Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone!
Disclaimer: I do not own RE.
Chapter 3: Whirlpool
"This is a bad idea," mumbled Anders, shaking his head, "as a matter of fact, this is like the cornerstone of all bad ideas. Iced over with a really bad chance of actually working."
Well, it wouldn't have been this way if you hadn't scared him, thought Chris begrudgingly. Of course, he couldn't blame Anders—if the Captain had been in the same position, he would've done no different. Anders was doing exactly what he was trained for: protecting a fellow soldier from (what looked like) a threat. So, as frustrated as he was about the whole situation, well...
"Piers is still Piers. He'll listen to me," answered Chris soundly, feeling confident he was right. Like the director said, it'd been three months. Three whole months to totally turn, but he didn't (granted, he'd probably been asleep the whole time), so if the sniper just held out a bit longer...
"Yeah, well, let's hope the M.R.E. will hold his attention long enough for you to stab him with the antidote," grumbled the young lieutenant as he turned the colossal HUMVEE onto the quiet, dirt road.
Nivans had been spotted near Fort Bragg, booking it into the safe confines of Jackson State Forest a day or so ago. Fortunately, Ciao had kept her bargain and denied any other OPS access into the forest until the Captain could get his sole chance to either be electrified into Kentucky Fried Chris or come out with Piers safely, minus a fleshy appendage.
By this time, however, Redfield had been hoping to have come up with a better plan than to hope Piers would listen to him, and if not, then maybe he was hungry and just needed some over processed chicken dumplings. Yet, with the way things were turning out—and the fact he wasn't going to get any support—it was turning out it might actually be an idea. After all, sitting at Bikini Bottom for three months probably had his stomach trying to eat itself (c-virus aside).
"I'm actually surprised in the Director," said Anders suddenly, adjusting himself in the driver's seat.
Chris offered him an uneasy glance. "Why's that?"
The lieutenant shrugged, murmuring, "You know...she's called General Hardass for a reason...and especially since Piers showed up so close to the base...and then he scared the britches off the people who were cleaning up the wreckage in China...I dunno, it just seems like she gave in a little too fast for me."
Returning his attention to the bumpy, branch-cluttered road, Redfield scowled. He had a point. Too caught up in the fact that Piers had resurfaced, he failed to realize Ciao might've been just giving him what he wanted so he'd show up...and so that Nivans would, too. Great.
"Stop the truck," he muttered.
Anders switched a surprised gaze at him. "Right here?"
"Yup," answered the Captain, already opening the door.
The young lieutenant jerked to a halt, the HUMVEE swinging from the force. Chris hopped out onto his feet and, turning to Anders, instructed, "Just keep going. I'll radio when I've administered the dose."
"You sure about this? I mean, even if Ciao was lying, you'd at least have backup…" said Anders with a worried note. He was staring at his Captain with those same puppy eyes Piers used to—when Chris was about to do something stupid.
But that was the usual routine, anyway.
"She doesn't want to give me backup, she wants to get the jump on Piers," returned Redfield with a bite in his tone. "The only reason she let me go is she thinks I'll draw him out."
The lieutenant didn't relinquish his anxious look. "Well...I mean—"
"Trust me, Anders," said Chris, then tilted his chin down and stared up at his friend. "Do you trust me?"
Pausing, the lieutenant finally released a heavy, reluctant sigh as though certain he would regret his decision later. "I trust you, sir."
"Then do this for me. I'll call you when I'm done," murmured the older agent before shutting the metal door closed.
Hopping out of sight of the road, he urged Anders to move with the thrust of his arm forward. Still unsure, the young gunner petered forward before finally gathering speed as he drove deeper into the forest. Chris, now put at ease being by himself, adjusted his flak jacket and all his tiny pockets (being unarmed besides his Bowie knife), particularly the one with the antidote. One vial. One shot. He could do this.
Licking his lips, the soldier hunched down and jogged into the vegetation, taking in the California spring air with large breaths. The dawn was just breaking, the sun not yet crested over the horizon, and the world was in a surreal state of being just beyond the thrall of night and awakening to the morning. The trees, the birds and everything else was silent or cooing; dew was sticking to the green leaves and long strands of grass like crystal gems. It was, honestly, a very pretty morning—but Chris' thoughts were whirling around Piers like a manic, broken carousel and he wouldn't break free until he had the young sniper where he should be: safely back in the BSAA, where he belonged.
Even if he had to bend the rules a little...but they should've been used to him doing that by now.
Shoving away branches and bushes alike, Redfield grunted as he pushed through the thick vegetation with annoyance.
"Sonuvabitch," he growled, reaching for his Bowie knife. Stupid plants. Even Africa wasn't this bad—but then again, he was used to running around elaborate mansions or stony, underground passageways or even lava factories like a chicken with his head cut off.
Chris blinked. Man, what was it with me and chickens? Ever since Ciao said I would be fried like one, I keep thinking about them…
Well, it wasn't important.
What was more urgent was how he was going to get Nivans' attention. Although hopefully Piers had noticed the HUMVEE entering the forest, who's to say he wasn't already traveling farther up north? If he was still as human as Redfield hoped he was, then it would be logical to stay in a place like this, where the trees were so close together that even camping families wouldn't tread. Staying away from human interaction and waiting for the Captain to arrive. He already knew Chris wanted to help him. Made sense.
But, if the virus…
"Shut up, Chris," grumbled the heavy male as he continued to wade through the bushes. Piers was a tough kid—he put up with the Captain at his worst for weeks on end, after all.
Motivated, hopeful, Chris plunged further into the dense forest. Fifteen stretched, pant-filled minutes passed and finally, the sun broke over the purple hills and through the sticky mist.
That's when Redfield heard a hard, heavy thud behind him.
Swirling around, he was jarred to a stop by a rough shove to his shoulder, making him stumble against a coarse pine. Grunting, he went to reach for his Bowie knife when his ears picked up a haggard, raspy breathing.
"Piers...?" murmured the Captain slowly, placing his palms flat against the scraggy bark.
"I don't want..." heaved the lieutenant, "I don't want you to look at me..."
Blinking, Chris darted his attention to the ground, seeing Nivans' poor, mangled limb buzzing with electricity out of his peripheral. Turning his brown eyes back to his hands, Redfield pursed his lips, trying to figure out the best course of action.
That's when Piers murmured lowly, "They've been following you…"
Chris' heart clenched in his chest reflexively, but he kept his cool and said, "The BSAA…?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, Piers, they...that damn Caio is out for herself," he snapped with aggravation. As soon as he got back to the headquarters with a healed Nivans in hand, he was going to flip her desk right out of the building. "I'll protect you, I promise."
The young lieutenant didn't say anything right away, rather, shifted his hand so that it wasn't digging into Chris' shoulder and curled it around his abdomen.
"There's a HUMVEE on the other side…" he finally whispered, leaning into the Captain's form, "let's wait for it to pass."
Gingerly, Redfield leaned around the tree, barely enough to see the truck's antennas springing up just beyond the bushy ridge, maybe twenty yards away. Even now, Piers was still looking out for him. Ducking behind the safety of the thick pine, and with Piers' arm hugging their bodies together, he wondered...steadily, the Captain reached for one of his many breast pockets for the precious vial. He had to be lightning fast if he was going to get this on the first try.
"Captain..." the lieutenant whispered, his tone husky.
"Everything is going to work out, Piers..." said Chris softly, tugging at the Velcro flap of the pocket. So close...
Redfield froze, body and mind, when he suddenly noticed Nivans' hand smoothing dangerously low. What is he doing? Piers was silent, betraying nothing as his legs pressed to the back of his Captain's, his chest flush against the larger male. Somewhere between baffled and disbelieving, Chris did nothing but watch as the young lieutenant's fingers fiddled with his utility belt, unclipping it. Then he went for the tan buttons, picking them apart one at a time until the only thing covering the Captain's junk was his boxer briefs.
For some reason, it was that moment that Redfield's mind rebooted and his thoughts fired all at once. "Wh—what're you—s, stop—Piers!"
"Quiet...you don't want them to find us, do you?" murmured Nivans with an infuriatingly calm tone.
How am I supposed to stay quiet...? Especially when the younger soldier was digging eagerly into his pants, his fingers gently inspecting his dick. Chris tried to pry Piers' hand away, but a gasp escaped when he caressed a sensitive area. A hot shiver raked up the elder's spine, his teeth clenching as smooth fingertips roved over the material of his underwear.
Without meaning to, Chris was suddenly sporting a hard-on as small, hushed pants filled the silent landscape.
"Piers..." he whispered, swallowing hard. "Get a hold of yourself..."
"Actually...I would like to get a hold of you," returned Nivans. Then, in an instant, Piers' hand slipped beneath the elastic band of Chris's briefs, his warm palm wrapping around the Captain's receptive member.
A slight moan dashed from Redfield's lips, his shoulders bunching up as he leaned heavier against the tree in front of him. Not good. This is not good. He didn't know what got into Piers, but if he tried to stop him, he might take off...or he might try to struggle, where the hiding HUMVEE around the corner was just waiting for something to happen. So then what do I do?!
To make matters worse, the young sniper was getting deeper in the mood, if the shallow, wispy breaths against Redfield's ear said anything. Piers adjusted his footing, shifting his infected arm to prop up against the tree. Chris could care less, though, paying far more attention to the fingers frisking around his twitching dick that was getting harder by the second. The Captain would never admit it, but the kid was actually pretty good—
"Piers—!" exclaimed Redfield when the lieutenant pushed deeper in between his thighs.
"Sh-sh...they're listening."
"Y...you're...why are you doing this?!"
"I don't want this virus...or BSAA bureaucrats to dictate when my time ends...I want you...I've always wanted to be with you..." his words tugged at the Captain's heart strings, despite himself, "and I want to be with you till the end."
Legs tensing, a rousing blush crept over Chris' cheeks as Piers lined the crack between his butt cheeks with a single finger. His flushed member was exposed to the open air, a line of clear liquid dribbling to the forest floor. Alright, so maybe it'd been a century since he'd gotten any action, and maybe that's why his body felt like it was on fire, but—but—this was crazy! With that, plus Piers' hard groin stuffed against his butt, his mind was a thousand miles away from everything else except the sniper's talented hand.
Pressing tender kisses against the nape of the Captain's neck, Piers retreated his hand only to tug Chris' combat pants down. As the brisk air touched the exposed, hot skin, the elder shivered and put a hand over his own mouth just in case. This is crazy, this is crazy, this is cr—
And then Redfield felt it.
A long, throbbing member was cradled by his butt cheeks, hard and burning and eager as Piers gently brushed it downwards, fitting it between the Captain's thighs.
He's not serious...?!
Leaning back, Nivans' devouring gaze roved over his superior's perfect, round backside. He was practically salivating as he pushed one cheek to the side, making Chris jolt with anticipation. Tongue lolling out, the young lieutenant pushed his thumb inside, causing a delicious, muffled cry from the Captain. Fingers swept over his elder's balls as he pushed his thumb deeper, stroking the sensitive internal wall. Redfield was a mess of quivering nerves, fighting the instinct to rock his hips back and forth. Piers was way too good at this, if Chris' strangled whimpers proved anything.
"You're tight..." whispered the younger soldier, his tone dripping with desire. "Is this your first time?"
"Gh...gah! Nnh!"
"I suppose that means yes..."
Watery blue eyes shot a glare over his shoulder, Nivans chuckling with satisfaction. Dropping his head again, Chris twitched and shuddered at the ministrations, wanting it to stop and go on forever at the same time. His hips were melting, his heavy frame clenching with impatience, wanting the soldier's mind to give up and give in. The thick scent of musk hanging in the air, Piers' thumb brushing against the sweet spot, his fingers cradling the older man's underside was almost too much...
Pulling his thumb out, Piers gripped the Captain's entrance open as he nudged the tip of his dick against the lips. Briefly holding their breath, the sniper firmly drove his member into Chris, causing Redfield to smother an outcry. The lieutenant paused briefly for any changes in the environment, but everything remained still and quiet.
"Sh-sh…" whispered Nivans.
"Gah...nn...!" Chris wasn't really paying attention. H-he's inside me...! Stiff and still probing deeper, it was hard to keep his wobbling legs from turning into Jell-o and collapsing. Oh, god, he's inside me!
"This feels..." gasped the lieutenant, "almost too good."
Chris couldn't begin to answer, even if he had something good to say. All that came out were trembling pants, a choked moan spilling out when Piers curled a hand around his erect dick again. Gently, he started to pump against the Captain, deliberately making smooth, long strokes of his hand and his hips. Heady, Redfield placed one hand over the other on the tree trunk and pressed his forehead to his hands, a safety measure so he wouldn't clock his head against the hard bark.
In the meantime, Nivans hips jerked forward and back with convicted thrusts, drinking in the elder as if he'd never get enough. Chris was nearly sitting on him, Piers keeping him pinned from the front and the behind. Grunting with each intense drive, the Captain's thoughts were lost in a world of hazy, needy pleasure as he curled his back, finally giving in. If he had to pick anyone, it would be Piers each and every time...he just never expected it to be right here, right now.
The minutes melted away as Nivans endlessly grilled him, his speed escalating as Chris' body sang with joy. Panting wildly with each rough plow, Redfield removed one hand from pressing against the tree so he could cup Piers' hand as he pumped him.
"Captain...I...want to...nn...cum inside you," murmured the sniper in a throaty tone.
"N...no...!" His mouth was spewing out words, but at the thought of Nivans' burning seed filling him up, the Captain seized. Cupping his mouth just in time to hush a pleasure-filled cry, Chris sensed something hot pooling into his stomach as white ejaculated onto the tree in front of him. The heavenly orgasm was raw and rocked his trembling body, whatever energy he had twenty seconds ago vanishing in an enticing, sweaty moan.
Breathless, together both men sagged to their knees, the sniper still buried inside his Captain. Even his hand was still wrapped around Redfield's slick rod, as though he was intent for round two.
No, I have to...give him the antidote! His senses temporarily returned, Chris reached for the vial again. They could do this all night and day once Nivans was cured, but his life was seriously in danger—
"Take off your flak jacket," instructed Piers softly. Using his forefinger, he gently stroked the tip of the elder's cock, enticing it to reignite the fire.
Gasping, Chris fumbled for his pocket, his fingers digging inside for the small syringe. The Captain made for like he was going to remove his protective gear, when instead he used his teeth to pop off the orange cap. He quietly spat it out, Piers not even flinching when the plastic bounced off a root and into the adjacent, prickly bush. Rather, the sniper released Redfield's dick and lifted his hands, pushing two fingers in between his thick lips for Chris to taste. That's not fair. The wet fingers played with his tongue lovingly, Chris nearly losing himself again. Salty...sticky...and there was something else, the smell of sex making him moan with need. It was good...really good...
No! Jamming his eyes shut, the man stabbed Piers' forearm with the needle and injected the serum.
Behind him, Nivans gasped, not in pleasure, but in fear. Withdrawing his hand immediately, the sniper stared in horror at the thing as Chris swiveled around. The Captain's heart was pinched with distress at the lieutenant's terrified expression, his hand reaching out to take the younger soldier's shoulder.
"C-Captain...?!" cried Piers, collapsing onto his back.
Lifting himself from the sniper's hips (and sensing something leak out), Chris stumbled to Nivans' side, one powerful arm cradling his smaller shoulders.
"It's the cure," said Redfield swiftly, tugging his pants up as he did so. "But we need to get you out of here before they find us."
Fastening one button and his utility belt over his still-taught member, Chris then redressed Piers, blushing madly at the thought of what the sniper just did to him. He had to wonder whether these feelings were just from the virus, or if he'd been smitten with the Captain from the start. With everything that happened, the older man was leaning to the latter explanation.
"I had...no clue you felt that way about me," murmured the Captain, keeping his voice low.
Nivans' one still-working eye flicked up at him, before a small smile crept over his lips. "I'm sorry for being...so rough..."
Chris shook his head. "I'm glad to see the virus didn't steal your vim and vigor."
A frail laugh filled the air, Piers' head lulling towards the older man as Redfield scooted closer. Slipping his arms beneath the sniper's slack form, he curled his hands around his knees and shoulders and bunched Nivans to his body. With his left arm pressed against the flat wall of Chris' chest, his infected arm hung loose in front of them, heavy and useless. Piers desperately wished he could cut the horrendous thing off, and by the time his disgust was realized, he also didn't want to get any of his...arm fluids on the Captain.
"I can...walk," he murmured hoarsely, trying to push against Redfield's broad shoulders.
Yet, Chris only squeezed his partner closer, his firm biceps and forearms keeping Nivans pinned to his frame. "I don't think so," retorted the older agent softly, "I let you yank your hand from me last time and the time before that. Therefore, you've lost your walking privileges."
Piers really couldn't argue with that one. As the Captain quietly marched in the opposite direction of the HUMVEE, Piers peered up at Chris' scruffy chin, the line of his powerful neck, his focused blue eyes as they scanned the cluttered forest. Eyelid drooping with exhaustion, Nivans pressed his cheek in the crescent of the Captain's shoulder, a measure of relief overcoming him. Maybe it was the antidote flooding his system, or the warmth radiating from Chris' skin, or the refreshing scent of the Captain's Irish Spring. Whatever the case, the young soldier suddenly didn't want him to let go at all…
"Stop."
Redfield swore.
Jerking in surprise, Piers made to confront the threat when the Captain held him even tighter. "Don't move," he growled, his voice just above a whisper.
They were surrounded in a matter of seconds by their own personnel, M16's held in a defensive position as a truck roared over the brush and slid to a stop in front of them. Chris glared at each and every one, making some glance at each other with apprehension. If Caio was going to make this hard, the Captain could play the same game…
"Captain," murmured the Director, clad with her own pistol and flak jacket over her business attire.
"Caio," he grumbled dangerously.
A/N: Anyone who wanted Piers on the bottom will get their cake and eat it, too, I promise XD Thanks for reading!