Aggressive

Leaning forward, your hand dropped away from his mouth, only to be quickly replaced by your lips. You moved on instinct, your tongue sliding between his lips as you shifted your body. Climbing off of the log on which you sat, turning your body fully towards him as you pressed against him. Forcing him backwards you bothered tumbled off of the log into a sprawling heap that you none the less found yourself on top of.

Laughing and lifting yourself up onto your arms you looked down at Wesker below you. A thought died on your tongue as you realised that you had both gone beyond the point of words. Instead you attack him again, your mouths meeting with nearly painful **** as your hands worked to try and strip both yourself and Wesker of clothing.

Distantly you are glad that you left the armour by the fire, it proves hard enough to pull yourself free of the itchy shirt you are wearing. In the effort for both of you to strip you roll yourselves away from the fire.

Still somehow on top of Wesker you can make out in the stuttering glow of the fire that he has freed himself of his shirt as well. You run your hands down his chest, fingers tracing across a latticework of scars both big and small that dapple his muscled form. Even as you sometimes find yourself lingering on a particularly oddly shaped scar your hands still move ever further down until finally you run up against the edge of his trousers.

The sound of your heart beating in your ears is deafening as you begin to untie the length of string that holds them up. Whether out of surprise or simple enjoyment Wesker has not made a move to stop you this whole time. His hands simply run gently up and down your sides, his fingertips meeting at your spine as he watches you silently. His expression impossible to make out in the shifting shadows of firelight.

Your fingers feel suddenly numb as you finally manage to get the string free. Slowly you pull his trousers downwards, revealing more and more of the length of his manhood until it finally springs free. The turgid member bouncing up and onto his stomach.

You stare at it wide eyed, your hands gently caressing it as you do. Before now you had never really seen his cock, it had always been something that had either been only glimpsed for a moment either while being slid from or into his trousers. Despite your lovemaking Wesker had been bashful about nudity at all other times, a attitude you now guessed was tied to his bouts of guilt about you. It had seemed strange to you when he had demanded you bathe alone. You hd grown up in a household where the bath would be placed in front of the fireplace and as many family members would use it as fast as they could so as to not waste the heat.

Previously you had known it more by sensation than anything else and that had given you a mental image of a truly titanic member. You had to admit that you had no real point of reference, your brothers both older and younger had never become like this when you had seen them. Yet there it lay in front of you, a hard, hot length that pulsed gently in your hands as you lifted it. Your fingers playing across the mushroom head of taut flesh.

You made out the slightest grunt from Wesker as you did this and it was accompanied by a small globule of fluid appearing at the tip of the member. Running your thumb through it you found it to have the same texture as the fluid Wesker released onto your stomach. Again this action drew a tiny grunt from Wesker.

Your curiosity peaked you continued to use your hands to explore Wesker's manhood. All the time seeming to draw more and more fluid from the tip as Wesker's breathing became more and more rapid.

Eventually he finally spoke up.

“Jane!” He exclaimed through gritted teeth. “If you keep this up I won’t be able to control myself.”

His voice sounded strained as if he was holding up some great weight. In the now even dimmer firelight his face was hidden from you. Yet a wicked part of you wanted to continue on and another wanted to see just what happened when Wesker lost control.