Disclaimer: Resident Evil and Resident Evil characters are the property of Capcom. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

Warnings: Slash, yaoi, m/m. M-rated.

Pairing: Chris/Piers

Mood music: Lana Del Rey – Blue Jeans. The characters are slightly more hostile than they usually are in my fics, but it's just play.

We Own the Night

by Salysha

With the debriefing over, the office cleared. Get some sleep. We leave in the morning.

Piers hung around until he was the only one left. Chris was moving about, inspecting papers, shuffling around. Piers fixated on him silently, but eventually made to leave.

A hand against the wall barred his path. He lifted his gaze and met Chris' eyes steadily. They were staring at each other, Chris' eyes moist and shiny. Piers', without expression. Piers stayed in place as Chris tilted his head and closed his lips on Piers'. Barely shaving, the touch was feathery light. "Come tonight?"

Chris removed his hand, letting Piers go after they shared a look.

Piers stood outside Chris' quarters, about to knock. It was the final night before leaving on a mission, and they were staying at the base. He was still in uniform. If someone saw him and took interest in where he was going at this hour, he could make it look like he needed to see the captain on official business.

Chris answered the door with his shirt open, like he had been about to turn in, and motioned Piers to enter. Piers followed him to the room, straight-backed, camo and tactical gear in place like he was ready to jump into the field any time. Chris gave him an inscrutable look, and then he was pushing Piers back, grinding them together.

"What're you in the mood for?"

Piers grabbed his bulge and looked straight at him.

"Candid," Chris murmured, without breaking stride. As they closed into a tighter space between themselves, Piers pushed up one foot at a time and hooked his legs around Chris. Chris' hands slid down and under his ass, lifting him up. Grinding them together, gazes never faltering except for the quick curve of his mouth, Chris leaned in and closed his lips on Piers'.

Their lips still hadn't come apart, and Piers was still dry-riding his lap, when Chris unhooked a hand and brought it to the back of Piers' head as he continued holding Piers up.

On one hand. Jesus.

Chris let him land on the ground. His hand glided over his backside and rested at the base of his spine. They were so close, their chests were touching, circling each other. It was almost like a slow dance.

"Time for bed."

"That's corny, Chris."

"You complainin'?"

No, he wasn't complaining. He'd waited for an invitation to Chris' bed long before it had actually happened. He still gave up taking the initiative because Chris was far more uncomfortable with this. Piers strolled to the bed, stretching languidly. He started pulling his clothes off: loosening the straps, pulling the zips down. He was pushing Chris, but he could see the change now: Chris had figured out his game. Chris came after him and nailed him down.

Aggressive, wanting. Strong. That was Chris now. He grabbed Piers' wrist and stilled him. He gave a dark, smoldering look, which Piers met fearlessly.

"A little demanding?"

Piers stared up. "Yeah, Chris."

Chris stared back at him.

Piers saw the change: the slight tinge of amusement when Chris let go and trapped him beneath his arm, rocking against him gently. The bad boy image really didn't sit on Chris. Chris was good. Chris grabbed his face and kissed him. Piers welcomed his advances, unaware how he was mellowing out, melding to Chris' rhythm, running his fingers along Chris' back, pressing closer.

Inadvertently, he was starting to splay his legs, lift them to run along Chris' sides. Preparing.

Chris' actions had softened. Piers was reaching out for Chris and pushing his pants off. Chris had stayed on his lips, which sent Piers shivering in anticipation whether Chris would do his favorite and move to his neck. Chris rewarded him soon, holding his jaw as he nibbled a line below his ear. Chris adjusted position and palmed Piers' front. Piers lost focus for a moment, and Chris sneaked a hand to his fly.

Piers was wearing black boxer briefs. They had filled up nicely.

Mouth on Piers, Chris was dangling with skimming his waist until he sneaked a hand in. He found a nice, thick length there. A patch of hair and a tight sack.

Chris cupped and doted on his prize. He curved his lips and pecked Piers' lips, but Piers was already grabbing his head, pushing his mouth on it aggressively. Chris' lips curved into a smile. He ran a hand over the thickened length.

Piers took a little rolling in a tight space before he ended up on hands and knees on the bed, glancing challenge back at Chris, who snorted and showed a white row of teeth.

But instead of going for the aggressive, Chris caressed a hand along his back and pressed close. Piers dropped on his elbows.

"Relax," Chris said in that full voice that sent shivers up his spine. He'd have scoffed if he'd found the strength. Chris' fingers were touching along his backside, slipping too close for comfort intermittently. The advice was good, though, so he took it reluctantly. Chris was working to get him comfortable, get used to the feeling, more accepting. Chris reached around him to tug at his dick and then returned to his backside. The relaxation he'd managed to muster was replaced with nerves, and Piers cursed to himself.

Chris pressed a palm on his lower back as he worked himself in. Piers gritted his teeth and stood to accept, which turned out to be a strain, even when it hadn't been without prep, even when Chris had been generous with the slippery stuff. They worked the tight fit in silence until Piers felt Chris' thighs against his. The full feeling abated somewhat, and the next thing, Piers felt warmth along his back. "Shhh." Chris' breath fanned his cheek. Then, he felt a kiss behind his ear. Piers shivered.

Chris slipped an exploring hand under him, petting down his chest and stomach and giving him an affectionate squeeze. As Chris straightened up and carefully pushed them into a rhythm, Piers stood to bite back a groan. His breath was heavy, and the flip of his hair brushed the bed as he glanced at the furious swing of his dick under Chris' thrusts that only abated when Chris pulled out.

"Come on; go on your back, Piers."

Piers didn't respond right away.

"You all right?"

"Yeah," Piers said, slightly out of it, as Chris fluently flipped him over. His legs flung carelessly spread-eagled as Chris ran his lips along his shoulder, grazing with his teeth lightly, in a friendly way. Chris waited for him to catch up.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Now Chris was stealing a kiss, but he lowered himself on Piers' chest. It left them free to mouth and share proximity. It was intense, and Piers' prostate was getting that much more attention now. He could reach a build-up that left them both catching breath. Chris rested his forehead on Piers' when he pulled out, pressing a heated palm on Piers' stomach when he went to clean up. Piers followed soon after on shaky legs, took a moment to use the shower.

Piers came back and started plucking his clothes. Chris watched him from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

Piers dipped a smile.

"I should get back."

"Stay. Stay." He said please without saying the word.

He couldn't refuse Chris. Piers made his way to bed and accepted the invitation when Chris held the covers up for him. They usually didn't indulge, but the luxury felt well-deserved now; they were shipping out in the morning. Piers rested close by, in camaraderie. Chris pressed against his side. His bare arm was a comforting weight on Piers' chest. It tickled and warmed at the same time. "Don't skip out in the morning. I want to see you."

Chris' low tone reached Piers, who couldn't help the excited hum it brought in his stomach. Piers made a small noise as closed his eyes, felt the arm wrap tighter around him, and sank into warmth.

THE END

Million thanks to Gypsie (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!

Published November 27, 2013.