Category: Resident Evil
Title: An Inconsequential Relationship
Author: fan_fic_writer_uk
Email: fan_fic_writer_uk@yahoo.co.uk
fan_fic_writer_uk@msn.com
Rating: PG-13 (rating might change depending on how *steamy* it gets rofl)
Language: English
Disclaimer- Don't own RE (I'm sure you needed THAT cleared up)
A/n Hey all, it's me again, back after a bit of a break with yet another angsty/romance/drama style fic lol. Well in case the summary wasn't quite clear enough this is yaoi... and I'm sure if you've slightly more than glanced at the world of fan fiction you'd know what that is and what it entails. Basically it involves Chris and Wesker and a night of passion devoid of any consequences... at least that's to be the idea for both parties piece of minds. Read on if you will lol.
Chapter One: The End is Only the Beginning, Part One (Weskers POV)
***
I'm the first to wake, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Always was an early riser, and being a Tyrant means you don't need sleep at all, still it doesn't stop making it a pleasurable experience. It's the thing you do after a night of passion after all, one enjoyable event to follow another. Well to call sleeping with him enjoyable doesn't begin to do it justice, not at all but there's not a word that could possibly embody it all. I guess superficially it sounds surprising; Chris Redfield and Albert Wesker, but under a closer examination it certainly isn't. It is after all what I've wanted, what we've both desired, need even, for a long time. This insatiable hunger we've both had needed to be quenched, explored, felt... even if it could only be for one time, one time only. I'd give anything and everything to repeat or prolong this, and I think that maybe he would too, but I, we can't for a very obvious reason. We're two very different people, not to mention sworn enemies; one of us chose the easy path of evil, the other the long hard road of good, one chose to fight, the other to fall. We couldn't carry this on past now, we couldn't have a relationship, we'd just end up destroying the other, and even I'm not selfish enough to sacrifice that.
Of course thinking about him automatically draws my eyes to him from the vacant space they were absent mindedly gazing into. Instantly as I look upon him doubt over the words I've only just spoken weave expertly into my mind. My resolve begins to lessen as the thoughts I dare to even acknowledge suddenly become the only things I can think about. Seeing him before me like this I can almost accept a reality where we're together, him and me, me and him, friends and lovers... a pretty picture it paints. But those few words alone, 'friends and lovers' snaps me out of this dangerous little daydream I'm creating. Before I even woke a few moments ago I'd already made up my mind, we can't be together and that's that. We're wrong for each other; there might be a sexual attraction, but something more? I can't see him wanting me, loving me like that and I can't see me able to give him that love back even if he could, even if he does. What am I saying though? I talk about the mere chance of love but we still detest, loathe each other for our past deeds, and that is confirmed on my part by both my urges to kiss and to kill him even now. No this moment is perfect, I'm not going to over-shadow it with impossible ideas, my life is full of too much hate and coldness, I want to have one moment of 'complete' happiness, just one moment. A time and a place where Albert Wesker drops all façades and barriers and allows himself to be 'real', to be able to be hurt in the most painful of ways. Allows himself to ravage and be ravaged in the most obscene but pleasurable of ways. To love and even be loved in return (even if it only amounts to the sexual love that is lust). No I want this to be a blissful memory not a torturing one, it needs to be, has to be. or I won't survive past beyond it.
Still deciding not to dream impossible dreams doesn't stop me from locking my eyes upon him, and I do need to look. I need to look to remember this, savouring the memory of it will be the only thing that will keep me sane, and keep me away from him. This, this encounter however much loved by me is unrepeatable and inconsequential, it's a one off, something that shouldn't have happened but did, it won't happen again so I must engrave it into my mind however painful it might be. And that's why I notice even the small things that make up this picture perfect; the way our shirt buttons are speckled all over the titled floor around this creaky bed, the two small mountains our clothe piles form, seemingly forever creased at both sides of the bed, the odd aroma that the candles give off at their pinnacle points around the room, the heaven that is the semi darkness that they also bring to it, even the faint scent of sexual passion that lingers in the air doesn't escape me or my heightened senses. However of course none of this means anything without the focal point of this room, at least the focal for me, my lover. God even now, I'm drawn to him and his beauty, even after 'having' him, so as to speak completely coarsely and bluntly. I'm totally infatuated and perplexed by this enigmatic Adonis before me, I don't want to give him, this up, but I know I have to. so I'll just take him in visually one last time and be gone.
It's not like I need to however, I can intensely remember practically everything from last night, there's a difference though. His hair that I snaked my hands through so often now lies a bit ruffled but still. Those eyes that sparkled with lust are now softly closed flickering as beautifully as the candle light. Those lips that met my body so many times last night are now loosely closed and scowled slightly, giving an impression of concentration on his flawless face. His chest which was barely able to get enough air to stay conscious last night is now rising in the slow steady breaths of those in the midst of sleep. It's certainly a difference but it's perhaps even more beautiful at least to me. His seductive jaw line completes the perfect face before me with its silent cry for my lips, indeed the only very slight blot on his face is the scar on his left cheek that I caused earlier. Of course it's not just his face that it is beautiful, it's everything below it as well, and of course I look at that too. His neck also seems to beg for lip contact as it protrudes craning towards my face from where his head is resting upon my chest and shoulder, and I surprise even myself with the protective arm I've cast over his warm torso. My arm lies over his heart and I can feel the beat of it pass through both our thin layers of flesh, so that I'm sharing it with him and it almost feels as if we're one. Casting my eyes further down his body I see one of the nipples I earnestly teased only hours ago and his very taunt and sexy athletic chest muscles that were worked for both our pleasures last night. Averting them now down to his stomach, I'm caught on the line of fine hair that forms a treasure trail from it, a dusting of hair that is only cut off by the blanket half covering our waists and the (as I already know) nudeness them below. I won't remove the blanket for I saw more of what it covers than I could possibly forget; anyway this is remembrance and beauty not for sexual pleasure.
So that's him, that's my lover, that's Chris. Lying cradled into me, both a wonderful sight and feeling. too bad as I already know it has to end. I've already mentally gone through this though. so there's no point in debating or prolonging this, it'd just be an agony. So I 'detach' myself from him, gently pulling myself out from underneath him and directing his head with unpractised delicateness onto the mattress beneath. It worries me slightly that he'll wake up now especially as we are entwined so closely; I wouldn't know what to say if he did. When he groans slightly I almost jump out of my skin, but it's just the motions of sleep he's going through, still my pulse believe otherwise. Finally when I'm unfortunately free of the body that is Chris Redfield's I make a move for my clothes and that is a half- deliberately long and arduous affair. It has entered my head to write him a letter with the supplies in this room, but I know both that it would make this event become 'something' and it would not be expected as it isn't my style at all, so I dismiss it. Whilst sorting through the clothes ironically the offending handgun from earlier is unveiled and I immediately clutch out at my shoulder expecting to wince due to the damage it has caused, but I feel nothing, Tyrants heal quickly after all. So after dressing I'm ready to go but of course I try to make my presence last just a little longer by going as slow as I can, double checking and that. however there's a limit to how slow u can be. Walking to the door is the difficult part, knowing I'm leaving him, this behind and treating it like a one-night stand hurts much more than I thought it would, I can't detach myself from my feelings I guess. wasn't even aware I really had any emotions, just hate and physical pain. I know though that this is far from a mindless fuck, it's something that will never leave me. On opening the door I'm of course unable to leave it without the last look I know I shouldn't do, however I surrender to the irresistible need and wish even more that I hadn't. For I'll always remember leaving a sleeping Chris Redfield with stinging moistened eyes.
*** A/n Well that was chapter one as they say. Just thought I'd take the opportunity to tell you how I'm going to set this out here. Well firstly next chapter I'm going to do Chris's POV next chapter, then after that I'm going to go right back to the beginning and explain how they came to end up together (and a couple of other things like Weskers gun-shot wound, etc) then after a trillion chapters on that I might get around to writing and aftermath few chapters. to see if they end up together lol.
Well feel free to tell me what you think anyway, let's hope I did the slash genre justice lol
Dan
Disclaimer- Don't own RE (I'm sure you needed THAT cleared up)
A/n Hey all, it's me again, back after a bit of a break with yet another angsty/romance/drama style fic lol. Well in case the summary wasn't quite clear enough this is yaoi... and I'm sure if you've slightly more than glanced at the world of fan fiction you'd know what that is and what it entails. Basically it involves Chris and Wesker and a night of passion devoid of any consequences... at least that's to be the idea for both parties piece of minds. Read on if you will lol.
Chapter One: The End is Only the Beginning, Part One (Weskers POV)
***
I'm the first to wake, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Always was an early riser, and being a Tyrant means you don't need sleep at all, still it doesn't stop making it a pleasurable experience. It's the thing you do after a night of passion after all, one enjoyable event to follow another. Well to call sleeping with him enjoyable doesn't begin to do it justice, not at all but there's not a word that could possibly embody it all. I guess superficially it sounds surprising; Chris Redfield and Albert Wesker, but under a closer examination it certainly isn't. It is after all what I've wanted, what we've both desired, need even, for a long time. This insatiable hunger we've both had needed to be quenched, explored, felt... even if it could only be for one time, one time only. I'd give anything and everything to repeat or prolong this, and I think that maybe he would too, but I, we can't for a very obvious reason. We're two very different people, not to mention sworn enemies; one of us chose the easy path of evil, the other the long hard road of good, one chose to fight, the other to fall. We couldn't carry this on past now, we couldn't have a relationship, we'd just end up destroying the other, and even I'm not selfish enough to sacrifice that.
Of course thinking about him automatically draws my eyes to him from the vacant space they were absent mindedly gazing into. Instantly as I look upon him doubt over the words I've only just spoken weave expertly into my mind. My resolve begins to lessen as the thoughts I dare to even acknowledge suddenly become the only things I can think about. Seeing him before me like this I can almost accept a reality where we're together, him and me, me and him, friends and lovers... a pretty picture it paints. But those few words alone, 'friends and lovers' snaps me out of this dangerous little daydream I'm creating. Before I even woke a few moments ago I'd already made up my mind, we can't be together and that's that. We're wrong for each other; there might be a sexual attraction, but something more? I can't see him wanting me, loving me like that and I can't see me able to give him that love back even if he could, even if he does. What am I saying though? I talk about the mere chance of love but we still detest, loathe each other for our past deeds, and that is confirmed on my part by both my urges to kiss and to kill him even now. No this moment is perfect, I'm not going to over-shadow it with impossible ideas, my life is full of too much hate and coldness, I want to have one moment of 'complete' happiness, just one moment. A time and a place where Albert Wesker drops all façades and barriers and allows himself to be 'real', to be able to be hurt in the most painful of ways. Allows himself to ravage and be ravaged in the most obscene but pleasurable of ways. To love and even be loved in return (even if it only amounts to the sexual love that is lust). No I want this to be a blissful memory not a torturing one, it needs to be, has to be. or I won't survive past beyond it.
Still deciding not to dream impossible dreams doesn't stop me from locking my eyes upon him, and I do need to look. I need to look to remember this, savouring the memory of it will be the only thing that will keep me sane, and keep me away from him. This, this encounter however much loved by me is unrepeatable and inconsequential, it's a one off, something that shouldn't have happened but did, it won't happen again so I must engrave it into my mind however painful it might be. And that's why I notice even the small things that make up this picture perfect; the way our shirt buttons are speckled all over the titled floor around this creaky bed, the two small mountains our clothe piles form, seemingly forever creased at both sides of the bed, the odd aroma that the candles give off at their pinnacle points around the room, the heaven that is the semi darkness that they also bring to it, even the faint scent of sexual passion that lingers in the air doesn't escape me or my heightened senses. However of course none of this means anything without the focal point of this room, at least the focal for me, my lover. God even now, I'm drawn to him and his beauty, even after 'having' him, so as to speak completely coarsely and bluntly. I'm totally infatuated and perplexed by this enigmatic Adonis before me, I don't want to give him, this up, but I know I have to. so I'll just take him in visually one last time and be gone.
It's not like I need to however, I can intensely remember practically everything from last night, there's a difference though. His hair that I snaked my hands through so often now lies a bit ruffled but still. Those eyes that sparkled with lust are now softly closed flickering as beautifully as the candle light. Those lips that met my body so many times last night are now loosely closed and scowled slightly, giving an impression of concentration on his flawless face. His chest which was barely able to get enough air to stay conscious last night is now rising in the slow steady breaths of those in the midst of sleep. It's certainly a difference but it's perhaps even more beautiful at least to me. His seductive jaw line completes the perfect face before me with its silent cry for my lips, indeed the only very slight blot on his face is the scar on his left cheek that I caused earlier. Of course it's not just his face that it is beautiful, it's everything below it as well, and of course I look at that too. His neck also seems to beg for lip contact as it protrudes craning towards my face from where his head is resting upon my chest and shoulder, and I surprise even myself with the protective arm I've cast over his warm torso. My arm lies over his heart and I can feel the beat of it pass through both our thin layers of flesh, so that I'm sharing it with him and it almost feels as if we're one. Casting my eyes further down his body I see one of the nipples I earnestly teased only hours ago and his very taunt and sexy athletic chest muscles that were worked for both our pleasures last night. Averting them now down to his stomach, I'm caught on the line of fine hair that forms a treasure trail from it, a dusting of hair that is only cut off by the blanket half covering our waists and the (as I already know) nudeness them below. I won't remove the blanket for I saw more of what it covers than I could possibly forget; anyway this is remembrance and beauty not for sexual pleasure.
So that's him, that's my lover, that's Chris. Lying cradled into me, both a wonderful sight and feeling. too bad as I already know it has to end. I've already mentally gone through this though. so there's no point in debating or prolonging this, it'd just be an agony. So I 'detach' myself from him, gently pulling myself out from underneath him and directing his head with unpractised delicateness onto the mattress beneath. It worries me slightly that he'll wake up now especially as we are entwined so closely; I wouldn't know what to say if he did. When he groans slightly I almost jump out of my skin, but it's just the motions of sleep he's going through, still my pulse believe otherwise. Finally when I'm unfortunately free of the body that is Chris Redfield's I make a move for my clothes and that is a half- deliberately long and arduous affair. It has entered my head to write him a letter with the supplies in this room, but I know both that it would make this event become 'something' and it would not be expected as it isn't my style at all, so I dismiss it. Whilst sorting through the clothes ironically the offending handgun from earlier is unveiled and I immediately clutch out at my shoulder expecting to wince due to the damage it has caused, but I feel nothing, Tyrants heal quickly after all. So after dressing I'm ready to go but of course I try to make my presence last just a little longer by going as slow as I can, double checking and that. however there's a limit to how slow u can be. Walking to the door is the difficult part, knowing I'm leaving him, this behind and treating it like a one-night stand hurts much more than I thought it would, I can't detach myself from my feelings I guess. wasn't even aware I really had any emotions, just hate and physical pain. I know though that this is far from a mindless fuck, it's something that will never leave me. On opening the door I'm of course unable to leave it without the last look I know I shouldn't do, however I surrender to the irresistible need and wish even more that I hadn't. For I'll always remember leaving a sleeping Chris Redfield with stinging moistened eyes.
*** A/n Well that was chapter one as they say. Just thought I'd take the opportunity to tell you how I'm going to set this out here. Well firstly next chapter I'm going to do Chris's POV next chapter, then after that I'm going to go right back to the beginning and explain how they came to end up together (and a couple of other things like Weskers gun-shot wound, etc) then after a trillion chapters on that I might get around to writing and aftermath few chapters. to see if they end up together lol.
Well feel free to tell me what you think anyway, let's hope I did the slash genre justice lol
Dan