder, jumping at any sounds of life. It wasn't abnormal for him to be going to the Captain's office, but still he felt if anyone caught him they'd immediately know what he was walking into.
He sped up when passing by Lieutenant Krauser's office. The man was terrifying and intimidating on a good day, the last thing he needed was for him to ask why the rookie was here so late. It didn't help that the closer he got to Captain Wesker the more he felt Krauser staring. No matter how much Wesker reassured him everything would be fine he couldn't shake the feeling that they hadn't been as sneaky as he hoped.
As he finally made it to the S.T.A.R.S offices he lingered outside, listening for anyone who might still be around. Met with silence he opens the door, poking his head in to really confirm it was empty before stepping inside. Standing before Captain Wesker's door he was paralyzed, hundred different ways they could get caught or how Leon would somehow botch this race through his head.
“You can come in, Kennedy.” Wesker's voice called out, muffled by the door. The steady tenor gave Leon the push he needed to open the door.
Wesker was at his desk, swiftly writing in an illegible cursive. He glances up at Leon over his glasses, smirk already present on his face. “Your shift only just ended, feeling eager?”
“You said to come straight here, sir.” Leon's voice warbled, his shoulders hunched curling in on himself.
“I did, didn't I, how attentive.” Wesker pushes up from his seat, walking over to grab Leon by the chin. “I'll look over you talking back since you're so good at following orders.”
Tilting Leon's head up he's forceful in how he claims his mouth with a sweltering kiss. Wesker slides his hand down to Leon’s throat, giving it a testing squeeze. In turn Leon squirms, mouth parting open as he chokes on a whimper. Wesker takes advantage of this, slipping his tongue past Leon's lips to utterly devour him. Dissolving into the kiss, Leon presses himself into Wesker hands clutching his shirt collar. Wesker grabs his wrists nudging them off as he pulls away. Leon whines, falling forward to chase after the touch.
Wesker grabs ahold of his shoulders to steady him, keeping him at an arm's length. “Don’t get impatient now, boy.”
Releasing Leon, he circles around him appraising him, he presses himself against Leon’s back. “Are you sharp enough to undress yourself, or will I have to do it for you?”
Shivering with a new sense of thrill Leon shakes his head, much to Wesker’s amusem*nt.
“Is that so? Well then…” Again he removes his touch, stepping around Leon to return to his desk. “I think I would prefer to watch you struggle.”
Leon huffs, virtually sulking as he watches Wesker sit down. The thought of defying briefly crossed his mind, but he knew Wesker valued obedience. So with trembling hands he starts with his top, unbuttoning the first few buttons and then tugging it over his head. He holds it in front of his chest, unsure where to put it now that it's off.
“Drop it.” Wesker’s command startles him, biting and resolute. Leon hesitates, even if there was likely no one to see him walking out with his shirt wrinkled, the thought still made him wary. Still wanting to be good, he lets go of the shirt.
Wesker nods, leaning back in his chair to continue to watch. Feeling emboldened Leon continues toeing off his shoes, and fumbling a bit with his belt but it quickly joins the shirt on the floor. He moves on to his slacks, tearing them off with a fervor. He stands with his arms at his sides, staring at Wesker for approval.
“I suppose this will suffice for now. Come here, boy.” Wesker beckons him closer, when he’s close enough Wesker grabs his hips. He lifts him up and tosses him onto the desk, spreading his legs to rut his half hard co*ck against his clothed c*nt. Leon bucked his hips, movements clumsy as he writhed. Wesker drifts his hands from Leon’s hip up to the edge of his binder, sliding the tips of his fingers under the band.
“Didn’t I advise you against wearing this to work?” He scolds, pulling the band away from his skin before letting it snap back into place.
Panting Leon grumbles, “I told you I don’t.. have anything else.”
Wesker scoffs, irritation brimming under the surface of his tone, “Is buying a sports bra that unfeasible for you?”
He opens the top drawer to his desk, pulling out a pair of scissors. Leon’s eyes widen, he timidly shakes his head but makes no motion to fight as the blunt side of the blade is pressed against his sternum. In one smooth motion Wesker cuts the binder off his body, sliding it off and leaving Leon bare.
Leon watches it fall to the desk unease evident as he worries his lower lip. Wesker gropes the newly exposed flesh. “Don’t worry, your shirt is ill-fitted enough to hide them.”
Wesker leans down and plants a slew of kisses and bites to Leon’s chest. He makes sure to leave dark bruises and teeth marks that will last. Leon lays pliant at the attention, needy whimpers and soft moans flowing out of him. Wesker takes a moment to appreciate his work, prodding at some of the harder bites.
Without preamble, Wesker flips Leon onto his stomach, dragging him backwards so he's properly bent over the desk. The hard edge of the desk digs into Leon's gut. His bare feet slide against the wood floor as he scrambles to find his footing in the new position. Wesker makes no move to help with his floundering, instead nudging his legs apart with the tip of his boot.
He takes hold of the waistband Leon's boxers, tugging them down to his knees. With two fingers he rubs against his folds, not pressing hard enough to much more than gather his slick. “I'm surprised you've yet to hit your climax, already you're practically dripping onto the floor.”
Leon writhes, subtly pushing back onto Wesker’s fingers. He cries out in a wanton plea. “Please, sir.”
“Please what?”
Leon whines, high in his throat, the words starting to spill from his mouth without much thought from his upper head. “Please… please f*ck me captain, I've been so patient I waited my whole shift I need it please.”
“I'm the one who will decide what you do and don't need.” Wesker gives his c*nt a light smack, making Leon jolt. Leon can hear Wesker undoing his belt as he continues speaking. “Although for once you're right you've been a very patient pup for me.”
Leon howls as Wesker pushes his full length into his c*nt, grabbing tightly onto his hips to keep him in place. His panting grew abrupt and reedy. Leon had fingered himself in the bathroom after Wesker had told him to meet him here, but the sudden intrusion still hurt. It wasn't like the size could compare to his three digits either, he felt fuller then he ever had when by himself.
Mercifully Wesker gives him a minute to adjust, listening for his breathing to settle. The second it evens out he pulls out a fraction only to slam right back in, repeating the motion by rolling his hips. Leon lays pliant as Wesker begins to pick up the pace, slow shallow thrusts turning brisk and bruising. He buries his face in his arms, biting his arm to try and stifle his yelps.
“Good boy, you're taking me quite well.” Wesker muses, reaching up to pet the boy's scalp as he rails him.
Leon feels his eyes roll back as he c*ms hard, his back bowing as he wails out a moan. The feeling of Leon's c*nt spasming around his co*ck causes Wesker to groan, not letting up in his thrusts even as Leon lets out an uncomfortable whine.
Leon feels himself slipping, like he's on the verge of passing out from the sensitivity. Faintly he hears himself asking, begging, for Wesker to let up. The answer he got rang clear. “Not until I've bred you well, pup.”
So he lays there, feeling at the same time sleepy and like his whole body was alight with pleasure. He almost lost himself in it until a sharp knock at the door broke his trance. Frantic, he tries to push himself up onto his elbows only to be shoved back down.
“The door’s unlocked.” Wesker calls, shockingly calm for someone balls-deep in a man.
“Sir wait please you can’t-” Leon pleads, pushing up against Wesker’s hand keeping him pinned down.
The office door opens, Lieutenant Krauser now standing in the doorway. He steps inside, letting the door swing closed behind him. Leon's flushed head to toe in embarrassment, mouth dry as Krauser walked over to the desk, not even sparing him a glance.
Not even getting the chance to speak, Wesker grabs hold of his jaw. “Don't be petulant now, greet our guest properly.”
Krauser rolls his eyes, kneeling down to be at eye level with Leon. He pushes Leon's sweat soaked bangs away from his temple, pressing his lips to the heated skin as he bites out, “Evenin’ sir.”
Leon's brain was far too fried to process what was happening. Whatever he had gotten himself into currently it was making his c*nt clench. Consequences be damned, he was going to revel in this while he could.
“Good dog. Now go on, sit down and wait your turn.” Wesker instructs.
Krauser represses a scoff as he stands. He slouches in one of the rickety wooden office chairs, fidgeting in what could be annoyance or arousal.
“Do you know how long it took to get him in this position?” Wesker pulls Leon's head up by his hair, turning him to look towards Krauser. “Over a month. You however, obedient as you are, unraveled for me in a mere two weeks.”
“That's only because you wanted to do it during our lunch break.” Krauser snarks, indignant at the comparison. “And we both know Redfield can't f*ckin’ knock.”
“You see, nothing but insolence.” Wesker sneers. He drops Leon's head and grabs his hips to pull him back onto his co*ck. Leon was so wet now it was audible everytime their hips slapped together.
Krauser rolls his eyes, but nonetheless quiets down.
Leon starts to squirm, whining again as the overstimulation becomes too much. Wesker hushes him, hand wrapping around his mouth as he bent down to lay on Leon's back. “Easy pup, just a bit more you can take it.”
Again Leon spasms around him, and this time it's enough to push Wesker over the edge. He makes sure to slowly pull out as he c*ms, leaving Leon dripping. Normally he'd want to leave his seed as deep inside as possible, letting it gradually drip out as a reminder. This time however he had a better way to leave a lasting impact.
Leon layed completely limp, using the desk entirely to support himself, making it easy for Wesker to lift him. He fell back into the embrace, easily being maneuvered to be sat down in Wesker's office chair.
“Here, dog.” Wesker snaps his fingers, pointing to the floor in front of Leon.
Krauser stands, only managing to take a single step before Wesker's moving to stop him. He puts a hand on Krauser's shoulder, pushing him to his knees.
Warily, Krauser glances over to Leon. His eyes were glazed over, tears streaming down his face, idly Krauser wonders if he has ever looked that pathetic. Well he certainly looked rather debased now, crawling around the desk to sit in between the rookie’s legs.
He keeps his hands planted firmly on the ground, nuzzling Leon's thigh with his nose to ask for his attention. “You alright, sir?”
Leon's still flushed all over, gulping air as he tried to recover enough to respond. Eventually he manages a jerking nod. Krauser wastes no time, starting with what's already dripping out into the chair, he licks up the mix of cum. Once it's clean of everything but his own spit, he makes his way up to Leon's hole, lapping at it like a man starved. Still a bit overstimulated Leon whimpers, but it still felt too good to ask to stop.
Krauser works him with a dutiful reverence, even as he forces his brow into a scowl to look up at Wesker standing behind the chair. Wesker ignores him, placing his hands on Leon's shoulders. “Is he doing a good job, Kennedy? Think he deserves a bit of encouragement?”
Leon opens his eyes through how pleasure made him heavy lidded and dazed. He watched as Krauser gave a full body shiver at those words. Leon kinda felt bad for the guy, and he was doing very well, so he gave another uncoordinated nod.
Wesker stalks around to stand behind Krauser. He kneels down to snake his arms around and grope at his chest through his shirt. “Have you learned your lesson yet, dog?”
“Yes, Master.” Krauser murmurs, muffled as his face is still buried in cum and c*nt.
“Hmm. We'll see about that.” Wesker muses. With deft hands he undoes Krauser's top, sliding his sports bra up so his tit* spill out past its band. He pays special attention to his nipples, twisting as they perk under the stimulus.
Krauser groans, the vibrations reverberating through Leon's core. Leon was close, so close, but his t-dick was aching in neglect all he could think to do was plead for the extra attention.
“Lieutenant… please!” Leon bites out each syllable, rolling his hips into his tongue against how his body shakes.
Wesker tuts, he grabs ahold of the back of Krauser's head, yanking him back. Krauser's tongue still lulled out of his mouth, his tit* red from all of Wesker’s groping on full display.
“You see this, Kennedy? This debauchery? This is not a Lieutenant, this is my dog you are to use for your pleasure.” Wesker releases Krauser, letting him fall forward into the chair. “You should use and address him as such.”
Leon falters, swallowing thickly as his mouth has gone dry. Shakily he pulls his hands off the armrests, to softly grasp the sides of Krauser's face. With little grace he pulls him towards his t-dick, repressing the urge to say please. Taking the hint, Krauser takes him into his mouth looking up at Leon with a more neutral expression.
Leon's fingers tighten as he moans, holding Krauser close as he bucks into his mouth. He continues like this, rutting desperately as he chases his next release.
It doesn’t take him long to reach that peak, howling as he doubled over with the force of it. He slumps back into the chair as it washes over him still holding Krasuer’s face, unconsciously petting him as a grounding measure.
“Do you think you can make it home on your own, Kennedy?” Wesker reaches around Krauser, gently petting Leon's shivering thighs.
“I'd be surprised if he could even dress himself like this.” Krauser murmured. Looking Leon over he was definitely deep into subspace. He barely looked aware of his surroundings, utterly drunk off the endorphins.
“Are you suggesting we take him back with us?” Wesker's smirk was audible. This was likely what he'd planned for in the first place but he was getting all smug to hear Krauser suggest it first.
“Couldn't hurt. S'not like anyone will notice his car staying overnight, he's one of the first people here anyway.”
“You're taking this rather well. I expected more of a fight out of you.” Wesker stands, moving to go collect Leon's clothes from the floor.
“You said to learn how to share.” Krauser shrugs. He stands as well, which Leon bemoans the loss of contact, and stretches upwards. “Helps that he's pretty, makes it real easy.”
“I have a good eye for pretty playthings.” Wesker presses himself against Krauser, passing off Leon's clothes.
Krauser chuffs, taking the clothes as he nudges Wesker off. “Go get him some water.”
Wesker snickers, stalking off to do just that.
