Authors Note: This one-shot has been stuck in my head for a while, and I finally decided to spill it out into written form. It was written quickly, and one of my first Resident Evil fics, but I hope you all enjoy it who read it! It involves adult situations and M/M pairing, so if that turns you off then please don't read and go on with your day!

It always started with a few kicks and well placed hits. Angry words and bitter memories coming to the surface as the two encountered each other, often stumbling on to each others path as they tried to complete their own missions, intentions completely opposite of one another. The hatred and pain each felt towards each other always boiled over, crashing over them and their usually cool exteriors in an explosive battle.

When Chris Redfield and Albert Wesker would meet, it always brought emotions to the surface; some well placed and rational, with others out of bounds and in places one would rather not venture.

Hatred.

Betrayal.

Sadness.

Loneliness.

Lust.

The kicks and well placed hits would escalate into a bloody battle royal, each trying to finish the other off until something snapped between them- something that neither could explain nor wanted to. Killing blows turned into desperate grabs, angry growls became tainted with a hint of ecstasy.

Chris couldn't begin to explain why he always let it happen. Why he let Wesker press him against the cool wall, his gloved fingers ripping his belt undone while a strong thigh pressed in-between his own, stretching his legs open in a shameful act of submission. Closing his eyes, Chris would think of the old Wesker, the one who watched his back during missions, the one who seemed to give a damn about what happened to him, the one who didn't make him feel tainted. Chris let out a low moan as Wesker's gloved hand snaked down his pants, grasping him in a rough hold. A small chuckled escaped Wesker's lips, reverberating against Chris' neck as the younger male tried desperately to right his wrongs.

Warm breath cascaded across Chris' cheek, making him shake with frustration. It was easy to blame Wesker's madness on the T-virus, his insane ideas fed to him by Umbrella and his lack of humanity. But with Wesker pressed warm against him, the heart beat of his enemy so close to his own, Chris couldn't help but think of how Wesker still felt so human. The sadistic killer, who had taken so many lives, lived, breathed, and lusted just as he.

It grew harder and harder for Chris to forgive himself as he complied with Wesker's rough manipulation of his body, chest being pressed against the wall, pants being pulled down to expose himself completely to the tyrant. There was no warning, little preparation, but they both knew it wouldn't be long until they were found. Time was not on their side, although time had never been.

Chris braced himself; let his mind go blank on him as he was entered, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to quell the cry he would let out. He may have fully submitted himself to Wesker, but he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing that painful cry, one he made not only for the physical pain caused by such a quick intrusion but from the emotional scars he continued to put himself through. If Wesker was a sadist, Chris surly must be a masochist, continually coming back to the older male, mixing hatred with lust in a volatile way that would continually destroy him from the inside out.

'What would Clair think of her dear brother if she knew?'

A whisper across his neck caused Chris to cry out, one hand reaching back to grasp Wesker's leather glad thigh in a painful grip as he tried to steady himself as the tyrant continued to move against him roughly. It wasn't enough for Wesker to physically have the upper hand; he craved that tight hold on every aspect of Chris. Every small detail in Chris' life was known to Wesker. Known, destroyed, and abused.

The thought of how Clair would react to knowing her strong, protective, righteous brother continually submitted to his most hated and feared enemy left the male feeling sick. How would any of his friends react, knowing what he let the man they all fought to destroy, do to him? He could never wash this away; never forget how much he craved this. As Wesker's hand wrapped around his torso, grasping Chris to finish them both off, Chris knew he had fallen into something he could never escape, not until one of them was dead.

Chris climaxed as soon as he let his mind go blank, spilling onto Wesker's hand, with only two words escaping his lips in a silent plea for forgiveness.

'I'm sorry…'

When they had both finished, Wesker would pull away and leave Chris to pick himself up. Pulling his pants back on and doing his belt up, he would let Wesker crush his lips against his own in a lip bruising kiss, a mockery of what lovers do. As he would pull away, Chris would always look into the black glass of Wesker's sunglasses, seeing himself before looking away, a growl escaping his lips. He looked so damn weak, and god damn it, Wesker was revelling in it.

Then the older male would leave, passing off promises of a quick death during their next meeting, one they both knew would be broken if given half the chance. And Chris would collect himself and stay rooted on the spot for a good while until he was ready to move again, ready to become Chris Redfield; former STARS member and loyal friend and brother. The one with the level head and deadly accurate shot, who dared to stand up against the overwhelming odds in order for a safer world.

Because if he didn't, then Wesker will have truly won.

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