Wesker doesn't normally mix business and pleasure, but it's impossible not to be fascinated by the writhing man beneath him, strange and alien and enticingly dangerous. Lust mingles with scientific interest, imparting a strangely sadistic edge to his curiosity. He'd love nothing more than to strap Ashu down on something study, run all the requisite tests, give him a proper—and thorough—physical examination. Since he lacks access to the necessary facilities, he'll have to content himself with what he has—namely, his hands and his cock. Bioterrorist boys make do.

He's well aware of the risks of sexual contact with a member of an unknown, non-human species. Oddly, the knowledge that he may be putting himself in grave danger only serves to excite him. No reward without risk.

Ashu's response to his ministrations seems human enough, as does the anatomy that Wesker can see and feel. On a whim, he lifts the other man's hips higher off the table, altering the angle of their coupling to provide more friction against that cluster of nerves so critical to sexual stimulation in humans. It's all very detached and scientific until he just so happens to look down and catch a glimpse of his cock plunging in and out of Ashu's cunt, the mingled evidence of their arousal dripping onto the table below.

"Fascinating," he grits out, his voice strained. "I've never encountered an organism like you before. Were you born like this?"