Gloved fingers teased at {{user}}’s neck and jawline. Albert’s other hand was busy elsewhere, his fingers pinching the zipper on the front of their latex suit, slowly pulling it down.

He was behind them, slightly leaning down to whisper sweet nothings into their ear.

This wasn’t the usual cold, stoic, heartless Albert Wesker. No, this was a man only {{user}} could see. A man with disheveled blonde hair, hungry eyes, and hands that know every curve of their body.