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Tongue tied

Summary:

Albert had told Chris in advance - months prior, in fact - what he intended to do, and that he had designed a training regime to prepare him for it. Less out of consideration for Chris’ well-being, and more for the pleasure of breaking him in. He’d snarled and fought, like he always did when Albert revealed a new humiliation, but it hadn't changed the outcome. In the end, he hadn’t been able to break the steel of the gags or spring-traps Albert had forced between his teeth, nor resist the P30 when he’d fed his cock into Chris’ throat and instructed him to keep it there. There was nothing Chris could do but accept the indignities Albert heaped upon him. 

Wesker teaches Chris to take an oral knot.

Notes:

Hi all, I have this account to post stuff I don't want on my main. Mostly short fics that are silly, kinky, and/or loose with canon/characterisation for my whims. Won't be the best written fics, but hopefully someone will get some measure of enjoyment out of them!

Work Text:

Taking an oral knot required training. 

First, you had to teach your omega how to stretch their jaw so it could accommodate the girth of something that was never meant to fit. An open gag was a good start; it could be used to gradually accustom them to the feeling of their mouth being held open, let them feel the strain in their jaw and the drool on their chin and learn to endure it. 

It made for a pretty picture, too: mouth winched open, drool sliding in messy strings down their throat and sullying their clothes and skin, their blue eyes wide and glassy, looking so very helpless, and so very pretty, finally submissive in all the ways they had refused to be after the incident at the mansion...

The next task was conditioning the muscles, increasing flexibility so the strain would be easier for them to bear. Throat fucking was one approach, provided you pulled all the way out before thrusting back in, forcing their muscles to stretch and loosen. It was also a very enjoyable deviation from the monotony of everyday routine. But forcing a spring-trap between their lips and watching them fight against it was also an enjoyable method. Either way, the jaw was left pliable for its intended use. 

The last consideration was the throat, given that it would be full for quite some time while the mouth was occupied with a knot. Again, the deepthroating was essential here, and adding cockwarming to the rotation meant an omega could adjust to the limited air available to them while their windpipe was occupied with the ever-important task of pleasing their alpha. It would erode their gag reflex, little by little. No more messy choking or gagging; just a quiet, pliant body between your legs, impaled on your cock, resigned to the task of keeping you warm. 

And then came the knotting.

Albert had told Chris in advance - months prior, in fact - what he intended to do, and that he had designed a training regime to prepare him for it. Less out of consideration for Chris’ well-being, and more for the pleasure of breaking him in. He’d snarled and fought, like he always did when Albert revealed a new humiliation, but it hadn't changed the outcome. In the end, he hadn’t been able to break the steel of the gags or spring-traps Albert had forced between his teeth, nor resist the P30 when he’d fed his cock into Chris’ throat and instructed him to keep it there. There was nothing Chris could do but accept the indignities Albert heaped upon him. 

He got Chris positioned between his legs, under his desk, and fucked his mouth in preparation for the knot, finding a languid pace while he reviewed his wall of monitors. His plans were coming along well. If progress on uroboros continued at the current pace, they would be ready for worldwide dissemination within two more years rather than the projected three. Finding test subjects that adapted to the virus the same way he could was proving… challenging, but that would just make the survivors all the more worthy of the new world he was crafting for them. Soon enough, humanity would - it would -

His thoughts suddenly ground to a halt, his gaze drifting away from the results for the latest batch of test subjects and down to the man between his legs.

“Don’t,” said Albert, feeling his peak approach. “Forget to swallow.”

He shoved Chris deeper into his lap, burying Chris' face in the thatch of blond hair at the base of his cock just before his orgasm ripped through him. Come spilled down Chris’ gullet in thick, messy strings, and Chris swallowed it all, just like he’d been taught. Albert would have hated to see such valuable genetic material go to waste, after all. Better it in his prisoner's gullet than wasted on the floor.

His hips jerked once, twice, cock jarring against the soft tissue at the back of Chris’ throat, and then he slowly sank back into his leather chair and stared dazedly at his monitors. 

Beneath him, Chris was whimpering, his mouth stretching as his knot grew and forced apart those pretty lips. At this point, Chris couldn’t have pulled away even if Albert had released the grip of the P30. The knot kept him leashed between Albert’s legs.

He petted Chris' hair as he watched Chris struggle against the girth of his knot, swallowing repeatedly like that might ease the pressure on his jaw. His tongue wiggled briefly against the underside of Albert's knot, trying to find a more comfortable position, before giving up.

The training had paid off; Chris' jaw might have been stretched uncomfortably wide, but it wasn't damaged. It would have been a terrible shame if he’d had to pull out to get Chris medical treatment for a dislocated jaw. 

“Don’t look so dour, Chris,” he murmured, though he didn’t mind the dour look at all. He’d eased the P30 just enough to be able to enjoy Chris’ expressions, which were often some variation of despondent these days. “This is what omegas are for. You’re fulfilling the role you were born to occupy; a warm, wet place for the cock and knot of your superior.”

Chris’ brow furrowed, like he was trying to glare, before smoothing out again, smothered by the compulsion of the P30. 

“If it’s any comfort, you do it very well.”

Chris didn’t respond, but he gathered by the twitch at his brow that Chris didn’t much appreciate this remark either. Albert chuckled.

“Get comfortable,” he murmured. “We’ll be here a while.”

With a muffled sigh, Chris laid his chin on Albert’s chair and closed his eyes, resigned to being stuffed full of knot for the next hour or so. Maybe longer, if Albert felt like having another taste of Chris' throat, which would inevitably result in another knot and another hour between Albert’s legs. It was nice to have a place to stow it now, instead of having to awkwardly tuck himself back into his trousers and hope his underwear didn’t chafe.

He continued to stroke Chris’ hair and idle his fingers over the curve of Chris' ears, and Chris hummed like he was enjoying it. The boy was a little desperate for a kinder touch these days. Albert always gave them out sparingly. 

He smiled at Chris and cast him one last, lingering look, appreciating the obscene stretch of his lips and the spit-smeared chin, before returning his attention to his monitors and the results splashed across them.