screwloose | [RL with Birkin]

That blush was actually adorable, and Stein caught hold of the collar of Birkin's shirt and twisted it a little, until it was a bit too tight. "It's not far away," he murmured.

"Did you still want that shower first?"

Birkin grabbed onto Stein's wrist gently, coughing a little. He'd been half-strangled like by Wesker quite a few times; he had a method for gaining pity and getting himself released. "That all depends. Which answer is going to get you to let me breathe again?" A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Though, the shower might wake me up a bit so..." If it wasn't for the rum, Birkin would seriously be questioning where that last statement came from. At least he actually had a valid excuse for his behavior.

Stein wasn't quite choking him, and he knew it. He grinned, easing up on the pressure just a tad, but not letting go.

"Well, you did say you wanted to wash the blood off. Why don't I show you where the bathroom is and you can freshen up, and then we can head to bed?" he suggested.

So, his little trick didn't work on Stein. Interesting. He looked down at Stein's hand for a moment. "You really like leading me by the neck, don't you?" First with the tie, now this. Next thing he knew, he was going to be wearing a collar like Vanessa.

"Sounds... Sounds great." The phrase 'we can head to bed' wasn't one Birkin got to hear that often. Especially coming from other men. He swallowed nervously. "Lead the way."

"I like that you like it," Stein said, meaning that it made Birkin nervous and Stein didn't want to scare him off completely by breaking out the scalpel.

He released him finally and gave him a pat on the shoulder before getting up. His cigarette leaked ash onto the floor as he headed for a different door from the one leading to his laboratory. "Come on. Living area is this way."

Birkin swallowed hard. If the night ended with him being found dead in a pit in the basement... Well, that would put a damper on things to say the least. He stood up, following closely behind Stein, half-wondering why he didn't just get a 'Through that door, fifth room on the right' or something. "Th-thank you. For letting me stay here tonight..." he mumbled.

The scientist chuckled a bit. "You know, when I originally brought up the idea of us having a drink together, this isn't quite what came to mind." If nothing else, he was figuring it would involve less kissing. And if anyone was going to be bleeding, he figured it would be some poor Licker or something, not himself.

The hallways were dim and a bit labyrinthine, and Stein didn't want to risk Birkin getting lost in his house. He might encounter things neither of them wanted Birkin to see.

He chuckled as well, feeling the same way. "I didn't picture this, either. i was thinking we might have a drink or two, cut something up." He glanced over his shoulder at Birkin, smirking. "But I'm not complaining, are you?"

He grabbed the handle of a heavy steel door and opened it, revealing a claustrophobic bathroom with a shattered mirror over the chipped sink. "Here we go. Shower for you, and clean towels are in the cupboard. My bedroom is directly across the hall, so you can't get lost."

"No, I'm not complaining," Birkin stated simply. In a few ways, that was worse. At least if he was complaining he wouldn't have to justify any of this to himself in the morning and could just write it off as Stein taking advantage of him while he was drunk. He stared at the shattered mirror for several moments before thanking Stein for the directions and shutting himself inside the tiny bathroom.

Birkin genuinely enjoyed the shower; he really needed one at this point, not only thanks to the blood on his face, but also because he had to wash about a week's worth of dirt and grease and grime off of himself. He let himself linger under the water for a bit, but eventually managed to tear away from the faucet and dry himself off.

He appeared in Stein's bedroom a few minutes after that, completely re-dressed other than his labcoat, damp hair hanging limply in his face. Birkin smirked at the other scientist. "Miss me?"

"I was getting ready," Stein said, turning back to face Birkin as he entered the room. He had pulled off his labcoat while Birkin was in the shower, and his sweater, and his pale, scarred and muscled torso was fully visible now.

He grinned. "You look quite a bit more refreshed now," he added. He rather liked the wet look, in fact.

Crossing the room towards Birkin, Stein reached for him, his mouth capturing Birkin's aggressively.

Birkin pressed into the kiss. He had to admit, there was something so exhilarating about being kissed so roughly. Perhaps it was just the rum, but submitting seemed to come so much easier to him than dominating did.

Delicately, almost fearfully, he began tracing the stitched-up scars that stood out on Stein's chest. What the hell was Stein actually trying to do? Rip out his heart and give it to someone as a gift? He did seem to have a flair for being a bit dramatic.

"If this is the reaction I get when I shower," he mumbled after breaking their kiss, "I should really start doing it more often..." Birkin sauntered towards the bed, leisurely beginning to unfasten the buttons on his shirt as he walked. He looked over his shoulder at Stein with a smirk. "Coming?"

"Soon enough," Stein quipped in return, following Birkin towards the bed.

He grabbed the back of his collar and suddenly he had a scalpel in his hand. He slashed downwards, drawing a line of fire right down Birkin's spine and cutting the shirt into two halves.

"I do like good personal hygiene," he added, as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

Birkin screamed loudly as Stein cut him. He was never a big fan of pain, honestly, and his back down-right stung. The shirt (really just glorified sleeves at this point) fell onto the floor. "I liked that shirt," he said, turning around to glare harshly. There was a good chance he would have tried running if the other man wasn't blocking the only exit out of the room.

"Shame you decided to sully me so quickly, in that case." He should have listened to his instincts and never started drinking. "This is what I get for trusting you, I suppose." In his head, he was already mapping out an escape plan; all he needed was to get close enough to the door to get a decent head-start.

"Now this is more like it," Stein said, ignoring all of Birkin's flailing and whining. "Vanessa, you know... she liked it. She wasn't afraid of me at all. Perhaps it was what I needed at the time, but it was very confusing."

He grabbed for Birkin with his free hand, intending to shove him down onto the bed by force if necessary.

He winced as his back hit the mattress. "When I said I'd rather you cut me up than yourself," Birkin stared fearfully up at the scalpel as he spoke, "it wasn't meant as an invitation. Please, Stein, you don't want to do this." How in the world was anyone supposed to appeal to a self-proclaimed sociopath's non-existent emotions? "I know you don't." His shallow breaths were bordering on sobs at this point. "You don't want to turn me into another Spirit, do you?" Somehow, this was far, far worse than being strapped to that operating table.

Stein straddled Birkin and grabbed his wrist, bringing it up above his head. One of the things he'd been preparing when he was waiting for Birkin to get out of the shower had been hanging cuffs discreetly onto his headboard, and he shackled Birkin's right wrist quickly to one of the cuffs, then switched his scalpel to the other hand and groped for Birkin's left wrist.

"Oh... no, I want this," he said in a soothing tone. Birkin's words caused him to blink in confusion. "What do you mean, another Spirit?"

Birkin blushed and moved his left arm away from Stein's hand. "I mean if you keep vivisecting people like this, they're going to keep running away from you." He swallowed deeply. This situation had managed to get completely out of his control. "Just like what happened with Spirit. You might think you want to do this but..."

Oh, who was he trying to kid? Of course Stein actually wanted to do this. If the roles were reversed, Birkin would be all over it, though maybe he wouldn't make it as literal as Stein had. Try as he might, he couldn't blame Stein at all. "C-could you at least give me some anesthetic before you start?"

Stein lunged with lightning-fast reflexes and caught Birkin's hand, bringing it up to shackle it next to the first. "Spirit is mine," he said idly. "And you and Vanessa aren't going anywhere, either. You understand why I'm doing this, Birkin. I know you're scared, but you just aren't used to the roles being reversed."

He smiled, then, and patted Birkin's cheek.

"Of course, silly," he said, as if it were obvious. He slipped a hand into his own pocket and pulled out a capped syringe. "I have the dosage all prepared."

And he bent down to give his friend another kiss. To make him feel better as he injected the anaesthetic into his arm and numbness flooded through Birkin's torso, leaving him awake and alert, but paralyzed from the neck down to his waist.

Birkin blinked, obviously dumbstruck that Stein actually numbed him. The last time he had used anesthetic on a test subject was in 1986. Maybe he didn't know Stein as well as he thought. "Are you this possessive and affectionate with all your test subjects or are the three of us just special?"

After a short pause, Birkin closed his eyes. "And keep Vanessa out of this. I don't care what you do to me but, if you lay so much as a finger on her, you will learn from experience exactly what this feels like." His eyes snapped open and he looked directly into Stein's eyes. "Understand?"

"Maybe you're special," Stein said, shifting downwards a little and bending low, flicking a nipple with his tongue and then biting it hard to test whether the anaesthetic had taken hold.

He rumbled a soft laugh, glancing up at Birkin. "If Vanessa keeps jumping me, I'll keep fucking her. And if she enjoys what I like, why should I stop? Why should you want me to stop?"

Birkin swore to a god he didn't think existed that if his arms were free and he could move them, he would have punched Stein straight in the face. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't about to happen, so all he could really do was let out a sound akin to a snarl. He didn't flinch - though couldn't was slightly more accurate - when Stein bit him; he couldn't feel a damn thing which was ironically one of the worst feelings Birkin had ever experienced.

"Do other people let you slice their girlfriends open without any sort of fight? Somehow, I don't think you're stupid enough to actually not know why I'd want you to stop." He stared back at the scalpel, at the blood, his blood, that was on it. I should have just slept on the damn couch.

Stein lifted his head and slid a hand down, curling it around Birkin's cock and beginning to stroke. This Birkin would be able to feel.

"Let's say that I had a gorgeous, sexy, horny girlfriend," he said thoughtfully. "And she went over to your place, and literally begged you to fuck her, told you that I wouldn't mind, crawled across the room to you and humped your leg, would you do it?"

Birkin gasped. "You are... Making it extremely hard for me to hate you right now." And he really did want to hate Stein for getting him drunk, tying him up, cutting his back, and whatever the hell this should be called. His eyes fluttered shut as he bit back a groan.

"I... I very seriously doubt it." The scientist opened his eyes stared up at the other man, trying his hardest to glare and failing miserably. "I typically don't have one night stands." Birkin was panting by now and not minding this situation all that much. Which bothered the hell out of the part of his brain that wasn't currently focusing on the feeling of Stein's hand. "Oh, God, you're good at this..."

"You don't want to hate me," Stein said. "And I don't want you to hate me, so I guess it works out."

He pumped Birkin's cock until it was fully hard, watching him pant and moan at the stimulation, then - still stroking - he lifted his scalpel and began to cut. He made a straight incision, from sternum to navel.

"Oh really?" he mused, smirking. "That's funny, I thought you and Vanessa were pretty much a one night stand, to begin with."

"No. I do want to hate you; you're just making it impossible," came his breathless reply.

He looked at the blood leaking out of the cut, a strange mixture of boredom and amusement written on his face. "I suppose we were..." Birkin groaned. "Every time I drink, the night ends in sex." An airy chuckle came out of his mouth. "I'm not sure if that means I should - ngh - stop drinking or become an alcoholic."

Birkin noticed he was starting to get dizzy, and his eyes momentarily rolled back in his head. Though, between the drinking, the anesthesia, the blood loss, and Stein jacking him off, it wasn't hard to imagine he'd be getting a little lightheaded.

Stein patted him sharply on the cheek to wake him up then returned to jerking him off. "Well, you seem to enjoy the sex well enough, and if drinking makes you this horny, you can't really blame me."

He paused for a moment to pull on a latex glove, then gently parted the skin and slipped a hand inside Birkin's body, feeling around his lower intestine gently. Birkin could almost feel it, more like pressure than sensation, though there was still no pain.

With his other hand, he dropped down and parted Birkin's legs, probing at his entrance.

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