Outer Scars, Inner Demons

Disclaimer: Characters © DC and used without permission or for personal gain.

Outer Scars, Inner Demons
A RP Fic by Spug & Bianca Marou
Guest ‘Penguin’ by KT

Chapter One: Revenge Is Like A Cold Fish

Wesker: No. No.. please no.. god no.. please.. No.. Why is this happening?

Arnold Wesker's chin was to his chest. Head sunk so low his neck and shoulders were straining. Bowler cock-eyed upon his head, mushing up tuffs of pure white that stuck out all around it. Each arm was being held tighter then necessary giving the ex-criminals actual strength. An oversized goon each with clenching fingers under each armpit to drag him down the long hallway that lead to the Icebergs Penthouse suite Office.

Drag. Because he was lifted up high enough that his five feet three inches of frame wasn't long enough to keep his heels on the floor. How had this come about? A half hour ago he'd been standing at the bus stop, two paper bags full of groceries. Going to cook James dinner tonight? Yes, they'd had a date. Wesker was even going to suggest maybe they could go public with their relationship. It had been a good plan.

But it seemed someone didn't like that plan. And Plans had ways of changing unexpectedly. Like how Wesker had planned to never set foot in this building again. The Penguin's Iceberg lounge and Casino. Too many bad memories, too many scars here. This had always been a favorite haunt for the personality he'd finally, after so long, gotten rid off. Mr. Scarface was gone.

Then why are you here? Wesker wasn't a criminal anymore. It was true he’d kept his same manner of dress. Black tux, bow tie, slacks, but that was because he looked cheeky and mousy in it. James had taught him that feeling good about yourself was okay. It was okay to feel love for someone.

Wesker didn't feel love right now though. Not as the goons shoved the double doors to the office open and drug him inside. He felt afraid, confused.. abandoned. Head slowly lifted, those inch thick tinted frames sheened in the light.

What was this? Retribution for his crimes? What did Cobblepot want with him? Surely he would soon know.

Penguin: No love? Ahh. T’was a shame, because in Mr. Cobblepot's mind this was indeed a nice dose of..ahh..shall we say..tough love?

Because really, he didn't want revenge. Oh no. He'd only been forced to spend nine months in that stinking prison forced to shell out a pretty penny (none of which he had any desire to spend on this. There had been a car he had been eyeing recently) on a fine team of lawyers to lick the judges very ass in order to lessen what could have been ten painful YEARS at Black Gate. And he'd almost had the misfortune of a prison rape itself, though unlike that pathetic excuse for a man, Wesker, he didn't take any petty thief trying to cop a feel. It also helped that he was so incredibly frightening looking when enraged, and those sharpened teeth really did come in handy.

None the less, perhaps, thinking on it now, our feathered friend did have a bit of a -bone- to pick with the little mousy. And like any bird of prey, the Penguin wasn't going to just swallow it whole in one bite. Oh no..there was going to be prodding, and sheering with his talons and beak, gouging and pecking away at it's little weak body until he'd had all of his fun.

And oh how much fun there was to be had! Currently though, a flipper-esque hand was holding onto a small tooth pick that was working out a few remaining bits of fish within his teeth. Sitting behind his desk, the bird looked quite regal on his perch as he finished off the remainder of his meal, surrounded by a few beautiful looking doves of his own, who were chit-chatting lightly until the door opened and in came the honored guest of the afternoon.

"Aaaaah. Welcome back to my cage, Mr. Wesker. It seems you have a knack for making slippery escapes, but today, I have plans for you. Oh yes yes yes." With a wave of his hand, the goons and girls were gone alike, and the doors locked.

Click.

Wesker: Those meaty hands released him and he fell to his knees on the expensive carpet. Wesker swallowed hard as hands met down next to his thighs. A few hard breaths dragged in while dame and muscle shifted past him followed by the dreaded click of a locked door.

He shouldn't be here. Why the hell was he here? He'd gone straight. Over a year and he'd not committed a crime. Why now? " P-please.. Mr. Cobblepot.. I d-don't know why you brought me here, but I'm out of that business.. Mr. Scarface is gone, I've nothing to offer you.. Please.. "

Slowly the older man raised his head again to look up past the desk where the bird himself sat. The light caught Penguins monocle and his teeth, making the items gleam every so much as his own glasses did. Mr. Cobblepot was refined, but Wesker knew better then to judge a book, or a bird by the cover of it's prepimped feathers. Cobblepot was a dangerous man. He would have to try to just think his way out of here.

"P-p-plans? Sir?" Lip was pulled between his teeth as Wesker pushed himself back off his hands. He tugged nervously at his tuxedo lapels and then glanced over his shoulder at the door. It sounded like it had been locked, running was not his option right now.

"W-what ever Mr. Scarface did.. I'm sorry, but He's gone now.. I didn't d-do anything to you. He was a totally different person, not me, not really. Please understand. "

Penguin: The sad thing was, there was no way out of here. My little mouse, you'll have to chew a hole in the wall in order to escape me it seems. But that just made him grin all the more. There was a distinctive tilt of his head as he looked down at the other through that round piece of glass propped into his right eye.

"Mmm. I see. Perhaps you're just not comfortable? Here. Let's fix that." The Penguin finally stood, and in his reformed waddle of a walk, he moved away from his desk. In one hand, he used one of those delightful umbrellas to help him along as if it was a dapper cane walking down 5th Avenue. It wasn't long before the distance between them was closed and out came the tip of his umbrella, flat it seemed, and with a forceful thrust pushed the little man off of his knees and down onto his back. There the bird hovered over him, like a vulture, surveying the rotting carcass he was about to dive down upon. Thin tongue slid from his mouth in order to lick over the curves of his dry lip. That umbrella still pressed into the man's sternum, keeping him put on the nice carpet.

"Well I appreciate the fact that you've reformed yourself, but the fact of the matter is, that you got the chance to live a clean life on the outside. Unlike myself. Mmmhm. Oh yes, the trial was all over the papers. You...and your little absent puppet really made me the talk of the town. And it wasn't good publicity. You should -know- how much I hate bad publicity!" He get a dark little chuckle, accenting his point with another vicious prod of the umbrella.

“Now. I've thought long and hard about just forgetting you ever existed, and allowing you to get away with your shortened sentence and a name on the Bat's clean list. But then..where's the fun in that? You and I, Mr. Wesker, are going to settle this little score. In a days time perhaps we can catch you up to the kind of aggravation and torture I went through at Black Gate thanks to your little spill. What say you?"

Wesker: As like the mouse the bird so referred to him as, the little man squeaked as his back hit the ground. Lips pulled clear of his teeth in a pain expression that only widened as that blunt tip of the umbrella was pressing down onto his chest. He could feel the metal digging into the flesh and bone and it hurt.

"P-please!" Wesker squeaked out, head lured against the carpet, shoulders rolled and he tried to scoot himself backwards, but with that umbrella tip digging as it was, he found himself pinned and had no other option then to look back up at Penguin's gleaming monocle and sharp teeth peering down at him. He paled visibly as he listened to the words that were so casually chirped from the birds mouth and he could feel the dread coming in.

You should have listened to James when he so often said he'd rather you didn't leave the apartment alone. You wouldn't be here. "I've b-been to Black-Gate!" Wesker yelped. Hands finally pulled themselves up and he wrapped them around the top of the umbrella trying to push it off him. Ech. For a short fat bird, he had a lot of strength.

"I've felt that torment before.. please I..Please Mr. Cobblepot, I've done my time for everything I've done, I spent six months in Arkham, I'm cured now, I'm .. I'm sorry Mr. Scarface caused you such misfortunes, I truly am. Allow me to do something else.. anything.. just don't hurt me."

Penguin: "This conversation isn't about you Wesker. It's about me, and what your little sniveling to the Bat has caused me. But I think you're just not understanding what I really mean." He lifted the top of that umbrella, only to find two little hands clinging to it. Huh. Oh that's right, he -would- be trying to struggle against him. The Penguin just let out the lightest of chuckles and ripped the umbrella from the Ventriloquists grasp, making a few 'tsks tsks tsks' to him.

"Don't mess with my umbrella, dear. You're only going to end up a bloody mess."

And it seemed as soon as he said that, from the tip of the umbrella shot out a nasty looking, sharp, and gleaming knife. Just as shiny as his teeth, and that eyeglass of his. Everything was smooth, bright, and oh so deadly. There was a swipe from his wing, and suddenly Mr. Wesker was no longer unharmed. It was on his shoulder, and it ripped at the shirt there, and then another swipe was made toward the smaller man's face. The knife this time hit the mark even better, causing a swift gash to develop on Arnold's left cheek. That smirk on his face only grew all the more as he watched the blood begin to drip in streams down the other man's face. "See what I mean?" And then, the knife suddenly was pointed at the other's throat after making a few more distinct cuts along the man's sleeves, getting deep enough to cut the material and create a few shallow gashes as well.

But now, with the knife at his Adams apple, Mr. Cobblepot kindly uttered. "On your feet now. Let's take a little walk over to my desk." He motioned with his head over toward the desk.

Wesker: Had his eyes been visible beneath those thick sheening glasses, Penguin would have witnessed Wesker's blue eyes pinpointing in utter panic and fear to the sudden 'shink' of the knife that protruded from the tip of the umbrella.

And then it was slashing at him. So fast. He jerked as it slit into his shoulder, and then across his face. The little man's lips parted with a pained squeak, back arched and he twitched on the ground. "N-no! Ahhh!"

The hot blood that began to seep down his face seemed more terrifying then the cuts to his arms that followed. Something about the way it seemed ice cold by the time it made it to the hollow of his bird-boned throat or the tuffs of his fluffy white sideburns, no doubt staining them red, was sickening.

"Please..." Chest heaved in panic breaths now as the knife threatened his throat. There was a new wetness slowly starting down his cheeks, only this stream was salty and stung the fresh cut.

He did as he was told. Slowly the little man scooted back and slowly got to his feet. His legs felt wobbly and his vision was blurry despite his good eyewear. Tongue licked at dry lips as he nodded to the instructions.

Amusing as it was. Standing Wesker had over six inches on the portly little fat bird, but size was not a factor in this little game was it? He banked from the knife and slowly stepped toward the desk, more so blinding his way till he felt his tummy hit the wooden sides. Hands shifted down to grab the edge and he turned himself back around to reface the aristocrat birdie.

"P-please Mr. Cobblepot.. I beg you..this isn't right. "

Penguin: Wasn't that a hearty laugh? It was just what the Penguin needed, and he knew that a weak little dove like Wesker was able to provide him. But with the right kind of training, he could be strengthened and put to good use and flight for him again. However, Oswald already had a suspicious feeling that this one had someone he was already nesting with. Like he had -something to live for- the way he was sniveling and begging him.

"What isn't right? I haven't even done anything to you yet...save give you a few scars. And that's just gunna put you one step closer to assuming that other personality of yours. I can't decide which I like better, the one with a pair of wooden balls and a nasty mouth and attitude ..or you...so gentle and easy to manipulate." He chirped in delight as he slowly wavered the tip of his umbrella over that throat.

"Now. There are a few ideas I've had rolling about in my head as to how I can make you see what kind of pain I went through thanks to you. Mmm." He leaned in a bit closer. Wesker could feel that hot breath now streaming onto his neck as those sharp teeth dangerously nashed his words about in his mouth. The knife slowly trailed down and rested then on the collar of Wesker's shirt, lightly hooking itself into the bow tie. What exactly...was the meaning of this?

"Because you see my little turtle dove, I've been watching you like hawk these past few days...and sure..I could just kill you right this very instant with a nice swipe of my talon. But you..you are very special prey to me. Far more delicious and filling then I am used to. Which is why..I've decided to bring you to my private nesting ground for a while instead." And with that, a swift swipe of his knife caused the bow tie to be instantly sliced off and go flittering limply onto the floor. Those eyes gleamed menacingly as he stared into the other man's and pressed that round little body closer...and closer.

Wesker: Turtle Dove. Anything else Penguin might have called him would have provoked less fear in the little man. Bastard. Rat. Asshole. Even calling him a faggot wouldn't have caused the sheer stain of cold sweat that started down Wesker's temple as he listened to the blue-blooded birds speech. Turtle Dove.

That's a pet name. His throat visibly bobbed as he swallowed watching his bow tie flitter away to the ground. The heat from the bird's breath and body were being to envelope him. Wesker pressed back harder into the desk, the wood was no doubt making a bruise on his lower back. " Nest?" Wesker gulped, eyes widening beneath his glasses. Lips parted and he gasped transfixed on the deadly gleam on the birds monocle.

He wasn't stupid. He'd been in similar situations before, and Penguin's words were more then hinting toward something that Wesker feared more then death. You know.. oh god.. he's going too... Like Donnagon did.. oh god no.. not that again.

As Cobblepot leaned in more Wesker suddenly panic. His arms flew up. One hand grabbed the Umbrella just under where the knife was extruding and the other slammed against Penguin's own sternum. He tried to muster as much strength as possible to push the bird away from him. "NO! I'd Rather Die!"

A leg was raised and covered thigh dug into the birds belly. Wesker wasn't very good physically, he was neither strong or knew how to fight. The fear that threatened to freeze his muscles was looming over him.

This is way you need to be with James. Because you can't protect yourself. Shit like this happens. Even Scarface would know what to do.. Scarface.. but even he wasn't here for him right now.

Wesker had only himself.

Penguin: And himself wasn't going to get Arnold very far in this situation unfortunately. Though he did buy himself a bit of time. Because the second that the frightened little man took that control, there was one very unhappy bird. Mr. Cobblepot had been almost ready to go in for the kill, when suddenly his prey decided it was time to kick in a few last defense mechanisms. Camouflage had only done Arnold well for so long, and this last bit of retaliation only caused the bird to let out a pained little wheeze when Wesker's hand was forced into his chest, and his umbrella's course was undone. No way!

So there was still a bit of punch and struggle left in him? It was almost endearing, really. When he managed to collect himself after waddling backwards a bit more and yanking his umbrella from the other's grip, he raised his head back from inspecting his violated stomach. And with that, he snapped out of his beak. "So you are a little feisty I see. Frightened of me?...Mmrr. But I don't plan to do you very much harm. As long as you can handle what I plan to put you through."

Which the truth was he probably could not. His wheezing was done and with a swift jab, he slammed that umbrella with a frightful noise very hard into the desk next to Arnold's side, so hard and swift he could feel the desk shaking and the swift air of the knife that had just -barely- missed his arm. And this distraction gave him just enough time to come back in, but now with so much force, that despite being shorter, his strength and girth overpowered the little prey of his as he pinned him to the desk. Wesker could feel unpleasant prodding now in the groin area from the bird, who's sharp little bill was so suddenly peck..peck..pecking away at the delicate curve of the older man's neck. Those sharp teeth left painful and slightly bloodied hickies in his wake as he sucked and licked at the area, making sure to claim what was rightfully his by his mark.

Wesker: Handle it? Handle it! Had it not been such similar treatment that had created the beast of Scarface in the first place? Truth be told, pervious attackers had been far less suave, but the act it's self was still looming in the same category. Wesker yelped and flayed against the desk as the umbrella barely missed him, a good distraction indeed, he had no time before the bird was upon him.

Those sharp teeth in his neck were horrific, but not nearly as terrifying to him as the obvious hardness that was pressing into his own groin. Wesker banked against the desk. Back arched and legs trembled. If the Penguin had let off him at that moment, he would have slid down and crumbled to the ground. Face pulled out of the way of those teeth, not in submission but in utter terror.

Those tinted frames slid down the bridge of his nose and for the first time those shocking blues were visible. Vivid, nearly blind, but his emotion was clear. He was scared.

His moment of feistiness seemed to have left him, arms now dangled limply at his side. Fingers spread, palms sweating. For a moment, with the way his mouth was parted and his head luring, it seemed the Ventriloquist might pass out in his utter state of horror.

If he fainted, he wouldn't have to mentally be here for this. He wouldn't have to smell the fish breath. Feel the bites, hear whatever Penguin had to say. And most of all, he wouldn't have to emotional break when Penguin fucked him. He knew were this was going.

But he also knew he'd never faint. He was too unlucky. Far Far too unlucky.

Penguin: One of those flipper-like hands came up and found itself cupping the other man's face as it was tilted away from where his mouth was working. Indeed, he could barely hold back just how much sick pleasure he was really getting out of this. So people said that Mr. Cobblepot was one of the few nemesis’s of Batman that had sane mental stature and no reason to end up in Arkham?

At this very moment, if one happened to look in those dark eyes, and see the way his little eye glass caught the light as he smirked in triumph...it would be easy to change that argument and truly agree that he was insane. Off the deep-end! But that hand on Wesker's face suddenly pushed his jaw upwards, mostly so the Penguin could avoid looking into those big sappy blue eyes. As lovely as they were, he didn't need anything distracting him from the task at hand. Which..if you were wondering, was just about to start. So he'd gotten that bow tie off, yes..but his other hand not gripping the other's chin like he was being scolded for something, took that knife ended umbrella and with a fine grip, it was moved up and starting at the top button wavering over Wesker's lower throat slowly and sensually each button was popped off by a simple slice of the delicate thread keeping it on. One..by...one...that pale chest of the other's was revealed.

"...Mmrrr. just as white and soft as a turtle dove..it's a shame I'm going to have to pluck those feathers of yours out..but don't worry..I'll keep them safe and treasure every single one." There was a small dabbling of blood now on the man's thin lips, glinting as he smirked with ever sharp little tooth in his head. Oh goodness gracious.

"Every...pop...Inch...pop...of you...pop...is mine." Pop. And thus, that shirt was now completely button less, and unfolded to reveal the man's pale chest and belly beneath, which the Penguin gave a full eye to.

Wesker: Glasses clinked back over his eyes as that flipper like hand shoved at his chin, forcing him to look upwards. For a moment his vision was lost on the ceiling, but his ears were doing just fine. He could not only hear the birds proclamations, but he could hear his buttons popping off, popping off and hitting the ground like lead balls.

His? Penguins?! At least to this Wesker seemed to gain just a moment of spark back. How dare he! He might have had just reasoning for his attack, but the gale to claim Wesker as his own? "Noooooo!" The little man screeched and balled up against the shorter man again. He tried to press forward, even though the knife slid against that now exposed soft tummy and streaked a nasty line of seeping read. "I'm NOT yours.. NO!" He was James'. And only James'. For a moment those thin brows even curved down in anger.

He hadn't the strength to actually shove the Penguin off him. He might have to give in, and let the bird have his way. But Penguin was not going to own him. No, he loved another far to much for that.

"Get off.. stop.. please... No." His moment broke and new tears were starting down his cheeks. His hands were balled into fists and they were resting against the birds chest now. He wanted to beat them, but he couldn't lift them. "Get it over with, but d-don't you DARE say that."

Penguin: He had been planning to make this almost romantic to make the other man even sicker, but the second that man lashed out at him and caused himself to get cut like so, the bird's temper suddenly flared. "Oh dear..have I struck a chord with you? Does someone ELSE own you? It can't be Scarface...he's gone now...So who else thinks you belong to them? Huh?" He sneered out those last words as his eyes dropped down to the blood rolling down the other's stomach.

"Mmm. A feisty red breasted little robin? Or perhaps.. the haughty cardinal! Tch..hardly. You're still my little turtle dove." No matter what little protestations that man made, or tears that came from his eyes. He would show him...no one makes a fool of Oswald Cobblepot by sending him to the slammer!

"Cry and it'll only make it sweeter for me as I take you again..again..again.." As he spoke this, the words were accented by that knife swiping the other's belt, watching as his pants pooled down at thin white ankles, and his free hand reached to yank underwear off as he spun him round. Arnold was bent over that desk degradingly, and the sound of the bird's own tuxedo pants coming off as well was heard. But the feeling that followed was probably a million times worse. It was that fair sized erection pressing into the Ventriloquists entrance.

"Because no matter what you say, this very moment, I'm taking you and making you MINE...Aghh!" And with a loud groan of eagerness, he slammed that entire length up and into the other, the desk lurching forward a bit. The Penguin leaned over him and those sharp teeth snatched at the curve of Wesker's ear, biting down as those two flippered hands braced himself on the desk, twisting those round hips in order to give Wesker a nice...lingering feeling of that full penetration.

"Mmrrr. Terrifying, isn't it?" That reeking breath and saucy tone oozed from him.

Wesker: Bastard. Utter bastard. Perhaps the Penguin was truly insane. No creature should get this much pleasure from tormenting another. Not mentally or psychical. At this moment, the hauty little bird that was tugging on his pants was so much more a monster then Scarface had EVER been.

Wesker had no words left as he was relieved of his pants and spun over the desk. The fresh cuts on his belly stung hard as they met the wood. Arms slid upon the surface pushing papers and whatnot out of the way. It's happening again. It's Black Gate all over again. Oh god, James I'm so sorry, I should have listened to you.

He didn't scream. At least that much. But that entire little frame shook with utter agony as he felt Penguin's unforgiving length shove right up inside him. Unlubed, Unprepared, utterly vicious in it's onslaught till it was completely hilted and then the bird had the audacity to SAVOR his moment.

It hurt. It hurt more then he remembered it hurting. And in that random pause between violation and humiliation, with nasty teeth digging into his ear, the Ventriloquist broke. A hard sob left him and he arched on the desk. Face and glasses scrapped against the wood as he began to cry. For anything. For it to stop, for him to be dead at this moment. He could feel his brain boiling with the mix of emotion that only seemed to torment him even more. Why?

He was no blushing virgin, that was laughable. He'd spent the last year learning that this could be a wondrous thing. And here was this.. monster. .taking that all way from him. Again.

Penguin: This could be a wondrous thing? Oh ha! That's a laugh. It was a good thing that Wesker had had a whole year to just lounge around and fall in love. While he had been -rotting- in jail. Not to mention that his whole life prior...love accompanied with sex was just a mere illusion. With his looks, who could ever even want to get near him? Just be glad that he didn't know the other was having such an affair, or this could have turned to something so serious, that Wesker might not make it out alive. The jealousy would have drove the Penguin mad. Though he was already borderline insane at the moment, as he listened to the other whimper and cry like so.

That's it. Take that you little rat. This is what happens when you cross me the wrong way. He let out a loud growl of delight as he lingered no longer inside of the other, but instead, pulled himself alllll the way back out...and then..BAM! Right back in. And this motion began to be repeated again again and again, just like he had promised the other he would. The pain of the dry fucking was certainly going to be the worst for Arnold, and the tightness of the other only made Penguin realize that the harder he would go, the more it would hurt. Which was why he kept a surprisingly fast and powerful rhythm in and out.

"Ahhh! Mrrr You're just so TIGHT. Mine. Mine MINE!" There that maniacal laughter followed as he chirped in utter delight. as he continued his rampage. One of those flippered hand came down and with a forceful slam left a stinging red mark on the other's bare ass, that was clawed soon after in a painful grope. But the worst was only yet to come, because that groping hand then moved around very slowly, teasingly, until he suddenly grabbed onto the older man's erection and began to savagely pump at his cock in time with each of his thrusts.

Wesker: Wesker wasn't sure what was worse. The actually rape or the slur 'Mine Mine Mine!' that flew out the dirty birds beak. Needless both where pretty vicious. The desk had gone slightly slippery with all his tears and even the blood that was still seeping from the wounds on his face, ear and neck. He let out a whimpering cry each time the bird slammed up into him.

It would not remain a dry fuck for too long, the vicious tearing the Penguin's cock was doing was causing a fresh seep of red. Something that must have been almost beautifully vibrate against that pale skin as it slipped down his thighs. It would give the action glide, allow for harder smoother more direct thrusts. It made the act sicker and complete all in one. The slap to his ass was gritted between his teeth, his head was going woozy. Perhaps he could pass out after all.

No.. then the bird was crossing another threshold. It wasn't just enough that he was fucking him against his will. He had to tease across that thigh and grip like he did to the Ventriloquist's own cock. The sudden squeeze made the smaller older man gasp and wither on the desk. "NO.. no nooonoooo!" He choked out. Don't touch me. Not like that. Please not like that.

He was not aroused by this, he could never be aroused by this. The pain and the horror. But his cock stiffened involuntary to the harsh grip and sudden rough jerking of that flippered hand.

Wesker had been wrong. The sick almost agonizing throb he got from the birds molesting hand was FAR worse then the cock in his ass or the other's egotistical claiming words. Far Far Worse.

Penguin: "He speaks!"

The bird cackled out as Wesker finally seemed to be doing something other then sobbing beneath him. Oh yes, he didn't plan on just cumming in him, but infact, getting that little man to orgasm as well. Taking control of the body's automatic response to such stimulus, despite the fact that he knew Wesker was in no way actually wanting any of this. It was far far to wrong to be desired by the entertainer.

"Mmm. At least now fucking you is getting a bit easier." That mix of blood and his own pre cum was just what he needed to get those thrusts of his zeros in, still hard and painful, but now also zeroing in on the other man's sweet spot. Though his frontal, human brain would be saying 'No!', that animal part that controlled hunger, raw emotions, and of course, sexual desire, would override and cause him to only get harder, to physically want more. Because degrading this man into something far below a human..a little sniveling animal...his turtle dove... was all he wanted right now.

That hand continued to jerk harder and harder. He could feel his own orgasm growing within him as he listened to those weak protestations, and felt that hardened erection right in his hand. He leaned in all the more and now bit down on the back of the other man's neck a few times, leaving even more bite marks and trails of saliva in his wake. Ohh soon. It was getting so so close!

"Uhhhn! Wouldn't it be..just..romantic..if we -came- together? HA!" He spat at the very thought as he said those sickening words and thoughts into the other's ear.

Wesker: He didn't -want- to give in to this. He didn't want to feel anything but the pain and the torment. Why couldn't the bird just fuck him and be done with it? This kind of thing was utter torture. Utter and complete torture.

With each hard thrust inside those delicate walls the pain was starting to lessen, or he was getting use to it. Whatever the case was, he was starting to feel the full extent of the vicious thrusts inside him. When it slammed up against his prostate it made his cock throb harder.

But it was different then when Gordon and He made love. The stronger vibrations that were rocking his body now, slowly causing his body to arch and writhe with instead of against were disgusting. They did not feel wondrous. They weren't making him cry out for more or attempt to cling to the body pounding into him.

It just made his cock leak and his back arch. It was just complete and utter animalistical fucking. Wesker knew he was going to give in, his body would give in, and it would probably be the most scaring moment of his life. He could already feel himself trying to retreat totally into his head. Some place to hide, someplace to get away. For just a brief second a more deeper voice hissed past Wesker's soft tear and blood stained lips.

"You fucking BASTAR-"

But it was cut off with a cry as a hard thrust slammed up into him. Wesker felt his spine quake, his body tensed and tightened. He just couldn't take this anymore.

He came, and it hurt soo much. A sharp wash of mixed sensations that shot through his body as his cock shot sticky white all over that flipper and onto the desk. Wesker's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and all he could think of was.

I'm sorry James, oh god I'm so sorry, I love you so muc-

Penguin: Well yes, the Penguin was quite a fucking Bastard indeed. And though that pleasure and satisfaction of finally feeling his enemy cum all over his hand and a bit splash up along his own bare stomach...his mind was still set on getting himself off as well.

"Ahhh! That's it! Yes yes it feels so good, does it not? You can't deny it. Nooo matter how much you deny it..you can't control your own body...your own destiny...whether its another personality taking you over..or ME! Taking you..over...my....DESK! AHHH!"


As his own orgasm finally slammed through his own body, that bird's cum stained hand moved up and gave another hard grab, parallel to his other, onto those thing hips of the other as he pushed himself in every inch of the way, and grinded inside as that hot, humiliating seed of his filled up the other man. And to the Penguin, the animal world was law--he had won. He had made him his and there was no...no going back now. But would he want the other to stay? Of course not! Was he attracted to this simpering little man beneath him? Hardly. But revenge sure could give this bird a hard-on. And oh how sweet the results had been. Leaning in again and gave the other's unbitten ear a few little tears just to match the other as he smirked.

"Mmmm. My dear little turtledove, it looks as if our fun has already come to an end." As he spoke, he slid back and slowly pulled his own gradually dying erection out of the other, chuckling as he looked down at it, blood and cum stained. Would he give the other man the decency of cleaning that blood on his inner thighs off?

Of course not. But what he did do, was pull up his own pants, not minding the stain they'd leave for now. And then those two powerful, dirty flippers grabbed at the little body slumped over almost lifelessly on the desk, and with a power fling set him sailing backwards right onto that nice carpet on his back. With a dark chuckle, the criminal grabbed his umbrella and as came back to hover over Wesker, a swift motion brought the knife dangling and threatening just over the man's nose.

Shink.

Glasses had slid down his nose, scarcely hanging on, but even with blurry tear filled eyes he could still see his reflection in the bladed umbrella that had just landed only an inch from his face. A broken and beaten man stared terrified back at him. Bruised, broken and bloody. A nasty cut across his left cheek was weeping red right down his face onto that expensive carpet.

" I trust there will be NO more trouble from you? "

Penguin's snotty but gravel voice bit from where the rounded felon stood poised over Arnold Wesker's curled form. The sound of his zipper grinding back up was hellishly loud. The bird's nasty sharp teeth were pulled into a triumphant grin. He'd savored ever bit of it. Every word, every punch, every cut, every thrust. Penguin had savored his revenge till he'd broken the little man into a ball on his carpet. He'd wanted the dummy there, so he could break it as well, but he'd only found the Ventriloquist, Well part of a whole was better then none.

Wesker lay curled on the carpet, his clothing torn, his pants at his ankles, in a bloody ball that was just as delicious now as moments ago when he had been pinned against the desk. Penguin in all his nastiness pondered perhaps a second round as he waddled toward the other man to retrieve the umbrella he'd darted at him. It's six inches of sharp steel cutting deep into the floor. Wesker was staring at the blade, staring so deeply, blue eyes seemed transfixed upon the shimmering metal. I've ruined him, there's no better a revenge then that. A flippered hand reached for the handle of his umbrella, nasty sharp teeth glinting.

" I trust you've learned your lesson, Ventriloquist? "

"Dummy's not ‘ere right now."

Penguin let out a questioned squawk at hearing that voice, so gruff and evil, so familiar, so not Arnold's and his flipper froze. Not the best of moves. Wesker's leg shot forward and took out the birds own, swiping those studded fat trunks right out from under him. A moment later the little man was standing, Yanking the umbrella out of the ground and looming over the Penguin like some crazed wild animal, glasses glinting. Despite the torn and bloody mess he was in, Arnold Wesker had a grin on his face that would have rivaled the Jokers at the moment. Had he lost it?

Penguin tried to raise, but the Ventriloquist swung the umbrella down right over his head and knocked the other felon flat on his ass again. "I dun think so, Peck-Peck, keep yer fat ass down. "

Penguin lost his monocle and let out a "Waaaugh.. Scarface?" He pushed himself up. This time the umbrella caught him knife side and slit his suit from collar to fly leaving a nice thin cut all the way down his pudgy body.

"In dah wood.. or flesh I's should say. Thanks for puttin' Dummy in his place ol pal, fer that I's anits gonna ice yah, but fer damangin' the goods... " A low evil sounded laugh rumbled. " Shoulda not sent all yer goonies outta the room.. " It seemed in Penguin's lust for revenge, he'd not only caved Wesker's personality completely under, the bird had released a monster capable of lusting that revenge right back. The birds eyes widened in fear.

Anyone peeking in from the skylight would have seen a eerie sheen in thick glasses, silhouettes of two men, both small but with considerable girth differences and the flash of a weapon as it repeatedly beat and slashed down, complete with a laugh that hadn't been heard in almost a year, but could NEVER be forgotten.

-

The umbrella gun clicked, three dead goons at his feet. The small man grinned nastily at the rest of the muscle. " With me or do I's gotta mow the rest of yah down? " The Goons nodded and flanked their new boss. " Good, lets secure an elevator.. "