(This is my first story(at least with this pairing ._.) be easy on me. I also don't own these characters. Rated M for a reason. Will write more if people right more. Reviews are always nice~.
If you're confused, it's way after the action happened. The city is settling down, and there aren't that much crazy unhuman/abnormal like things wandering on Earth. Piers was fixed somehow, and isn't a b.o.w anymore. He returns and stuff, and yepyep.)
Heart hammering—the B.S.A.A captain awakes. Chris Redfield's eyes slowly flutter open and he blinks up at his ceiling through dark lashes. The soldier sits up after a few seconds of staring blankly at the ceiling, and looks around. The man moans quietly, putting a hand to his forehead. An intense headache came right in time—ruining his morning. He barely remembered what happened the night before—or how he got into this bed. The man only remembered drinking, a lot. He groans low in his throat then tries to get over his hang over. Chris closes his eyes.
"Mm, Captain," Says a tired voice beside him.
The man's eyes open quickly. The blood from Chris' face drains completely as he slowly cranes his head to the side, to see one of his fellow B.S.A.A members, lying beside him, stomach and chest exposed, blanket covering his lower portion.
"Piers?" Chris' voice was small.
The boy smiles, until that peaceful expression changes off his face as if he realizes something, and he jumps out of bed, almost falling to the floor, but catching himself in time.
"Holy—Captain! Why are you in my bed? How did you get here? And why the hell are you half naked!?"
Chris slides out of bed, trying to keep his cool and trying to keep himself looking calm and acts as if he wasn't sleeping half naked next to Piers Nivans—one of his soldiers—who was a B.O.W at one point—a young man—his subordinate.
"Listen, Nivans," Chris' eyebrows furrow and he rubs his forehead, "I'm as confused as you are. But for the sake of the B.S.A.A—"
"For the sake of my sanity, Captain, you better tell me what the hell happened last night to me!" The young soldier's heart is hammering in his ears, and he could barely think straight, "Please, Chris, just… tell me."
"I don't know!"
Piers grabs Chris' shoulders and shakes him roughly, "God damn it! Tell me!"
"I said, I don't know!"
"Captain."
"What?"
"Remember. Now."
The man blinks and tries to remember, and successfully he does.
"Another round!" Chris laughed loudly, and smirked at the bartender—who he remembered he threw liquor before being back in the B.S.A.A.
"C-Captain," Piers slurred, "I-I think I'm drunk." He laughed like a child. He placed his hand on the other's shoulder.
"You know, Piers, y-you're a great soldier," Chris praised the male and there was also a slur in his voice.
"Thanks," He said with a big smile.
Chris dropped his glass and looks down at Piers who looked at the male in confusion.
"Let's go to your room, and talk about some stuff—like our next mission." Chris said. Piers gave a small nod and followed the older man.
They arrived in their room, but within seconds, the soldiers were suddenly all over each other, caressing, embracing, and rubbing. Chris' hands grabbed a handful of the younger male's brunette hair, causing him to draw out a quiet, but audible moan. His lips continue to travel down from his lips to his neck, and lower at the exposed flesh of the male's v-neck.
"Captain," the word fell beautifully out of his lips, and Chris growled low in his throat, unable to control the rage of lust now surging through him.
"Damn it, Piers," Chris' angrily pushes the males back against a near by bed.
"I remember something," Chris says quietly, his face red, feeling heat rise through his body. He suddenly felt very aroused at the little piece of the flashback he had gotten. 'Damn it, Chris. Get yourself together.'
Piers looks around for his clothing, looking at his watch frantically, and then looks up at Chris as he throws on his jeans. Chris' eyes immediately wander over the sun kissed skin, and his abs. They were unrealistically defined. He swallows, and repeats himself, his voice loud and clear.
"I remember a slight thing, Piers," He says, now looking for his clothing.
"It'd be nice if you can tell me, sir," He says, his voice now professional-like it usually is.
"Well, we drank, a lot. I-I then just asked if you wanted to speak of our missions in your room. You said yes, then, we just sort of started making out and doing... that."
"That?" Piers eyes widened. "I had sex with a soldier, fuck." He whispered to himself.
"What time is it?" Chris asked, impatiently, trying to just get over the subject, but the paranoid soldier in his bedroom kept him from doing so.
"9:28, the morning, sir. In about two minutes, the men will be downstairs, eating breakfast. We have enough time to-" Piers looked him up and down, and bit his lip, "get dressed."
The two men hurriedly put on their clothing and boots and rushed down stairs.
Piers eyes widened when his attention fell on his captain's neck. There was a pink and red mark, pretty noticeable, just plastered on the side. He pointed it out and asked how he could cover it up, and Chris noted that he also had a few marks on his neck.
'God, damn,' Chris thinks while making a face. "Let's ignore it," He says, "Pretend it's not there. Act as if nothing happened last night either."
Piers blinked his hazel eyes.
"That's an order, Piers." Chris warns, and the younger male bites his lip while rubbing his neck.
"Yes, sir." He finally confirms.
After eating, the group decides to go and do anything fitness-related. Some men jog, some men do some lifting, some boxing. Chris decides to go on a jog to get his mind straight, while Piers was doing some lifting, doing the same as Chris was-trying to get his mind straight.
The younger soldier, when done, decides to go for a shower, but bumps into a shirtless, sweaty Chris, who had been doing the same.
'How cliché,'
Piers thinks, irritated. "Sorry, captain."
Chris rolls his eyes and walks past him, but turns in an other door way.
"Piers, I'm sorry for last night, we were just really..."
"Drunk." He finishes, still watching.
Chris laughs and nods, "That, and, well, uh, I don't know." He runs a hand through his messy hair.
"Me neither, Captain." Piers agrees, leaning against a wall. It's empty in the small hall, and the tensions between them rises.
Chris keeps quiet, "Well, I-I'll see you later, then, soldier." He gives a nod, and was about to turn but Piers chases after him, unsure of what to say. He grabs Chris' arms and spins him, realizing his face is about 3 inches away from each other.
Chris' eyes go wide and he stares into his eyes, unsure what to do in such an awkward situation.
Piers looks at the man's lips, and he licks his own, suddenly craving to kiss him.
'Oh no.' He thinks, in shock. No, he couldn't want to do such a thing! He was sober! And straight, he knew for sure. He had plenty women, no doubt, but why is it that suddenly after a drunken night he felt unbelievably attracted to him? Piers gulps, and remembers. When he had first really spoke to Chris, he found him attractive. But in a manly, brotherly way. Not in a homosexual way-ever.
His mind went blank, and he leans in.
Chris does the same as his mind just shuts down. Their lips touch for around two seconds until they hear footsteps.
They pull away before they can get carried away, and both of their faces are pale.
What the hell, Piers? He wanted to just melt into the ground and leave from his sight. He was just a wreck.
"I-I'm just going to uh, go, Captain.. I-I'll talk to you-later." Piers voice was shaky a bit. Chris couldn't even speak, so he just nodded at the brunette and they went their separate ways.
Chris arrived in his room and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark, he had hickeys, his hair was messy. He scowled at himself and pushed Piers out of his mind, and lay down in bed.
Yet, he failed, and he bit his lip.
He tries to rest, but he can't stop thinking of the incident, what happened the night before and so on.
Suddenly, his door creaked open, and he sat up, confused. He thought he'd locked it. Apparently not, since some kid was barging in like it was some type of party. That was a number one pet peeve. The man barely had privacy, especially when he went to try to sleep.
"Listen, here-"
The silhouette walked in closer.
"God damn it, I want you." Says a voice.
Piers.