Side Effects May Include...

A/N: I know some of the things dealing with Chris' infection might not be completely accurate, but it'll make sense later, I promise.

Chapter Two:

When Chris first opened his eyes, he momentarily forgot where he was and what had happened. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before he realised. I’m not strapped down anymore…? He looked down and noticed he was no longer sitting on a gurney, but on a rather comfortable bed. He slid to the edge of the bed and tried to stand up, only to feel a sharp pain in his side and slump back onto the bed.

What the hell did he inject me with? Chris wondered. He also wondered how long he’d been out. His internal clock was all screwed up, and there were no windows in the room, nor was there a clock. Feeling slightly defeated, Chris flopped back down on the bed, wincing as the motion caused the pain in his side to intensify momentarily.

Chris had no idea how much time he spent lying on the bed, just staring at the ceiling, but eventually, the heavy metal door to the room opened. Chris didn’t bother looking over to see who it was. He figured it must be Wesker, seeing as the two young scientists that were supposed to have been watching him previously had failed in their tasks.

“You still alive over there?” Wesker called from the doorway. Chris finally turned his head in Wesker’s direction. The blonde smirked. “I thought so.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time what you did to me, before I’m going to have to get angry. Now, what the fuck did you do to me?”

“Temper, temper,” said Wesker, dismissing Chris’ outburst. “I’ve given you a whole new life, a whole new purpose for being, and the sooner you accept it, the easier it will be for you.”

“A whole new life? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chris asked, his confusion almost tangible in his tone. Wesker’s smirk widened.

“Uroboros has accepted you, Christopher,” Wesker replied. His simple sentence sent the reality of the situation crashing down around Chris. Infected. He was infected. His disbelief must have been apparent on his face, because Wesker chuckled, and handed him a small mirror. “See for yourself,” the blonde continued, a tone of barely concealed triumph present in his voice.

Chris’ hand shook as he took the mirror from Wesker. He was afraid to turn it over and see what had happened to him. Breathing slowly in an attempt to control the fear rising in his chest, Chris slowly turned the mirror around, and the first thing he saw was that his eyes had turned from their usual brown to an unnaturally bright reddish orange. Chris gasped, and the mirror slipped from his hand, shattering as it hit the floor. Focusing all his energy on keeping himself from hyperventilating, Chris barely heard what Wesker said next.

“You’re not out of the woods yet. This is only the very first stage of your transformation. You’ve got a long way to go, and I’m sorry to say, it will be rather unpleasant at times… The pain in your side should fade in a few hours, however.” Still somewhat in shock, Chris nodded silently. The sound of his stomach growling accompanied by an unpleasant gnawing sensation drew him out of his fog.

“If you can stand up, I’ll take you to get some food,” said Wesker. Chris swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up again. Wincing as the sharp pain in his side returned, Chris managed to hoist himself into an upright position.

Fuck this… Chris thought to himself. There’s no way in hell I’m becoming like him. There has to be a cure; it’s just a matter of finding it. He then realised that Wesker would probably figure out what he was up to, and possibly kill him. I’ll have to play along; make him think it’s working… Satisfied with his decision, Chris made his way unsteadily across the room to where Wesker was waiting.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be locked in here most of the time, until I can be sure you’re progressing as you should be,” Wesker drawled, typing a complex series of numbers into a small computer panel next to the door. Chris made a futile attempt at memorizing the numbers as Wesker’s fingers flew across the keypad. Hearing the locks inside the door click, Wesker turned the knob and shoved the door open before walking out into the corridor. Chris followed him slowly, clamping his left arm to his side to try to alleviate the pain. Wesker pursed his lips as he held the door open for Chris.

The locks slid back into place as soon as the door closed. Wesker started down the hallway, not caring that Chris couldn’t keep up with him.

“Where are we going?” Chris called out.

“Do you want to eat, or not?” Wesker replied. Chris sighed. He should have known that, regardless of his supposed position in Wesker’s “new genesis,” nothing would change. Chris limped as fast as he could to try to catch up to Wesker. The blond turned and scowled at Chris as he fell in beside him. Chris had wondered where he was, but the cold, sterile environment led him to believe he was in one of Wesker’s countless laboratory facilities.

A few minutes later, Wesker and Chris came to a set of heavy double doors at the end of a long, desolate hallway. Wesker pushed the doors open, and Chris followed him into the room. It was a cafeteria, of sorts, and there were several other people in there; each of them staring blatantly at Chris as he and Wesker walked past them. Chris looked down at the floor. He knew why they were staring at him, and for a moment, he wished that he, too, had a pair of sunglasses. After what felt like forever to Chris, he and Wesker reached the other end of the cafeteria. He noticed that it was a buffet-type thing and took a tray, a plate, and utensils from the neat stacks at the end of the buffet table.

Once Chris had gotten his food, and some coffee to go with it, Wesker led him to a small table along one of the walls. It wasn’t until after they sat down that Chris noticed Wesker hadn’t taken any food for himself; he merely steepled his fingers and peered at Chris through his ever-present sunglasses. Chris wondered momentarily if the blonde even kept his sunglasses on in the shower. The thought was immediately followed by an image of Wesker in the shower. He shook his head violently, to try to rid it of the image.

Where the hell did that come from? He wondered, surprised at himself. He hadn’t had any of ‘those’ types of thoughts about Wesker in a long time, and he’d thought he’d completely eradicated them. Chris sighed. Guess not… He thought, as the image flashed before his eyes again. He wasn’t aware of how tightly he’d been holding the coffee mug until it shattered in his hand. Wesker didn’t bother hiding his amusement.

“What’s so damn funny?” Chris demanded.

“You are, dear heart,” Wesker replied.

“You’re hilarious,” said Chris, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And quit calling me ‘dear heart’!”

“As you wish; and you had better be planning on cleaning that up, Christopher,” Wesker said, with the last word turning into a sneer.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on,” Chris snapped. “I was getting there.” As he piled the bits of ceramic into a neat little stack on his tray, Chris wondered why, exactly, he’d chosen the phrase ‘keep your pants on.’ Unable to come up with a satisfactory answer, he straightened up, cracking his knuckles. “What do I do with this?” He asked, gesturing to the tray.

“Put it on that conveyor belt over there,” Wesker replied, pointing to a window somewhere on Chris’ left. The brunette turned and crossed the room, ignoring the obvious stares of the other people in the cafeteria. He slid the tray through the window onto the conveyor belt before making his way back to where Wesker was standing.

When they got back to the room that Chris assumed was ‘his’ now, Wesker punched the code into the panel, and then gestured for the younger man to enter first. Once Chris was back inside the room, Wesker walked through the door, letting it slam shut behind him.

“Is there anything you require, dear heart?” Wesker asked. Chris’ hands balled into fists.

“I told you not to call me that!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Chris found himself pinned against the wall, with Wesker’s left forearm across his throat.

“I own you, and you presume to tell me what I can and cannot call you?” Wesker snarled, his face mere inches from the other man’s. Chris’ hands scrambled to find purchase on Wesker’s shoulders in an attempt to push him away. As this was happening, however, Chris’ already slightly enhanced senses carried the scent of Wesker’s cologne to his nose. His hands, which were already on the older man’s shoulders, clenched around handfuls of Wesker’s black trench coat. The last thing Chris saw before he yanked the blonde closer to him and crashed their mouths together was Wesker’s trademark smirk spreading across his lips.

Wesker’s forearm was still across Chris’ throat, but he didn’t care. His rational mind was screaming at him, and he did his best to ignore it. He knew so much had changed since the last time he was in this type of situation with Wesker, but the taste of the blonde’s mouth gave Chris some weird sense of nostalgia.

What the hell am I doing? Chris scolded himself. Wesker is the enemy! He told himself. But then, he realised that he didn’t care. He wanted to touch Wesker, or he wanted Wesker to touch him, or… Something. Right as the thought crossed Chris’ mind, Wesker broke the contact between their lips, and Chris glared at him. He then tried to grind his hips against Wesker’s but the arm across his throat limited his range of motion. Wesker still didn’t move his arm, but let out a low chuckle and reached down to undo Chris’ pants with his other hand, before shoving them down past his hips.

The sudden rush of cool air on his skin was slightly uncomfortable. However, any unpleasantness faded away as the older man wrapped his hand around Chris’ shaft. Wesker stroked the brunette’s length a few times, experimentally. Chris’ hips bucked forward in an attempt to increase the friction. Wesker let go of Chris’ cock, earning him a scowl. The blonde pecked his former subordinate on the lips before spitting into his palm and returning his hand to its former position.

Wesker began stroking Chris, slowly at first, but with increasing speed as he settled into a rhythm, admiring the look on the brunette’s face as he bit his lip in a valiant attempt to keep from making a sound. The blonde stopped moving his hand entirely, drawing a frustrated growl from the younger man. As Wesker resumed his ministrations, he noticed a thin trickle of blood making its way down Chris’ chin from where he’d broken the skin of his lip with his teeth.

“Give in to me,” the blonde whispered. Surrendering, despite his better judgment, Chris moaned softly as Wesker’s hand sped up again. “Good boy,” Wesker said, before kissing the brunette’s neck once. The tone of Chris’ voice changed as his breathing became more ragged and his eyes fluttered shut. Wesker’s hand slowed and he tightened his grip on Chris’ member, pushing his left arm down a little harder on his throat. “Look at me when I’m jacking you off!” he snarled. Chris squirmed slightly in Wesker’s grip before opening his eyes again, earning him another kiss on the lips. “I want to see how much you like it,” the blonde whispered, his lips brushing against Chris’ ear.

Wesker’s hand resumed its previous velocity, and Chris moaned again, louder this time. A shudder ran through his entire body, and his knees buckled as he came. Wesker’s arm across his throat was the only thing keeping Chris vertical as his legs failed to hold him up. The blonde withdrew his left arm, and the brunette slid to the floor, still breathing heavily. Reaching into one of his pockets with his left hand, Wesker took out a handkerchief and began wiping Chris’ fluids off of his other hand with it.

Tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket, Wesker chuckled to himself. Chris looked up at him.
“What--”

“Side effects may include, among other things, inexplicable arousal,” Wesker explained, with some horrible type of amusement in his voice. “You’re progressing a lot quicker than I thought,” he finished, looking extremely pleased with himself. He turned and walked to the door without another word.

“You mean--” Chris called out, but Wesker was already in the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Chris drew his knees up to his chest, not caring that his pants were still around his ankles. He bit back a sudden massive urge to vomit. His infection was progressing at a disturbing rate. He sank down into a pit of self-loathing, hating himself for how easily he’d given in to his lust. I have to find a way to fix this… he thought, resting his chin on his knees and focusing all his energy on keeping his food down.


- To be continued.