Title: You Belong To Me
Pairing: Albert Wesker/Chris Redfield
A/N: I don't own Chris and Wesker, because if I did, things would be different, and I don't own "Snow White Queen" either. I wrote this for fun, and I'm not profiting from it at all.
You belong to me, my snow white queen,
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over,
Soon, I know you'll see, you're just like me,
Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you…
Chris opened his eyes slowly, wondering where he was. "…The fuck?" he mumbled to himself. From somewhere behind him came a chuckle.
"Good, you're awake," said a voice.
"Who are you, and where the hell am I?" Chris demanded, his arms straining against the ropes he just noticed binding his wrists. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were tied securely to the arms of the chair he was sitting in. He exhaled frustration and took a quick look at his surroundings. The room he was in looked like a cross between some kind of medical facility and a laboratory. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all blindingly white, and the room was lit by a set of cruelly bright fluorescent bulbs situated sporadically across the ceiling. Chris' brain was still slightly foggy from whatever it was that had forced him into unconsciousness, and through the haze, he spotted a dark blur moving through his peripheral vision. The blur moved from his peripheral vision into his main field of vision, and Chris struggled to focus his eyes on the figure now standing directly in front of him. The figure was wearing a tight black shirt and pants; his eyes obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses. Chris' mind may have been foggy, but that self-assured smirk was unmistakable.
"Wesker!" Chris snarled, yanking hard on the ropes around his wrists. Wesker chuckled again, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose.
"Do you know of anyone else who has been trying their damnedest to kill you whenever you have you back turned? But," Wesker took a step closer to Chris. "You continually manage to slip through my fingers, Christopher," he purred, reaching up to trail his fingers down the left side of Chris' face. The brunette stiffened and tried to shrink away from the blonde's touch, but it was a futile effort, because his wrists were still bound to the chair.
"I'll fucking kill you, you rat bastard! Let me go!"Chris yanked on the ropes around his wrists again, feeling the bruises already blossoming. His outburst only earned him another patronizing laugh from the blonde.
"That's not much of an incentive for me to let you go then, is it?" Wesker walked slowly around the chair Chris was in, as if to study him. "You haven't changed a bit since your time at S.T.A.R.S., have you? Still as stubborn and impertinent as ever, I see." Chris tried to keep his eyes on Wesker, but to no avail.
"What the hell do you want?" Chris asked, staring down at his boots.
"I would tell you, but it's far too much fun playing games with that pretty little head of yours," Wesker replied. There was something in Wesker's voice, and Chris couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it scared the shit out of him. Wesker leaned down closer to Chris. "I think you know what I want," he whispered, his lips brushing against Chris' ear. A shiver ran down the brunette's spine, and he wasn't entirely sure it was unpleasant. He mentally slapped himself. This was Wesker; the homicidal maniac who'd pretty much singlehandedly ruined countless lives. However, there was some part of Chris that didn't see that version of Wesker standing in front of him. That part of him still saw his captain from way back in his S.T.A.R.S. days. His captain whom he had thought was one of the good guys. His captain with whom… No. Chris thought to himself. That was when Wesker was still human.
Chris remembered everything that had happened in their shared past with crystal clarity; a certain incident involving a pair of handcuffs during which the door to Wesker's office in the Raccoon City Police station had been shut and locked, as well as barricaded with a chair pushed its way into the forefront of his mind. He was still surprised that nobody else had found out about that. Flashes of other memories flashed before his eyes, and Chris' mind ambled down memory lane for another moment or so before he realized what he was remembering. He shook his head roughly side to side, as if to permanently jolt the memories out of his mind. The sound of Wesker's voice brought him back to the present.
"Reminiscing, Christopher? How quaint," he said, looking down at Chris. Chris followed Wesker's gaze, and realized that his former boss was staring unabashedly at his crotch. Right that second, there was nothing Chris would have enjoyed more than wringing Wesker's neck, but his body was saying otherwise. Wesker chuckled at the slight blush that spread across Chris' cheeks. "I know what you're thinking," said the blonde, barely concealed amusement present in his tone. "Your internal struggle is very noble, Christopher, but when your body is saying one thing, and your mind is saying another; what do you do?"
Dammit, Chris thought to himself. I knew about the superhuman speed and strength, but telepathy? Shit…
"That's right, telepathy. And I heard what you were thinking earlier. You always were the sentimental one, but even I must admit that I enjoyed that day. I kept those handcuffs, by the way," Wesker said, smirking.
"Either tell me what the fuck you want from me, kill me, or let me go, Wesker. I'm sick and tired of your shit. Whatever you're going to do; just do it already," Chris said slowly, through gritted teeth. Wesker bent down so he was eye level with Chris.
"Patience, Christopher. I could snap your neck in twelve different ways with one hand. If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already," said Wesker, his face dangerously close to the other man's. Chris didn't attempt to lean back as the blonde drew closer to him. A dangerous smirk spread across Wesker's lips as he reached up and removed his sunglasses before folding them and putting them into one of his pockets. With the barrier of Wesker's sunglasses gone, Chris noticed a predatory glint in his former captain's unnaturally bright eyes. He knew he probably be at least a little afraid for his life. However, instead of feeling fear, Chris felt… excitement? Why did he suddenly want to touch Wesker? And why did he suddenly want Wesker to touch him?
"Wesker…" Chris began. Wesker's smirk widened.
"Yes, Christopher?" Wesker asked, bending down so that he was eye level with Chris again. The brunette then realized he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say. If getting him flustered had been Wesker's intent; he had succeeded. Instead of answering the question, Chris suddenly leaned forward, closing the distance between Wesker's lips and his own. Wesker stiffened for a split second, surprised, before smiling into the contact. His plan was moving along much easier than he'd originally thought it would. He hadn't expected Chris to make the first move. Chris was at least as surprised as Wesker, if not more so. He hadn't consciously decided he wanted to kiss Wesker. Wesker traced the shape of Chris' lower lip with his tongue, and the younger man surprised him even more by parting his lips. After another minute or so, Wesker broke the contact and studied Chris' face intently.
"If I untie you, will you behave?" Wesker crooned, cupping his hand around Chris' face. The brunette nodded slowly, and Wesker probed his face for any signs he might be lying before deftly untying the ropes knotted around Chris' wrists. Upon regaining the use of his hands, Chris flexed his fingers and massaged his wrists, wincing at the sting from the bruises. After the ropes had been untied from Chris' wrists, Wesker undid the ropes from his ankles as well. Standing up from the chair, Chris momentarily considered simply trying to escape, but parts of him didn't want to; namely the one part of him that he just realised was straining against the inside of his jeans. He hoped Wesker wouldn't notice. Before he could react, Wesker was kissing him again. Chris reached up, fumbling with the zipper at Wesker's throat. The blonde chuckled.
"Aggressive, aren't we?" he whispered against Chris' lips. "I always did like that about you." Chris said nothing, only slid his hands up the front of Wesker's torso, his right hand pausing over the place where the older man's heart should have been. He was somewhat surprised to discover his old captain's heart beating in his chest as if nothing had changed. Wesker shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor, the multiple gun holsters hitting the concrete with a dull, metallic clunk. Chris slid his own shirt up and over his head before dropping it to the floor as well. Wesker put his lips to Chris' neck.
"I still hate you," said Chris.
"You couldn't if you tried," the blonde whispered against his former subordinate's neck. Without another word, Chris reached down and started undoing Wesker's pants, but the older man stepped back, refastening his belt buckle.
"What are you…?" Wesker put a finger to Chris' lips.
"Sit down," Wesker said quietly. Chris hesitated, slightly suspicious that he was going to be tied up again. Wesker sensed the other man's apprehension. "Come on," he continued. "This is one of the few times you don't have to fear for your life." Chris wasn't sure why, but he trusted the older man's words, and lowered himself into the chair. Hoping the situation would continue in the direction he'd thought it was going, Chris unconsciously spread his legs.
Wesker put his lips to Chris' neck again before trailing them across his collarbone and down the front of his torso. As Wesker started undoing the brunette's pants, Chris reached down and ran his fingers through the blonde's neatly slicked-back hair. The entire experience was still feeling slightly surreal to Chris, because it was unlike Wesker to want to give pleasure while receiving none in return. Wesker dropped to his knees in front of Chris and slipped his hands under the waistband of the younger man's plaid boxers. Wrapping his hand around Chris' arousal, Wesker used his other hand to pull the boxers down. Chris fidgeted slightly as if to wiggle out of his clothes entirely. Wesker slid his hand up to the tip of Chris' shaft, spreading the fluid that gathered there to ease the friction.
As Wesker continued touching Chris, he gradually settled into a rhythm. He slid his thumb over the tip of Chris' member, drawing a soft sigh from the brunette. The relative quiet of the laboratory was shattered when a telephone hanging on the wall next to the door began to ring loudly. Wesker swore under his breath.
"Let the machine get it," Chris suggested.
"There is no machine. It won't stop ringing," Wesker replied, exhaling frustration. He stormed across the room and picked up the phone.
"What?" he snarled into the receiver. There was a moment of quiet as Wesker listened to whoever was on the other end. "No. I told you I was not to be disturbed!" Another pause. "I don't care what he said. Inject it with the 0127B serum, and it should go back under." A much shorter pause. "Just do it. And make sure it's the correct serum, you incompetent fool. I'll deal with the two of you later," Wesker snapped, before slamming the receiver down. He turned and strode back across the room, cracking his knuckles. He was slightly amused, but not at all surprised to discover that Chris' erection hadn't wavered a bit. Wesker cupped his hand around Chris' face.
"Where were we, before we were so rudely interrupted?" he asked, dropping to his knees again. Chris looked down at Wesker and wondered what else he had in mind. His question was answered quickly; however, when he saw the head of his cock disappear between Wesker's thin lips. Chris gasped, and then bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to prevent any further noises escaping. He didn't want to let on that he was enjoying what Wesker was doing to him, because the little voice in the back of his head was still telling him it was wrong. As Wesker bobbed his head; his hand stroking what he wasn't sucking on, Chris continued chewing on his lip. He was surprised he hadn't broken the skin already.
Wesker suddenly took more of Chris into his mouth, and the brunette gave up chewing on his lip and let out a low, needy moan. Wesker looked up at Chris and smirked around his mouthful. In Chris' mind, there was something strangely erotic about seeing Wesker on his knees in front of him, looking up at him with those unnaturally bright cat-like eyes. He couldn't put his finger on the reason why. He thought it was tied in with Wesker's usual overreaching dominance. But, then again, Chris figured Wesker was only sucking him off because even though it could be seen as a submissive position, Wesker was still completely in control.
It was right as the thought crossed Chris' mind that Wesker took Chris even further into his mouth. Chris inhaled sharply, and another moan escaped his lips, unchallenged.
"Wesker…" the brunette sighed. Wesker chuckled to himself. He took his mouth off of Chris.
"Say it again," he whispered, before running his tongue up the underside of Chris' member. The brunette shuddered as his hands clutched at the arms of the chair.
"Weskerrrrr…" He moaned, as Wesker plunged his mouth down on Chris' cock, his lips meeting up with the base of the shaft. Chris took his hands from the arms of the chair, and knotted his fingers in Wesker's hair. Wesker took his mouth off of Chris before taking him all the way into his throat again. Chris knew he was close. He was moaning Wesker's name over and over in between pants. He sounded ridiculous, and he knew it, but he didn't care.
A few more actions on the blonde's part, and Chris' body tensed up, and he released into Wesker's mouth with a groan. Wesker swallowed Chris' fluids, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up, smirking all the way. Wesker leaned in to kiss Chris, but before the brunette could react, a fist collided with the left side of his jaw. Chris' mind was reeling, and he slumped back in the chair, unconscious.
"You're mine," Wesker hissed in the brunette's ear before straightening up, sliding his shirt back on, and walking out of the laboratory.