A/N; Hey-o! So, I was requested to do this by Shaunti89. She wanted a Wesker x Chris, Resident Evil yaoi, fluffy, sexy, smutty, Valentines Day fic. This is the spawn of a letter that said the words 'smut', 'fluff', and 'Alternate Universe'. And oh dear God was this fun to make…3
Pairing: Wesker x ChrisDisclaimer: Resident Evil is property of Capcom. Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, and Clair Redfield are not mine. Sadly. The plot though, is very much mine.
Warnings: Smut, yaoi, boy on boy, copious amounts of OOC-ness and fluff, Glasses-less! Wesker, and a really bad excuse for an AU plot. :]
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"CHIEF!" A feminine voice squealed and pounded on his office door. "ALBERT!"
Said chief rubbed his temples slowly, already sensing a headache coming. "Come in, Clair." He said. Clair Redfield was the only woman on the police force that still squealed like she was four and she was the only person on the police force that addressed Albert by his first name, instead of 'chief', 'sir', or ''. The door flew open slamming on the opposing wall, making plaques and pictures rattle dangerously.
"I…have news." She had a Cheshire Cat grin on her face.
"I…have a bad feeling." Wesker countered with a smirk. Clair giggled and sauntered over to the police chief's desk. Slamming palms on the table, she looked Albert straight in the eyes. "Do you know what today is? Hunh? Do ya'?" She bounced, using the desk as leverage.
"A Monday?" The blond man offered. The girl crossed her arms and shook her brunette head, sending her ponytail back and forth in a swishing motion. "No stupid!" Clair was also the only person who could insult the chief of police without getting fired or killed. "It's Valentines Day!" She mock pouted, "How could you forget that?"
"I guess I'm just too busy, Redfield."
"Oh, don't start the seriousness with me Al!" She whined. Whenever Wesker used her last name, Clair knew that she was shortly going to be kicked out of his office, or impaled with something sharp. Last time, he had thrown a ballpoint pen at her, which had stabbed her in the eye.
"No Clair, I'm serious. I really need to work. We've had four homicides this week." He stressed the week part, hoping that it would get into her head. The girl just stood there with her arms still crossed and a pout on her usually happy face.
"No Al, I'm serious." Clair drew herself up to her full height and glared down at her commander. "This can't be healthy. You just got over with the downtown gang fight case and now your starting a quadruple homicide case? Overworking yourself isn't good. And Chris is worried about you, you know."
Wesker sighed as the name Chris was mentioned. Chris, Clair's older brother by three years, and Wesker had been an item for a few months. Item, as in boyfriends, if one could call a few brief kisses and long phone conversations a relationship. Chris worked as an author of horror novels, which heavily contrasted Wesker's work schedule. Chris stayed at home typing away most of the time, while Wesker never came home; most of the time. Actually, as Albert thought, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Chris. Two months? Frankly, the two had only seen each other three or four times – face to face – since they began dating.
"He really is, Al." Clair said, snapping Wesker out of his contemplative stupor. She reached into her pants pocket and removed a standard white business envelope. She held it out for her boss, who snatched it up right away. "He told me to give you that," She walked behind the desk and gave Wesker a light peck on the cheek. "And that." She then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and walked out the door as if nothing had just happened. Albert just sat there in his leather chair, shocked.
Was this really what their relationship was coming to? Business envelops and kisses through Clair? Not remembering the last time you had seen your significant other? Making and then breaking promises? Leaving poor Chris at home alone all the time?
"Chris…"Wesker thought ruefully, playing with the envelope in his hands. "Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me…" He then gutted the top of the piece of mail and carefully, albeit hastily, removed the contents. In one hand, the blond man held a folded white piece of paper, and in the other, a pink heart. He looked at both pieces of paper before setting to opening the folded white sheet.
"Dear Al," He read aloud, before reading the rest in his head.
"I heard about you ending the big gang fight. My hero! You weren't even scared for a second, were you? Haha, I wasn't even there and I was scared. They showed the whole fight on CNN. I saw you right in the middle of it, all big and tough looking. The thugs probably got one look at you and then hightailed it out of there! And all the city gave you after all of that was a dumb (and no offence, ugly) plaque. They should have built you a statue or something!
Wesker looked up from the letter and locked eyes onto the ugly, vomit colored memento. He chucked and then returned to the letter. Chris always liked to blow things out of proportion to better suit Wesker and, what his boyfriend liked to call, his god-like personality.
Really though, with all triviality aside, how are things at the station?
Clair told me that you're locked up in your office 24/7 working on a new case. I have a feeling that you heard this from Clair but I'm going to tell you too; staying in there for too long isn't good. You need to get out of there every once and a while, even if it's just to go get some coffee. Oh boy, now I probably sound like your mother or something…
So anyways, I can't wait for you to come home! When you do, I'll make you you're favorite dish! Swear! I have to learn how to cook first though…Ha!
Albert's eyes widened and a falling sensation overwhelmed his stomach area. He read the same line again. I have to learn how to cook first though…What had Chris been surviving on without Wesker's cooking abilities for the past two weeks? Microwave-able dinners? Carryout? Oh god…this was just another thing to add onto Wesker's never-ending guilt list. With much force, he finished the letter.
Right…so…happy Valentines Day!
Come Home Soon,
Chris
Weird spots dotted the paper around Chris's signature and it only took Wesker a matter of seconds to figure out what they were; tearstains. Now, Albert wanted to cry. This was horrible, the pain he was probably putting Chris through. And he tried so hard to be positive about it too, which actually made Wesker feel even worse. He set down the letter and picked up the homemade pink heart.
Opening the Valentine, the blond read the four short lines orally.
"Roses are Red,
Though violets aren't blue,
Albert Wesker,
I'll always love you."
Just then, those four lines triggered something in Albert Wesker's brain. Standing, the chief of police nearly bolted out of his office, his chair toppling over behind him. Papers were set aloft by the wind currents and then swirled, much like a tornado, until they touched down on the hard stone tiled ground. Albert didn't care though; he could always pick up his office later.
He ran as fast as he could, passing Clair as he went. Though the chief's action's bewildered all who saw the frantic man, Clair merely smirked in satisfaction.
Her brother always knew how to make them come running. Now, if only she could learn how to do that…
"It could be ten, but then again, I can't remember half an hour since a quarter to four.
Throw on your clothes, the second side of Surfer Rosa, and you leave me with my jaw on the floor. Hey!" Chris sang out as he waited for the microwave to ding, signaling that his Hot Pocket was ready. He really hated Hot Pockets, but seeing as though the cook of the house was always missing, he just had to suck it up for the time being.
"Just when you think you're in control, just when you think you've got a hold, just when you get on a roll, Oh here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again!" He continued on. He spun quite theatrically and grabbed a wooden ladle that was lying, unused, in a steel canister. He held it up to his mouth as a makeshift microphone and began to belt the lyrics to the song louder than needed.
"Oh, here it goes again! I should have known, should have known, should have known again, but here it goes again. Oh, here it goes again!" The microwave buzz dully in the background, but Chris paid it no mind. Wesker had told him a few times before that he had a beautiful voice and he had sung quiet often to impress his blond haired boyfriend. Now, he just sung so that his voice didn't get rusty. He wanted to sing again for Albert sometime.
"It starts out easy, something simple, something sleazy, something inching past the edge of reserve. Now through the lines of the cheap Venetian blinds your car is pulling off of the curb. Hey!" He grabbed another spoon, this one a contrast to the wood – silver, and began pounding out the drum parts on the marble kitchen island. "Just when you think you're in control, just when you think you've got a hold, just when you get on a roll, oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again."
Not only was he oblivious to the microwave – it beeped again at the man as a reminder that his food was done – his front door as well opened. His back was to the door, so not only did he not hear the door, he couldn't see who was coming in. "I should have known, should have known, should have known again, but here it goes again." The stranger's footsteps halted for a brief moment, not that Chris could hear it, and then resumed, with a destination of the kitchen.
"Oh, here it goes. Oh, here it goes." Chris tapped on the microwave with the spoons and refused to open it, even as it distastefully beeped at him. " Oh, here it goes again. Oh, here it -" Chris halted in mid-song and dropped the spoons. They clattered on the floor, which echoed all throughout the virtually empty house, even in the rafters. The brunette haired man's eyes widened and his breath hitched. The microwave beeped in satisfaction at Chris. "goes again…" He finished.
A chuckle. Then, "Showboating again?" A voice whispered in Chris's ear. The novelist gasped and spun around, only to be face to face with…
"You…You're…" The man whispered. He tried. He had rehearsed this moment over and over again in his mind but none of them involved him being an emotional wreck. Something inside Chris snapped, and then suddenly, couldn't hold it anymore. Tears spilled out of the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. He smiled and sobbed at the same time, which was a weird experience for Albert. "You're home…really home…" The smaller brunette wrapped his arms around his blonde's neck. Wesker responded by almost vice-gripping his boyfriend's small hips.
"I'm home, I'm home." He comforted, resting his chin on Chris's head. The two stood like in the kitchen, just like that for almost an eternity. The small author shook slightly as a violent sob hit him; Wesker just clutched the man tighter, if that was physically possible. Chris was the one to break the contact first. He pulled off, and with a shy smile, leaned up to kiss the blond on the lips. Wesker relished in the fast that he had such a forgiving mate, and then deepened the kiss. He dragged his tongue along Chris's bottom lip, begging to be let in. The writer obeyed and opened his mouth, allowing his self to be dominated. An idea lit up in Wesker's brain, and as Chris began to pull away from the kiss, the police chief pulled his tongue out of his mouth and began to lick away the author's tears.
"A-Albert!" Chris gasped out. The blond then nipped his way down from the cheek onto the petite man's neck and collarbone area. The gasp then turned into a lust filled moan and soon, Chris was whining for more. "Oh…Gods…" It was helpful that Chris had decided to wear one of Wesker's sweatshirts, which hung very loosely off of his body – perfect attire for doing thing like this. Albert smirked against tan skin and then bit down softly on the junction between Chris's neck and shoulder bone. Chris gasped and spluttered.
"S-stop." The smaller man begged and pushed away.
The blond grudgingly pulled away and looked at the brunette, who was heavily flushed in the face. It took every single ounce of self-control to not pounce back onto his sexy, innocent looking lover.
"Food…" Chris panted out. "Are you hungry? I said I would cook for you…and it's late…" The man recomposed his appearance, thought the blush was still present on his face. "You really like rigatoni, don't you?" Chris said, casually leaning back on the counter. He placed his hands behind himself and looked up at his carnivorous boyfriend.
"Hmm…" Wesker took a small step forward, till there was no more space between the cop and the novelist. "That sounds great, but you sound even better right now…" He whispered in a cheesy manner, his lips hovering over the brunette's, toying with his patience. They had never done 'it' before (Chris was still a virgin) and for Wesker to even hint at it was forcing a giant step in their relationship to be taken. Chris sniveled pitifully, and did not object as Wesker kissed him again. One kiss turned into another, then another, then another, then another, then another, until Chris lost all willpower to hold himself out.
"Fuck me, then." He said hoarsely, yet sternly.
Wesker stopped his senseless kissing, "Are you sure?" He breathed out.
"No…I'm not." Chris said sincerely. The brunette's lusted over eyes gazed longingly at the police chief. The author bit his lip. "Make me sure though, Albert." He said, innocently lacing his fingers through Wesker's belt loops and tugging on his pants. He stood on his tiptoes and got close to the blonde's ear. "Make me…" He licked the rim of his lover's appendage, "Yours…" He whispered and made a 'pop'-ing sound with his mouth. Albert shuttered and moaned softly.
"As you wish, love." He hummed back.
Chris unwound his fingers from the belt loops and gently pushed off Wesker's signature leather trench coat. Then, he attacked the buttons on Albert's dress shirt with a ruthless vigor. The atmosphere seemed to heat up as Wesker played with the hem of the maroon and golden sweatshirt and left a deep purple hickey on Chris's collarbone. The brunette moaned and then suddenly found himself shirtless in his kitchen. Pants and boxers were next stripped off of his body, leaving the novelist nude and sporting a throbbing erection. He looked at Albert and whimpered in embarrassment, his face heating up and turning a fiery red. Dropping to his knees, he curled his arms around his mid-section and covered his member with his legs. Shocked, Albert rid himself of his shirt and bent down to Chris's level.
"I…I can't. I can't do this…I can't." He rocked himself back and forth. The brunette felt like he was going to cry again; this time from nervousness and embarrassment.
Albert petted his mate's head and shushed him. "You're beautiful. You really are, Christopher. Don't hide yourself from me. Please." He wrapped his arms around the shaking wreck of a writer and held him tightly. Chris responded by drawing his arms up onto the cop's neck and death gripping it.
"Don't leave me…" Chris said in a voice that was barely audible.
"Never." Wesker promised. "Here…wait a second…" He pulled away briefly, only to undo his black belt and pull off none other than black pants. He then pulled off red boxers and white socks and tossed them carelessly to the wayside. "There, now, you have nothing to be ashamed of." Wesker said casually, rewrapping his arms around his smaller beau. Chris blushed deeper and lightly giggled. "Really now…" He stated.
"Really." Wesker said, and began lining up a trail of kisses down the writer's chest. Chris moaned with a newfound enthusiasm and tangled his fingers in Albert's hair. "Oh…" He mewed, driving his lover crazy with lust. Albert paused, "So much for cold feet…" He grinned against Chris's abdomen.
"Luh…less talking, more kissing!" Chris cried out, his erection now becoming hot and painful. "PLEASE!" He begged.
The horror author's wish was granted as Wesker grinded his cock against Chris's, making the shorter of the two see stars. "Ah!" He screamed, temporarily blinded by pleasure. The blond, taking advantage of his lover's pleasure induced blindness, placed his back on the kitchen tile. Chris arched away from the unwelcome coldness that radiated from the tiles, but as Wesker grinded into his cock again, he forgot all about temperature. Hell, he almost forgot his own name.
"Muh…MORE!" The novelist yelped.
Wesker grinned like a madman and shoved his fingers in Chris's face. "Suck." He commanded. Not needing to be told twice, the brunette opened his tiny mouth and sucked on the fingers slowly. Sexily. Tantalizingly. Chris swirled his tongue around the fingers and slurped away on the digits. Albert moaned and wistfully removed them.
"It's not to late to back out, Chris."
"No, I wanna back out, now that I'm horny and butt naked on my – excuse me our – kitchen floor."
Wesker lifted Chris's left leg up and slammed a finger in. The blue-eyed brunette screamed out in ecstasy, his eyes almost popping out of his head. "Any snide remarks now, Christopher?"
"Not…Christopher…" He managed to mewl out. "Chris…"
"Ah…I see…"
Albert wiggled his finger back and forth inside of the smaller man's butt hole. When the ring of muscles loosened a tad, Wesker added another, to Chris's glee. Then another, a third, until the ring of muscles felt loose enough to slip into.
"Cooking Oil…" Wesker choked out. "Where is it?"
Chris was so far into a lust filled stupor that he muttered something unbelievably bold, "Take me without it…Dry…" He begged. "I want to FEEL you, please…"
"That I will have to deny you, love."
"Fine…" The author said grudgingly. He whined as Albert pulled his fingers out and stood on shaky legs. Stumbling across the kitchen, he nearly sprinted to the pantry where he threw open the door and glanced at the items inside. Baking soda? No. Corn Starch? No. Captain Crunch? No. Syrup? No…wait, YES! Albert snatched up the bottle and hastily applied it to his pulsating cock. He threw the bottle onto the floor and flew back to Chris, who was cracking under lack of touch.
"Albert…" He bleated. He held his arms out in an infantile manner, as if expecting to be picked up. Wesker lowered himself to the floor and allowed Chris to wrap his arms around his neck. "I need you so badly…" He cried, pre-cum leaking out of his penis's head.
"This is going to hurt." Wesker warned.
Chris's member twitched painfully. "I DON'T CARE!" He shrieked. "I NEED YOU! GIVE IT TO ME!"
He lifted Chris up off the ground softly, the man was quite light, and then lowered his ass onto Wesker's hips. As the tip of the blond man's dick infiltrated the author's body, he writhed and Wesker shuddered. Chris was so tight…So…GOOD. "Oh gods…Chris…"
Another whimper passed unchecked from Chris's mouth. Pain and pleasure hit the brunette like bullets, the former of the two being the dominant one. "Hurts…" Chris sniffed, tears softly running down his face. He nuzzled his nose into Albert's neck and he halted. The two sat there, in the kitchen, panting like dogs in the heat with red, flushed faces. "Okay…" Chris moved his hips slightly. "Go…" He ushered.
And Wesker went. He pulled out slowly with Chris riding his length to the very tip, then pushed back into the writer, producing a lust filled moan. "Yes!" Wesker hissed euphorically. The syrup made Wesker go slower than what he would have liked, but the feeling that overwhelmed the police man was…amazing, to say the least.
"Nngh…Faster!" Chris wailed in pleasure. The brunette dug his fingernails into Wesker's back, to the point where they drew blood out of little crescent marks. The blond obeyed and slammed into the smaller man at a near sporadic speed.
An animalistic cry left Chris's lips and immediately, Wesker knew that he had found what he was looking for; Chris's prostate. "OH MY GOD!" He panted harshly. "Again…Again..." He mewled. Sweat slicked the two men and made holding on to, hard to do. Yet, Albert held fast to the author and slammed into his body again and again, earning sweet melodious sounds.
"Al…" Chris tightened his hold on the man's neck. "I-I…need…" His sexed up mind couldn't create a proper sentence, but Albert was intelligent enough to fill in the blanks. But even still, he felt like making this memorable by teasing the man. He stopped in his motions and looked at his mate.
"You need to what, Christopher?" He feigned innocently. "I can't understand you if you don't speak properly."
"Kuh-Cum…" The brunette whimpered into the blonde's chest. "I need to…"
"What was that? It was rather muffled…I couldn't understand it." Albert continued on with his little game. Chris shook violently and bit Wesker's nipple, making the cop yelp.
"I NEED TO CUM YOU ASSHOLE!" He shrieked.
Taken aback by Chris outburst (for Chris was a quiet and polite man), Wesker thrust hard into the man's prostate. The writer moaned loudly as the flaxen haired man wrapped his hand around his cock and fisted it. In mere seconds, the brunette found himself woozy and ejaculating onto his lover's stomach. As Chris came, his taut hole tightened around Albert's length. The heat and the soft cooing sounds his beau was making on his high was enough to drive the man over the edge, and with one last thrust, he spilled his seed into Chris's hole and filled him up completely.
Like a mutt, Wesker panted as he removed his dick from his mate. Chris fell limp in the cop's arms as he pulled out. The couple sat there, Wesker with his back to a cupboard and Chris lying exhausted in his arms, catching their breath. Albert gently pulled his boy's arms off from around his neck and placed them on each of his sides. Chris made no effort to move at all, just content with watching with glazed over eyes and a horrendous blush plastered to his face. The practical epitome of sexiness.
"Th-Thank you…" Chris smiled wearily, his eyes half-mast.
Wesker smirked at his worn-out boyfriend, "Happy Valentines Day…Baby…" He kissed Chris's temple and calmly rocked the brunette back and forth, and back and forth. The motions were enough to lull Chris into a deep slumber, with a smile still present on his face.
Now deciding that he was able to sleep, now that Chris was asleep, Wesker shut his golden eyes. The novelist's smile was contagious, for he too fell sound asleep with a smile on his face. Albert had a feeling that next Valentines Day would be even better.
Faintly, before sweet dreams caressed Wesker's mind, the microwave beeped in annoyance.
The Hot Pocket was now cold.
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A/N; I can now die happy. Nine pages – almost ten! – (My longest fic yet!) and it was all typed within 48 hours! The whole reason that this wasn't uploaded on Valentines Day was that Shaunti89 wanted her fic posted as soon as it was done. How's over 4,000 words for ya'? Oh yeah, and the song that Chris was singing earlier on in the story was
Here it goes again by Ok Go.
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