The stinging loneliness of solitary, winter nights was a new thing to Chris Redfield. He was used to spending time with his little sister, Claire, during the holiday season, but she had been busy with a new boyfriend. And Chris, being the amazing older brother, thought it would be best to let them be. But, where did that leave him? Alone in his apartment room, with nothing to do but watch the thin layer of snow floating from the sky though his window.
Though he was normally a Christmas person, the lonely one-bedroom apartment stayed bare of a tree, a present, or any kind of decoration. Except for the small piece of mistletoe that he never forgot to put up in the doorway leading to his bedroom. He pondered over how sad it was, how all his friends were so busy with their exciting lives, while he watched the snow in his pajama pants. He rolled over onto his back, letting out a deep breath, as he felt sleepiness wash over him. He turned his head to his bedside, and noticed his diary. Perhaps he should write it in... Nah. Perhaps a snack would be nicer. Or, maybe just going to sleep would be cool, too.
Chris sighed out in frustration, as he scratched at his head, running his fingers through his short dark brown hair. Agh! How annoying it was to spend his time alone. He hopped out of bed, landing barefoot on the cheap, uncomfortable carpet. He made his way through the main room, passing a full-length mirror where he noticed how stubbly his face looked. Another sigh of frustration. He strolled through his kitchen, picking up yet another mandarin orange from the large bowl of fruit sitting on the counter top. 'Tis the season, eh? He peeled off the citrusy skin, as he made his way towards the couch, plopping himself down on it. He absent-mindedly searched for the television remote, not taking his eyes off the plain white roof above him. Perhaps he could watch an old Christmas special to make himself feel better.
As he finished up his orange and discarded the peel on the table placed beside his couch, he got a grasp of the remote right under the middle cushion. Chris began fishng it out, when he heard an unexpected knock at the door. He felt his face flush, when he became aware of the fact he was half-naked. He scrambled around in his closet for a robe, grabbed the first thing he found, and put it on. Once reaching the door, he noticed it was an ugly obnoxious orange colour, and that was almost as embarassing as being naked. He unlocked the door, and opened it a crack, to see who it was first. He didn't get the chance, since the door was immediately pushed open with great force, causing Chris to stumble backwards and fall over.
"Good evening, Christopher." The smooth, monotone voice of Albert Wesker greeted casually. Chris looked up with surprise, but not the good kind. His only gun was over in his bedroom, and he was frozen with shock to the spot, with no chance of retrieving it. "L-leave." Chris growled, trying to get on his feet. Wesker smirked, as his fist collided with Chris' face, knocking him back down. "I don't think so. I came here for some fun, and you shall give it to me." Wesker politely shut the door behind them, and made sure to make a show out of locking it, letting Chris know it wouldn't at all be easy to escape.
"What do you want from me this time...?" Chris growled through his teeth, wiping the small amount of blood dripping from his lips with the back of his hand. Wesker advanced forward slowly, but with that sinister 'I'm gonna' get you' aura. "Just you." The heel of his boot kicked Chris' stomach in, causing a scream from the victim. He curled into a ball, holding his stomach with one arm, and trying to get away with the other. "You sick bastard... Don't touch me..." He coughed, making it into the doorway of his bedroom. "I'm not willing to fulfill your request at present..." He removed his thick shades, tossing them aside as he dropped to the floor, straddling Chris.
Chris flailed his arms, which Wesker caught, and held above his head. "Be a good boy and stand still..." He muttered, going in for a kiss. Chris laid, petrified, in horror, as the man he had declared his worst enemy kissed him. 'N-no...' Chris refused in his head as soon as Wesker tongue slid passed his lips. He bit down hard, causing the attacker to pull away, and comfort his wound by placing his gloved hand upon it. Chris then resumed to struggle free, which only resulted in a back-handed slap from Wesker. "All right, is that how you want to play it, Redfield?" He snarled, hypnotizing Chris with his glowing yellow eyes.
A tear formed in the corner of the younger man's eye, as his face started stinging. "Wesker, please, don't do this, not tonight, it's--"
"I know precisely what night it is, Chris, which is why I'm here. I knew you'd be lonely this evening, so I came to see you. Now calm down." Chris snarled as he still tried to struggle free. "How the Hell would you know that, you creep?" Wesker grinned as he spoke, and leaned in close to the brunette's ear. "Why, Chris... I know everything." He said, sickeningly amused with himself. Chris shook his head in disgust, as he succeeded to push Wesker off.
He bolted to the door, but Albert had knocked him down onto the couch before he could reach it. "Stop it, you son-of-a--" Chris tried to protest some more, but was stopped as the couch fell over, Wesker sitting on top of him again. "Relax and enjoy, Chris. At least you're not alone, anymore." Chris breathed out in frustration, almost hysterical.
"Why the fuck can't you leave me alone?" Wesker leaned in, and gave him a smell peck on the cheek.
"I love hating you too much..." Chris squeezed his eye shut, a tear rolling down his face.
"Wesker, stop this..." Chris pleaded. He didn't, but he did leave a small kiss on his neck.
"Do you want me to pleasure you here, or would you prefer your bedroom...?" Chris again grew frantic, as he tried to wriggle free from the other man's grasp. "I think I like your bedroom." Wesker declared, as he took Chris' arms in hand, and picked him up.
"Put me down!" He yelled, making it as challenging as possible for him to be carried. Wesker rolled his eyes, pushing his captive down into his own bed.
"This won't feel as good if you keep that up. Now relaaax..." He urged him to do, as he eased up his grip on Chris' arm. Chris could've escaped at this point, but he had grown exhausted, and his stomach still hurt from being kicked. He had been defeated, even though his opponent hardly had done anything. He just couldn't fight... Wesker noticed this, and began to undo his prey's godawful coloured robe. He admired his well-toned body, running his hand over it. "You seem less muscular then I remember..." He reminisced. "Shut up." Chris cried, another tear falling from his gorgeous blue eyes.
Wesker laughed again, loving how humiliated his darling Chris was. He began to slide his pants down, but Chris flinched away, turning on his side, knocking Wesker off. Wesker looked disapprovingly at the gunman, pulling him up by the arm. Chris looked up pathetically, his eyes wet, and his face flushed red. He slapped him, knocking him back down, and he resumed his position on top of him. "You will stop that, now." His former captain commanded, stroking the young man's face in an unfittingly loving manner. Chris' eyes clenched shut, as he again felt powerless. He could try and get free all he wanted, but Wesker would always win in the end. Why should he even bother, right?
"Behave..." Wesker whispered, leaving a soft kiss on Chris' collar bone. He succeeded in removing the pants this time, with hardly any reaction from Chris, who was staring blankly out the window, no emotion on his face. That would change soon enough, wouldn't it, Wesker thought to himself. He took Chris' limp member in his gloved hand, stroking over the shaft softly. "Look at me." He demanded, staring holes through the side of his face. Chris did look up, but he didn't have the look Wesker was hoping for. He looked almost like a T-carrier, without the rotting flesh and gnashing mouth. Blood trickled down his chin, his eyes were blank, and his face was pale.
"I'm going to wipe that look off your face." Wesker growled aloud this time, removing his gloves and tossing them aside. He jacked him off furiously, his hand moving at a rapid pace. "Albert, stop, it doesn't feel good..." Chris whispered, trying to deny the fact that he was growing hard.
"Another part of you says otherwise. Now, pipe down if you're not going to say anything nice." Wesker replied, continuing.
"Fuck you." Chris spat, turning his head back to the window. Wesker let go of the brunette's dick, and grabbed his jaw.
"Look at me when I'm doing you. Enough with the disrespect." He crushed his lips together with Chris', kissing him roughly. Chris let out a groan of discomfort, as he tried to adjust himself. Wesker wouldn't have it. He kept a steady hold on his jaw, his tongue making it's way passed the gunman's lips. This time he didn't bite down, however. He kissed back timidly, accepting the fact that he was stuck with him.
With his hand that wasn't holding onto Chris, Wesker slid his pants and undergarments down to his knees, making sure not to break their steamy kiss. He took one of Chris' nipples in hand, pinching it until it was hard. Chris let out an exhausted breath, pulling away from the blonde's mouth. Wesker chuckled. "You wouldn't happen to keep any lubricant in here, would you?" He asked in a teasing tone.
"I'm not a sick pervert like you." He hissed in reply.
"I'll take that as a no... Oh, well. Hopefully this'll make it hurt less..." Wesker crawled down Chris' body, stopping when his face was just above Chris' cock. "Lift your legs." Chris shook his head, horrified at what would happen next. "Chris." He warned in a threatening tone.
Chris threw all his pride out the window as he did what he was told, putting his ass on display for the devil's viewing pleasure. "There's a good boy." Wesker smiled, licking at Chris' crease. Chris' head shot up as he felt this, his face glowing red. "Wh-what the fuck are you--!?" Wesker looked up, holding onto the brunette's hips to keep him steady. "You're the one who didn't have lube. Now just relax." Chris' chest heaved up and down, as his head settled back into the pillows. Oh my God. Why am I allowing this, he thought to himself, petrified with fear. He let out a small yelp, as he felt Wesker's tongue enter inside him. This is so wrong, this is so wrong, this is so wrong... He chanted in his head, trying to keep back his heavy breathing and moans. The slurping noises from his hole and Wesker's mouth were disgusting, yet his erection still stood strong. 'Lord, help me...'
Wesker sat up, wiping his mouth, as he replaced his mouth with his middle finger. Chris yelled out as he felt it sink into him, complete shame washing over him as his finger began to move. There we go, now Chris was starting to give the sort of reactions Wesker wanted. "More, Chris...?" He smiled, adding in another finger.
"D-dammit..." Chris sucked in through clenched teeth, clutching onto the sheets underneath him. Wesker pushed his fingers in deeper, making Chris' toes squirm. "S-stop..." He begged weakly, his half-lidded eyes gazing over Wesker's all too amused face. Just after pleading pointlessly for this to stop, he felt what could have very well been a surge of electricity travelling up his spine. "There it is. That special little spot that will make you want me..." Wesker laughed, massaging Chris' prostate.
"W-Wesker, y-you can't..." Chris tried rejecting the amazing feel, yet again, his head tossing from side to side.
"Ohhh, you like that then...? Good, good..." Wesker muttered, pushing harder on Chris' little spot. Tears streamed down his face, not out of humiliation this time, but from intense pleasure. "O-oh, God, harder...!" He moaned loudly, moving his hips closer to Wesker, encouraging him to go deeper.
"Hmmm, harder, you say..." Wesker teased, sitting up so the tip of his cock bumped at Chris' entrance. "Is this what you want, Chris...?" He nodded quickly, now hardly able to contain himself as he reached down to stroke himself. Wesker slapped his hand away, and gave him a stern look. "That's my job. Now lay there and enjoy."
Chris sheepishly settled himself back down, balling the sheets underneath him between his hands. He knew how he would regret this so, so very much later. But, right now, as much as he hated him, he needed Wesker. Wesker tried his best not to let his own pleasure show on his face, as he pushed himself deep inside of Chris. He yelled out, and tried to cover his mouth with his trembling arms. "Ohhh, Chris, I think you like that..." Wesker tormented. Chris bit into his own arm, as he clenched his eyes shut. He didn't reply, because they both knew that this was true.
Without out any warning, Wesker began to pull in and out, causing Chris to bite down on himself harder. He could almost taste blood, and hated the fact that his moaning could still be heard even when he tried to cover himself up. Wesker's cock was so big, and it was so fucking amazing as it pounded his ass. He wanted to cry, he couldn't believe himself for being so far gone that he was enjoying this. He felt his arm removed from his mouth, and looked up to see Wesker's face looking down with... He couldn't place what the Hell it was, concern, maybe? Whatever it was, it looked out of place on Wesker's face. Chris' mouth hung open, small gasps coming from it with each thrust. Wesker kissed Chris' mouth again, their tongues sliding against one another sloppily, sucking on each other's mouths.
Chris' eyes stayed half-open, even though all he saw were Wesker's shut eyelids. How could he stay calm, how could he be doing this to somebody he hated so much? He couldn't be human, he just couldn't. Chris' arms draped over the elder man's as his hips grinded into the steady motion of Wesker fucking him. Wesker pulled his mouth away, a string of saliva connecting between the tips of their tongues. "Wesker..." Chris sighed out, reaching for his face. Wesker smiled softly, and started to thrust into him faster. "You're really cute when you're horny, you know..." He chuckled. Chris didn't respond, but held on to his back tighter, craving more.
Wesker's dick began hitting that 'special spot' of Chris' again, causing him to cry out louder. Mercilessly, he pounded against it, making Chris feel like he was going to explode. Wesker began to give him another one of his delicious handjobs, as they both grew slippery with sweat and precum. "A-Al..." Chris sighed out, as Wesker picked him up, sat up, and placed him in his lap. Wesker stayed in a knealing position, with Chris riding him. Chris boldly went in for another kiss, his hips still moving on Wesker, and his own dick still in the other man's hand. They kissed roughly, passionately, trying to make the other one melt. Chris had to pull away, as he felt himself growing short of breath. "Oh, God, I'm going to cum..." Chris whispered, his hips grinding harder downwards onto Wesker.
In unison, they gasped loudly, Wesker spilling his seed deep inside Chris, and Chris all over their stomachs. Wesker dropped forward, landing on Chris, and they laid there, breathing heavily, panting excessively. Chris, performing yet another bold move, took Wesker's hand in his, and laced their fingers together. "Fuck, I hate you..." Chris mumbled once he he was able to speak. Wesker laughed, getting up and searching the room for his clothing. He dressed, and smoothed his blonde hair back, putting on his glasses last. Chris continued laying on the bed, glancing over at Wesker who stood in his bedroom doorway. "Well, aren't you going to see me off?" Chris groaned, getting up and wrapping himself back in that terrible robe.
Once close enough, Wesker locked lipped with Chris one last time. Chris blushed, looking at him uncertainty. Wesker pointed up, reminding Chris of the mistletoe that hung there. "Happy holidays, Chris." Wesker pulled down his glasses just so his eyes were barely revealed. Chris nodded slowly, as he watched the man leave through the door, just as he had entered. The slamming of the door startled him, and all he could do was head back to his bedroom. He looked up at the mistletoe before he sat back down on his bed. He then turned to his side and saw his diary. He sighed out, almost feeling like it was his duty to write an entry, even though it had been so long since he last did so. He grabbed his pen, opened it up and began. 'Dear Diary...'
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Hope you enjoyed, at least a little~!
Merry Christmas!