Leaving the bathroom, he yawned and headed for the living room. Sleepy, he dropped onto the couch and stared at the television playing some movie he didn't know. It was mostly just noise and color.
The hour was late. He tugged the blanket up to his chin and laid down on the pillow on his side, watching the TV. Not quite able to fall asleep, his thoughts curiously switched to considering his life thus far. Or at least, his life since the mission in Africa which ended in Wisconsin. That was over two years ago.
His sister continued working with the organization, TerraSave, and she was doing well. Leon remained working for the government, and Sheva Alomar was healed up and back on duty for her branch. She'd been assigned to work alongside her friend, Josh Stone. Jill had to be in quarantine still, and he didn't know when they would accept she wasn't a threat or traitor. He hoped for her release on a regular basis.
Of course, he was working for the BSAA. Unlike Jill, he was cleared for active duty after a year of interrogations, tests, and checks. They reasoned he was only missing a matter of months, wasn't unconscious long-term so was primarily aware of what his body had undergone, and wasn't infected or injected with anything except for the modified P30 drug which ended after a few days. Despite his dangerous circumstance then, he retained his mission objective and the BSAA's mission statement for all viral outbreaks and situations. Following his release, they even discussed the possibility he would soon be promoted to captain and given a team to lead.
The black market, weapons dealers... He really thought bringing down Umbrella would end deadly viruses once. Now he was becoming acquainted with the shitty world and the insane things people would do because they wanted to. It wasn't just Wesker children. Regular humans snapped and released viruses for their own aims.
Weskers... Far as he knew, there were two left and the rest were dead. He had his own side mission he kept secret from his superiors. Chris didn't tell his friends or Claire, avoiding their concern or disapproval. He searched for Miles Wesker, not liking the idea of him out there somewhere free and unmonitored. No trace of him yet but he was going to keep looking.
His eyes drifted closed, sleep coming while his thoughts lingered on Miles. He didn't want that. He flipped over onto his other side, cramming thoughts of delivering violence to murderous infected in place of getting abused. But that opened another can of PTSD he'd been coping with since the nightmare of Kijuju and multiple captive arrangements which proceeded. Innocent civilians turned into mindless and violent slaves. Monsters trying to kill him.
A quiet thud. He shot up, gasping, blanket crumpling to his lap. He was coated in a thin layer of sweat and realized he must have fallen asleep. Chris glanced at the television, the sole source of light in the apartment, then to his watch. Nearly two hours had gone by.
He put a hand to his forehead, relaxing his breathing. Get it together.
“Losing your touch.”
Jerking his head left, he squinted to see the shadowy figure in the opening to the room. He knew who it was even before the intruder stepped into the light cast by the TV. Dressed in basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt, he wouldn't be winning any fight should the man have violent intentions.
The last time he saw Wesker, the guy kissed him. He also declared one of them would kill the other. He made suggestive comments which could lead him to believe he would work on a new virus to use on the planet. Was he doing that now?
He started to rise and fell flat on his back when Wesker dashed to the couch with inhuman speed. His blanket had fallen to the carpet. The man wasted no time in straddling his waist, gripping his wrists and holding them above his head. Leaning his face down close, Chris stared up at red eyes glowing through black shades.
“What do you want?” he growled.
Wesker sat back on his heels. Still gripping his wrists he held them by his sides. He overtly scanned his vulnerable body. Uncomfortable, he decided to do the same kind of survey since he wasn't going anywhere for the moment.
He was wearing a black sweater, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black pants. His hair was styled as usual. He seemed calm and untroubled. Wesker was on the bioterrorism high-priority list after coming terrifyingly close to unleashing a lethal contagion on the world. A global terrorist breaking into a BSAA agent's home and he was serene. Being Albert Wesker, it figured.
“You've lost some muscle.”
Chris tried to look at himself, raising his head off the pillow. “I guess.”
Meeting a very alive former captain on Rockfort Island some months after the Raccoon Forest investigation and mansion discovery, prompted him to begin a hardcore weight training regimen. Wesker kicked his ass effortlessly and he vowed to get stronger to take on such abilities at that time. He worked out constant when he lost Jill to possible death after she went through a window saving him. With Jill safe and one day scheduled to return to active duty should she decide to return to the BSAA and field duty, he didn't have the motivation to train so seriously. All his muscle didn't end up helping enough to take on superhumans anyway.
“Your hair is less messy.”
He blinked. “What was wrong with my hair?”
“You look good.”
“What the hell do you want? What are you doing here?” he angrily demanded, struggling to get up and hardly budging a few inches before he was back where he started.
“I remember you saying you are a realist when we last met, is that right?”
Chris made a second attempt to slide out from beneath the man. He didn't move at all. This was extremely frustrating and unwelcome.
“Many people do bad things and never face consequences in reality. Sometimes it happens that people have inadvisable sex.”
He stopped squirming, glare fading in his surprise. “Wh- Why did you come here?”
Wesker leaned over and kissed him, hard and demanding. He didn't think, just did, impulsively kissing him back in an identical manner. It felt like they were fighting with each other, battling to be the person more aggressive and in charge. His hands freed, he brought them up to drag Wesker down onto him.
The harsh kissing stopped to provide time for breathing but what they began didn't stop.
“Wesker,” he gasped, not entirely sure what he was going to say.
A hand slipped into his shorts, groping and rubbing. Chris forgot speech and kissed the man's jawline, quick to feel aroused in near proximity to him. It didn't take long for his dick to catch up with his horny mentality. He raised his hips the second Wesker lifted his weight off to give him room, and felt his shorts tugged down to around his shins.
Wesker returned to him, connecting their mouths. He got lost in the sensations. When he managed to think with his smarter head, he planted a hand on Wesker's chest and shoved him back.
“Wait. Hold on,” he protested. “This is... What is this?”
His answer was a shirt removal. He watched the black shirt land on the carpet and examined the naked upper body of his enemy. It didn't turn him on. It didn't.
He wasn't wearing underwear with his shorts so that left them both half naked. Chris narrowed his eyes, mute while Wesker chose to take off his pants and underwear before bothering to remove his sunglasses. Those red-yellow eyes flickered to his face, looking at him with impatience.
In a semi-hard state, it was no wonder he was impatient. He wouldn't be a fan of being denied. Wesker leaned close again and pushed on his lips with a finger. Like an idiot, he let his lips part and the finger swept around in his mouth. He pulled the finger out once it was nice and wet.
The hand disappeared between his legs and the other hand did too, gripping a buttcheek to expose him better. He tilted his ass to grant easier access. His mind wasn't completely on board with having sex with Wesker, but the majority of him wanted it. There was something always drawing him to the man.
A finger massaging inside his asshole felt strange. He recalled it also feeling strange two years ago. No, he hadn't had that type of sex since... No, he hadn't had sex since, period. Not knowing what to do with his arms, he set them on the couch by his waist. Wesker tugged the crumpled shorts away from his feet to the floor.
He was getting self-conscious and looked at the television. He didn't mean to actually pay attention to the program but that's what he did. It was a law procedural and two guys were giving a suspect a hard time. At least they weren't doing the dumb good cop, bad cop routine. It happened in real life, but was boring as hell to watch on TV.
Chris shouted out and shot his hands up to latch onto Wesker's hair. There was a tongue in his ass. What the hell?
The dirty act consisted of the warm appendage pushing into him and pressing against his tight anal muscles. It grossed him out and got him hard equally. His dick leaked pre-cum during the tongue fucking portion, his eyes squeezed shut. He was kind of messed up to enjoy it.
When Wesker ceased the tension inducing action, Chris sat upright. No way was he going to be the only one controlling this. He scooted forward and lowered himself onto his elbows, bringing the head of the other man's cock to his lips.
He took a few inches into his mouth, sucking and lapping. Salty fluid spilled on his tongue and he winced but swallowed the taste he didn't care much for. He slowly moved up the length until he succeeded in getting the whole thing in his mouth and down his throat a bit. Chris figured it would be sexy if not for the three times he choked and had to take his mouth away to recover.
Or maybe it was still sexy.
When he pulled off the cock and looked up at Wesker, his eyes were glowing bright. He appeared deeply aroused and yanked him higher by the throat for a kiss. As full of lust as he was also, that damn well hurt.
He continued kissing him while adding a third wet finger in him. Chris really wanted to get his dick. He counted to sixty twice and then gripped Wesker's wrist. He let him remove the fingers and watched him try and lie down on the cushions comfortably for the good part.
Wesker smirked and crawled over his body, bypassing where he was supposed to enter him. He tapped his nose with a finger and pried at his mouth with the fingers on the opposite hand.
“Get me wet,” he said.
Oh, right. Good idea. He reclined on his elbows and opened wide, accepting the hard cock. The warm flesh pushed all the way to his throat and he did his best to generate as much saliva as he could. Wesker pulled out pretty quickly and moved backward to settle between Chris's legs.
Chris scratched at his chin feeling a little itchy from pubic hair tickling him briefly. Wesker held firm on his buttcheeks, slipping thumbs to the rim of his opening. He began to push inside and Chris gasped in relief for the feeling.
By the time he'd taken in all of the cock, Wesker holding his lower half slightly elevated from the couch, he was done with going slow. To insist on the pace first, in case Wesker had other plans, he thrust his hips toward him. He felt a tiny jolt of pain but didn't care and repeated the motion, eager for friction and roughness.
Wesker folded his legs into his stomach and rammed in and out with such ferocity that he was seeing spots. His brain went a little dazed. Only when the man showed mercy by granting him a break did he catch his breath. He liked the other was vocal when agitated and horny. Usually he was the type who made quiet sounds and not much else.
Regardless of the sharp pain spreading through him here and there, pleasure was what encompassed the remainder. Wesker turned him to his stomach and picked a relentless rhythm drilling into him from behind. He sort of ended up on his knees, then slid off his knees, and back on his knees while he scrambled to gain a grip on the couch for dear life.
Maneuvering him onto his back but positioning him flat, Wesker energetically delivered powerful, rapid thrusts. A laugh spat out, thinking about how he hoped for the most control with a control-freak like him. He was simply gratified to know he was afforded some.
Chris wanted to scream when he climaxed and ejaculated across his stomach with a single yank on his dick from Wesker. Instead, a breathy moan came out. It was Wesker who howled a satisfied cry, coming in spurts. The hot fluid hit deep inside him and he stifled a moan at the feel, groaning his exhaustion and contentment.
He pulled out and laid on top of him, both of them breathing heavily. They were sweaty and sticky, which became more prominent as the heat cooled. Aside from their breaths, the television was the solitary sound in the room. And heartbeats. Chris could hear them clear as day.
His tiredness apparently beat him. He must have fallen asleep. Because when he woke up, sunlight spilled in through drawn shades partially open, and Wesker was gone.
The lingering scent of the man could be smelled above the other scents. He had a scent like rain. Chris was fond of the smell of rain for that very reason. He'd never admit it to anyone. He wasn't sappy.
Chris yawned and stretched his arms over his head. His ass hurt and his whole body was feeling stiff. Sex on the couch wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Or could be his aggressive partner had something to do with it.
He didn't think he would ever see Wesker again. If he did see him, it would probably be when he was sent on a mission to stop him for good. Yeah. This fun coupling they had was insane, and would never happen a second time.
Two weeks later, Wesker showed up at his front door seconds after he got home from work. He answered the door never considering it would be an enemy and global terrorist. He really didn't think he would let him in and let him fuck him against a wall. Chris didn't conceive the floor sex afterward would occur either.
He did not buy condoms and lube for a potential third visit because the aches and pains just weren't great for moving optimally after the fact. He did not feel disappointed when months passed with no appearance by the man. There wasn't a mistake that could have gotten him injured on a mission if his reflexes weren't as fast as they were, because he was distracted thinking about Wesker's motives.
Chris was home washing dishes after dinner, wondering whether he was a random fuck or being manipulated. He finished and headed into his bedroom to find Wesker sitting on his bed. The man had discovered the condoms and lubrication stored in the back of his bottom dresser drawer. These items lay beside him.
Somehow Wesker must have been aware he was given a mandatory vacation period to recuperate following the latest mission. They had a marathon bout of sex all night and into the next day, when he informed Chris he intended to stay until he was back at work. There were a few rounds of sex during those two weeks where he felt confused by how passionate they screwed. Eye contact was rare except for the odd times that were more emotion filled, the banging exchanged for slow, gentler fucking.
A year passed absent of Wesker. He began to think he dreamed the entire series of occurrences. He put his focus on his work. The BSAA did make him a captain and he worked with a team who needed attention and training. He decided to forget the sexual encounters ever did happen. So of course, four months after making that determination, Wesker returned.
“What the hell are you wearing?” were the first words Chris uttered to a man he hadn't seen in close to a year and a half.
Although he chose to knock at the door, he had no problem waltzing into the apartment like he was welcome anytime. Glaring at his back, Chris shut the door and studied the bizarre attire worn by the other. He'd contemplated plenty whether he lost his mind, but maybe it was Wesker who did.
“Where did you get that?”
Wesker turned around to face him. The guy was decked out in his STARS uniform. It was highly unlikely he saved his old uniform from more than a decade in the past. Not with his psychopathic tendencies running him across the world for crazy purposes. Which was why he asked the question and didn't just want to be stared at.
“Hello? Where did you get it?”
“I had it made for the special occasion of my visit to you.”
He forced a laugh. “Meaning you threatened someone to make it to your specifications.”
“I did not need to threaten. Businesses will make all sorts of things if you pay well.”
Chris strolled to the table in his kitchen and sat down. He glared openly toward Wesker.
“Planning a new plot for world domination?”
“I'll be in the shower.”
He gaped at the man walking away, undressing as he walked. The guy was going into his bathroom like he lived here. He heard the shower switch on and jumped up. This was shit if he thought he could drop in on his life whenever he damn well pleased.
The trap was obvious and yet he didn't catch on until he was willingly taking Wesker's cock up his ass in the shower. Chris sucked him beforehand despite his reservations, intending for it to satisfy the bastard and get him to leave. He knew he was lying to himself by how eager he was to cave to the man's commands following the oral sex. Wesker had him call him “captain” or he wouldn't put it in his ass, and then he had to call him it every other thrust at a minimum or he wouldn't fuck him hard as he liked. He obeyed. He was pathetic.
Cleaning him out after he ejaculated copious amounts inside him, Wesker smiled into the side of his face.
“Perhaps next time I should call you captain.”
They dried off with towels and left the bathroom to get into bed. Kissing and touching lazily for a long while, he was feeling ready to fall asleep. A warm body shifted closer and pressed to his, an arm wrapping around him.
When he woke up, Wesker was still there, still holding him. He was sleeping, soft breaths puffing against his forehead. What was this?
Four days later, he was penetrating the older man for only the second time since their “meetings” started, following their separation at the conclusion of his mission involving Wesker children. They didn't discuss it beforehand. There was dry humping on his bed and it turned into him entering the older man after a little prepping.
They'd been in his bed most of the morning since he didn't need to go to work this weekend. His uncertainties temporarily disappeared. He could enjoy the physical pleasure and company for now.
He spilled his semen into the body beneath him. Wesker didn't want him using a condom. Shuddering through the climax, he realized Wesker's cock remained hard in his hand. He kept stroking until he came.
Chris carefully removed himself and shifted to get off but he was pulled down. Lying on the man, he dropped his chin onto his chest, feeling rather prepared to go another round if it meant he could get penetrated next. Accepting recovery time was necessary, he also accepted Wesker was in a talking mood.
“Your next mission will send you far from here for a while.”
“How do you know that?”
“Ask a serious question.”
He sighed. “What else do you know?”
“It will lead to nothing viable. Certainly not worth your time, someone as experienced and talented as you are.”
“That's for me to figure out.”
Chris wanted this particular conversation to end. He didn't want to talk now. He wanted to get fucked.
“Governments are always wasting their assets. Greed and misguided visions stagnate progress.”
He reached in between them and played with his own cock and balls, thinking happy thoughts to get himself going again. Dipping his face into the curve of Wesker's neck, he kissed and licked gradually across the skin. He inhaled the smell of rain. He loved that smell.
Wesker rolled them so he was on top. Hands held his wrists to the mattress and he bucked his hips upward. Growling, the man ground his pelvis against Chris's and he moaned at the contact. Their nude bodies were slick with sweat and he was breathing heavy, desperate to touch him.
Lips attacked his neck, nipping teeth and licking tongue tracing the skin. He groaned when Wesker found his sensitive spot, biting his earlobe gentle. Hands slid across his stomach, stroking his abdomen and teasing the potential of venturing lower. He used his freed hands to curl into the smoothed hair, trying to pull his head up to make him see his face and know what he needed. Strings of hair fell over Wesker's forehead. Sexy.
He let out a whine when the man's head refused to rise from his ear and throat, and Wesker acquiesced slightly by lifting his lower body off so he could spread his legs wide. Settling between them, he rubbed his groin against Chris's, refusing to go near the well-used entrance. Hours in this bed and now his partner was playing coy.
Wesker kissed him on the mouth and he opened wide, eagerly sucking and tasting the other man. He loved that despite his arms bearing big muscles, the other was stronger. Accepting the man's wish to dominate, he laid flat as positioned and let him control the kiss.
Warm hands ran along his inner thighs. The kiss broke to breathe again. His attentions went to showing his chest affection, rubbing nipples and tracing his muscles. He was incredibly hard to the point of pain.
That damned smirk appeared. His face lifted away from his chest, eyes appraising him.
“Less than an hour, you're slipping.”
“Maybe it's cause you already screwed me four times last night and everything in me is aroused past caring how long the foreplay usually goes!”
“I trained you better than that.”
Chris rolled his eyes and moved to sit up, knees bending to plant his feet on the bed, elbows propping him upright. Wesker let him, rolling back to give him space. His eyes flickered down to the erect penis of a considerable girth, which apparently wouldn't be fucking him anytime soon.
“I'm gonna go rub one out in the shower.”
He scoffed. “So you can guilt me into feeling miserable while I do it? Hell no.”
The wicked smirk reappeared. “Just say the word and I'll give you what you want.”
Enormous hesitation before he shifted toward the man, avoiding looking directly. “An entire night?”
A sigh. “Fine. You can tie me up how you want for one night.”
As much as he'd grown to trust and believe Wesker, that was a tall order and something he worried about. The guy was too damn eager to have it happen. He'd probably regret it. Then again, the first time they had sex he thought he would regret it and never forgive himself. Now look what they'd become.
“I swear if you make me call you captain again-Uh!”
Wesker tossed him flat on his back and was pushing up to kneel between his legs. He quickly spread his thighs wider and lifted them off the mattress, knowing he didn't have much time to comply. The hot and hard cock squeezed into the narrow passage. A harsh thrust and he was completely held within Chris's body.
He wrapped his legs around the man's waist, groaning at the sensation. The man came to him like he knew he liked, pressing close, and locked eyes. His arms wrapped around his neck and back, possessive and caring. He gasped as Wesker began to move in him, never breaking eye contact.
The rarely granted prolonged and deeply emotional connection didn't last. It was enormously exciting and he climaxed within two minutes of experiencing this precious choice. He wasn't any less turned on and Wesker's arms and hands slid beneath to cradle the back of his shoulders to keep their bodies held firmly together.
Staring into his eyes, he thrust harder and faster, rough and deep. Chris cried out with pleasure, listening to the clipped breaths of the man thrusting and finding he couldn't look away from his penetrating gaze. Feeling the toned and muscular arms wrapped so protectively around him, he was half-erect a few minutes later.
He knew every part of him, in and out. It would be terrifying if it wasn't so compelling.
The bed shook as Wesker picked up speed, hammering into him with the stamina and vigor of someone half his age. Lost in those eyes, he huffed and grunted and reveled in the powerful force claiming him. Nobody else could do this for him. Nobody.
“Chris,” he breathed, indicating he was approaching orgasm.
Ecstasy nearly knocking him senseless, he still maintained the eye contact regardless of his overwhelmed body. Their noses practically touching, Wesker smiled at his gasping helplessness to do anything but ride it out. Sex this good, he didn't care he wasn't taking it more brutal or with multiple position changes. This was perfect.
“Ah!” he cried, gasping, “So fucking hot...”
“Mine,” he uttered, moaning into the orgasm, wet seed spilling into Chris's raw ass.
Wesker's hand reached low and cupped the hard dick poking his stomach. Jerking and rubbing his erection, Chris climaxed shortly at the sight of the man doing it to him. He never once stopped staring him in the eyes and he flushed from the warm feeling it evoked.
Not bothering to remove himself, he turned them onto their sides, face to face. Chris kept a leg and arm slung over the leaner form to keep him inside with ease. If he was lucky, he'd get hard and fuck him again in a few minutes. He was mentally wishing this while his own body advocated rest, preferably a long sleep.
Lips kissed soft on his lips and rose to press to his forehead. It was the first time the eye contact ceased since it began a while ago. He dug for courage.
“I love you.”
He was met with an expression playing at bemusement. “Really now...?”
Chris glared. “Come on, Al.”
A low chuckle before he murmured, “And I love you.”