Work Text:
Jill sighed to herself as she swiveled in her chair to check the time yet again. Even though she was just an hour into overtime, the work never seemed to end. Paperwork— lots of it, and it always seemed like she got the bulk of it. She had the stinking suspicion that it was because no one else wanted to do it. To be fair, she couldn't really blame them.
Jill thumbed her ballpoint pen, clicking it a few times before she placed the nubbed end in her mouth and chewed it. She was the only person in the S.T.A.R.S. office. It was just Jill, with only the lone lamp illuminating her desktop and the ticking clock for company.
Jill's eyes led away from her work to the empty desks surrounding her. She let her mind wander to her fellow S.T.A.R.S. members.
Where to start... well, there was Chris Redfield. Besides having broad shoulders, bulging biceps and a tight-looking ass, Chris was a lot of fun. She initially found him to be frustrating since he was usually joking around or acting immature, but he always had her back, especially out in the field.
She wondered where Chris would be tonight and guessed he'd probably be at Jack's Bar with Forest and Joseph. She wished she were there instead of here.
There was never a dull moment with those three. Even if Chris got a little rowdy and rough when he drank. Though she kind of enjoyed when he grabbed her shoulder and drew her close, despite the fact that part of her drink ended up her nose that one time. She remembered him laughing and feeling it too, along with his warmth through his shirt. If she drank more than one glass, she would have had an excuse to bury herself into his chest.
Jill liked how much fun he had off duty, just as much as he did on duty. She liked his determined smile and goofy laugh, too.
She let out a long exhale as she reclined back in her chair. She had spent so much time sitting. Her body popped and creaked with that slight stretch. Jill bit her bottom lip, her mind going back to Chris.
She was curious about what was under his uniform. It always seemed to cling in the right places, showing off every curve of his muscular form, but she wondered about the things she couldn't see. She always pictured him with a hairy chest, but she didn't know why. It made sense that someone with an overtly male physique would have loads of body hair. She eyed the image in her mind, following the trail of hair down.
Jill tried to focus on her paperwork again. Signing, stamping, paper clipping, and filing... but she slowed down to a halt. There was a fleeting thought about what lay between his strong thighs. She pictured his cock being uncut and thick, the type that would leave her jaw feeling sore after a blowjob. Jill liked to think he would have balls to match, being heavy and in need of spoiling. She wondered if he would have a beauty mark or two blemishing his shaft. She imagined his pre-cum oozing from his lush pink tip as his attention-deprived cock would twitch only for her.
Oh god, what was she doing?
There was a sudden jolt of pleasure that ran down her spine and settled between her legs, like an ache that couldn’t be satisfied. Jill fidgeted in her chair, placing both hands on her desk with a huff.
She mentally scolded herself as she once again took up her pen and clicked it in a quick staccato.
Chris, Joseph, and Forest.
Those three made quite the trio. Her cheeks burned more intensely as her tongue swiped the plunger of the pen. Jill had never considered a threesome to be all that appealing, but suddenly a foursome sounded like the perfect after-work treat. She wanted to be at the center of attention. She yearned to be caressed and cherished by groping hands and filled in every hole.
Jill noticed something wet as she looked down at her palm; it had been on the ink pad of her stamper. She scowled at the dark spot on her hand's side, attempting to smudge it away without success. Her hand was stained. She repositioned the stamper and ink pad out of her way in case of another daydreaming accident.
As fun as it was to think about, she had to get back to her work. It wouldn't complete itself. She blamed her lustful thoughts on the mind-numbing paperwork and the rough dry spell she'd been in.
Thoughts. That was all they were, after all. In no way would she ever take action on them. That had all the makings of a catastrophe.
She felt guilty that she had even been daydreaming about that, particularly while working. Her work was critical. High-risk searches and arrest warrants. Rescuing hostages. Active shooters. Crowd control. Emergencies that the RPD couldn't handle.
But she didn't expect there would be so much paperwork involved when she joined S.T.A.R.S.
Jill had to stay focused.
She took another passing glance at the clock. The minutes seemed to pass so slowly.
Well, those three were definitely something, but... there was someone else that held her attention.
She whirled around to face the captain's office. The lights were off, and the blinds had been drawn shut.
It was a little strange to think of him like that. She looked to Wesker for leadership. He wasn't particularly her type, but sometimes he would pop into her mind, and she would think of him in ways that made it hard to look him in the eye.
She recalled how he had helped her when her computer was on the fritz. Her arm had erupted in goosebumps when he had unintentionally brushed against it while he leaned over to fix it. Or how red she felt herself get when he emerged from his office just to compliment her on her improving marksmanship scores, much to Chris' chagrin.
Sometimes, he surprised her... or maybe she just surprised herself.
The captain looked a little too good in black, even though it looked gloomy on her. Black made him appear even more untouchable and attractive. Sure, he didn't have huge, bulky muscles or a goofy laugh, but his demeanor was enigmatic. From the way he would adjust his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose to how he would give just a hint of a smirk.
When Jill was close enough to smell his cologne, she loved it. Intense and attention-grabbing, spicy and warm. Patchouli and cedar, with faint undertones of lavender. From his gelled-back hair and his pale, unblemished complexion to his professionally laundered uniform, everything about him was done with a perfectionist's touch.
Maybe he was so attractive because he was her captain, and that's why the whole thing seemed so forbidden, taboo, and alluring.
Jill eyed her paperwork. It could wait at least a little while longer. She had been at it for an hour now, and she deserved a break.
Part of her protested that Wesker was her superior. She couldn't think of him like that.
But she wanted to... what was the harm?
She imagined the taste of his leather gloves as he would slide his digits against her lips before probing them inside her mouth. Examining and almost making sure that she would be acceptable or worthy enough to take him. She pondered whether she would submit to him.
She nearly heard his voice.
"I have a special assignment for you, Ms. Valentine, one that requires a... woman's touch."
Jill's whole body shuddered. She would yield to him. She would give in to all of his whims. She knew she would. When she heard her chair squeak, she realized she had been rolling her hips.
She could see it now. Her falling to her knees so he could feel so much bigger than she was. Perhaps he would remove his sunglasses for the occasion and gaze down at her.
She smirked at that. The captain, taking off his glasses? As if.
Jill could only imagine how the rough fabric of his trousers would feel up against her face as he would seize her locks and shove her closer to his stiffening crotch.
Wait...
Would he be that forward? Wesker didn't seem like the aggressive type. Sure, he was unreadable, and he rarely showed emotions... or at least she couldn't tell because of his sunglasses. Jill knew very little about him. He kept his personal life private, spent a lot of his day in his private office, and never socialized with anyone else after work.
Wesker could be whatever she wanted to be, either demanding and punishing or weak and submissive. After all, it was her fantasy.
"You've demonstrated time and time again how skilled you can be with your hands, but I want to see it for myself."
She chewed at the plunger of the pen, her eyebrows furrowing. Jill questioned herself about whether he was the type to shave. She reasoned that someone who valued perfection would, at the very least, trim. He wouldn't be as unkempt as Chris, that was for sure. His hygiene would be impeccable; she could smell the expensive soaps and lotions lingering on his skin.
Maybe he wouldn't be as thick as Chris, but he would be sizable. She reasoned it was sizable enough to worship. His cock would be as perfect as he was. Jill would relish the feeling of him draped heavily across her face. If it meant getting what she wanted, she didn't mind a little humiliation.
"Show your appreciation for your captain, Valentine. That is an order."
Jill envisioned how his heart would pound beneath her lips with each kiss along his shaft. She would map his veins with her tongue, licking and lapping all the way to his dripping tip.
Would he be able to fill her mouth completely?
She imagined taking him in, sinking down his length with expertise. She imagined how his natural musk would invade her senses as her nose would press firmly into his pubic bone. Jill imagined how she would look up at him through his lashes, looking for his approval through her watery eyes.
She was well aware of her tricky gag reflex, but in her mind, she could fit all of him without so much as flinching. She wouldn't want something soft and gentle.
Wesker would be still, wanting her to do all the work. She wouldn't feel embarrassed by her own noisy slurping and squeaking. She would be shameless, bobbing her head along with enough force to make her tonsils ache. She could almost taste him in the back of her throat—sweet and salty.
She loved giving. A total people-pleaser and suck up who really loved sucking up and the sloppier, the better. She could picture the spit gathering around her lips and then dripping down her throat to gather somewhere in the area between her breasts.
"You'd better not make a mess, Jill. I keep myself and my office spotless, and I'll make no exception for you."
Jill forced herself to swallow the saliva that had built up in her mouth.
She took the pen out from between her teeth and absent-mindedly traced the plunger around the edges of her lips, as if teasing herself before dipping inside. She ran it along her tongue. What once was a minor oral fixation had turned into oral stimulation. She wasn't desperate enough to suck on the end of it... yet.
It seemed like she was teasing herself throughout the night. She wasn't the kind of person who did hookups, and dates were difficult to come by. Jill couldn't always get it right with her fingers, and it wasn't the same even while using toys. They didn't have a pulse.
"That's right. Be a good little girl and take it. All of it."
It was hard to resist the temptation to let her hand slip into her pants and touch herself. She had little control over her thoughts, but she would not finger-fuck herself at her desk. As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't have to act on all her impulses.
Jill thought about how his chest would rise and fall faster and faster. His stoic composure breaking only for a split moment as he would fist her hair and force her to stay right where she was. She would close her throat around him, waiting for her sticky treat.
Maybe Wesker would moan... maybe he would hiss out her name through closed teeth, but she would enjoy feeling every pulse of his cock as ropes of his thick cum would coat the inside of her throat. A sweet, delicious load she would savor for all her hard, diligent work.
"Don't let a single drop leave your mouth, unless you want a write-up and even more 'overtime'."
She'd swallow all of it. Fuck, she'd thank him for every drop. She'd beg him for more. She needed more. God, she needed more. She would be his little private mouth-hole to fuck. She knew how hard a worker he was; he could release his tension wherever he wanted to.
She would be all his—
The door to the S.T.A.R.S. office abruptly opened, frightening her out of her perverse thoughts. The overhead halogen lights flickered to life as she jerked in her seat. Jill's eyes strained from the sudden brightness. She whipped the pen out of her mouth, feeling it rip a gag out of her. She clambered for it before it fell to the floor. The writing instrument was covered in her own saliva.
Oh god.
Oh god.
Jill was caught in the act.
She could see combat boots. She hoped it wasn't Barry, Enrico, or anyone else from S.T.A.R.S.; the janitor was another possibility. She hoped inwardly that it was the goddamn janitor.
Jill felt her heart pounding in her chest and thudding against her ribcage.
Her gaze traveled up to none other than her captain, who was staring blankly down at the pen that was lying pitifully on the floor. He stood still in the office doorway. He didn't move a single muscle. She expected him to grimace, or at least furrow his brows in displeasure.
Wesker's attention was suddenly drawn back up to her. "I must say I'm surprised, Valentine. I never saw you as the person to indulge in any overtime."
"Oh, uh... yeah," Jill cleared her throat, trying to compose herself, "I'm working on some unfinished paperwork."
Wesker entered the room swiftly and crouched down next to her seat. He snatched up the pen and stood. Jill was so mortified that she had no control over how hot her face became. He spun the pen around once, twice, and once again, examining it closely.
"You know, chewing on pens and pencils is a terrible habit. I'm sure you could find something much more suitable to keep your mouth occupied."