Lesson

Disclaimer: I own...nothing but the fanfic. Hooray! Wait, no. No hooray.

Summary: "Maybe you need...a little reminder." Sergei/Wesker

WARNING! Male/male, nonconsensual intercourse, and highly probable OOC-ness. Do not like, do not read!

"Where might you be going...comrade?" The question was inquired whilst a double-bladed knife was spun with a leisure expertise.

"My next mission." The blond retorted matter-of-factly, reloading his handgun as he paid no mind to the figure speaking to him atop the wrecked train car.

"The reclamation of the management training facility was your mission." Fingers carelessly toyed with one of the blades, tracing the tip with no fear of pain, of getting nicked or cut. "And now you're just going to walk away without taking responsibility for your failure." The hand squeezed the blade with an audible noise of skin stretching over the edge before that skin gave way to the metal and dark blood oozed precariously down the blade's edge.

"The T-Virus has escaped. I will detonate the facility and dispose of it." Wesker spoke indifferently, elaborating on his course of action as though it were an everyday thing, like he were casually remarking on the day's weather. He finally bothered looking up at his superior, taking note of the slightly taller, darker figure adorning a white trench coat and eccentric orange sunglasses stationed behind the thickly-accented man.

"Comrade, don't forget who's in charge. You can't just do what you feel like." Sergei raised the knife to his mouth, sliding the sharp edge across the corners, completely unfazed by the pain. A miniature stream of blood trickled down the right corner by the time the tip passed there and he lowered the weapon, expression blank as he watched the S.T.A.R.S. captain for a reaction. He received none. "Maybe you need...a little reminder."

The figure behind Sergei took that as his cue and he stepped forward, leaping off the train car and landing on his feet with a slight thud. As he rose, Wesker swiftly lifted his arm, training his weapon on the nonhuman bodyguard.

"Ivan." The Russian grumbled sternly. "Fall back."

Taking no disregard to the man he was supposed to protect, the tyrant settled himself in the oblique shadows in a far corner of the room, on guard for whatever the next command should be.

The gun's target shifted from Ivan to Sergei as the man jumped from the train car, standing a tad awkwardly as he attempted to get his sense of balance back.

"I'm not afraid to shoot you, Sergei." To make a statement, the blond squeezed the trigger and a bullet shot forth from the gun's barrel, flying by Sergei's head and imbedding itself in the wall far behind him.

"I know you aren't, comrade." The Umbrella officer replied, a smirk forming on his face. He raised his left hand, observing Wesker intently. He seemed puzzled, curious even, on what Sergei was up to, but he kept himself guarded and attentive in case he'd been plotting a crafty surprise.

He didn't know the half of it.

Over the crackling of the fire burning freely on one side of the room, a quick snap reverberated in the air. Sergei had snapped his fingers, though for what purpose Wesker had not a clue, though he immediately found this out. Arms lashed out from behind him, looping from under his armpits to over his shoulders, trapping him in a full nelson. Taken aback, Wesker breathed a startled gasp, unintentionally letting go of his handgun and it clattered uselessly on the floor.

A smug smile graced the Russian's lips as he sauntered over slowly, menacingly, eyeing his prey like a hungered wolf. "Good work, Ivan."

Wesker didn't bother struggling. He knew it was futile to try, for the strength of the arms holding him in place told him so. He did, however, indulge in an expression of perplexity. Surely who or what that had grabbed him couldn't have been Ivan, for he could clearly see Ivan standing by in the false security of the shadows.

Rough, calloused fingers laid upon the blond's cheek, stroking the flesh there with an uncharacteristic placidity. The touch was pleasing, sending a shudder both of anticipation and anxiety down the restrained man's spine.

"Sergei?" Wesker's voice wavered almost unnoticeably. "What are you doing...?"

The Russian didn't answer, at least not with words. In one swift move, his lips were pressed against Wesker's, mouthing against them hungrily. His other arm slipped around Wesker's back, holding him in place as he finally began to writhe and struggle for all he was worth.

Wesker wanted to gag as a sour copper taste entered his mouth along with Sergei's tongue. Without much thought, he savagely bit down, snagging his teeth more on his superior's lower lip than his tongue.

Sergei stumbled back, swearing in his native tongue as he held his bitten lip. He drew his hand up to his face to view how much he was bleeding. His hand was not at his lip for long, but an impressive amount of the thick red liquid stained his fingers. Growling, he brought his hand back and lashed out at the blond, slapping him so hard that his cheek was instantaneously tinted pink. Wesker's sunglasses went flying and landed with a clatter on the floor, revealing blue eyes not yet mutated into the colors of hell's hottest flames. Bloody prints from his fingers marred the stinging cheek, vaguely resembling war paint.

"Let me go..." Wesker seethed, spiting out what blood that had gotten into his mouth.

Scowling, Sergei grabbed the younger man by his neck, holding his head still. "Stop it, comrade. You'll only make this lesson harder for yourself."

"Let. Me. Go." The blond repeated, carefully enunciating each word with all the venom and spite he could muster along with trying to speak with the hand pressing none too gently on his throat. The hand was removed and all he got in return was another slap to the face, this time on the opposite cheek with the backside of Sergei's bloodied hand. The quick snap his head made to the side briefly put Wesker in a daze, the sensation of rough lips against his own being the first thing he noticed when he regained his bearings. He wanted to bite at those lips again, tear them off the face of that arrogant bastard he had the displeasure of calling his superior, but he was currently at the mercy of him. He knew full well what Sergei was capable of and decided that if he wanted to survive this "lesson" and continue with his own agenda, he would have to submit and play by the rules.

The assault on Wesker's mouth soon ceased and Sergei commanded to the tyrant restraining the shorter man to bring him to his knees. Ivan complied, shifting his arms around to grip Wesker's wrists in a tight hold and forced him on the floor, keeping his arms twisted behind him painfully. Wesker grimaced slightly from the position, but said nothing. He wanted, though, to inquire what Sergei had in mind, forcing himself to believe that it was not the utterly obvious that would've flashed through anyone else's head, even when he caught sight of the tent pitched in Sergei's pants.

What Wesker was heatedly denying to himself though was confirmed and left a sickening clench in his stomach as he heard the Russian's zipper fall.

"Sergei, wait-" The S.T.A.R.S. captain bared his teeth as the tyrant behind him twisted his arms some more to silence him.

A moment later, the Russian had his length exposed and presented it before the other man. "Comrade, I'm warning you. If you even consider biting me, know that you will not live to see tomorrow. Understand?"

'I don't think I'd want to after this...' But Wesker forced himself to nod his head, his pride and dignity causing him to hesitate in the slightest bit.

"Good." He stroked the blond locks like a master would their dog. "Go on now."

Wesker stared at the engorged member, his features twisted in a look of disgust, but he forced himself to extend his tongue and flick it against the salty-tasting flesh. The blood rushed to his face, painting his humiliation there as a scarlet blush on his cheeks.

'I have to...I have to...' was the mantra in his mind as he summoned the courage to open his mouth and take in the head of Sergei's cock.

"Mmm..." Sergei flexed his fingers, griping Wesker's scalp as he encouraged him to take more by putting a slight pressure on the back of his head. "Don't be shy, comrade." He sneered tauntingly.

The blond swirled his tongue around the tip of the Russian's member, bitterly tasting the precum it seeped. He truly wished he could do to Sergei's cock what he did to his lip and spit the vile fluid out, though he could not. Instead, he told himself that the faster he worked, the faster this would be over with and he would be on his way. Unsurely, he tightened his lips and tentatively began bobbing his head, swallowing more flesh with each bob. He paid careful attention to how much was going in so that his gag reflex would not be struck and end up making the sick situation even sicker by vomiting.

An intermix of a hiss and a moan slipped from the Umbrella officer's lips as he roughly dug his fingers into the slicked blond locks, forcing them into a golden disarray. Panting, he thrust his hips forward, wanting more of that wet, warm cavern to relish in. He laughed darkly when he heard the blond start to choke and gag on his length and he taunted him, asking Wesker if his throat couldn't handle it.

'Just hurry up.' The violated man snarled inwardly, using every ounce of strength he could to keep from sinking his teeth into the sexual organ. Instead, he bobbed his head faster, his eyes clenching shut as every once in a while, the member hit the back of his throat.

To Wesker's relief, Sergei's thrusting sped up until he felt a warm liquid hit the back of his throat and his swallowed it to keep from choking. After a few more weak thrusts, Sergei's pelvis ceased movement and he stood there, clenching Wesker's head and panting breathlessly. He pulled his now-flaccid length from the researcher's mouth, leaving him gasping for precious air.

"Not bad, comrade." Sergei complimented, the corners of his lips jutting upwards in a malicious leer. Wesker paid him no mind, however. He was simply savoring the taste of the freedom that he was about to be given.

But that taste rotted into a bitter flavor.

The Umbrella officer snapped his fingers once more and the tyrant standing by in the shadows wordlessly approached. "Get him undressed, Ivan."

Wesker gaped at his superior, stunned by what he'd just heard and at the same time, berating himself for naively believing that all Sergei wanted of him was a mediocre-at-best blowjob.

The tyrants began removing the blond man's clothes, causing him to start his struggles all over again. He lashed out with his feet and his fists, snarling, "No!" and, "Get off of me!" as though they'd actually relent. The Ivan in the blue sunglasses finally tired of the human's writhing and protesting and knocked Wesker's head to the side with a single punch.

Hazy black splotches danced across his vision and his head spun. He felt incredibly lightheaded and thought he was close to losing consciousness, but the spots cleared and his sense of balance returned as something cold pressed against his back. A shudder rippled through him and he looked about him, realizing he was pinned between Sergei and the wall. The Ivans stood on either side of him, tightly pressing the S.T.A.R.S. captain's arms to the wall to prevent him from lashing out.

Escape from the current predicament with at least a little bit of his dignity left was hopeless and his eyes clouded over with tears of shame and realization. His breath hitched and he turned his gaze away, not wanting this sadist, this rapist, to view the tears he was causing to spill down the blond's cheeks.

"Comrade..." Sergei purred deeply in his thick accent, leaning forward to briefly lap one of the tear trails. While in such a close proximity of his prey's face, he noticed his left cheek was already starting to show signs of bruising. His lips peeled back from his teeth as he gave a proud beam upon the sight. Not just the injured cheek, but the whole body that encased the spirit he knew he was breaking.

"Sergei...why...?" God, how pitiful he must've sounded, quietly, brokenly sobbing as he spoke.

"You need to learn your lesson, comrade." The grey-haired man stated as if it were the most blunt thing in the world. With that said, he went about his business and thrust into the blond without warning or preparation.

It took all of Wesker's strength to keep for screaming out loud. All that escaped his throat was a choked gasp, his mouth wide and his cerulean eyes bulging. He clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked and his legs tightened around Sergei's waist, heels pressing hard against the small of his back.

The Russian gave a throaty laugh at the look on his subordinate's face as he continued to thrust, indulging in both the pleasure he was receiving and the pain he was dishing out. Fingers digging uncomfortably into Wesker's thighs, he thrust violently, growling in approval at the sound of his skin slapping noisily against Wesker's.

Weeping piteously, Wesker looked down and off to the side, repeating to himself over and over again, 'It'll end soon...Then I can get back to my mission...God, let it end soon...' He'd, by now, thought there was no possible way the situation could get any worse than it already was, but he was proven wrong when he realized he was starting to get turned on and that his moans were no longer caused by his tears, but the pleasure.

'Dear God...' He groused mentally as he threw his head back, a highly audible moan of despair mingling with gratification escaping his throat.

Sergei took this as an opportunity to latch his mouth onto Wesker's neck and bite until his teeth broke the skin and a miniscule trail of blood seeped from the wound. The blond groaned in both pain and ecstasy, turning his head to the side as the Umbrella officer licked at the blood.

The thrusting increased in tempo, drawing delicious moans and screams from the researcher Sergei was so eagerly pounding into. He released one of the thighs from his grip only to use it to slap Wesker clean across his bruising cheek. He released a shaky breath, the thrill of acting on sadism turning him on even further. "Say my name, comrade..." He panted, commanded. "I want to hear you scream my name..."

Without anymore coherent thoughts in his mind, Wesker did as he was told. The Russian's name passed his lips multiple times, blending with his moans and screams. By then, the Ivans had released his arms and he had them carelessly slung around Sergei's neck and shoulders, holding tightly and wanting nothing more than sweet release.

Across the room where the door was, an eruption of flames burst forth as the thunder of an explosion resonated, the noise taking both men and the Ivans by surprise. Sergei had haphazardly dropped Wesker to the floor in his alarm, the smoke that filled the room obscuring his vision. The blond immediately seized the opportunity to collect his clothes, laying low to the floor to feel around for them and for his gun. His fingertips brushed the cool metal of the gun and he sighed in relief, darting out in the direction he knew he needed to go before the heavy fog of smoke could clear, his clothes and firearm securely in his grasp.

Once the cloud finally lifted, Sergei found that he and the Ivans were now alone. He, at first, was a little taken aback by the revelation. It faded rapidly, though, and he smirked.

"I guess he didn't like his lesson..." He chuckled. "Fine." He motioned for his bodyguards to follow him as he leisurely made his way to the exit. "We have the Talos retrieval to take care of, anyway."

A soft crack came from underfoot as the Russian uncaringly stepped on something and he didn't bother to see what it was. Had he, he would've noticed it was Wesker's sunglasses. The blond wouldn't care, though. He had a spare pair in his pants pocket.

"Everything...for Umbrella..."

Oh, wow...Wow...I was simply going to have Sergei suck faces with Wesker and have Wesker push him away and beat a hasty retreat, but...THIS is what came out instead. :O

I certainly hope you enjoyed it, as it was my first piece of real smut. :3

Update 10/Dec/2013: For the longest time, I've wanted to acknowledge this. I know, it's not that well written and I know Wesker is quite OOC here. I wrote it in a rush and didn't stop to think about that before publishing it. I'm not proud of this piece, but a lot of people seem to like it, so I'm leaving it up. I'll probably get to editing it someday, but not now, because I still can't summon the courage to read it again after all this time for fear that it's as bad as I remember.