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Passion Play

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 The box arrived on Wesker's doorstep one afternoon. He opened the door of his small, ramshackle apartment, peered to one side and then the other, and quickly whisked it inside. 

"I can't believe you made me buy this," Wesker lamented, beads of sweat coalescing on his forehead. "Mr. Scarface..."

"Like hell I did!" Scarface laughed. He flicked open a puppet-sized penknife and slid it around the edges of the box. "You can't pin this one on me, you little freak. Gimme a hand with this, dummy."

Wesker obediently reached down his free hand to pull the box open and reach inside. Nestled comfortably in a Styrofoam clamshell was an average-sized, unassuming dildo, about five to six inches long, with a strap-on harness folded and tucked nearby, along with some other material. The toy itself was smooth, shiny, with a good heft to it...and made of finely polished wood. Wesker gaped.

"Why the hell are you actin' so surprised?" Scarface said. "You're the one who ordered the damn thing, dummy. You could have at least made it bigger. Way bigger."

"I-I didn't...I couldn't! Mr. Scarface, that's dangerous."

"Like you haven't been practicing, ya perv," Scarface said lasciviously. He let out a low chuckle as he leered at the Ventriloquist, whose head turned down, his cheeks red with embarassment. "Now bring that shit into the bedroom and let's get this started. You ain't gonna leave your boss hanging, are you, dummy?"

Wesker's heart fluttered, even as he shifted nervously back and forth. "No, Mr. Scarface," he said meekly, scooping up the box.

Scarface leaned in close to his ear, whispering in a low voice. "That's a good dummy," he murmured.

Wesker burned.

He laid Scarface down on his back on their bed. Working quickly, nervously, he stripped off the puppet's clothes ("I don't want my nice threads gettin' dirty!") and started to attach the harness. Thank god they made them in extra-extra-small. 

"Surprised they didn't ask any questions," Scarface mused. "But then again, you do live in Gotham. I bet those hardworkin' perverts what make this stuff have seen everything by now. Probably got people orderin' Killer Croc dicks and whatnot--"

"Mr. Scarface, shush," Wesker said. His brow furrowed with concentration as he slipped a plastic tube up through the base of the dildo. "I'm trying to do this..."

"Eh? What's that?" Wesker lifted Scarface up a bit so he could see. "You didn't tell me about any funny tubes."

"It's... it's..." Wesker covered his mouth, his face flush. "I can't say it, Mr. Scarface. Just...consider it a surprise, won't you?"

Scarface settled back down, peering suspiciously. "Ahright, ahright," he grumbled. "Ya fuckin' weird bastard."

Wesker paused, then nervously sat up and tried to straddle him. "Hey! Hey!" Scarface barked. "You never hear of foreplay before, dummy? Get down here," he snapped, "and put that mouth 'a yours to good use!"

It was all the excuse the Ventriloquist needed. He pressed his face to Scarface's cock, tentatively at first, but then he began to lick his shaft eagerly, his glasses shining in the light. "That's it, dummy," the puppet slurred, and Wesker felt the pressure of his wooden hand on the top of his head. "Suck me off. The way I always knew you wanted to."

Wesker moaned. His tongue curled dextrously around the tip of the puppet's cock. One hand underneath Scarface made him buck his hips up into Wesker's waiting lips, and soon they were rocking back and forth rhythmically, with Wesker breathing hard through his nose as his boss's cock filled his mouth. The smell of the wood, its thickness, the smoothness of it against his was almost enough to make him faint.

"Don't pass out yet, dummy," Scarface said, his voice strained. "Not 'till I'm satisfied. Got it?" Wesker nodded obediently. "Good. That's a good boy," he said. 

Wesker licked him from base to tip with long, slow movements. "Thank you, Mr. Scarface," he said reverently. 

"Fuck..." Scarface groaned, thrusting up into Wesker's mouth. "I guess it ain't no surprise you're good with your mouth, huh?"

"Thank you...thank you, sir..."

Another moan; and now it was almost impossible to tell who it was coming from. "You sick little freak," Scarface gasped. "You're gettin' off on this, ain't ya?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Scarface," Wesker whimpered. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't help myself." He grasped Scarface's cock in one hand, as the other cradled a round, inflated rubber bulb that connected to the plastic tube inside the puppet's dick. Wesker flexed his fingers around it, tempted. But no...not yet...not yet...

"Not yet!" Scarface barked, his legs jerking upwards. "I don't want ya to stay down there the whole night, you got me? Get up here," he commanded. Wesker moved Scarface's small, wooden arm, tapping towards his thighs. "Let's see if ya got me wet enough to take my dick, ya little slut."

"Yes, Mr. Scarface." Wesker's glasses shone in the light as he climbed up on top of him. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped his hand out of the doll, bracing himself with both hands as he slowly lowered his weight down onto Scarface's cock. Between Wesker's saliva and the smoothness of the wood, he slid in easily, and Wesker--Scarface--gasped. 

"Fuck, dummy!" Scarface groaned. "You're...fucking tight. And here I thought you'd been banging guys behind my back."

"N-never, sir," Wesker responded, breathing heavily as he rolled his hips forward. Scarface's cock slid in and out of him wetly, and he could feel himself shuddering, tensing, squeezing him with his muscles. "N-never anyone but you," he confessed. "I...I only want to belong to--"

"That's fuckin' right," Scarface interrupted. "I'm the only one what gives it to you the way you need it. Ain't that right, dummy?"

"Yes," Wesker gasped. One of his hands moved down to stroke his own cock, almost absently, as he ground his hips down onto the doll's. "Yes, Mr. Scarface!"

"Thassit, dummy," Scarface continued. "And don't think I don't see what you're doin'! You wait until I'm done to get off, you hear me?"

Wesker's jaw clenched as he pulled his hand away from his cock. "Y-yes, sir," he said meekly. 

"Say it!"

"I-I won't get off until you do, sir!"

"'And why's that?"

"'Cause I'm yours, sir!" Wesker hunched over, digging one hand tightly into the blankets as he rode Scarface, rolling his hips forward and back, whimpering loudly. The other hand, though he didn't quite realize it, continued to grip and play with the rubber bulb. "I'm yours, Mr. Scarface!"

"That's right!" Scarface rasped. He placed his hand--or Wesker grabbed it--did it matter?--onto his subordinate's thigh, the wood pressing down into his skin. "Thassit, dummy, do it harder! Fuck, I'm gonna c-come!" His voice grew strained and erratic. "Take it!"

Wesker's hand tightened. He practically crushed the rubber bulb in his palm and Scarface's cock jerked. "Ah...ah!" the puppet cried out. "Ahhh, fuck, yes!" 

Something wet shot deep inside him. The ventriloquist bit his lip, releasing and squeezing the rubber bulb. Every squeeze was another shot of his come, and he took it over and over again, riding his boss's dick until there was nothing left for him to take. Wesker licked his lips as he practically doubled over, touching himself and shuddering wildly, grinding his hips down as Scarface moaned. Finally he came as well, shooting spurt after spurt of thick, hot come into his hand. He always tried not to let it get on Mr. Scarface.

They rocked together, back and forth, and finally slowed. Wesker sat up slowly, breathing heavily, his heart pounding.

"Jesus Christ, dummy," Scarface said tiredly. "You really gone 'n' done it this time. What the hell was that tube thing?"

"J-just some lubricant and a pump," Wesker explained, slowly pushing himself up to his knees. "I-I thought you might like being able to...y'know...c...c-come, Mr. Scarface."

"Well, ya ain't wrong," Scarface laughed. He slapped Wesker's thigh lightly. "Lemme see the goods. C'mon." Wesker sat up further, pushing himself up off of Scarface's cock. He reached down to spread his legs shyly, his ass bright red and leaking with come. "That's a good boy. Fuck, dummy, you take it like a pro."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Scarface," Wesker stammered, blushing. "Thank you, sir."

Silence fell between them. Scarface was uncharacteristically quiet as Wesker cleaned him off and dressed him back in his suit and hat. "Is everything okay, sir?" he asked politely, if nervously. "Did you...enjoy it?"

"Enjoy it? Of course I enjoyed it, you loon," Scarface replied. "Naw, I'm just thinkin' about how you can't live without me," he chuckled. "You thirsty son of a bitch. You've been wanting my cock for ages, huh."

Wesker turned his head down, trying to hide a smile. "I-I guess that's true, Mr. Scarface."

"Well, this's just the beginning, dummy. You get more of that tube lube or whatever it is," Scarface yawned. His eyelids drooped downwards. "And another of them dildos, too."

"Another one?" Wesker said, tilting his head to the side, his brow furrowed. "I-is something wrong with the one you have, sir?"

"Naw, it's fine. But it's just a startin' point," Scarface chuckled. "We gotta go larger. Maybe....twelve inches or so. Yeah," he snickered. "Twelve inches!"

Wesker paled a little, his grin widening unsteadily on his face. "Whatever you say, Mr. Scarface."