"Object of Affections"

Series: Resident Evil

Pairings: One-sided WeskerxChris, One-sided ChrisxClaire, and One-sided-Master/slave WeskerxSteve

Rating: M for mentions of sex, one or two curses and blood and gore.

Warnings: implications of incest, yaoi (gay love), all of the rating's things, character death, death of sanity

Summary: Chris is always the golden boy…always stealing whatever Steve wanted. So Steve will steal something that is much more permanent.

Disclaimers: I do NOT own Resident Evil, or the characters.

Author Notes: This story is extremely messed up. I don't know what possessed me to write this, but I'm glad it did. I liked the idea, and in the end, I loved the story. It was an easy write, and it worked very well for me. P.S. I don't hate Chris. I love him. I just thought that Steve would hate him.

It had been three years. Three, long, fucking years. And the hatred kept rising.

Steven Burnside had been reliving the past years in his new life for the past hour and a half. It always ended with the same result; Christopher Redfield was a leading cause of distress for him. Now, why did the G-mutant think this?

A) Claire, his Claire, was so blatantly obsessed and in love with her brother. He had stolen her from Steve.

B) Chris was the first of two things on Wesker's mind, the other one being power.

Thus, Mister Redfield had effectively created a living Hell for Steve. And he had done it simply by breathing.

Steve's mouth twisted into a sour little smirk.

"At least he's a multi-tasker."

"Burnside, get up. Dress. We're leaving in ten minutes." Wesker's velvet voice said from the other side of the door. Always a boundary between himself and the world.

"Are you having fun?" asked the blonde, a lazy smirk in place.

A long, low moan sounded from the helpless and hapless male under him as rode out the last bit of his orgasm. It was the first time Wesker had slept with Steve, and the junior was so insanely joyous he had almost passed out. Until they had both reached climax.

"Ah! Wessskeer…" he had called, shivering and arching like some schoolgirl at prom.

"Ngh," He was quiet enough that his partner almost missed it. "Chris."

Cold settled in Steve's stomach and it branched out. It was poison in his blood, taking over and killing the joy. It left a freezing hollowness that he could only moan in response to Wesker's question.

No. This was never going to be fun.

Somehow he had done it. He had that Redfield on the floor, glaring up at him. Chris wouldn't cower. Chris never cowered. He would have to be shown.

"What do you want from me?" snarled Redfield. He was high and mighty even when his knife was imbedded in his leg, and his gun was on the other side of the room.

"Pay back." A darkness was in those glowing devil eyes. It was slow burning, like the embers of a fire. "I wonder what they love about you…"

Now fear came into Chris's eyes. Who loved him? What was going on? What had he done to this lackey of Wesker's?

A hand came to grab his wrists with bruising force and held them above his head. Another hand, none too softly, wrenched his head up to look into those devil eyes.

Steve's mouth quite literally crashed against Chris's in a collision of teeth and slowly bruising lips. It wasn't a hungry kiss, nor did it have any sexual tension backing it. It was loathing and hatred. It was pure domination. When he broke the kiss, Chris was breathing like it was his first time doing so.

"I can't see why. You taste revolting." hissed the reptilian mutant, pressing a half-transformed hand on the hollow of Chris' neck. A chuckle sounded deep in Steve when the muscles twitched, flexed, and tried to back away.

Slowly, the clawed hand traced down Redfield's body, cutting open the vest and shirt he wore. Five, faint trails of small blood bubbles oozed into pretty, pinkish lines. It tugged a smile to Steve's face.

Chris started showing fear. Honest to God fear.

Steve knelt, straddling the older man. He effectively pinned him, and the fear only rose.

Your precious Chris is under my control. He fell to me, Steve Burnside. The underdog. The whiney 'emo' kid. He fell to me. He's in my hands.

The red head's lips nipped almost playfully at Chris' neck. The skin protested red and the nips became for forceful.

"I wonder… maybe it's not your kiss they like." A particularly rough nip with a canine brought blood. "Maybe it's your blood…"

A visible shiver passed through Redfield's spine, and it just fed the desires of the junior. The blood-bites were leaving long trails of crimson down his muscled neck, only to be lapped up by Burnside.

"Yes… It's your blood. Your soul in liquid form. Your life force and essence."

Fell to me.

Me.

Are you proud of me, Wesker? Can you see how useful I am, Claire?

Sanity was slipping away with every second. A little closer to the deep end with each crimson kiss upon a pale neck.

Tick.

Tick.

Tock.

"Good bye, Chris. Have a nice time in Hell."

In vampiric fashion, Steve bit down on the windpipe of the man.

Chris struggled now, even if pain surged through his body like lightening.

And Steve let him. There were no holds, beside the teeth embedded in his neck, and no act to stop the now flailing limbs.

With a quick motion, swift and nearly haughty, the flailing stopped. Steve looked at his handy work, ragged and torn clumps of flesh and esophagus hanging limply from his mouth. He smiled around the bloody mess.

See Claire? I can protect you. Say I'm a good boy, Wesker.

I can be better than Chris.

I am better.