The Guy with the Golden Fists

Jill woke up still wearing her cowboy boots.

She was alone on his bed and listening to Dog snore on the floor. He hadn't even covered her up which wasn't like him at all. She could hear the shower going as she rolled over to watch the heat lightning slash across the sky beyond his window.

They'd clearly slept there for some time on the rumpled bed. Her body told her he'd used her in ways that he'd never bothered before. She liked all the tender spots and aches and bumps and shivers…and hated that it felt almost sad to like it. She'd reduced them to two people that meant nothing to each other.

She'd literally shown up for nothing but sex.

He knew it. She knew it.

And he'd tried so hard to be her friend lately that she felt kinda awful for using him. But she'd been hard up. She'd needed the sex. She could have thrown down on some guy in a bar but…she didn't want some guy in a bar. She'd wanted him. That wasn't changing. Friends or not…she still wanted him.

His face…it hadn't said anything about loving her. His face had said all kinds of fucking. His face had said nothing. His face had been an animal mounting another animal.

She'd thrilled and chilled at the same time.

Jill stared at the ceiling above the bed, watching the small fan rotate there.

She heard the shower turn off. She heard the door open. She saw the puff of steam that followed him into the hallway.

She was lying on her back on the bed, knees bent, sideways with rumpled covers all around her. Her hair was sweaty and stuck to her face. She had whisker marks all over her neck and face. He walked into the bedroom drying off his body with that towel. It was the only thing between skin and eyes and him.

His hair dripped onto his shoulders. His chest was still damp and slick.

Jill said, softly, again, "You want me to go?"

A glance at the clock told her it was just shy of six a.m. now. Lightning flashed again outside the window. But no rain. There hadn't been rain now in days. A dry, hot summer had followed an overtly rainy spring.

Chris toweled his junk dry and stopped, watching her there on his bed. Those boots. That's all she was wearing. Cowboy boots with her ten feet of legs bent at the knees and her arms tossed so casually above her head. She was all muscled arms and toned belly and big tits.

God.

He wanted her to go.

Because he wanted her to stay.

And it pissed him off.

So, he said, "No." And dropped the towel.

He grabbed her boots and jerked her to the end of the bed. She made a sound and opened her legs. She was still sticky and slick from him before. He tilted her, gripped her hips, and thrust into her so hard it made cry out.

One hard thrust and he was all in. He never would have done it. Not to her. Not like that. But she wanted a booty call. So, he gave her one.

Her little boots were cool on his legs as opened her thighs for him. Her hands came up to slap against his chest. He knocked them aside and slapped them down on her chest to pin her there. And he rode her. He rode her like a rodeo bull. He rode her body while she shouted, jerked, bucked and took it. He knew she could take it. She knew it. And he knew just how hard to give it to her without hurting her.

Freight train, she'd said, give me the freight train.

He fired into her body for the second time in so many hours and watched her come apart. Her watched her tits bounce, watched her body shiver, watched her shout and cry out and he wanted to cover her in him and leave her lying there soaked in his seed. It was…an odd feeling for him. Possession wasn't so much of his thing. Hadn't ever been. But it was here.

He didn't.

He didn't soak her in his seed.

He said, gruffly, "You on the pill, Jill?"

She was making a small mewl of sound as he, oh so slowly, slid in an out of her eager body. She couldn't focus. She gasped, quivering, "..w-what?"

He let go of her pinned hands and palmed a breast. "You on the pill or what?"

She had been, of course, while they'd been together. But it had been awhile. So he didn't know anymore. He pulled almost out of her and thrust back in, feeling the slap of their bodies.

Jesus.

Jill gasped again and scrambled her hands on his hips to roll him in her. "Yeah. Yeah. On the pill, yeah. Hurry."

"Awesome. I'm gonna fill you up." He grabbed her flailing hands and threw them over her head. He curled her body up against his like a pretzel, rolling her so those legs of hers shifted around his sides and she was angled up and ready. His hands pinned her wrists and he tried to fuck her bowlegged.

It didn't take long. She was coming in seconds, shouting and shaking. He held her wrists in one hand, pinned her collarbone with the other, glanced down to see himself fucking her fast and deep…and he was done. He came in her sucking little body in a hot, sticky burst. He just pumped her full of his juice and felt her eager sheath suck it in like an eager whore paid by the ounce.

Jill made another little mewl of sound and her boots bounced uselessly against his ass as he finished, pulsing thick and hard and veiny inside of her throbbing center.

With a grunt, he pulled out of her body.

He slapped her sweaty ass once as he moved. No cuddling. No holding. He just turned to his dresser and started digging for clothes. "Get some sleep if you want. Hang with dog."

"…where ya going?" She gasped, still coming down, shaking.

"I'm taking another turn at the wheel this morning. Rebecca and Barry are gonna ride shotgun. We'll take a pass over the mountains."

Jill, heaving out breaths a little, rolled to her side to look at him. "You want me to tag along?"

He used the towel on the floor to clean himself off before he started putting on his uniform. He glanced at her and shook his head. "Nah. You got better stuff to do on a Saturday I'm sure. Call your boyfriend. Go take a drive up to see him. Take Dog with ya. He's bored here when I'm gone anyway."

Jill felt a little funny in her belly watching him. His tone was…odd. Dismissive? It was something.

"No boyfriend. He's a friend, kinda. I don't know where that's going exactly."

Chris shrugged and snapped on his thigh holster. Jill watched him, quietly. She sat up as he started passed her and grabbed his forearm. She said, "You mad at me?"

He shook his head and laughed a little. "Nah, kid. Not mad. You want to grab a movie later?"

She was so confused. But not really. But kinda. Because he was Chris but he wasn't. He was cool but he wasn't. She turned him toward her and went to her knees on the bed. Even kneeling she wasn't nearly tall enough to reach him. She dragged him down by his vest and kissed him.

He gave her a solid smooch on the mouth and smacked her ass.

He didn't hug her, didn't grope her, and didn't linger.

"Thanks for breaking and entering, Valentine. Haven't had a girl ever pick my lock and ride my dick before. It was a helluva Friday night. Fixed the A/C, fucked a pretty girl in boots, and beat the hoard on the zombie game. That's a win/win/win for Chris Redfield."

Jill shook her head at him. "Again with the third person. That's pretty douchey, Red."

"Chris Redfield takes offense to that. See ya later, kid. Get some sleep."

She listened to him in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee and his keys. He was whistling. She listened to him until he left the house and then she rolled to look at Dog.

"Somethings off right? I'm not crazy here. Am I?"

Dog woofed softly.

Jill sighed. "Yeah. I didn't think so either. What'd ya we go take a look at that "fixed" A/C before the whole house catches on fire, huh?"

And Dog woofed again.

It was almost like he was laughing.

….

They were circling over the Arklay Mountains when the chopper made a sputtering sound. Chris said into his headset for the other two, "Hey. She's making noises on me here. I'm gonna circle back to the home base here and take a look at her."

Barry answered him, "Sounds good. I'm not seeing anything but some birds and a few wolves anyway out here. Looks like a pack of wild dogs maybe out near the mines but, otherwise, it's deadsville."

Rebecca added, "The mines themselves look empty. Not even any homeless people from what I can tell."

Chris said, "Roger. Let's head back."

He touched down on the helipad to find Brad waiting for him along with Kevin Dooley, Bravo teams pilot. The three of them set about diagnosing the noises on the chopper. She had a leaking fuel line. It was an expensive fix and would put her out of commission for a few days while Brad waited on parts. For the time being, they were down a chopper. So only Bravo's was able to make flights.

It limited their protection and inspection detail. So, Chris spent his afternoon at the range. He had blown apart three targets and was gearing up to take a second run at the obstacle course when he realized he wasn't alone.

Captain Wesker was coming down the hill toward him.

Chris turned and waited for him.

"Sir?"

"Chris," Wesker watched him, considering. Time was pushing closer here to begin his game. With little hope of the others offering much in the way of useful data, Wesker still had high hopes for Chris Redfield. Redfield, like Jill, impressed him. He was driven by something different than the girl.

He was driven, not by a need to prove himself, but a need to protect. He was, without a doubt, a hero. A hero that would ultimately push toward saving the weak without compunction to protect himself. He was a dead shot with a pistol. An unerring marksman with an enviable skill with those fists as well. Chris was always training. It was rare to find him without some goal of improvement. That kind of unflappable dedication deserved respect.

Wesker was paying him a great deal by designing obstacles to test him. Many. He could barely STAND the wait.

For now, he was going to push at the younger man and see where his limits were.

"I know you are still sleeping with Jill Valentine."

There. Wesker threw that between them like a grenade. He watched Chris struggle with it. He watched his face flash.

And, Wesker was always curious about the human response, so he pushed.

"I was willing to stay out of it, Chris. Even though I felt it limited both of you in terms of performance. I tolerated the jokes and the flirting and the banter. Because I was young once and can appreciate attraction and interest and a good fucking for an eager man."

Chris shifted, uncomfortable with the conversation, and with Wesker so casually referring to Jill as a "good fucking".

Wesker thought, it was time to see if he's casual pushing had paid off. It was time to see if Redfield was willing to fight twice as hard and twice as well for "his woman". He knew they were suffering some kind of separation here. He needed them back in each other's main radar. The human condition and response to emotion would impact the data when the fight began. He wanted to measure all of it. The only way to know was to push now and see what happened. He knew that meant setting himself up for a hit to make that happen. "But you are sabotaging a promising career for the spread of a woman's thighs, Chris. It's not only foolish, it's asinine. Jill Valentine is, potentially, the best I've seen in a long time with knife play. But her skills are limited. She won't survive long in this profession. She will spread her legs for a superior and cost herself a promising career."

Chris felt something curdle in his gut. His first impression of Albert Wesker had been a grudging respect. It had followed on the heels of a sense of something "creepy" that had mostly been related to his superior's inability to do more than pantomime any real emotion. But that had been easy enough to understand. Wesker was simply a professional man. He didn't step outside of the bonds of his job to allow emotion to play a role in how he did it. It was why he was the best at what he did. But he was out of line here. And worse? He was wrong as hell.

He was talking about Jill like she was a whore.

"With all due respect," Chris took a slug on his water bottle and eyed his Captain in the humid morning air, "You're wrong about Jill, sir. She's dedicated and smart and savvy. She struggles with command a little but who doesn't? I've followed men I didn't respect before. I've followed men I did. Jill makes you earn her loyalty, sir. And she doesn't fuck her bosses."

Wesker felt the thrill in his blood. He was about to see how far Chris Redfield would go to defend her honor. So he said, knowing full well what would happen, "I find it hard to discern any difference between fucking one's boss and fucking one's coworker, Chris. We both know she was the aggressor between you. I don't fault you. She's quite beautiful. But she's calculating and volatile. She needs a firm hand and an authoritative voice to command her. She'll never be content to simply fuck the help and eventually she'll toss you aside for someone with more power. Don't fool yourself, Chris. I don't know her well but don't be surprised to find that when you take away her skills that set her apart in the team, you may find she's nothing more than a sad little girl with a hunger for something better."

Chris felt his jaw flex. He licked his teeth.

Wesker said, "I'm just trying to save you from damage to your career over a woman, Chris. Jill has yet to prove herself. You came from a promising career, are headed toward a brilliant future…I'd hate to see you ruin that for a piece of ass."

That was it.

That was all it took.

Wesker saw it coming and could have stopped it. But he was laughing with delight as it happened. So, he didn't do anything but wait.

Chris dropped the water bottle, he rotated, and he punched his Captain clean in the face.

Wesker, as he stumbled backward, thought that, objectively, it was a bit like being kicked in the face by a bucking bronco. There was power in those fists that couldn't be overlooked. He could likely hold his own against a couple of very scary friends he'd soon be dancing with. When the bullets failed, he'd be able to survive. Wesker could FEEL it.

He could also feel his face throbbing.

Which irritated him but was for the greater good.

Barry Burton was shouting from the sidelines. Rebecca Chambers was standing there frozen in horror. Brad Vickers looked, vaguely, like he might urinate on himself.

Joseph Frost let out a yell, "Red, what the FUCK!?"

Chris shook his hand to restore the feeling. "I'll take whatever punishment you see fit. But I won't stand here while you talk about her like that. Ever. She's not a piece of ass. She's dedicated and she's determined and she's strong. She would never compromise herself to climb the ladder, ever. And you have no right to say so. You don't know her. You don't know a damn thing about her. And you won't talk about her like that…ever again. I don't care who the hell you are."

Wesker rubbed his jaw, smiling behind his hand.

He'd suspected but now he knew. It was done. Redfield was in love with her. He'd fight now, harder and faster and long then he'd ever have done so on principal alone. And keeping Jill Valentine alive had just become more important than anything else. One – because she was Chris Redfield's purpose. And Two -because she was going to become Wesker's soon enough. She wasn't a piece of ass. No.

She wasn't just a pawn on the chess board. She was the most important one. She was the Queen. And Wesker would use her to checkmate the King and win the game soon enough.

Burton had grabbed Redfield's arm to stop him from swinging again.

Chris shook him loose and grabbed his bottle of water from the ground.

Wesker said, "I apologize for sounding that way. I was out of line. But this can't stand, Chris. Surely you know that."

"Yeah, I know that."

"You're on probation until further notice."

Chris grabbed his assault bag.

Barry made a sound. "Captain Wesker, sir, is that necessary? Things got a little out of hand here."

Wesker, curious, asked, "Will you apologize, Chris? Perhaps we can find another punishment."

Chris slung his bag over his shoulder, "I won't apologize. I'd do it again. I'll take the probation."

Barry grabbed his arm again, earnestly. "Don't be fucking stupid here. Apologize."

"No. He deserved it. I'll take the fucking probation." He started up the hill toward the RPD building.

Wesker called after him, "I didn't dismiss you."

Chris, feeling the fire of it in his blood, called back, "So fire me. Right now? I don't care."

Wesker felt his mouth lift in a wolfish smile, "You're suspended Chris, effective immediately."

Chris shook his head and laughed, mirthlessly. "Awesome. I'll take it…sir."

And the sir sounded like a curse word from his mouth.

He reached the top of the hill and slammed into the RPD building. And the rest of Alpha and Bravo stood there staring. Wesker finally said, in a tone of command, "Enough. Show's over. Get back to work!"

Rebecca hurried off to find Jill Valentine before she heard it from someone else.

Her little motorbike roared up to the curb of his house at half passed seven that evening. It was mid June and sweltering hot. Kids were jumping in sprinklers and splashing in pools. Jill was in a tube top and her mini skirt with knee high boots. She wasn't wearing a helmet.

He was in the garage with the door open, beating the shit out of the heavy bag. The boombox on his work table was blasting Bon Jovi through the neighborhood. He was singing about giving love a bad name.

Shot through the heart, he sang, you're too vain. You give love a bad name. You're a loaded gun.

Jill felt like it was a personal attack.

Maybe.

He stopped hitting the bag when he saw her. But she was stomping toward him. Pissed, it seemed. Good. Let her be pissed.

He was so mad it hurt in his body.

He could HEAR the blood in his head.

She grabbed his sweaty arm and jerked. He actually stumbled as she shoved open the door and slung him into the house.

"Watch it, Valentine."

"Shut the fuck up!" She slammed the door and shouted it. She shouted at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? You told him to FIRE YOU!?"

Chris jerked at the tape on his hands. He shrugged one shoulder, blowing hard from his workout. "So!? Who gives a fuck? He was WAY out of line."

"Why? What did he say? What could he POSSIBLY have said to warrant punching him in the FACE and taunting him to FIRE you!? You big fucking IDIOT!"

Chris picked up the vase of flowers on the table and launched it. He just…launched it. He turned and threw it so hard it shattered in a million pieces against the far wall. It scared her. She jumped.

He pointed at her and spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm not an idiot. I'm not. He doesn't get to open his fucking mouth and shit all over everyone else because he's the boss. He doesn't get to do that. I don't give a fuck who he is."

Jill looked at him, exasperated. "What did he SAY!?"

"He called you a whore!" And he shouted that so loud that it made Dog whimper and run away to hide. Jill literally jumped where she stood. "And maybe you're right. Maybe I'm a big fucking idiot for defending you. Maybe so. But he doesn't get to call you a whore. I don't give a flying rats ass if he's the god damn Captain. Or the Pope. Or the fucking President of the United States. He doesn't get to belittle you and talk about you like you're a piece of ass. Ever. I should have kicked him in the balls. I didn't. And that took all I had."

Each word he'd shouted was punctuated by him pointing at her. It was the most animated she'd ever seen him. It was all emotion. For a man with few words, it was a speech. It was a declaration. It was incredible to see him full of feelings and just erupting all over the place.

Jill said, so softly now, "Did he really call me a whore?"

Chris laughed, mirthlessly, "He implied it. He warned me you might be willing to trade sex for power. He doesn't have any respect for women, Jill. None. He's a fucking pig. And I won't work under him anymore. I hope he fires me. Because I can't work for someone like that."

Jill moved toward him.

He put out a hand to stop her.

"Don't."

Jill wrapped her arms around his waist. She could FEEL him vibrating with anger. She just kept holding on. "Shut up. Just shut up. Did you punch him defending my honor, big guy? Did you? You fucking idiot."

"Shut up. Nobody has ever. EVER…cared enough to defend me. I bet he didn't call me a whore. I bet he just talked like an idiot guy. I bet that's it. He just assumed I'm a gold digging tramp. Because he didn't know me…but you do. And I bet you fought for me anyway. Did you? Did you fight for me anyway, Chris?"

She was holding so tight to him. He was trying to hang on to the mad and failing. She was holding so fucking tight. "Best friends, Jill. I meant that. I'd rather work at a McDonald's then stand there while someone impugns your integrity like that. I won't just sit there and let that happen."

Jill laughed, so softly, "You'll apologize to him."

Chris jerked and she held on, stroking his back. She was…soothing him? She was something. She spoke with her ear over his heart, "Listen to me, Chris. Apologize. Thank you. Thank you for being you. I love you for it. But apologize. He might be a misogynist. But I just think maybe he's seen the wrong kind of women his whole life. Either way? He's your superior. And you can't burn your career down for pride. Please. I can't watch you ruin yourself. Play the game, apologize. He's a good leader…even if he's a sexist pig."

Although she didn't even think that was true either. Because he'd taught her so well. He'd singled her out. He'd trained her. And he'd never once mentioned anything about her being female. It was a curious thing to know he'd pushed Chris this far.

And it was even more curious that Chris COULD be pushed this far. Such a calm, laid back man. His fires burned bright and hot beneath that laughing demeanor. And he was bone deep, soul deep, GOOD. Champion of the underdog and savior of the weak.

She rolled her face and put her mouth over his slick chest. She kissed him, over his heart, and stole his breath. Her face rolled up to look at him. "Did you punch our boss in the face to defend my honor, Chris Redfield?"

And now he smirked…and he chuckled. "Seems that way."

"You treated me like a whore this morning."

Shit.

She watched that fire over his face. And that was part of it. He'd treated her badly last night, this morning…and Wesker had called her easy. He'd treated her like she was easy. And the guilt had come out of Wesker's mouth to rub him raw. It was a double edged sword. He'd punched Wesker to defend her and to punish himself for treating her like an easy lay.

What a fucking boy scout he was.

Chris said, "No, I didn't."

Jill rolled her eyes.

She leaped and he caught her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands slipped over his sweaty face and gripped. He tried to turn his head and she smacked his face and jerked him back to her. "Stop it. Stop. Faker. Liar. Redfield, you liar. Kiss me and shut the fuck up."