Distant sound of the midnight traffic woke Albert Wesker from a light slumber. He cursed quietly as he took a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. He had fallen asleep barely fifteen minutes ago. He was hot, despite the fact that the air-conditioning was at 70 degrees and only one satin sheet covered his naked body.

He tossed the sheets aside, got up and walked to the bathroom. He didn't bother to turn the lights on; he had no desire to see his image reflected in the mirror right now. He touched the mirror, tracing the cold surface with his fingers, knowing what the image looked like and well aware that at the moment, he didn't like it.

His apartment was a little messy. He left the bathroom and picked up a newspaper from the living room floor, wondering what was wrong with him. He was a very organized man and liked to keep his apartment tidy. Leaving the place in this condition was unusual for him; something was obviously bothering him.

Not that I didn't know what...

It was all because of those damn dreams that kept him from sleeping. They weren't nightmares; they were actually very pleasant dreams. They just had the tendency to make him feel alone, incomplete.

Damn you, William.

He returned to the bed. He knew he would have a hard time falling asleep again, and the possibility of being awakened by something completely irrelevant was high. The knowledge frustrated him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He would have to get up early in the morning, but it was not like he hadn't stayed up all night before, especially back in Arklay. Arklay, where his old partner still worked... Or was William working in some new facility now? He didn't care, really.

This had all started when he had run into Birkin while taking care of something work-related. Officially, he didn't work for Umbrella anymore, but unofficially, he was a member of their Intelligence Department. They hadn't talked, but the way William had looked at him... he hated it.

He sometimes felt the need to strangle the younger man. To yell in his face that since William had a goddamn family and everything, he could do them both a favor and stay out of his life. Not that William was involved in his life in any way...

Except for those damn dreams.

He gave up trying to sleep about five minutes after getting back to bed. There was no point in lying in the bed, switching positions every ten seconds in a futile attempt to lie there comfortably. He sat up and stared at the wall for a moment before he put his feet down on the floor. He stood up and walked across the room slowly, then stopped and looked down at the floor, studying the shapes of the yellowish beams of light that were made by the streetlights outside.

He moved to the window and opened it. The soft night wind caught the curtains and made them dance around him, but he didn't pay any attention. He looked over the mostly quiet streets and wondered if Birkin was working tonight.

Of course he is. He always is...

He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like if the younger man was there...

A delicate touch on his skin as William ran his fingers down his back; the soft feeling of the younger man pressing his lips on his shoulder and kissing him. The tingling sensation as the other man's hands moved from his back to his stomach, paralyzing him as they moved down...

His eyes snapped open, and he stared at the view in front of him, not seeing anything. It felt so real... too real.

And that means I'm losing my mind. I'm so glad you don't know anything about this, William. I'm sure you would just get some sick pleasure out of it anyway.

Pleasure. Birkin was a total control freak; the knowledge that he had such an effect on Wesker's mind would have made him insane. Insane from the mere thought that he had such power over someone. As impassive as Wesker was, he had never been able to ignore the younger man. Right now, he was trying to convince himself that he hated Birkin. That was the only thing he could think of, being dominated like this by someone who wasn't even there.

He closed his eyes again, leaned on the windowsill and let the wind caress his body. It wouldn't take away the heat though; on the contrary, it seemed to make it worse, never mind the fact that he was shivering.

He took a few steps back eyes wide open and stared at the window like it was trying to attack him. He then shook his head and sighed, turned around and walked to the bed.

I should go see a shrink. Ha, ha. As if that would help.

He lay down again and covered his eyes with his hand. His heart raced, and he reached for a glass of water on the nightstand and took a sip. His lips were dry. He glanced at the window; the curtains were still caught in the breeze, but the light motion failed to capture his attention. Uncomfortable or not, he would have to sleep, even if it was just a short moment of relief.

Barely a few minutes passed before his consciousness returned, this time as a feeling of sensuality. The burning was getting stronger, so strong that it felt like he was lying near an open fire. But he knew there was no fire nearby and refused to open his eyes.

Must be fever...

He pushed the sheets away and concentrated on breathing calmly. That proved to be impossible, as he could feel the sensation taking over, trapping him a prison of fire. He raised his hand and touched the skin on his chest, but it wasn't warm.

There was something else, though. His body was overly sensitive, and the touch made his freeze. His muscles tensed, and he trembled, afraid to move. He let his hand fall to his side, the movement almost painful. His head was hurting, and his mind got momentarily blurry.

He could hear Birkin's soft laughter in his mind. He was aroused, and his body demanded that he did something about it. He was just too frightened to move. Finally, he clenched his teeth and raised his hand again, this time moving it down his own body. The touch burned so horribly he wanted to die, but not before he got what he needed.

"...William..."

He bit his tongue, cursing in his mind for letting the name escape his lips. Breathing was becoming harder, but as his fingers reached the hard length, he had to slap his other hand over his mouth to keep himself from moaning.

The touch on his body... he knew exactly what it was, and who it was. The fingers that ran over him, torturing every inch of his skin as they moved. His member throbbed, and even the lightest touch upon it made him want to explode. But he couldn't. His breathing turned irregular, and he felt like he was going to faint. Time passed so slowly that he almost thought it had stopped. He needed a release from this, and he needed it fast.

"Not yet, Albert, not just yet..." He heard Birkin whisper. The younger man's voice was so calm that he wanted to scream at him, but there was no point in doing that, now was there?

His whole body was burning; burning to be touched by someone who had not touched him in years. Tears formed in his eyes as he heard his own voice crying out quietly, whimpering as he was pleasured. He needed it so much. The fingers around his manhood tightened, and he melted on the bed for a moment before his body tensed again. He panted, and with whatever remained of his rationality, prayed that this would be over soon.

One more gentle brush over the tip of his organ, and then he got what he wanted. He cried out, wetting his hand and his lower body. Both physically and mentally exhausted, he relaxed on the bed sheets, listening to how Birkin chuckled, obviously pleased with his work.

Fatigue took over, and he fell asleep. He slept comfortably without dreams for the rest of the night until he woke up to the sound of the door closing somewhere. His mind registered the sound of a car leaving, and he glanced at the clock which was set to wake him up at 6.30 AM; it was twenty past six. He turned it off, forced himself up on his feet and glanced around the still dark bedroom. The window was still open, and the room was a little chilly.

Yet another dream...

But as he walked over to the bathroom to take a warm shower, he had to wonder if it had been a dream after all.

Author's notes:

Old fic idea I had. Yes, it's named after a Roxette song; hey, I suck at coming up with fic titles, and besides, the song was what gave me the mental image.

- Elmina (December, 2004)