Chapter Text
Albert Wesker was a man who prided himself on always being on top. Knowing every possibility, every outcome of every decision. Planning for everything, always being five steps ahead of those around him. Wesker always had a plan, a backup plan and an emergency plan.
He didn’t have a plan for when Chris Redfield kissed him.
Wesker felt a great deal of emotions in that moment, which was a red flag in of itself. Wesker didn’t feel, didn’t allow himself to. But now he felt.
He felt shocked, horrified at allowing another human being so close.
He also felt something new and unexpected, something hot and awkward and tempting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched, least of all like that.
Chris had moved his hands to hold Wesker’s face on each side, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Wesker opened his mouth without thinking, allowing Chris to explore its inside with his tongue. His mind felt hot and feverish, like it was about to overheat. He could barely think.
He’d known since the beginning that Chris admired him. Wesker was the image of cool and mysterious, and perfect at his job. He’d used that naive admiration, that hero-worship, for his own gains in small ways. It was easy to manipulate, to get what he wanted, from people like Chris. Who trusted blindly once their loyalty was given.
Wesker hadn’t seen those feelings of worship turn into something more, but he saw it now. Rather, he felt it. Pressing hard against his hip.
Wesker pulled back from the kiss, pushing Chris away harshly. His breath was laborious, like he’d run a mile. This couldn’t be allowed. He had to regain control, had to keep his head cool. Five steps ahead, always.
“I’m sorry.” Chris said, sounding deeply humiliated. He was a young thing, just over twenty and a prodigy for it. He never knew when to shut up, had a tendency for impulsive decision making, but ultimately someone Wesker could trust in the field. But they weren't on the field, and Wesker felt deeply uncomfortable at where that left them now. Impulsive decision making, indeed.
Having an image to maintain, Wekser perfectly adopted a mask of cold calm.
“It’s fine.” Wesker said coolly. “You’re drunk, Chris, you should go home.”
They had been at the bar, a social outing for the entire Alpha team after a long mission well done. He’d come with the intention to leave swiftly, allowing the team to bond without their superior’s watchful gaze. But Chris had been adamant in keeping him included in conversation, the first hint that Wesker’s control over the situation that night was about to go to hell.
He hated not being in control, despised it more than anything. The anger churned inside him, and his smile turned sharper as Chris nodded. And still the feeling of something more wouldn’t leave. His eyes slipped to Chris’s neck without permission. He wanted to bite it, wanted to draw blood, get revenge for Chris’s invasion of his space and plans. For making him feel so off kilter about everything.
Chris didn’t leave, his hands returning to Wesker’s body, holding his hips. It felt equally infuriating as it felt glorious.
Wesker didn’t allow people to touch him like this, never unless it was for a specific reason. For something Wesker could take from them. There were no ulterior motives for Wesker now, nothing he needed that he didn’t already have. And yet he couldn’t make it stop, this dizzying interaction.
“Chris.” He warned, putting more of his anger into the tone, the slowly creeping infuriation.
They were in an alley by the bar, most of the Alpha team had left. Wesker had only gone for fresh air when Chris had followed him out. It was dark, the spot they resided in. Dark and easy to miss, relatively secluded.
Chris raised a hand to remove Wesker’s sunglasses, and he flinched at the tenderness of the gesture.
“Do you want me to stop?” Chris asked, sounding so genuine that it made Wesker feel sick. He didn’t answer, stared somewhere past Chris’s shoulder. His mouth was set in a thin line. He did it even as he knew Chris would take it for the consent Wesker shouldn’t be giving him.
Chris pressed closer, their bodies flush. That hardness was poking into him again, grinding against his own reacting body. Wesker gasped as they made contact.
Disgusting. He thought dizzily, as Chris repeated the motion. Disgusting, beneath him, worthless behavior. If Chris had been a woman then it wouldn’t be that bad, it would be perfectly acceptable. Wesker knew how that dance worked. He would take the lead, using her as she wished to be used, then move on. A completely ordinary social interaction.
Wesker didn’t have any control over this, Chris perfectly happy to keep taking the lead. His mouth was pressing into Wesker’s throat, kissing and nibbling against the skin. It was so wrong that Wesker couldn’t keep from whimpering. Chris hummed happily against his skin, biting lightly into his increasingly exposed neck. It was all so backwards that Wesker had to hold tightly into Chris’s shoulders for support.
There was a crash of something being walked into, a loud curse accompanying the apparent accident. Someone nearby, coming towards their spot.
Wesker pushed Chris away, and this time Chris didn’t come back. His heart was pounding in a way Wesker wasn’t used to.
He straightened his own clothes, put back on the sunglasses from where Chris had thrown them carelessly to the ground. Wesker left without another word to Chris, walking briskly to the nearest taxi. He didn’t allow himself to think about what had happened until he was
safely back in his own apartment.
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink in a death grip.
Disgusting. He thought again, laughing in slight hysteria. How dare Chris do this to him, make him so weak. His body was still worked up, his dick aching to the point of pain. Wesker took a long, cold shower before going to bed. He refused to let Chris use him like this, whatever it was he wanted from him by tormenting him as such, he wouldn’t get.
-
The incident would have been easily ignorable if Wesker didn't allow it to happen again. The problem was that he seemed incapable of preventing such a thing, and so it became a common occurrence that Chris would simply kiss him.
Be it during a private meeting in Wesker's office, against his desk, in the shower rooms, in another valley near a bar, or chaste and quick in public when no one was looking.
It never went quite as far, and the second time Chris tried to remove his sunglasses for a make out session Wesker snapped at him.
But that didn't change that something, clearly, was happening between them.
Wesker didn't understand why he didn't stop it, why he didn't put Chris in his place like he deserved.
Some nights, when Wesker couldn’t sleep and images of Chris came to his mind, mocking him, he’d fantasize about killing him slowly.
He would break Chris's fingers, one by one, for daring to touch him.
He would rip out his teeth for daring to put them at his throat. One by fucking one.
He’d watch him bleed out at his feet and laugh at his pain.
Wesker was a God, the superior human being, he would not be mocked in this manner.
But he could survive a little more, he thought, as Chris had him pressed against his desk, mouthing at his neck, broad hands tight on his waist.
Wesker had called Chris into his office as the rest of Alpha team was leaving, just to go over one of his reports from a recent mission.
And then Chris had looked at him with those damning eyes, all warm and happy and before Wesker knew it he was being kissed, back pressing harshly against the edge of his desk but it didn't matter because Chris's tongue was in his mouth and then he began moving down his neck, happily mapping out the little skin he had revealed.
"This should stop." Wesker said tightly, as he suppressed a little whine at Chris's teeth scraping past a particularly sensitive spot.
To his surprise Chris pulled away from him, though his hands were still firm on his waist. His brows furrowed into a worried expression.
"You alright?" He asked. A stupid question, really.
"Of course." Wesker tried not to glare at him, even as he felt a sudden anger erupt within him. This was all happening wrong. Wesker was always the one who should initiate these kinds of interactions, Wesker should always be in control.
Never with Chris. The frustrating lack of control, the way his body reacted without Wesker's given permission, it was all becoming infuriating.
"Chris, I think it's time you tell me what you want from this." Wesker adopted a placating tone, willing his body to untense even as Chris stepped further away from him, those large hands leaving his body for good. He wondered why it didn't make him feel relieved.
"What I want?" Chris asked, and Wesker would have pitied his idiocy if he didn't know there was something far more sinister behind that facade.
He'd always thought Chris was too stupid for these kinds of games, but recent experience taught him wrong. Wesker didn't like to be wrong.
"Yes. A promotion, for example." Wesker cocked his head, smiling coldly. "Maybe a raise. More authority on future missions? Whatever you expect to gain from this, I'm tired of waiting."
Chris, if anything, looked horrified.
For the first time this night Wesker began to feel unsure about his assumptions. Surely Chris had some sort of ulterior motive.
"I don't- You think I do this because I want something from you?" Chris asked slowly.
Unease increasing, Wesker gave a sharp nod, never once faltering in his smile.
Chris shook his head in disbelief, and again that worry, that concern, returned to him.
"I don't want anything from you that you can't give." He explained, a little awkwardly. "I guess I just want to be with you."
Wesker looked in horror as Chris blushed, flustered or embarrassed or some mix of the two.
It became startlingly clear all of a sudden, that Chris really only had a crush on him.
Nothing more sinister than wanting to kiss him, to be with him. Maybe even hold hands. God, what a ridiculous notion.
Wesker didn't laugh, but it was a near thing. He felt more than a little hysterical, his previous anger floating away with the last of his mind.
"And you don't care how this could ruin your life?" He asked, morbidly curious. "Homosexuality could get us both fired, not to mention our social lives."
Chris's jaw set into a familiar, determined look. The one he’d take into a fight. "I don't care." He insisted. "You're- everything you do for us. I can't help that I look up to you, or that I- that I like you like this."
Wasn't that cute, he thought deliriously. Chris liked him enough to risk his job, his friendships. Just as naive and easily manipulated as he'd thought in the beginning.
Wesker had been wrong, he had to admit. This situation had turned around to something useful for once. He could use Chris like this, keep him under control. Chris wasn't the one trying to manipulate Wesker, Wesker was the one manipulating Chris.
That was the only reason, he convinced himself, that he would allow this to continue. To keep Chris under his thumb.
He pulled Chris back into a harsh kiss without another word, rewarded with Chris's hands back on his body, his oomf of surprise and delight.
Only to keep Chris on his chain, of course. Wesker didn’t like doing this, but he had to. For his work, for his control. That was all.
When Chris pulled away this time it wasn’t to stop what they were doing, in fact his hands were still working happily to undress Wesker, albeit slowly. Like he was scared Wesker might stop him. Understandable, considering Wesker’s general dislike of Chris making this into something more than just making out.
He allowed it now, though the old unease was reappearing with Chris’s intense focus. When Wesker found himself just down to his dress shirt his hands snapped around Chris’s wrist, stopping him from unbuttoning him down to just his bare skin. His heart was pounding again, and it irritated him that he didn’t understand why.
“I won’t judge.” Chris said softly, to which Wesker scowled.
“I’m not self conscious.” Wesker was perfectly aware of how he looked, and how he looked was incredibly good. He might as well be the prime example of the ideal male body.
“Alright.” Chris agreed easily, though Wesker could tell he wasn’t convinced. “I can still stop, if you’re not comfortable with it. I’m fine with just making out.”
God that tone was irritating. It was also a challenge, one which Wesker wouldn’t back down.
“Do shut up, Chris.” He hissed, not bothering to hide his anger any more. He released his wrist, and began to aggressively unbutton his shirt for him. Chris’s eyes widened, but he thankfully kept his mouth shut. For once the obedient soldier.
Wekser threw the shirt away and leaned forward into Chris’s warmth, grabbing his hands and placing them to his belt. “Continue.” He ordered sharply.
They’d see who would back down first, and it wouldn’t be Wesker.
Neither would it be Chris, clearly, for he eagerly did as told. As his hands released Wesker’s belt, his teeth found their mark at his neck, sucking a light bruise into his skin. And then he moved downwards.
First to his shoulder, and then, to Wesker’s slight horror, down his chest. His breath stuttered as Chris placed one hand to grope his right pec, his mouth coming around his left nipple.
It shouldn’t feel good, but it did. He grabbed Chris’s short hair, clutching it, unable to hold back the whimpers as Chris put his mouth to good work.
He moved from the right nipple to the left, giving it just the right amount of attention. Chris was either very experienced with men, or else he was a very good improviser. Both seemed likely, considering what he knew of the man. But the thought of Chris with other people made something harsh and unpleasant coil inside his stomach.
“Enough now.” Wesker glared down at him through his sunglasses, tightening his grip in Chris’s hair. Chris released him, grinning stupidly up at him from his position.
“Sorry, guess I got too excited.” He said, not sounding at all apologetic. He looked at the marks starting to show across Wesker’s pecs and his swollen, abused nipples with something aching to pride. A harsh, angry warmth spread along his body, making him shiver.
“I thought I told you not to talk.” He said sourly.
“You like it when I talk.”
“Do I now?”
“Yeah.” Chris’s grin had never been brighter. “You do. I bet you’d like it if I told you nice things, too. Like how good you look.”
“I’m not a dog, I don’t need praise.”
“But I bet you’d like it.” Chris’s hands pulled down his pants, leaving Wesker in just his underwear. “You like a lot of things I do, like when I take charge.”
Wesker tried to find the words to refuse that, because it was both humiliating and untrue, but Chris was mouthing at the growing bulge through the light layer of his boxers, and the words came out as a strangled groan.
Never before had he been rendered completely wordless.
He was unable to speak or even really think. The way Chris was mouthing at him through the fabric was downright lewd, looking up at him with lidded eyes filled with lust.
“You make so many nice noises.” Chris hummed, as he pulled his face back just long enough to free Wesker’s dick from his boxers. He dragged his tongue along the hard length, earning another muffled whimper from Wesker. He hated that Chris’s words made him feel harder, that they felt good enough to affect him. Almost better than his touches.
Chris was too impatient to tease Wesker more, which was good, because Wesker’s own impatience and anty frustration was about to make him do something stupid.
Chris swallowed down his dick with enthusiasm, choking a bit as he went too far, pulled back and then back down, going into a pleasant rhythm.
Wesker was transfixed on the sight below him, Chris on his knees, dutifully going down on him.
Worshipping him.
It was that thought that made him go over the edge.
Chris, to his credit, tried to swallow the come splurting down his throat. Some of it dripped down his lip as he pulled away, swallowing the last in his mouth.
Wesker pulled up his pants while Chris brushed away sweat, drool and come from his face and chin, coming to stand before him. He looked stupidly proud of himself.
Chris’s dick was straining very obviously through his pants, and Wesker worried he’d have to do something about it when Chris shrugged.
“Baby steps, right?” Chris didn’t look that sad about it. “You don’t seem very comfortable with all this sex stuff.”
Wesker didn’t say anything, because he didn’t know how to reply. He’d certainly had sex before, with women, with him in the lead. It was hardly his fault that Chris had decided to become an enigma, a mystery Wesker couldn’t solve or understand.
Sex had never been anything he wanted or needed, never been about Wesker’s pleasure. It was about transaction, favors and manipulation. Chris was someone who clearly needed sex to be something personal and emotional, and Wesker for once didn’t know how to deliver.
He was still blissed out in his post-orgasm, something he’d never really been before. Chris sat down next to him on his desk, taking one of his hands and holding it. He brushed his thumb over Wesker’s knuckles, and Wesker allowed it because he was too tired to refuse.
-
They were maybe two months into their makeout arrangement, if it could be called as such, when the RPD decided to host a more than unnecessary fundraising party.
The guests were small-time politicians, the higher ups of Umbrella, the police force, and by extension the S.T.A.R.S teams. Both the bravo and alpha team were socially obligated to attend, and Wesker had made it very clear that there was no getting out of it.
“You’re fidgeting.” Wesker said to Chris, who was tugging absentmindedly at the end of his blazer sleeve..
“Not so used to fancy clothes.” Chris smiled, leaning towards him as if they were sharing some kind of secret. “Me and Claire never really had much reason to dress up over the years.”
“I can tell.” Wesker said dryly, giving in to his first impulse of the night to straighten the fancy black tie Chris had somehow not done properly. “I suppose the absence of your father contributed to this mess?”
One of Chris’s better qualities was that he didn’t offend easily. He gave a short, breathy laugh as Wesker re-tied the tie.
“That’s better, you actually look like a professional now.”
“Thanks.” Chris smiled fondly at him, and Wesker wondered briefly if he got off on his insults and double sided compliments.
Wesker appraised his work, but there was still something nagging at him.
“Where did you buy it?”
“The tie?” Chris cocked his head, not unlike a great, big dog.
“Yes, where did you buy it?”
“Uh, the store, I guess?”
That explained why it felt so cheap.
“I’ll buy you a new one for next time.” He decided, his second impulsive choice of the night. A pattern was emerging, he could tell, and it didn’t bode well. Rarely did when Chris was involved.
“You don’t have to.” Chris muttered, looking vaguely embarrassed.
“I want to.” Wesker said shortly, bored with his attempt at refusal. No one rejected his gifts, Chris least of all. “Appreciate it.”
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
Chris laughed loudly, and pulled Wesker in for a short, chaste kiss.
“Yessir.” He hummed against his lips, moving away before someone else came into the room and caught them. And just as well, for a moment later Jill Valentine came into the S.T.A.R.S offices to ask why the hell they were taking fifty years to get to the party.
The party itself was exactly as Wesker had imagined, boring and a waste of his time. But appearances were to be made, and Wesker was nothing if not a great actor.
He purposely kept away from most of the umbrella staff. It wouldn’t be good for his current job to seem on too friendly terms with them, and he rather disliked most of them anyhow.
He talked with the important politicians, encouraging them subtly to make donations to the RPD.
He flirted with the ladies, putting on a display of his natural charm. It was easy enough, a mix of good genetics and confidence.
It was a well practiced song and dance, something he’d done countless times under both Umbrella and the RPD.
Chief Irons he smiled coldly at when their paths crossed, earning an equally hateful scowl in return.
“Chief Irons.” Wesker said in faux pleasantness. “I see you’re all by yourself.”
“Captain Wesker.” Chief Irons grunted, not even trying to hide his dislike for the captain. “I was just about to talk with one of the doctors.” No doubt to burrow himself deeper into Umbrella's pockets for more money.
“I heard rumors your wife would be coming too.” Wesker said, if only to force Chief Irons to stay in this miserable conversation a few moments more.
“I believe she’s getting drinks.” Chief Irons said grumpily. Wesker followed his gaze to the drinks table, and understood immediately the reason for his bad mood.
Because a woman, who he could only assume to be Lady Irons, was blatantly chatting up the handsome young man at her side.
Not any handsome young man. Chris, Chris Redfield. She was laughing at something he’d said, throwing her head back dramatically, a hand caressing his arm sensually.
Wesker saw red.
He wouldn't do it. It was beyond stupid.
But by god did he want to break her neck.
With images of death and destruction in mind Wesker strode towards the pair, abandoning Chief Irons. The man made an offended noise, but otherwise made no attempt to keep Wesker in conversation.
Lady Irons looked at him with first surprise and then interest at his rapid approach. He smiled his perfect white teeth at her, imagining biting out her throat with them.
“Excuse me.” He said politely, willing his body language to keep soft and warm and approachable.
She smiled back, clearly charmed by his looks, misunderstanding the intent behind the baring of his teeth. She was young, much too young for Chief Irons. Blonde and thin, curvy in just the right places.
He took her hand, kissed it politely. "You must be Chief Iron's wife." He said pleasantly.
She had soft skin, easy to break and mark beyond repair.
Lady Irons blushed, but kept herself completely composed anyhow. Clearly used to these types of events.
"Yes. And you must be Captain Albert Wesker. I've heard many things of you from my husband."
"Much unpleasant, I can only assume."
She gave a startled laugh, but didn't try to deny it.
"I was just talking to Redfield." She waved a hand elegantly towards Chris, who was beginning to look a little lost in the conversation after Wesker introduced himself.
"He was talking about you as well, actually" She revealed with the tone of someone revealing a grand secret, leaning towards him with a teasing smile.
"Oh?" He pretended to be interested, raising a single brow and leaning closer to her in turn.
Wesker looked casually at Chris as he did this, who was reddening by the second.
"Just telling the truth." He said awkwardly, looking suddenly sour.
"He thinks very highly of you." Lady Irons explained cheerfully. She smiled slyly at him, touching her hand to his elbow as she had Chris previously. "I'm beginning to see why."
Wesker didn't let his smile tighten, nor did he move away in repulsion.
He chuckled appreciatively, making a show of looking Lady Irons up and down.
"I'd love to continue this conversation some time," he said, lowering his voice into something suggestive. "But I'm afraid I must take myself and Mr Redfield away from your company. Private matters, I’m sure you understand."
"Of course." Lady Irons looked disappointed, but let them leave. She was polite, he’d give her that.
Wesker strode away with a confused and a more than a little sour looking Chris at his heels.
He walked out into the RPD’s courtyard, finding it blessedly empty.
"Wanna tell me what that was about?" Chris asked angrily, surprising Wesker with his venomous tone.
He hesitated, unsure of the right move. Truth be told he'd interrupted their meeting without thinking about it. It had been a completely impulsive act, one he'd performed gracefully, but impulsive nonetheless.
"It looked like you needed saving." Wesker said blandly in place of saying nothing.
"I was doing fine." Chris huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at him.
Great, so now Chris was mad at him. And Wesker didn't even know why. Surely he could appreciate being taken away from such a horrible woman? And to a secluded, secretive spot no less. The type of places Chris seemed to love dragging Wesker to.
"I suppose you wanted to continue flirting with her then?" He replied acidly, irritation bubbling through his polite mask. Not even a thank you.
"Me? You were the one seducing her!" Chris didn't sound angry anymore as much as bewildered. He blinked disbelievingly at Wesker, and then his eyes widened.
"Oh." He said, as if just realizing something. "That's rich. You were jealous."
"Nonsense." Wesker shifted uncomfortably. What a stupid notion, him, jealous. Wesker didn’t get jealous.
"You were. You totally fucking were. You came over the moment she began touching me." Chris was looking at him like an idiot, surprised and weirdly happy, as if he’d just won a prize he’d never expected to get.
“Now you're just being ridiculous."
"Am I?" Chris walked towards him, and Wesker took an uneasy step backwards, his heart suddenly racing in anticipation.
"You know," Chris began, voice low and unintentionally seductive in that stupid growling way of his that should never have worked the way it did, "if you wanted me all for yourself, you should have just said so."
Before he knew it they were standing so close that Wesker could count Chris's eyelashes if he wished. His breath was hot on his face in the cold air surrounding them.
"You don't have to be jealous." Chris said softly, his hands going to their apparent favorite place. His waist. Wesker swallowed.
"I only have eyes for you." He continued softly. "No one else in that room can compare."
Wesker looked away with a harsh movement, glaring sourly at some point to their right. The bush seemed incredibly fascinating right now. Anything to escape whatever embarrassing moment Chris was convinced they were having.
This was a conversation he was far too sober to entertain, and entirely irrelevant. If he was more himself he would change the subject naturally, but it seemed he’d used up all his grace with Lady Irons.
"You took the buss here." Wesker said abruptly, trying desperately to find the words to derail their conversation. "I'll drive you home."
Chris stilled beside him, releasing a shaky breath. "Okay." He said, unable to disguise the disgusting happiness in his tone.
Wesker removed Chris's hands from his body, then walked briskly back into the building.
He tried not to think about why he’d chosen those words as a distraction, even if a part of him understood completely. Luckily for Wesker, that was exactly the part of himself he was amazing at ignoring. The voice inside him stilled, if only for the rest of the party.
-
They drove home in silence after the fundraiser. Chris tried to speak halfway through their drive, but one glare from Wesker silenced him. If they talked, Wesker would have to explain, and if he explained he couldn’t deny the swirling emotions in his defunct brain, the self hatred that stemmed from them.
He was a broken machine, going against how he’d been programmed to work, and now he was doing something even worse.
Following Chris home, initiating a new turning point in their relationship. It made him feel sick, it made him feel excited. He wanted to laugh and puke and hurt.
The part inside he always ignored was screaming at him, no longer willing to be shoved down away.
“This is it.” Chris muttered, leading them to his door. He’d been giving Wesker cautious looks for the last ten minutes.
He lived in a pretty run down apartment complex, but Wesker didn’t mind. Middle class, perfectly acceptable even if it could do with a cleaning.
The inside of his apartment was messy, and Chris mumbled a few apologies for the mess as he removed some articles of clothing strewn across the floor in an attempt to clean up.
Chris turned to him, brows furrowed.
Wesker interrupted Chris before he could speak, taking two large strides towards him, grabbing his face, and pulling him into an angry kiss.
Chris made a soft noise of surprise, but kissed him back eagerly. Grabbing Wesker by the waist, pulling him even closer.
Chris was moving backwards, dragging Wesker along with him until they hit the couch. Chris fell down into the cushions, Wesker following, crawling into his lap, biting lightly onto Chris’s lower lip.
But alas Wesker had to pull away to breathe. The situation became unbearably real now that the burning impulse to kiss, to act, had passed away.
Chris was looking at him so adoringly that it took everything in Wesker not to look away.
“Will you stab me if I try to remove those glasses?” Chris asked, brushing his fingers in a caress against his face.
Wesker shrugged, unsure himself, still breathing hard. The sunglasses were a barrier he wasn’t convinced he wanted to get rid of yet. He shifted unconsciously in Chris’s lap, felt his hardness against his thigh as Chris’s breath stuttered. He repeated the motion, curious, and Chris groaned, pressing his face into Wesker’s shoulder.
“Jesus.” He gasped into the fabric of Wesker’s suit. “That’s great. You're great.”
The praise burned him, hot and dangerous, feeding into the incurable need he’d been feeling since he saw that disgusting creature of a woman touch what was his.
Since the day at the bar, since the first time Chris had disrespected him.
“Chris.” Wesker leaned forward, talking slowly into his ear. Chris’s entire body shuddered under him.
“You're going to fuck me.”
The truth had been growing for a while, until he couldn’t deny it. Call it morbid curiosity, call it burning desperation, but by god did he want.
Chris caressed his face again, careful not to disturb the sunglasses. He brushed his fingers against Wesker’s face like he was something soft and breakable, something precious he needed to be careful with. He looked at him like Wesker was the one, most important thing in his life.
“Yeah, okay.” He said breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe what Wesker had asked for.
With a swift and fluent movement Chris stood up, hands groping Wesker’s ass in a carry. Wesker hissed in surprise at the sudden movement, crossing his legs around Chris’s broad waist. He wrapped his arms around his neck, glaring irritably at Chris’s smile.
He didn’t get the time to complain before Chris was carrying him into his bedroom, dropping him and coming crawling after him onto his bed. It was, luckily, large enough for them both. And though it creaked ominously under their weight it kept strong.
Wesker felt what seemed increasingly likely to be a blush spread across his own face. Chris had his hands on either side of Wesker to keep himself from crushing him, and he had the fact thrown in his face that Chris, while far from the largest man in the world, was much bigger than himself.
A rare occurrence, as Wesker was far from small himself. He had a tendency to look down on everyone around him, both figuratively and physically. Chris was just an inch shorter than himself, but quite a bit broader. A mix of his natural build and raw muscle.
The unbidden image of Chris breaking him sprung forth, and he hated that it did something to him.
“You ruin me.” Wesker said bitterly, feeling exhausted with the confession.
Chris frowned and looked confused, so Wesker pulled him down by the neck to distract him, crashing their mouths back together.
When Chris pulled back again to breathe, he looked suitably distracted. Eyes lidded, expression lustful.
All because of me.
Wesker tried not to preen.
“I thought I gave you an order.”
Chris chuckled and blushed, his eyes hot and intense on Wesker.
"Yessir."
Chris leaned away from Wesker and the bed, rummaging through a bedside table. When he returned he had a bottle of lube in one of his hands. The sight made Wesker’s heart skip.
“You sure about this?”
“If you ask me that again I’m leaving.” Wesker warned irritably. He didn’t need Chris second guessing his bad choices for him.
“Alright, alright. I get it.” Chris rolled his eyes, abandoning the bottle next to Wesker in favor of undressing him.
Before he knew it he was laying naked underneath Chris, clothes thrown mindlessly to the far side of the room. He watched, eyes lidded, as Chris pulled off his own shirt, wiggling ungracefully out of his pants and then underwear.
It wasn’t the first time Wesker had seen Chris naked. There wasn’t a lot of privacy to be found in the RPD shower rooms, and they were taught not to care about such things. But to see him down to just his skin in this setting was another thing entirely. Chris’s dick was already hard, leaking precum in moist drops at the tip.
He swallowed and looked away, refusing to stare. It was big. Not monstrously so, but above average by most measures. Apparently Chris was a grower.
Chris looked like he wanted to ask if Wesker was sure again, but thought better of it.
He made a soft, approving noise as he began to touch Wesker. Groping his thighs, caressing them, moving slowly up towards his groin.
Wesker was at the beginning stages of arousal, his dick twitching in interest at Chris’s touch.
“You’re pretty.” Chris said softly, eyes roaming over Wesker’s body with deep affection.
“Don’t call me that.” Wesker hissed, not sure if he felt offended or pleased. Cute was a new term to be applied, that was for sure. Handsome he knew, and charming. But cute? Of all the stupid things.
Chris wrapped his right hand around Wesker’s half hard dick carefully, stroking him slowly first, and picking up the pace as it grew to full arousal. Wesker moaned, then placed a hand over his mouth to suppress any more embarrassing noises.
Wesker didn’t notice a lubed finger moving down his body until it was pressing against his entrance, making his entire body tense.
“Relax.” Chris murmured, pressing soft kisses down Wesker’s shoulders.
Wesker shook his head minutely, breathing harshly.
Chris paused, then kissed him, slow and deep, until Wesker’s body began to relax again. His hand continued to pump him up and down, rewarded with muffled mewls of pleasure that Wesker was unable to avoid.
“Turn around.” Chris said, and it was a testament to how out of it from the pleasure Wesker was that he followed the order without even a glare.
Chris held Wesker up by the waist, so Wesker had to lean his weight onto his knees and elbows. One hand was still working on his dick as his left hand returned to his entrance.
This time when a lubed finger began to press into him, torturously slow, Wesker managed not to tense completely.
It breached, entered, and Wesker whined. It was just one finger, but it felt large and impossible to have inside. As Chris began to move Wesker lost all ability to stay quiet.
It wasn’t exactly pleasurable, as much as new and strange and hard to comprehend. A sensation he’d never experienced in such a way.
He whimpered and gasped as Chris worked on loosening him up, breath stuttering on every movement as he entered a second finger.
He felt so full. How was he ever supposed to take Chris, when just two fingers felt impossible?
By the third finger Wesker had his face pressed into his own elbow, breathing harshly. He was on the edge of calling it off, to tell Chris to piss off and never touch him again because it was all just too much and he didn’t know if it felt good or bad or just uncomfortable.
Chris’s fingers brushed against a new spot inside him.
It felt like a jolt of electricity, reaching down his entire body.
“Fuck.” Wesker groaned, arched his back in the sudden and all compassing pleasure.
He didn’t need to see Chris to know he was grinning smugly at him. He pressed deliberately against that spot again, and Wesker whined, loud and uncaring, lost in the momentary feeling of yes please yes don’t stop.
“Chris, do it now, or by god-” Wesker trailed off into a strangled moan.
“Okay, fuck, okay. God, you look so good like this.” Chris said, sounding a bit strangled himself.
Chris’s fingers abandoned him, making him feel oddly empty, before a new, larger entity took their place.
Chris’s dick, Wesker realized with a jolt, pressing inside him.
Every thought, every rational connection in his brain turned into one large mess of repeating words and sensations as Chris pressed fully into him.
Wesker choked, moaned, and began to chant a nonsensical string of yes and please and don’t stop and more.
Chris began slowly, letting them both adjust to the sensations, but Wesker already felt ruined by so little. He pushed back just as Chris was moving carefully into him, forcing the action to become a harsher thrust.
Chris’s eyes were wide, sweat starting to run down his face.
“Fuck” He hissed, a hand holding firmly at Wesker’s waist to move back again.
Wesker thought about apologizing, but felt too dazed to pretend to feel guilty.
“Don’t stop.” He snapped breathlessly.
The thrusting continued, harsher now that Chris was sure Wesker liked it. And by god did he.
Wesker stretched like a cat, arching his back upwards, trying to meet Chris’s thrusts with his movements.
“Harder.”
Harder it went. The noise of skin slapping against skin harshly filled Wesker’s ears like a melody, drowning out his own mewling moans of pleasure.
Chris’s mouth kissed along his back as he worked, sucking marks into his skin in places he didn’t even know could feel good.
He felt like he was being destroyed from the inside out, he felt like he was being worshiped in the language he knew best, of violence.
It felt glorious.
Wesker came surprisingly noiselessly, biting down on his tongue to keep from yelling out. The taste of copper filled his mouth.
He thought of telling Chris to stop, the previous explosive pleasure had turned into overstimulation, making his moans of bliss turn into grunts and whines of pain.
He kept his mouth shut, and Chris continued, oblivious.
Thankfully, or maybe not, Chris finished soon after. Warm liquid filled him, another foreign sensation.
Chris pulled out carefully, then collapsed beside Wesker with a halting breath and a chuckle.
“Ah, shit. Let me help you finish off.” He said drowsily, reaching towards Wesker.
“Already did. I'm fine.” Wesker felt equally tired as Chris looked, struggling to keep his eyes open.
Chris looked happy and fond, drowsy and blissed out from their activities. Until he noticed the blood trickling down from Wesker’s mouth.
“You’re bleeding.” He hissed in surprise, sitting up abruptly. He leaned over Wesker, who had turned to lay on his stomach in the aftermath, tracing his thumb carefully over his lips.
Wesker opened his mouth in lethargic obedience, making Chris make a soft noise of concern at the sight of his tongue.
He pressed his thumb gently against the bleeding organ.
Wesker thought himself quite seductive as he closed his mouth and sucked lazily at Chris’s thumb, but the man mustn't have had as good taste as Wesker thought, for he pulled the thumb out and grimaced.
“That doesn’t look so great.” He said awkwardly.
“It’s fine.”
“Your tongue is bleeding.”
“It’ll heal.”
Wesker rolled away from him and sat up, annoyed at Chris’s rejection and persistent worrying. He didn’t ask for the way to the bathroom, leaving the bedroom with an irritated huff.
The bathroom was easy to find, as expected. The apartment was hardly big.
He showered efficiently, scrubbing off any excess bodily fluids.
Should have brought with me my clothes. He realized regretfully, as he met the gaze of his naked reflection in the mirror. His body was littered with bruises and marks, some of which would be hard to hide even with his uniform.
His glasses were nowhere to be seen. He really had been out of it if he hadn’t noticed them falling off in the middle of their activities.
He opened his mouth, checking quickly to see what damage he’d done. Nothing horrible, he decided. Nothing he couldn’t fix with time, hardly deserving of Chris’s panic.
He returned to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. Chris had replaced the dirty sheets on the bed, though he was nowhere to be seen.
“You’re not staying?”
Wesker turned to the doorframe just as he was pulling on his pants.
Chris was blocking his exit, looking hurt and trying to hide it. He seemed to regret his vulnerable words the moment they came out, a red flush appearing on his face.
“I have work tomorrow. As do you.” Wesker said blandly.
“I don’t expect you to get me a ride or anything. I get that it’ll look suspicious.” Chris winced again at himself, but couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I could make us breakfast tomorrow.”
“I have papers I should look over at home before work.”
“You could do it in the morning?”
Wesker hesitated, and Chris jumped at the sign of weakness.
“Please?” Soft and pleading.
Wesker really shouldn’t. He looked back at the bed, the rest of his clothes strewn across the floor, his sunglasses laying askew and forgotten on one of the pillows.
Ah, but Wesker did love seeing someone plead for his favor.
It wasn’t like Wesker didn’t have everything under control. This was all part of his game.
And wouldn’t it be easier to manipulate Chris by enforcing his attachment to Wesker?
Wesker sighed heavily, the image of a suffering man, and pulled off his pants again.
Chris’s smile was radiant.