Chapter Five: Aspiration

Wesker:  It had come to this.

The engine had chilled an hour ago. The ignition had been switched off, and the car had been sitting just out of the nearest light post. Through smudged up inch thick frames, The Ventriloquist had been staring at the Commissioner's house.

It was a fairly nice house, but you could tell it was owned by a man who didn't have a wife to nag him to mow the lawn, or by someone who just didn't have the time for the upkeep. The setting sun made the evening dew glistering on the leaves of the weeds sporting up around the mailbox.

But then again. Mr. Gordon had all the time in the world now didn't he? Arnie had spent the last two days trolling the police station, crime scenes, coffee shops, anywhere the mustached cop could have been; only to finally pick up a lead from some rookies merely flapping their jaws.

He got canned! No..not permanently, they think he's off his rocket. You hear? They caught the Commish doing the reach-around or something with a criminal.

Didn't think the old man was that desperate.

Arnie had wanted to roll out of the car and tell those young cops that they didn't know anything about being desperate, but he hadn't. He just sighed and realized there was only one place Gordon had to be.

Home.

Phonebooks could be a rat's best friend. So now he was here, there was Gordon's house. Inside, he knew somewhere, Mr. Scarface was in there too. I have to get to Mr. Scarface. I have to tell him what happened to the boys. I have to get help.

It could already be too late for help, and yet the Ventriloquist stalled. Why? He didn't even know. You can't just sit here; sitting here won't get Mr. Scarface back. Sitting here won't help Rhino and the others. Sitting here lets Ivy's horrible plan go unchecked.

"Ugh!" He groaned as he finally shifted out of the car and pushed open the door. His body hurt from how much time he'd been sitting. His eyes hurt from crying over the fate of his goons. His head hurt from worry, and his heart hurt from the ploy that had gone down.

The Ventriloquist just hurt. Plan and simple.

The trot across the street and into Gordon's driveway did help loosen up his cramped muscles, but the closer he got to the door, the more his chest tightened.

He looked like shit too. He was still in the ripped up tuxedo from two days before. Hair was stringy and the bruises and cuts on his left hand were looking a little ominous. Fresh sweat was already starting to gleam on his semi-exposed chest by the time the small criminal reached up to buzz the doorbell.

God, I hope I'm not doing something stupid.

Gordon:  Doing something stupid?  Poor Arnold had no idea what he was getting into. 

Though surely he had some clue when the door came swinging open and what stood there was just a vague shell of what he'd seen a couple of days before.  More like a desolated husk, considering the condition of what previously he had encountered in the laboratory garage.

Hallow, bloodshot eyes stared down from behind thick glasses.  Shirt was haphazardly undone down to the middle of his heaving chest.  Heaving from what?  It was the shorter man's choice whether he wanted to take the time guess or ask.

His hands balled into tight fists and his eyes widened upon seeing just who'd knocked at his door.  "GET IN HERE!" he snarled, stretching his fingers out just to lurch his hands forward and violently grab the lapels.

-A few moments earlier-

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" the tall commissioner said, wiping his mustache with the back of his hand.  He walked around his kitchen table, the rest of his house dark.

Sitting under the glare of a desk light, the little wooden puppet sat limply with his head tilted.  "Don't make me wipe that smug look off your face!  What's your plan?!  Huh?!  Huh!?"  The commissioner jammed his face into the wooden one.  "Protecting your string puller?  Or just too good to talk?!"

The puppet wobbled, before falling backward.  

"Pushover," Gordon growled, snapping back up, then toward the door as it chimed at him.  "It's the press, I bet... NO IT'S NOT!" He jerked to look at the puppet.  "He is NOT here to bust you out!  He wouldn't dare come here!"  He waved his hand dismissively at Scarface, grunting, before going to answer the door.

Wesker:  When the door had opened, Arnie had been ready to start spilling out what ever he could to get the commissioner to listen to him. Somehow, anyhow, he needed to make this man give him back Scarface, dry lips had been licked and he'd even did his best to straighten up...

.. but all boldness was lost when Gordon appeared in the door looking so utterly. What was a good word for it? Haphazard? Disheveled? I n s a n e?

Behind his own thick glasses, the Ventriloquist's eyes had widened, and all that came out of his mouth was a squeak as he was suddenly snatched and jerked into the house. He swore his feet left the ground before they slammed back into the little foot carpet behind the door. The thin item balled up between their feet. His balding head collided with the man's exposed heaving chest. God! Help!

Wesker felt the seams in his lapels and under his armpits ripping as he tried to pull away from the other man. His own hands jerked up and shoved at Gordon's shoulders. "L-L-Lemme Go! Please! I Nee- Scarfac - Rhin- Ivy.. Help me.."

Way was it so dark in the house? Where was Mr. Scarface? Why couldn't he just spit out what he wanted to say? The Ventriloquist was just yelping random words. "Chemical!" "Boys!" "Scarface!" whilst trying to pull himself out of the commissioner's iron grip.

Gordon:  "You!  How dare you show your face here!?"  He lifted up the other's weight and tossed him over to where the door light shown onto the cushions of his couch.  He slammed the front door, locks snapping loudly into place as he did them up in the pitch lack of light.

"You trick me once, shame on you.  You trick me twice, shame on me!  Trick me three times and I have a VERY serious problem!"  The springs creaked on either side of Wesker as sudden weight caved in the fabric.  Gordon had leapt ONTO the couch, and was standing over him.  

"Or maybe I already have a problem, I dunno, but all in all I'm not real happy right now."

Wesker:  Another squeak left the mouse like criminal as he collided with the couch. His side caught the armrest before he spilled out onto the middle of the furniture. A hiss of pain escaped him; escaping right into the sudden darkness.

Oh god, he's crazy! I see, said the blind man to the deaf one. Wesker gasped for air as the weight on either side of him bowed into the couch and his ass sunk lower. The ventriloquist smushed himself into the cushion and jerked his head up toward the barely visible man that stood OVER him.

Oh he could smell him though. Gordon smelled like coffee and sweat. When was the last time he'd slept? Arnie whined loudly as he was spoken unhappily too. The smaller man finally found his voice.

"I’m n-not here to trick you! I need... Mr. Scarface! Miss Isley killed the boys, she's gonna kill more people! I c-can't deal with this b-by myself!"

His mismatched hand found Gordon's pants in the dark and he curled his fingers against the rough material by his ankles. "P-please stop this. I d-don't know.. I'm s-sorry.. Where's Mr. Scarface?"

The puppet had to be in this house somewhere. It's your fault he's like this. You did such horrible things. But I'm not here to hurt him anymore.

Gordon:  "Oh Mr. Scarface?  Oh yeah, Mr. Scarface is here all right!  I know you two are in cahoots but dammit I'm not letting you go this time!"  He dropped, putting weight against Wesker's shoulders with his hands and shifting the other's pelvis into his lap, having him pounced, shoulders pinned, against the couch.  And yes, he did say 'cahoots'.

"How am I supposed to believe you, huh?!  Hit me over the head promising me the chance to be close to someone!  Suck face and then sneak your goon up behind me?  What's next?  Get me in the sack and have electric buzzers on your nipples?"

He shook Wesker by the shoulders.  "I bet you and her have been in on it together since the beginning.  That WAS why you were at the laboratory, wasn't it?  After that thing Wayne Industries had been keeping from her.  Lemme guess, was it for money?"

He bristled inside, fingers tightening on the shoulder padding of the suit.  "So what are you telling me?  You actually care for that bunch of jerks you put in danger all the time?"

Wesker:  A low groan escaped the smaller man as Gordon literally dropped down on him, pinning him into the couch. He wiggled for a moment but the rough hands on his shoulders kept him put.

The words stung as the cop hissed them out at him. Goddamn it. He still thinks I'm out to humiliate him! Why can't he listen to me? "YES I CARE!" The smaller man's voice nearly sounded anger, but he was fighting back tears. His own hands came up and scrunched into the front of the cops shirt.

"I d-didn't know Mugsy was going to try and hit you. I just wanted you not to h-hate me, I was gonna let you take me in! He just.." Arnold's arms tensed, almost threatening to push at Gordon. Not that he could of shoved the larger man off him, not at this angle. "..And he's dead Oh god!" Eyes scrunched shut behind those thick frames.

Instead of shoving, Wesker finally just wretched his hands into that open shirt and lowered his head. "P-please, I'm not gonna run away anymore, just let me have Scarface so we can go to jail. I can't do this a-anymore.. it hurts too much. I'll confess, I'll tell you where the bank money is! I'll do whatever you want, I don' t want to hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you! I Just don’t want to.. "

Goddamn it, crying again. He really was such a pathetic wimp. Scarface was right, he couldn't do anything on his own.

"..be alone."

Gordon:  "Stop crying!  STOP CRYING!  You cried the last time!"  Gordon's voice became frantic, and he pulled Wesker hard up from the cushions, so that the shorter man was perched in his lap, facing him.  

"What's your bit of wood gonna do to help you!?  Isn't he the one that got you in this mess in the first place!  Goddammit, if you don't slight me in one way, you go and slight me in the other!"

His hands ran up into Wesker's thinned hair, staring at the outlines of his facial features.

"So what, am I that useless?  Just for a pawn?  Just as useless as I am for the GCPD?!  Come to me for help?  OOOOooh my mistake, you came for Mr. Scarface!" 

What was he even saying anymore?  He probably didn't even know himself. 

Wesker:  A long sob left Arnold as Gordon dragged him up into his lap. The fabric of his tuxedo coat was already bunched up around his lower back that the movement pulled what was left of his tucked in mess up white shirt out from the back of his pants.

He stiffened in the other's grip as Gordon kept yelling. Taunting. Accusing him. I've said I'm Sorry! What does he want? Oh god, he wanted to stop crying, but it's hard to control his emotions when someone was treating him like this.

Had he truly made that big of a mistake? Coming here? He'd come for help, from who? Mr. Scarface? Or from the cop? Maybe. "Y-you kissed me b-back.. I wasn't trying to trick you!"

Guh, Gordon had no right to scream at him like this.

"OOOOooh my mistake, you came for Mr. Scarface!"

"I CAME FOR B-BOTH OF YOU!"  He just couldn't stand it anymore, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd yanked his right hand, his evil scarred up hand, and cracked the crazed commissioner across the face, palm flat.

Slap!

It wasn't necessarily a hard hit, but it was so sudden, and so very unlike Wesker. It had to be something desperate to get him to strike someone else.

"Whatyouwant? Oh god w-what do you want me to do? Throw Mr. Scarface away? Be your damn lover? Aren't I the bad guy? You're not suppose to care about me!"

It all left his mouth before he knew it had, before even the sting in his hand from slapping Gordon registered in his brain. Before he'd even released. Oh god, what did I just do?

Gordon:  The slap knocked his glasses from his face, turning the commissioner's gaze.  For a dazed second he blinked, before word's began registering in his tainted mind again. 

"Whatyouwant? Oh god w-what do you want me to do? Throw Mr. Scarface away? Be your damn lover? Aren't I the bad guy? You're not suppose to care about me!"

"I want my head to stop hurting!" he snapped, forcefully bracing his hand at the back of the villain's head.  "That only happened when I was around you!  You damned well want my help?  You're gonna get it whether you want it or not!" 

With that, he shoved his lips against the other's mouth, breath so sharp that he was almost snarling as he closed their mouths in a tight seal.  His tongue intruded in onto the other's, meanwhile his other hand shifting down to tear Wesker's shirt the rest of the way open.

Wesker:  Arnold twitched as the commissioner shoved their mouths together. A high surprised groan bubbled right out of his throat. Wait? What? Ngh!

Why the hell did this keep happening? One minute complete enemies, and they next their mouths were locked together. Wesker winced as he heard the last of his poor buttons shooting off into the dark.

He didn't pull away, or try to squirm out of the kiss. Something in him was nagging. What you want? What he wants! Argh! He felt scared and utterly attracted at the same time. It was sooo hard to weight what he should be doing, or where Scarface was, with this man shoving his tongue down his throat. His spit was almost stale tasting, too much coffee, thick from how tight the other's jaw had been kept in his anger.

How can he accuse me of teasing him and then thrust himself on me like this? Arnold's hands reached up and gripped into the commissioners shoulders. He gasped into the kiss, teeth scraping against the other's tongue.

But as much as he wanted to bite or yank his mouth away from the other, he found himself desperately clutching to the other man. And even though he huffed out "You don't.." and " know what I really want." He swiped his own tongue against the others.

Honestly, he didn't even know himself. Scarface? To be safe? Or did he really want Gordon? 

Gordon:  Gordon pulled his face back suddenly.  "What do you want?" he breathed, speaking half accusingly.  Before he had a chance to give an answer, though, Gordon was dragging his tongue up Arnold's chest and over his collar bone.  It wasn't so much what Wesker wanted, but rather what the commissioner was desiring, but subconsciously imposing in his mind on the criminal he held in his lap.

And if the criminal benefited from it himself, well, all the better for him.

He shoved their mouths together again, grinding against the other as he carelessly tore the button free on the balding mans pants.  Finger's frantically pulled at the zipper, trying to get them down.

If Wesker ever felt that he was unwanted, or undesirable, this was definitely an incident that could curb that feeling.  The way the commissioner was mauling him you would think he was trying to devour him whole.

Wesker:  Sharp almost panicked breaths left the Ventriloquist as Gordon's tongue lashed against his chest. He could feel the trail of spit it left from where it had abandoned his lips to his pale skin on his torso. It went from luke-warm, to cold, to hot just from their body temperatures alone.

"I Dunno!" Was all Wesker had time to yelp out before Gordon was at his mouth again. Not even letting you speak. Do you want him? Or is this rape? It couldn't... feel like Gordon was pushing him into something he didn't want, Not with how fast his heart was beating now, or how his groin throbbed when those rough gun-calloused hands were ripping at his pants. His hips jerked as Gordon tugged on the fabric. He wasn't going to be able to wear these ever again.

But the whole fury of it, the pressure on him. It DID make Wesker feel wanted. Almost as hard as the guilt he'd felt when Gordon had wanted to just help him and he'd done those things to him. It had him suddenly pushing back hard into that kiss.

His own mismatched hands crawled up Gordon's face and clutched into his hair, fingers curled into strands of unbrushed gray, almost pulling as he slanted his face closer to the others. Fine! if Gordon wanted to eat him, he could eat him, but goddamn it, Wesker wasn't going to starve.

What did he want? Lips broke for just a moment for Wesker to gasp out. "Doesn't m-matter anymore." Yes, what he wanted didn't matter, he was going to give this man what he'd teased him with.

For once, Wesker would NOT be so damn selfish. So there was no more resistance. The smaller man pulled one of his hands from the others hair and went for the Commissioners shirt, tugging hard to get it off his shoulders, he couldn't even work his mind anymore to reach down and pluck the buttons.

Gordon:  He felt his shirt tear more and more lose, buttons pinging off as Wesker's had earlier.  His floor promised to be littered with parts of their clothing at this point.

He pulled Wesker off into the floor with him, landing on his back with Wesker on top.  He dropped his hands into the Ventriloquists pants, budging down his underwear and firmly clasping his bare hips.  

He ground himself up against the weight resting on him, for the first time really showing how restricting his pants were.  Khaki's strained in the dark, the commissioner's arousal constrained painfully in them.

Running his spread fingers from the hips up Wesker's sides, beneath the shirt he'd so unceremoniously destroyed while it was still on the other's body.

Wesker:  That floor was probably about to see more action then it had in years; it probably didn't get vacuumed enough as it was, but to have two grown, aging men tearing at each other in a fit of lust? Momentous.

The thud to the floor upset Wesker's knees as he ended up sprawling upon the commissioners lap, inner thighs sliding against the belt loops and waist band of those Khakis.

Both his hands had shifted back to the other man's shirt, it was opened completely now and shoved down to the kooks of his elbows catching there in the bend and unable to be shoved any further.

So hands let go of the cops shirt and arms wound around the other's neck, fingers nearly clawing against Gordon's upper back where they came to rest. God.. Oh god.  A hard moan stifled right into the other's mouth as his pants were shoved down.

Underwear and the crotch of his pants caught under his balls as the cop shoved them down his hips. The clothes had felt stiff and almost sticky when they had been shoved down his sweaty skin. There would be no denying the attraction the criminal had for the commissioner with how hard his cock was. Especially when it was pressed against the other's flat tummy as the Ventriloquist jerked forward with the grind.

The rub of fabric against the underside of his testicles and exposed inner thighs actually hurt, but it didn't stop him from grinding down with a gasp.

Arnie tugged his mouth from Gordon's to relatch to the cop's neck. He wasn't sure if he should kiss, or lick, bite or whine into it. He didn't know how to react to this kind of passion. He'd never felt it before. He'd had vicious men attack him before, but he'd never wanted them, not like he wanted this cop.  He finally settled on sucking, snatching hold of softer skin in the bend of the others neck, whining and panting.

Gordon:  "Oh GOD!" the cry was sharp from the old cop as Wesker managed to squirm himself onto a morbidly sensitive spot, and even through the cloth he panged anxiously for the one on top of him.  It fell far from his mind whether or not Wesker was a man, or a criminal, just that he was someone, someone that seemed to want him.  He felt hot lips and a tongue against the skin of his neck.

"I'm sorry!  I'm so sorry!  You're not selfish!" he rambled aloud the words that trampled through his mind, entering and exiting like a stampede as his libido took control of most of (what remained of) his logical thought processes.

His stomach tensed as Wesker's head tickled against it, abs even nice at his age.  He scooted down the tuxedo pants that were thwarting him lower, but even then found his reach didn't quite make it.

Fingertips switching places to trickle over Wesker's arousal, dipping down to fondle his sac.  "Take them off," he breathed.  "God, please take them off..."

Wesker:  Arnold wasn't sure what made him gasp louder at that moment, the hand cupping around his balls or the sudden unexpected apologetic words that suddenly came bubbling out of Gordon's mouth. The Ventriloquist shivered hard and dragged his mouth back up to the cops. Lips scrapped against the damp whiskers, made even more wet by salty tears. "N-no, yer right I w-was.. I d-don't want to be a-anymore."

"I j-just." Half broke with a sob as he unwound his arms. "I n-need you." Weight was dispersed back onto the man's groin as Wesker sat up, hands trailing that sweaty still hard chest as he pushed to do as the other begged him. He nearly fell backwards as he pulled himself off Gordon, kicking dirty spats off his feet and then fighting with his torn tuxedo pants.

His back hit the couch as he groan and panted, shoving the pants and his underwear off his thin legs completely. It was hard to tell where they landed in the dark.

Or to see what Wesker was really doing. But Gordon would feel his tongue on his stomach once the criminal found the cop again. Mismatched hands played tag-team on the cops Khaki button and fly, Snapping the button and yanking down the fly in an effort to relieve the poor guy's strain.

Spit and sweat collected in his navel as Arnold moved his mouth down trailing the fine path of hair that followed his hands in the downward motion as he shoved at the waistband.

Gordon:  "Y-you need me?" he stammered, trying to prop himself up on his elbows.  He ended up flopping back down onto his back, though as he felt the warm, wet sensation play down his chest and abdomen.  Below the thin oral trail his exposed torso rose and fell consistently.

He doesn't need you for more than help.  He's doing this to placate you.  And you owe it to the city to help him...  No, there's got to be something more to it.  You felt him when he was against you...  But that could be something that turns him on!

He grabbed his hair and made a pitiful noise.  He didn't want to think these negative thoughts with this feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach, a warm, welcome feeling that he hadn't felt since the Joker had ripped away his other half.  It was a hint of finally being whole again, even if it was a convicted felon nosing down toward his crotch.

He lifted his hips against the urging of the waistband, letting the shorter man tug down his trousers and breathing deeply as a rush of cool air overtook him.  

It doesn't matter.  You'll take what you can get and you'll help him.  You'll stop being so paranoid and you'll believe him.  You've got nothing left to lose.

Wesker:  There had to be something more to it. If Arnold had only been responding to what he thought needed to be done to get the cop on his side, well there wouldn't be his own thudding in his balls to urge him on. Wither it was carnal desire, or because he truly did need the man. His help, his love, his understanding, anything. But Wesker did NEED Gordon.

"Yes.. god yes." The smaller man answered the stammering cop as he continued to lick down his navel. Mismatched hands shoved those khakis down the other's hips, grunting to get them down over his hips so they'd be out of the way. Scarred up hand closed around the cop's pleading arousal and gave a full pump before his mouth finally dragged across the coarser hair of his pubes and found his cock. All by touch, his glasses might of click in the dark, but Wesker couldn't see a thing.

He'd do this, because he wanted too, he couldn't stand Gordon to feel so betrayed anymore. Arnold Wesker was a man that lived with much guilt, but he could settle this. And if that made him selfish for wanting to service another's need to settle his own.

Then maybe it was a good kind of selfish, then.

He scooted up onto his knees as he lowered his mouth onto the other's cock. Bare ass rested on his socked heels as he liked briefly before swallowing down. Hands closed around hot sticky sweaty skin pulling gently and stroking while his mouth went to work.

It wouldn't take long for a hot trail of spit to pool around the other's length. Arnold was by no means an expert at it, but prison and just a lifetime of being a pathetic suckup by any terms gave him a little bit of experience, if nothing else, driven by just the want to make this man feel good. He suckled like he was feeding, as if he could draw nourishment on this man's pleasure.

Gordon:  He wouldn't have wanted Wesker to make love to him out of pity, but for the life of him the only words that he could formulate were ones of absolute pleasure.  "Nnng... Ar- ah..." he couldn't even make sense of the other man's name in his mouth.

Abruptly though, as he drew closer and closer and his breath came quicker and quicker, he jerked his hand down and clasped his shaft in an iron grip below Wesker's mouth, crying out as the sudden restraint on his own release hurt somewhat.

"N-not ready..." he breathed, then swallowed.

He had to pant a bit to summon up more of the ability to speak, gasping desperately.  Finally though, he found the words he'd been searching for, few though they were.  "...Inside of you-" he breathed.  "...Please..."

Gordon wasn't an obscene man, and leaving someone with a shot in a mouth just wasn't his style.  Even a criminal, especially one showing him such kindness as this, didn't deserve to be taken as lightly as a blowjob.

Wesker:  Granted, the criminal wouldn't have complained. He might of whined for a while, maybe rubbed against the other till his own lust had been slated, but if Gordon hadn't suddenly clutched himself with that sharp cry, Arnold wouldn't have stopped.

He let out a questionable groan as pulled off the spit slacked arousal with a little pop and breathed heavy. Why does he want me to st-  Oh. Wesker felt his chest tightened again. The other did truly want him. The Ventriloquist whined loudly as he pulled himself back on top of the other's body. Arms going back around his neck. The smaller man straddled his hips again and buried his mouth against the others chin and throat. "O-okay.. yes, p-please."  He wasn't sure if the spit would work enough, but he wasn't going to go fumbling around in the dark in a strange house.

He hadn't been away of just how aroused he truly was until his own cock rubbed against the other's hard tummy again. He stiffened a groan and jerked lightly. "g-god."

Fingers shifted into the other's graying hair and he held for a moment, just trying to give Gordon a moment to calm down, back off from the brink of orgasm. "I nh want you, I need you, I need y-your help." Breath was hot and panty on the other's sweaty throat.

With this, with Ivy. He wasn't going to run anymore. Not after this. He'd stay.

Gordon:  "I know you do," he whispered breathily, before pressing down on Wesker's hips with his hands.  Slowly his head pressed inside the strategically poised entrance.  It wasn't as slick as it would have been with better lubrication, but there was something about the increased friction that stiffened him to capacity.

At least Wesker had to look forward to the fact it wouldn't take the commissioner long at all, and with the way he held back his last orgasm helping with the saliva slathering was a layer of precum oozing from the tip of his cock.  

He held his hips in check, clenching his eyes shut and gaping for air like a castaway fish at the intensity of the feeling.  Inside of the Ventriloquist was hot, and tighter than anything he was accustomed to.  That alone made him groan as he worked a bit more of his shaft up into him.

Slowly, carefully, he hilted himself.  He laid on his back, panting and with a death grip on Wesker's pale hips, just letting the heat and the strain embrace him intimately.

Wesker:  A low hiss escaped the criminal as Gordon began to press inside of him. It seemed like it had been forever since he'd felt someone this close; more then close. Fingers tightened on the cops shoulders and he pushed himself up slightly to get a better angle.

It hurt, it felt good, it hurt, it felt soo damn good. It was like a twin sensation that was almost unbearable as it spread from that penetrated area straight to his loins. He fought both the cry in his throat and his own bodies natural urge to tighten veraciously around Gordon's cock as the man found his hilt.

So there he was, so teasingly nudged against his prostate and he held. A tremble had started in the Ventriloquist's thighs that ran all the way up to his spin and even to his lips as he dragged his mouth back down to the others.

Oh god. Oh god. It was just, too hot. Too needy. Had he the strength in his body, he would have rode him, himself. But he did manage to press with his knees, rotate with his hips, nip lightly with his teeth.

"P-please move, oh god pleasee?"

It was the same tone he'd used in the junkyard, at the garage, the same desperate begging, only there was no deception in his voice here, not one bit.

Gordon:  "I... hhgg... I don't want to hurt you," he said against the other's mouth, shifting to wrap his arms around him.  He began to move his hips up against Wesker.

Due to the lack of lubrication, what it mostly did is keep his cock there in one damned spot, and nudge everything around it.  Right up against his prostate it remained, pushing it over and over.  Moreover, Gordon refused to shove any harder and potentially hurt the other one.

"Y-you....  God.... you feel-" he couldn't even formulate the sentence, so he settled back into kissing, letting his lips speak in the only way they were capable at the moment.  This filthy thing, this trickster of a criminal, could it possibly make him feel this good?

A sudden jolt of his spine and a cry answered that, spilling hot semen into the mild-mannered gangster.

Wesker  ..and he'd been so avid to tear him apart just a little while ago. Amazing how feelings could change; an understand was made; how two people who were supposed to hate each other could feel so damn wonderful together.

It was either that, or they truly were utterly insane with each other.

It didn't matter either way. If felt good. Those light soft nudges inside were just as delicious as if the other man had been pounding him into the floor. Soft, dove like noises escaped the Ventriloquist instead of harsh grunts and cries. He rocked his hips with the movement and rubbed in time with the light pressure against the others belly till he felt Gordon's release hot and stinky inside and he shivered hard to the sensation.

Another rub and he was there himself, tightening and clutching to the other as he spazed lightly on top of the cop. He cried back into the other's mouth and then just collapsed there. Arms tight around the commissioners neck, mouth buried into his neck again.

"I'm s-sorry. God I'm sorry."

Gordon:  Slowing with his panting, Gordon wrapped his arms around Wesker's shoulders, letting his head lie back against the carpet and look up toward the ceiling.

What have you done? ...Something you'd do again.  I don't need to go back to the department.  Nothing you can do there.  With him, this time, you can make a real difference, one last hurrah for the city you know can rise above itself.

...Just like he's done...

He tilted his head forward, pressing his tickly mustache against the top of Wesker's bald head in a kiss.