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Summary
Albert Wesker does not ask. He commands.
When the first Uroboros dose leaves the future god aching and furious, he summons the one woman on the Tricell submarine who’s already touched herself thinking of him.
Ropes. Gags. Squirting until she can’t speak. And the cold, arrogant bastard still remembers to hand her water between rounds.
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Bookmark Notes:
RE9 left me longing for Wesker; this fic helped fulfill that void. I highly recommend any Wesker wives read it for a good time. Bless you, OP.
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