Warning: This story is a yaoi fanfiction between Albert Wesker and Chris Redfield from Resident Evil (Biohazard). If you do not like yaoi, please do not bother reading or commenting. If you do then it's your own fault and I cannot be held accountable. This particular story contains graphic smuttiness and shameless man-sex. You have been warned.
I do not own Resident Evil, Chris Redfield, Albert Wesker, or any other characters mentioned within the story in any way shape or form (sadly). They belong to Capcom. This is my first completed RE fanfic, though I have been a fan of the series of years and I commonly write short dabbles of things here and there.
This story is the first in a trilogy. It is meant to take place either during or shortly after Code Veronica (I left the time period open on purpose, though they are wearing the outfits from Code Veronica…). There may be a few mis-congruencies between my story and the game series; this is only because RE has so much information that it's hard to remember every tiny detail. I tried my best though.
I'd also like to mention that the story hints that Chris is not Wesker's first man. Guess you'll have to wait until the other two stories are released to find out. Hope you all Enjoy!
Resident Evil (Biohazard), Chris Redfield, Albert Wesker © Capcom
"I love you not." © Iris Uriko Briefs
Chris felt the stab of betrayal wash over him, cutting into him like the blade of a seriated knife, over and over, as Wesker's hand slid down his leg. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't shirk the blonde. Wesker had him pinned; those inhuman arms gave him an ungodly strength, from which Chris had no hope of pulling free. With his wrists held tight in place above his head, Chris was completely at his former-captain's mercy.
"Why Chris, I do believe you're trembling." Wesker cooed right next to his ear in that silky, superior voice he was known for. He was always so calm. Always so calculating. Always so… cold.
"I am not!" Chris spat back, snarling and bearing his teeth. Again he struggled against the blonde's grip, and again he was met with defeat; he couldn't make him budge.
He wanted to break free of the demon's grip. He wanted to throw his weight, roll Wesker onto his back, and snap the filthy bastard's neck. But with each effort to break free, Chris only grew more discouraged. He wasn't strong enough to defeat Wesker. He wasn't strong enough to avenge his fallen friends and comrades, all the people in raccoon city, or the countless victims around the world that had died as mere 'test subjects' for this man. Chris wasn't strong enough, in more ways then one…
"Let me go!! You fucking sadist traitor!!" the former S.T.A.R.S. member screamed, pure hatred burning behind deep blue eyes.
Wesker didn't seem amused.
"Chris, stop that." He commanded the brunette in a solid, barking tone. He was growing tired of Redfield's persistence and continuous desire to fight. But… then again, wasn't that exactly what Wesker found so endearing about poor, heroic Chris…?
"You're really beginning to annoy me with that charade of yours."
Chris swallowed hard.
Wesker saw right through him just as clearly as if those glasses he always wore had ex-ray vision.
'Dammit' Chris sounded internally, gritting his teeth as he glowered up at his opponent, whose one free hand was still wandering dangerously close to forbidden territory.
It was no surprise to Chris that Wesker had known about his infatuation with him.
Wesker always knew everything.
What bothered Chris was that he thought that it had died along with everything else in the inferno the mansion had become that hot night in July, oh so long ago….
Why now? Why were the feelings that he thought he'd rid himself of so suddenly re-awakened? Why were adolescent hopes he thought he'd left in ashes rekindled so easily? He wondered now; had he ever really let those desires go…?
A gloved hand stopped to rest on Chris' upper thigh. The pressure it caused taunted him as the leather-clad appendage only served to drill him harder into the concrete beneath his back.
What had existed between he and Wesker… had never been anything more then a mere crush. Sure, Chris found his noble and brave captain handsome. Hell, who didn't? With that stunning, perfectly fit body, those pale, blonde, slicked back locks and---once--- icy green-gray eyes that (which he always kept hidden behind a pair of thick shades), Albert Wesker was the epitome of perfection. He turned the heads of both men and women alike. He was mysterious, seductive, and captivating, with a voice of liquid sliver… and Chris had admired him greatly.
However, despite his feelings, Chris had kept things professional. He didn't give Wesker any reason to suspect anything, and he kept his somewhat awkward attraction to the Captain a well-guarded secret. Chris wasn't really gay---he had one hell of a crush on Jill, actually---but for some reason he had never been able to shake the blonde Adonis from his thoughts.
But the Wesker that Chris had fallen for was dead; actually he had never really existed at all. The real Albert Wesker was a traitor and a liar. A murderer and a monster. A double-crossing snake and an assassin, whose only goal was self-gain in a constant quest for power that could never be sated.
He knew that there was not even a fragment of goodness in this man, and yet, as Chris stared up into the pale features of the Captain he had once respected so much…. He found that he just couldn't convince himself of all the wrongs that Wesker had done. While any other man would have seen only very depths of hell itself reflected back in the blonde's solemn face, Chris found himself utterly… breathless.
Letting out an unbidden gasp of pleasure as Wesker shifted his position (so that his knees pinned his former-subordinate's thighs down more effectively), Chris cursed himself to hell while his face reddened; His body was betraying him completely.
"Well, well, so it looks like that good-guy guise of yours is finally breaking." Hot breath tickled Chris' neck, sending chills down his spine as raw pleasure flooded through him. "Just admit it already Redfield; You. Want. Me."
Wesker's voice was teasing, and Chris knew that he was deliberately taunting him. Teasing him, Mocking him… The blonde's tongue darted out past his lips, gliding over them seductively with every word he spoke. He was just toying with him, Chris knew it. He could tell by the sheer amusement dancing behind Wesker's expression.
He'd seen that same bemused look on Wesker's face before; it was the one he wore right before he put something much weaker then himself out of it's misery.
Wesker moved dangerously closer then, his lips a hair away from the former-S.T.A.R.S.' pulsating throat. Chris closed his eyes, scrunching them tight as he shook his head violently, trying desperately to put some space between them.
---NO! He wouldn't be just another plaything. He wouldn't---he couldn't! Even the mere thought of it made him sick!
It was Wesker's fault the whole team was dead. It was Wesker's fault that Raccoon city had literally been blown off the face of the earth. It was Wesker's fault that so many people had lost more then just their lives… He couldn't live with himself if he gave in.
"SHUT UP!!!" he screamed, giving one last desperate attempt to push Wesker off of him, to drive him back. "I wont hear anymore of this!!; I hate you---I will KILL you for everything you've done, you hear me?!"
A smooth, toothy smirk slid across Wesker's face. He had to hand it to the boy; he was ridiculously righteous. His sense of justice was so completely profound that it was almost painstakingly ludicrous! They were complete and total opposites in every possible way, and yet, somehow, Wesker found it all positively hilarious.
For Wesker's part, he had always known about the young Redfield's feelings toward him, right from the very beginning. He'd read the boy's occasional blushing face, complete loyalty, utmost respect, and gentile countenance towards him like a book. Back before the mansion incident, he deliberately chose not to act upon it; letting himself become attached to anyone in any form or manner was only a stigma that would hold him back from reaching his full potential. If Chris had attempted to peruse it any, he would have killed it himself. Thankfully, he didn't have to.
But now… his opinion had changed. Chris and his constant endeavors to stop him from reaching his goals was no longer a mere thorn in his side; he was the opposition. He was everything---the only thing---that dared to stand in his way. He was Wesker's one true opponent. His only adversary. His Nemesis. His Rival. The only real challenge he had left…
And here he had him, pinned against the ground, flat on his back, with no hope of escape. He could have killed him in a heartbeat, and yet Chris was still up in arms, prepared to fight to the very death.
Wesker expected nothing less of him. He was 'one of his boys', after all.
The thought of breaking Chris slowly, destroying him completely, bit by bit, made Wesker inexplicably hot. He wanted to see Redfield's expression contort with anguish and pain as he submitted to his absolute and unquestionable power. He wanted to make Chris beg and scream and need him. He would wreck him completely, and emerge victorious over the one being who held any power over him.
With his one free hand, Wesker forced Chris' mouth open, shoving his fingers into the back of his jaws so that Chris had no choice but to bite through his own cheeks if he was to shut his mouth. With the flats of his teeth already cutting into the raw flesh of his face as it was, Chris let out a pained whimper, not daring to fight back.
Lasciviously, Wesker forced his tongue to break past Chris' defenses and delve deep into a hot, waiting mouth. Twining his own serpentine appendage around Redfield's, Wesker kissed the boy with a barely-restrained ferocity. Hungrily, Wesker clapped their lips together tighter, taking in Chris' taste as he tried desperately to press closer. Forgetting himself, Wesker set his opponent's hands free as his fist searched for something better to hold onto and found purchase clenching tightly around locks of brunette hair.
It was the only opportunity he needed.
Lightning-quick, Chris drew his combat-knife from it's sheathe and stabbed it into Wesker's pectoral as hard as he could, lodging the hunting gear deep in his upper-chest. Gritting his teeth slightly, as though he were showing some sign of 'pain', Wesker withdrew and stared down at Chris in surprise.
He hadn't expected that.
Quickly his astonishment disappeared and a wicked grin took its place. Chris fought dirty. It made Wesker so proud…
Clapping his hand around Chris' he shoved the blade in deeper, up to the hilt, without making so much as a noise.
"Well well, and here I thought I was the one who knew how to turn you on. You proved me wrong Christopher."
Stunned, Chris was rendered motionless as Wesker then pried the knife back out and admired the crimson liquid dripping off the blade. The weapon hadn't even fazed him …
Trailing his tongue along the steel's edge, Wesker sampled his own fresh blood, and then licked it clean of his lips.
"But that wasn't a very nice thing to do, now was it?"
The older man's fist collided with Chris' cheek suddenly, the violent blow wrenching his face to one side. It had stuck him with the force of a semi-truck driving at a thousand miles per hour. Chris didn't even have time to register it before the pained cry escaped his lips and his hands went to his face, cradling the injury as he screwed his eyes shut tight.
"ahhhhh….sssssstt----!!" he let out, but his moans were cut short as another blow struck his stomach. This time the damage caused him to cough up blood.
"You bastard, you sick, fucking bastard!!" Chris sobbed, gasping for air, curling in on himself as he tightened into a ball.
Wesker paid Chris' plaintiffs and curses no mind. Straddling the boy once more, he rolled Chris onto his back and unzipped his black, padded, bullet-proof vest to reveal a nearly skin-tight, forest-green R.P.D. S.T.A.R.S. regulation shirt. Casually, using Chris' confiscated knife, Wesker slit the silken threads which held the shirt's fasteners in place and then flicked each button away over his shoulder. Tugging the offending article open, Wesker let another smooth smirk slide across his face as he admired the younger man's well-sculpted body. Chris was fairly muscular and heavily toned, with chiseled abs and pecks of steel.
Defiance burned behind Chris' eyes as Wesker tossed the hunting knife over his shoulder to land next to where Redfield's gun had fallen only minutes before. However, the blaze burning in Chris' blue orbs were evenly matched with the desire burning behind Wesker's yellow ones.
Chris knew Wesker had him right where he wanted him. Now completely unarmed and half-naked, Chris was about as helpless as an infant if left to fend for itself. Dammit, why was Wesker doing this?---why NOW? A part of him just wished that the blonde would kill him already and get it over with---that was what he wanted right? That was his ultimate goal; why was he going to fuck him first? Why?! Why?!?----
"---Why are you DOING this?!" Chris blurted out, as Wesker's hands set to work at unbuttoning his pants.
The older man stopped and stared at the gunman through his thick black shades for a long time. The room was completely silent, the computer monitors on the wall reflecting nothing but blackness on their screens. The signature steely walls of an Umbrella corp. facility permitting no noise from the outside world to break through. Even the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead dulled, drawing out the suspense. Then, abruptly, Wesker started laughing. Hard. It was as though he'd finally gotten a joke, which had now brought him to the verge of tears.
"You want to know why I am doing this, dear, sweet Christopher?" he cackled, an air of lunacy shining through, "I'll tell you exactly why. It's because I HATE you Chris. I hate you more then anyone in the entire world. You are my enemy, and ONLY mine. So I will make you mine forever; I will etch myself so deep inside the core of your very being that you will never be able to forget me. You will love to hate me, just as I love hating you… and before our time together is through, you will know that you can never defeat me. You will be MINE forever, my perfect specimen, Chris…"
Swallowing hard Chris locked his elbows. That settled it; he was mad. Wesker was completely insane. Whatever had happened to him after the mansion incident had seriously fucked him up.
"Wesker!!—This isn't going to make me hate you anymore then I already do for what you've done, god dammit! All this will do is----!"
Chris was cut off as his face was wrenched to the side again, backhanded.
"What, make you fall in love with me?" Wesker sneered, leering down at him with the devil's grin. The thought was so obtuse the blonde couldn't keep himself from laughing.
Chris fell silent. That hadn't---that wasn't… He could never. He could never love someone like Wesker. It was impossible. That hadn't been what he was going to say at all…
Before Chris could protest, Wesker captured his lips in another kiss. This time however, Chris' jowls were free. Not needing any further provocation, the Brunette bit down sharply on Wesker's lower lip, drawing blood. The older man retreated, cursing under his breath at the slight sting, but for his efforts Chris was only rewarded by Wesker's forehead slamming against his own.
"Impudent---" Wesker snarled, rising up one arm to backhand Chris again, as the other fist clenched tightly at the gunmen's throat. Gritting his teeth, Chris tensed and prepared for the punishment----but it didn't come. Lowering his upraised hand Wesker spat at him, "---don't tempt me, Redfield."
"GO AHEAD!!!" Chris shouted back, daring to prop himself up again and get in Wesker's face, "Kill me now---Get it over with! Anything's better then this! I'd rather die then give you whatever sick enjoyment you're trying to get, 'Captain' Wesker, you fuck."
Chris wasn't sure what was making him so particularly ballsy. Perhaps it was the fact that this was the only way he knew how to cope with impending doom; go out in a blaze of glory, always give it one last shot, and never give up, no matter what the odds. It was a mentality he'd acquired back in the air force that had stuck with him throughout the years. It had saved him time and time again, and if Wesker wanted to take him down, Chris would give him one hell of a ride and fight him tooth and nail.
"You know Chris, have you ever stopped to realize that exactly why you're still alive?"
The Gunmen looked to his former-superior surprised, backing off a little.
"Your tenacity. Your will to survive by any means; or rather, your will to win. You'd rather me put a bullet between your eyes then allow me to take what I want. You believe I'm so evil that throwing your life down to foil even ONE of my plans is more then worth it."
"Aren't you?" Chris snapped, furrowing his brows as anger welled up in his chest again. "You KILLED the whole fucking team for your own amusement, you----"
"Correction; I was hired to have them killed."
Chris' heart stopped, his throat tightening, going dry, as he tried hard to swallow.
"Come now Redfield, what possible reason would I have had to kill off the entire crew? What would I gain from that?----As one of Umbrella's top researchers I was hired to put together the Raccoon City Special tactics and rescue squad so that some of the nations finest could be pitted against Umbrella's bio weapons. I was hired to run Alfa and Bravo team through the rigors of the mansions halls to test human instinct against bow's efficiency. Of course… what happened to the Arkly facility itself wasn't planned, and YOU thwarted my ability to collect combat data on the Tyrant project by destroying it, but I did what I was paid to do, and made off with a few extra… benefits." Wesker said, grinning to himself. His voice practically singsong as he explained to Chris his true role back in the mansion that terrible night… the night that had turned Chris' entire world upside down.
Chris was left completely speechless. His world had just flip-flopped once again.
Wesker…wasn't the one behind it all.
Wesker had been paid by someone else to do their dirty work for them. To use Alpha and Bravo team---innocent human lives---as mere guinea pigs for their precious 'weapons'.
"Oh God…" Chris breathed, suddenly feeling sick all over. He felt like he was going to throw up.
And then, Chris understood; there were more evil men in the world then Albert Wesker.
"Who… who are the bastards running this whole show?! Who paid you to set up the team?!"
Wesker waved a tisking finger in front of Chris' face.
"I'm afraid I'm not a walking information source Christopher. You'll just have to do your research better."
Chris scoffed as a scowl crossed his face. "Yeah, a lot of fucking good that'll do me right now."
"Probably none." Wesker said evenly as he adjusted the shades on his face. "Which is why I suggest you stop worrying about other people who are already gone and start worrying about yourself."
Chris laid back down, staring up at the ceiling to avoid looking into Wesker's face. "Can't." he answered simply, his voice sounding far off, faint and hollow. "Feeding off the anger over what you did---what Umbrella did… and not caring about what happens to myself in the process is what allows me to throw myself into immediate danger under the direct line of fire without fear or regret. It's what keeps me going. So, go on; do what you want and put a bullet between my eyes, because that's the only way I'm going to stop my campaign against Umbrella."
Wesker was silent again, studying Chris' relaxed features. He had made amends and was now serene in the face of his demise. Albert just couldn't understand it; how could anyone care so much about people they didn't even know…?
"I admire you." Wesker admitted, causing Chris to look at him again, those beautiful gray-blue eyes searching him for answers. "…You're not afraid to die."
A small smile crossed Chris' face. "I got people waiting for me. Friends, family…they'll be expecting me. I know the risks and the odds. It was only a matter of time until I got killed, one way or another. That was inevitable. But for the amount of damage I've done, I'd say it was all worth it."
"There is no God!, There is no 'heaven' or 'hell'. There is only the here and now!" Wesker growled, Chris' little speech making him unnecessarily hostile. Reaching into his holster, Wesker withdrew his own gun and shoved the barrel against Chris' forehead, "When I blow your head in two, there will be nothing 'waiting' for you but blackness!"
Chris didn't seem deterred, those passionate eyes of his remaining undaunted.
"Those are your beliefs Wesker. But I have mine. You believe that money's an acceptable excuse for the atrocities that you commit, that power is the only thing in the world that's worthwhile. You believe that human life holds no value... But I think that sacrificing human beings is wrong. I think that money and power hold no real value, and I have faith in humanity. You're so sure that God doesn't exist?---pull the trigger and let's find out."
Wesker thumbed the hammer of his magnum, drawing it back and releasing it with a sharp, confirming 'click'. He glared down at Chris, gritting his teeth as his index tensed, tightening over the trigger----and suddenly his mouth was over Redfield's again, their mouths crushed together and teeth gnashing, his gun chucked away into some unimportant corner of the room as his lips accosted the younger man's.
There had been that light again---that defiance---and Wesker couldn't stop himself. The brunette's bravado drove him mad. It ignited sensations within a part of his soul that he convinced himself that he no longer had...
At first Chris struggled, pushing against him stubbornly, trying hopelessly to break contact, still fighting back despite knowing it was useless. Chris' attempts only made the older man more determined, kissing him brutally in his quest to dominate. Slowly, Chris melted into it, letting Wesker kiss him with a fierce hunger and frightening passion.
Wesker's mouth was hot, blindingly so, and Chris felt dizzy, going limp under his former-commander's control. Wesker---kissing him---the heat---his mouth… and suddenly, a dam deep inside of the young gunmen broke apart as an indescribable need burst free and flooded through him. His Captain was atop of him, wanting him, pouring into him with a heavy, unspoken longing… and Chris realized he wanted it too. He couldn't lie to himself anymore… He wanted Captain Wesker. He always had.
Wrapping his arms around a strong neck, Chris slid his hands through Wesker's hair, disheveling gelled-back ash-blonde locks as he moaned wantonly into the devil's mouth.
Surprised, but by no means put out by the former-S.T.A.R.S. operative's actions, Wesker slid one hand down Chris' stomach, relishing each and every curve, ridge, and mound as he explored the younger man's perfect body. With the other hand, he cupped the gunmen's face and encouraged the hot kiss, allowing Redfield's inexperienced tongue to search every crevice of his mouth.
Chris' moans only grew louder, Wesker's gloved hands sending jolts of electric-pleasure racing through his body. Finally, Chris had to break away, completely spent as he gasped for air and called out the other man's name,
The name was foreign to him, and Chris liked the way it fell off his lips. The 's' tickling him slightly as he tried to catch his breath.
The blonde, however, had already moved on; brushing his nose and glasses against Chris' neck, Wesker moved to take the lobe of the younger man's ear into his mouth. The Brunette let out a hiss, pale-blue eyes clouding over as the sensation struck him. His body went ridged as heat coursed through his veins like molten lava.
"haah… Wesker, ah…" he moaned, closing his eyes as his face went red. Leaning in, Chris arched his back and tilted his head away from the blonde to allow him better access to his ear.
Tugging both hands free of their leather confines, Wesker dropped his gloves idly beside the younger man and allowed his palms to rove over Chris' chest, unhindered. In response, the brunette cried out again, the sensation of Wesker's flesh on his nearly blinding.
"Easy." The older man cooed, setting a reddened ear free, though silvery strands of saliva clung to his lips, connecting them a moment longer. Then they were on the move again, testing the knot in Chris' throat with his teeth and sampling the crook of his collarbone with an inquisitive tongue.
Desperate for more touch, Chris rolled his head back and slid his hands up Wesker's own black vest, fumbling around the miscellaneous pockets and pouches in search of the zipper. Finally finding it, the gunmen whipped the zipper down in one fluid motion and tugged at it, only to remember that Wesker, like himself, had been wearing two layers.
Wanting---no, needing to feel his former-superiors hot flesh, Chris let out a dismayed moan, sounding as forlorn and hopeless as the T-carriers stumbling about the hallways. Wesker quickly covered his mouth, practically gagging him, as he sat up to pull his tops off. Chris eagerly did the same, removing his vest and R.P.D. shirt swiftly.
"We don't want those things out there to hear us and interrupt before things get interesting in here, now do we Christopher?"
Lost to the powerful sensations overriding his commonsense, Chris shook his head, a pleading light in his foggy gray-blue eyes, "…no!, no please…!" he begged in a hoarse tone.
"That's a good boy, be quiet now." Wesker's voice sounded surprisingly husky to his own ears, thickly laced with desire and fervor.
Leaning back into Chris' neck to continue his assailments, Wesker forced their torsos together tightly as he wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders. Biting at and kissing the chords of the younger man's throat, Wesker left a wake of goose bumps everywhere he touched. Goose bumps that burned, blistering Redfield's skin with unsustainable desire and craving. Wesker's mouth alone was enough to coat his body with a thin sheen of sweat.
Continuing a trek downwards, Albert's tongue and fingertips traced over every ridge and fold of the brunette's perfect body, savoring each exquisite flavor. All Chris could do was let out a series of pathetic, elated moans as each sensation stuck him. His entire body was on fire.
Abruptly, Wesker's explorations were brought to a halt; A pair of thickly hewn, forest green pants blocked his path. He growled irritably and muttering some curse or another under his breath as he set to work unfastening the 'minor' inconvenience.
As Wesker man-handled his pants, the small nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he faintly registered snapped Chris awake; his conscience.
"Ah… Wesker… n-no…!!" Chris begged, rising up his hands in an attempt to push Wesker away. "Not there, no… don't, please!!"
The blonde merely swatted the boy's arms aside, Chris' futile attempts only serving to annoy him.
"Shut it, Redfield." Wesker bayed, curling back his lip as he yanked the garb down to the other man's ankles. "I already told you precisely what I intend to do. Don't be an idiot; I'm not going to stop this late in the game." With that Wesker's signature, sadistic smirk crept back onto his lips as his mind added in, 'besides, I have a feeling you'll be changing the ardor of your pleas soon enough…'
Allowing his golden eyes, which were still masked by black shades, to wander, Wesker took in the sight of his perfect specimen's naked form, flawless and unequaled in its entirety. Eyes falling on the recently freed appendage that was twitching between Chris' legs, the older man licked his lips. Chris wasn't nearly hard enough yet. Perfect.
"Captain, please… don't…! Plea---"
Hot lips enveloped the gunman's member, drawing his shaft into a blazing, ravenous, ardent, inferno of a mouth; and then, Chris saw stars, his mind going blank as a white-hot sensation surged through him, blowing his senses away. This new sensation put the other 'fires' to shame. Redfield wanted to scream. Cry out. Anything. But the sounds were caught in his throat. He was unable to move, unable to speak, even unable to think. There was nothing but that nova of white, and Chris was powerless to fight it.
Wesker just smirked to himself, toothily. It seemed he was right, just as always. Judging by the sinfully bliss expression on Redfield's face, he'd already given up on trying to save himself. That thought left the older man positively beaming; it meant that Chris was one step closer to truly becoming his.
Placing his hands on Redfeild's hips, Wesker pumped at the hardening shaft, his tongue dancing fiercely over veins and ripples, ravishing the younger man with a volley of sensations. As he suckled harder, he felt the tension building inside the other man's passion, steadily. Chris' hands gripped at the tiled floor, coughing out short, stunted moans, his voice still caught in his throat, as he tried desperately to find something to hold onto.
And then Wesker used his teeth, sliding them tightly over Redfield's length. That was all Chris needed; his voice suddenly bust free.
"----aaahhh! Ngh… Wesker ah, ah, ah!!" Chris cried out, tears forming in his eyes as the blonde assaulted him, pleasuring him with a skilled mouth that seemed to know him better then any woman ever had.
Chris was fully erect now, and Wesker couldn't stop himself from laughing over the victory.
The vibrations emitted rang through Redfield's body, tip first, setting off an all-new chorus of sobs and cries from the brunette's beautiful mouth. Wesker loved knowing that is was him who was forcing Chris to make those precious, defeated noises….
Continuing to affront the younger man's sex, Wesker reached his hand back to his discarded vest and fished out a small packet of lubricant from one of the upper pockets. Sometimes the things came in handy; this just so happened to be one of those times.
As his mouth worked at Chris' manhood, Wesker coated his index with a few drops of lubricant and reached around back, testing the narrow ring of muscle guarding Redfield's opening. At the prodding Chris let out a surprised gasp, clenching his muscles together tightly out of reflex; he was a virgin to this kind of sex, his ass delicate and unexplored. Wesker knew this and took his time inserting a long, slender finger; not for Chris' sake, but because it was suck shit for a Hunter or a Sweeper to burst through the doors when he had his pants down.
Chris let Wesker invade him openly, taking in the sensations of being pleasured both from the front and the rear. Relaxing his body as best he could, Chris was silent as his captain explored him. Holding in the noises, he forced himself to be quiet to save himself from any unnecessary pain. It wasn't easy to do, but he managed.
Then Wesker slipped in a second and third finger, stretching Chris wide open. Despite the lubrication applied Chris called out in pain, his eyes going wide as the combine mass split him apart.
Sitting up, Albert whipped his lips of pre-cum.
"Don't worry Chris, I'll make it better soon enough. Hush now." He assured, powerful fingers searching Redfield for that one special place he positively knew would make Chris scream out in pleasure. Just as he spoke, his middle finger brushed against the tangle of chords and nerves, causing Chris to throw back his head and howl. He retracted his fingers for an instant, and then slid them back forward, concentrating on pushing down on that spot, over and over, until the brunette grew accustomed to the feeling.
Then Wesker retreated, for the moment, withdrawing his fingers completely as he tugged off his own pants. He then poured the remaining lubricant out onto his hand, generously applying a thick coat to his own pulsating erection.
"Are you Ready Christopher? My beautiful specimen… my hated opponent… for It's finally time to make you mine."
Hapless, Chris was practically a pile of drool beneath him. His senses were shot, overloaded by all the stimulation; he was pure putty in Wesker's hands.
"….C-Captain…." He mewed, still breathless from whatever Wesker had done with his fingers. Chris hadn't even known that there was a place like that inside of him.
"You're forever mine, and mine alone, Chris."
With that he broke the space between them, sliding home as he impaled the younger man's tight body and deflowered him all in one action.
Victory was finally Wesker's.
He had won.
Chris couldn't breath, the pleasure crushing his lungs and suffocating him. His entire body was wracked with it; bliss unlike any he'd ever known. Wesker bucked his hips and Chris rode himself against each heavy thrust, moaning shamelessly and crying out for more.
Rocking into the younger man, Wesker clapped his hands down on Redfield's knees and shoved his specimen's legs apart, allowing himself full access to Chris' supple, perfect form. All Chris could do was whimper as he wrapped his legs around Wesker's back and kicked off the pants that still hung around his feet.
His body ablaze with need and want, Chris dug his fingers deliciously into Wesker's bare back, clinging to the older man for all he was worth. Wesker's violation of his soft track wracked his body with violent pleasure, and with each stabbing assult, with each delving riposte, the internal bliss only mounted higher and higher until Redfield found himself at the breaking point.
Gasping at each protrusionof the length driving him, Chris realized that he wanted something warm to encircle him, something solid to pump into as he felt his climax nearing, an orgasm just seconds away. His hands moved to the aching shaft between his legs, but Wesker quickly pulled them away, holding them tight at the gunmen's side and leaving his passion unattended to. Again tears welled up in the gunmen's eyes as he flexed, his hips rolling hopelessly as he searched for something to burry himself in.
His manhood weeping, Chris cried out, arching his back as he sobbed.
Just as Chris felt release coming over him, Wesker brought both of his hands together, forming a tunnel around the brunette's engorged member. Chris was in total ecstasy as the experienced hands administered to him, massaging and caressing his arousal with surprising gentleness.
And Chris came, spilling his sticky stain of white passion between nimble fingers and across Wesker's chest. Wesker continued his own thrusts and stride in his drive to find release. He flushed when he realized that while the younger man had allowed him full control of his body, Chris' lips were barely parted as he gasped for air, wet hair clinging to his face, and that it was he who was making noises of satisfaction as his orgasm approached. Reaching that pinnacle point, the world became one whirling moment of pure and total ecstasy as he hit climax. Wesker cried out as his entire being burned with euphoria, unable to hold it in as he filled the younger man with his seed.
Collapsing forward, Wesker toppling over on Chris and panted heavily, his body shaking and quivering involuntarily as Redfield stroked his sides, trying to sooth him.
For a while they just breathed, and neither of them spoke. His senses coming back around and his pride returning, Wesker calmly collected himself, slicking his hair back into place and adjusting his glasses. Chris, meanwhile, heaved on the ground, his breath still ragged as he tried to recuperate. His entire body ached all over, from head to toe. He was completely exhausted and utterly spent.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Wesker stood up, drawing up his black pants, retying his black boots, and fitting himself with the matching shirt. Looking around briefly, he spied the gun he'd chucked away earlier. It had landed under a white computer desk and he quickly bent down to retrieve it.
Nervously, Chris watched the blonde from the corner of his eye. Wesker caught sight of the younger man's gaze and shifted the weight of the gun in his palm. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, instantly.
"Guess… that's it, huh?" Chris gulped, remaining where he lay on the ground, not bothering to get up.
"…Yes. It seems so." Wesker replied, his tone flat and even and as emotionless as before. He was back to his old calculating self, and Chris knew that his Captain was gone again, replaced by the monster. That meant that his life had finally come to an end.
Chris knew he would savor their time together, wither heaven permitted him after this or not. He doubted it. He had truly enjoyed what had happened between the two of them, there was no denying that. After all his hard work, he was going to hell for sure. It was sort of sad really, but he didn't really care anymore. All that mattered was that for a brief moment in time Wesker had truly been his; In spite of Wesker's words, and the way that everything that had happened, Chris knew that just as surly as he 'belonged' to Wesker the bio-weapon, a part of the great Captain Albert Wesker also belonged to him.
The blonde set his feet, rubber boots squeaking on the slick laboratory floor, as he straitened himself out and bid the younger man farewell.
"Goodbye, Mr. Redfield."
Chris braced himself as Wesker pointed the gun at him. Closing his eyes, he tensed as he prepared himself for the end. Training the weapon on the center of the younger man's forehead, Wesker stared down at him, expressionless and impassive as he squeezed the trigger----and Chris only heard the dry 'click' of an empty chamber.
"Huh. Well what do you know." Wesker spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I guess today's your lucky day, Redfield."
Chris drew in a breath, shocked, his eyes wide open as the blonde continued dressing, fastening his buttons re-adjusting his pants as though nothing had happened.
"I'm going to go and hit the self destruct sequence now. You should know better then anyone what that means. I'll leave the door shut, but unlocked; that should give you enough time to put your clothing back on. I trust you to have some means of escape. It would be a shame if you were to die right now."
The gunman was floored. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You're…. going to let me live?"
"For now." Wesker responded sharply as he zipped up his black Kevlar vest. "But remember this; the day you stop fighting me is the day that I will lose interest completely. If you ever lose your fighting spirit, if you ever forget yourself as my opponent, even for a moment, I will not hesitate to destroy you. Ta-ta for now, Christopher. I do hope we meet again soon."
With that Wesker reloaded his magnum, swiped an access key though the bar-code reader on the door, and shot a lone carrier moaning in the hallway. He gave one last glance back at Chris, gazing at him fondly over his shoulder before shutting the door behind him, leaving the brunette to gather himself up off the floor and redress himself. And with that he was gone, just as suddenly as he'd come, shouting out as he headed for the control room,
"I love you not, Chris."