screwloose | [RL with Birkin]

Entry tags:

birkin,
rl

[RL with Birkin]

This time Birkin was coming to him, and that suited Stein just fine. He knew on some level that leaving his world for a bit would do him good, but he was involved in some new projects and still trying to work out how to deliver his last one to Medusa. It wasn't a good time to leave.

But a little company was always welcome, especially if it was like-minded company.

He'd taken a little trip to the store earlier in the day and bought an array of liquors - some bourbon, some gin, some tequila, and some rum. He didn't really know what Birkin liked, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to have a variety on hand.

And now he was at the computer, poking his nose around and waiting.

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Birkin half-wondered if Stein was counting Vanessa as an escort or not. He moaned into the kiss, arching his back as much he could despite the induced paralysis. His body started trembling slightly. "Fr-Franken..." Stein just seemed too impersonal at the moment. He wrapped his legs around the other man's waist, trying to pull him closer, whimpering softly.

Through the haze of pleasure of Birkin's tight body squeezing him intimately, Stein noticed the change in name. The whimpering was very endearing, too.

It was always like this. First Spirit, and now Birkin. They cried and bitched and whined, but when it came down to it, they couldn't help themselves.

Seating himself deep in Birkin's body, he nipped at his lips and then devoured his mouth for a few long minutes, deliberately making it hard for Birkin to breathe. His hand explored deeper, pushing aside coils of intestines until he reached the prostate. This, he rubbed against deliberately, creating a sensation even more intense than he could produce from the other side with his cock.

"That's it, Birkin," he murmured, deliberately using his last name. Slowly, he began to thrust into Birkin's body, claiming his body deeply, inside and out.

He moaned, desperate and breathless and needing more. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think, and quite honestly he couldn't care less. For the night at least, Birkin belonged to the other scientist. And he loved it. But, damn, he wished his arms weren't shackled to the bed any more so he could wrap his arms around the scientist and make this seem a bit like a dirty, drunken hook-up in his head.

Birkin stared up at his... What was Stein to him now anyway? A friend with benefits? Fuck buddy? ...Lover? He'd figure it out some other time when he wasn't being ravaged like this. Regardless of what his new title was, Birkin stared up at him behind half-lidded eyes, mouth dry from trying (and failing) to catch his breath.

He tossed his head back with a lusty moan after a particularly fierce rub of his prostate, his own hips moving to meet Stein's thrusts. "Oh, God, Franken this is..." Birkin ran out of words, opting instead to lift his head off the bed and roughly push his lips against Stein's.

Stein purred and grunted with pleasure, wrist-deep in Birkin's entrails and balls-deep in his ass. He pushed his legs up with his other arm, pinning his body as completely as he could, not wanting to do any damage to him in this incredibly vulnerable position.

He didn't know what it was, either. But he was definitely enjoying it.

Reaching around, he began to stroke Birkin's cock again, pounding into him, driving him towards orgasm. He was close himself, but there was a perverse part of him that wanted Birkin writhing and screaming with pleasure, even with his torso cut open and his blood running out onto Stein's sheets.

Birkin gasped, his body shuddering as Stein's hand wrapped around his cock. Instinctively, he thrust his hips upwards, whimpering and and moaning with every movement. A few moments later, he tossed his head back and released himself with a loud shout.

His head flopped back down on the bed where the scientist proceeded to come down from his high. A content smile found its way across his lips as he closed his eyes. Intense. That was the word he was looking for a few minutes ago.

Stein gasped as Birkin orgasmed, thrusting deep into the other man's spasming body one last time before his own climax took him and he emptied himself into Birkin. He shuddered and gasped, his finger still rubbing Birkin's prostate, pulling every drop of pleasure from the man.

Then he drew back and pulled out of his body - in more ways than one. Quickly, he grabbed a kit from his bedside table and began to stitch up the cut. Birkin hadn't lost too much blood - Stein had used a special technique of his own to keep him from bleeding too much. But at the end he had lost concentration and the blood had begun to flow. He couldn't waste time.

Even as he stitched, he saw that content smile and smiled himself. Yes, that had been intense. Perfect.

Birkin cracked open his eyes and looked at the stitched up cut on his chest. "I don't usually compliment other doctors, but that looks fantastic." His smile turned into a smirk. "You would have been ashamed if you saw how terrible Jack's stitches looked." Granted, he usually never got to sew up his test subjects. They were either dead or they were Tyrants and didn't need the stitches.

His eyes flicked up to the handcuffs. "Anytime you want to let me go would be great, Stein."

Stein chuckled, tying off the last stitch. His stitches were neat and perfect, it was true - once you'd learned how to stitch neatly enough to do it one-handed or on one's back, doing someone else was a piece of cake.

"Of course," he said cheerfully, grabbing the key and reaching up to unlock the cuffs. "I hope you aren't intending to run away now that you're free, though," he said teasingly. "Especially since the bloody part is already over."

"If I didn't run from you after you had me on that operating table, there's really no point in trying to run now." Birkin sat up, rubbing his wrists. "Besides, even if I tried to run," his hand gestures were a bit too flamboyant, but he was just happy to be able to move again, "there is no way someone who looks like you wouldn't manage to catch up to a scrawny, overly-caffeinated man who hasn't even seen a treadmill in twenty years." He shrugged. The truth was the truth no matter which way you sliced it.

He leaned in a bit closer to Stein. "And to be honest, that was sort of fun." Birkin quickly pressed his lips to the other man's before smirking and laying back down.

"You'd probably fall flat on your face if you tried, between the rum and the blood loss," Stein replied, grinning.

He returned the kiss, then bent over Birkin and gave him another one, slower and deeper. Possessive.

"From the way you reacted, I'd say it was more than 'sort of' fun," he murmured, then settled down onto the bed. This bed was getting a lot more use these days than it had in a long time.

"Okay, fine. It was very fun. Don't let it go to your head," he said, moving over and laying his head on Stein's shoulder. "Your ego does not need to get any bigger." A smirk pulled at his lips. "If it did, I'd have to start calling you 'Wesker'."

Birkin closed his eyes and yawned. "I'll take another shower in the morning..." He sure as hell wasn't going home covered in blood. It was bad enough that he was going to end up leaving with his shirt in two pieces and a massive scar on his chest.

Stein smiled and rested a hand on Birkin's shoulder. The numbness would wear off by morning, but at least right now Birkin wasn't in any pain from what Stein had done.

He also yawned, and chuckled. "Please don't. I don't think I'm quite at Wesker's level, quite yet." Nodding, he added. "Water's free. I'll need a shower of my own, too."

But for now, he was tired and still intoxicated. Life was pretty good, other than the witches and the fact that he was going nuts.

"Go insane all you want," he mumbled into Stein's neck. "If you don't have a huge ego, you'll be fine no matter how many illnesses you figure out you have. And you're nowhere near Wesker's level. Not even close; you don't see yourself as a god, do you?" Birkin chuckled quietly and let out another yawn. "Night..." And with that, he fell asleep for the first time in several days.

Stein chuckled. "No, not yet," he murmured, and let himself drift off as well, soothed by Birkin's gentle breathing and lulled to a deep sleep both by the sex and the alcohol.

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[RL with Birkin]

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