F*cks like a S.T.A.R.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/Chris Redfield
Warnings: Rimming, S&M, bondage, rimming, minor non-con, drugs, Slashfic (Slash-fik) n. A fictitious story which contains sexual relations between two or more men.
Summary: Chris wakes to find himself bound and completely at the mercy of Wesker. The other man is thirsts for his humiliation, but how far will he go to make Chris submit? How long before Chris gives in and begs for it?

Feedback: Comments are welcome; constructive and positive. Since this is a PWP I'm not really looking for anything too constructive, unless there's a major, glaring error. As always, flames are nice too because I can always do with a laugh.
Special Thanks: Kat! Omg, for listening to me talk about this thing while I brainstormed. For betaing for me, I can't thank you enough! Thank you, girl! *kisses*
Notes: This story was written for Chris Redfield day over at y!gallery in the Wesker/Chris club. There had been some really hot art of Chris getting rimmed, and I realized last week that I used to write rimming *all the time* as part of foreplay, and then it stopped… and I missed it! So here’s some hardcore rimming. I'm not 100% convinced he'd do something submissive like this, but I'm going at it with the idea that he *really* wants to make Chris beg for it so that he can be humiliated. Bear with me on that part, please ^_^

Other side-note. I wrote this thing up in a grand total of 10 hours. One of those hours was dedicated to agonizing over the title. The one I’ve chosen was inspired after listening to the group Porcelain and the Tramps’ song “Like a Rockstar” and noticing the whole S.T.A.R.S. thing that could be going on… How the hell does one title a PWP without getting too deep or too frivolous? Please let me know. Oh, and enjoy the pointless smut!!


F*cks like a S.T.A.R.

Chris Redfield groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. He groggily stared at the backs of his eyelids before flicking them open to see where he was. He didn’t remember going to sleep. In fact… he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there – wherever there was.

The first thing he could sense was a damp, earthy smell, like he was underground. He tried to move, finding that, as he fully came to consciousness, that his wrists were bound together and held above his head. He tried to look up, only seeing the glint of a metal hook over which the ropes were threaded. Desperately he looked down, trying to brace his feet against the floor to slide his wrists out of their confines, but found that only the balls of his feet could touch the ground. Whoever had tied him up wasn’t going to let him out that easily.

Then the panic set in.

Chris Redfield was trained in many things; tactical maneuvers, knife fighting, precision shooting and, since the incident in the Arlkay Mansion outside of Raccoon City, killing zombies and monsters. He’d thought he’d seen it all, though none of it would prepare him to wake up in some… torture chamber?

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks and he immediately tried to sift through memories of people who he’d managed to piss off. Ever since Wesker’s betrayal, he’d become aware that not everyone could be trusted. He looked down, taking note that his weapons had been removed, though his regular attire had been left in place; black shirt and combat pants. He craned his neck to the side, peering over at what appeared to be a table and chair that was set up close by his position. The room was dark and everything else was swallowed up by the shadows, although he swore he could see what looked like a case sitting on the table, metal clasps glinting in the non-existent light. He had a bad feeling about what was to come. His arms were starting to go numb, meaning he’d probably been brought there recently, although that didn’t help him remember what had happened before that.

Walking down a dark alley, he’d been searching for something… on alert for any small sound or movement… someone had called his name, he’d turned to look and then… blackness.

“Shit,” he cursed, a loud clank echoing through the room and his head snapped up to the doorway. The once dark room was illuminated by the light that spilled in from the hallway, casting shadows over the face of a man who stood in the doorway, watching him.

“Hey!” Chris shouted, immediately wanting to get to the bottom of things. “Who are you? Why am I here?” He stood as comfortably as he could, trying to twist his wrists and somehow snap his restraints.

The action drew a deep chuckle from the other man who reached out to flick a switch beside the door. The action lit the room up in a dim glow that could have been comfortable had it not been installed in what could pass for a medieval cell. Chris could now see the stone walls, old and moist. There were no windows, and from where he was hanging he could only see the table set up to his side, and the doorway where the one man he despised above all others stood. “Wesker,” he gritted his teeth.

The blonde wore dark sunglasses with a black uniform and Chris felt his stomach turn at the thought of what the other man had planned. He glared daggers at his former Captain, trying to keep his temper and fear down as his imagination worked on ideas of what was to come.

Wesker cocked an eyebrow before a lopsided smile drew his lip up in a sneer. “Ah, Chris,” he started in his haughty tone. “I’m so glad you’ve awoken. Such good timing, I was going to start regardless, but this will be so much more fun if you’re awake.”

“What do you want, Wesker?” Chris asked, keeping his voice steady as he balled his fists, jumping a little as the door slammed shut behind his former team leader.

“What do I ever want with you, Redfield?” Wesker sighed, closing the distance between them in a few strides and roughly taking his captive’s face in a gloved hand.

Chris twisted his head to the side, wrenching his face from Wesker’s grip earning a hearty laugh from the blonde man before a fist cracked his jaw and his head was snapped back.

Without a word, Wesker turned to the table and the mysterious case that was set upon it. It was a small, rectangular box that was no longer than Chris’ forearm. He watched the other man intently, a ball of anxiety settling in his belly as he observed Wesker snap the lid open with an audible click. Moments later he observed the blonde ex-Captain lift what was undoubtedly a syringe into the air, tapping the end to remove all air from the chamber before turning on his heel with a sinister smirk.

“You asked what I’m doing?” Wesker said, reaching behind the Chris to grab a fistful of chestnut locks. He wrenched his head back, exposing his neck and brought the sharp tip of the needle to his vein.

Chris struggled against the knots with renewed determination, swearing and kicking his feet out in an attempt to injure his captor, but in the end, Wesker’s strength prevailed and the mysterious contents of the syringe were introduced to his blood stream.

“You bastard, what the fuck did you inject me with?” Chris spat as his head was released, his feet still struggling to lift him up and over the hook which left him helpless. “Was that the damn T-Virus?”

Wesker tilted his head back in a rich laugh as he carelessly tossed the empty syringe towards the case. The glass struck the wooden exterior with a clack, echoing loud in Chris’ ears and he stopped his cursing, suddenly feeling very odd. Wesker’s voice was rolling over him, though it took several moments for him to understand it, bringing his focus back to normal. He wrenched on the ropes, his eyes blazing naked rage. Everything suddenly felt so much clearer for him; he could see Wesker that much more vividly, even in the dim lighting of the room. He could smell the musky smell of the walls; even hear the distant chitter of rats as they traveled behind the thick stones. Worse, he could feel everything that much more clearly as well. The blood that was slowly leaving his arms, leaving them numb, was stronger and left him feeling sick. His body felt warm, buzzing with the blood pumping through his system. His heart beat rhythmically in his chest and he could hear as well as feel the steady beat that matched his growing fear of what was happening to him.

He looked towards the other man who was sitting in the chair, simply watching him with an enigmatic smile on his face. His eyes were hidden by his sunglasses and Chris could only stare at him while listening to his heart beat in that quick and determined rhythm. He glared at the other man before turning his head to look around the room once more, searching for a way out, or something that could help. He felt so helpless, so exposed, and he hated it. He stared at the ground before his feet – cobblestone, he noticed – before another sensation made itself known. He tried to quash the feeling, wondering how he could feel that way in the situation he was in, but it was unmistakable and growing with every beat of his heart; he was getting hard.

Panic set in there, though he did his best not to show it and he glared with wide-eyes at that cobblestone floor, wondering what to do next. He knew that Wesker would have a field day with him if he found out, though for the life of him, Chris couldn’t figure out how to quell the growing harness between his legs. He set his face to the unreadable expression he reserved for dealing with his superiors and chanced a peek at the blonde. Wesker was stretched out in the chair, legs casually crossed as he drummed his fingers on his thigh and watched him with growing interest.

Chris looked away, and fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to think of something unpleasant, focusing his mind on monsters, rotting zombies, anything that might make his hard-on retreat. He grunted as realization set in and his head snapped back towards his captor. “What did you…?’ he began.

“Ah, you’re feeling it already, Redfield?” Wesker chuckled in a sing-song way, stretching his legs. “My, my, most people are able to resist a bit longer, but I suppose you always were weak in that department, eh?”

“Damnit!” Chris closed his eyes and tried to still his body, only bringing his attention to his cock that was throbbing incessantly against his thigh.

The sound of Wesker moving drew Chris’ attention as the other man removed his sunglasses, casually folding them up and setting them on the table before leaning forward to stare at him with strange, bright eyes. “You’re no-doubt wondering why I’ve brought you here, Redfield. Why you’re hanging from the ceiling in a cell far away from anybody who could even hope to help you. Why I’ve come here and why I’m enjoying every moment of your discomfort.”

Chris could only grunt in response, his eyes staring lusty daggers at the other man.

“It’s really quite simple,” Wesker continued, the earlier lightness of his tone slipping away to reveal the raw anger beneath. He sprang to his feet, combat knife glinting in his hand as he approached his captive, bringing the flat of the blade to rest against Chris’ cheek. He moved in close, his breath hot and dangerous. “Because I hate you that much, Redfield. The thought of you even breathing infuriated me so much that I wanted to completely humiliate you to alleviate the aggravation of your existence. I want to break you down. Is that enough of an answer for you, Chris?” he angrily ripped the knife away, nicking Chris’ chin before he brought the blade up to angrily rip through Chris’ shirt

Wesker was an expert in the use of many weapons, knives being one of his favourite for the sheer artistry involved. In moments the material was shredded, leaving the younger man’s chest bare as the remnants fell away.

Chris clenched his jaw, eyes wide as the stared at the man who still held the knife so close to him. His chest was heaving with deep breaths as Wesker brought the blade to his body again, the difference in temperature shocking as the cool metal was pressed against hot skin. Wesker lazily dragged the weapon around, letting it trail down his stomach before bringing it up and across a nipple. He kept his wrist slack, the edge never cutting the skin until it was up against Chris’ neck again, where he tightened his grip and held it steady.

“By the end of this… you’ll be begging me…” Wesker drawled, flicking the blade away and nicking the underside of Chris’ jaw again.

“Ungh, not likely… Wesker…” the brunette grunted, staring his captor in the face, never shying away from his inhuman eyes. He’d never beg the other man, although the sureness in Wesker’s tone had him worried.

The words brought a smile to the former-Captain’s face and he reached out to lightly pinch a nipple between his thumb and index before brutally twisting it. The sudden action elicited a shout of pain from Chris, who quickly bit it back. He’d hold out for as long as he could.

Wesker seemed pleased with the response and slipped behind his captive to roughly grab the round, hard ass that was jutted out. “I must say,” Wesker drawled, his fingers kneading the perfect globes through the combat fatigues. “If you were just some random soldier, I’d be admiring your assets.” He squeezed hard, causing Chris’ head to snap around to glare at him the best he could.

“But you’re not some nameless soldier, are you, Chris?” he withdrew his grabbing hands only to bring one down, open-palm against the clothed rear. “That’s why you’re here; for my amusement and your humiliation. You’re probably feeling it now; that drug, enhancing all your senses and making you so painfully hard that you can’t stand it.” He brought a hand up to gently rest against Chris’ back before moving down to the waistline of his pants.

“I’ll bet that you’d just love to get your rocks off, eh? You want me to just reach around so you can blow your load and get a little relief? Not caring who’s doing it so long as it ends?” Wesker trailed his fingers along the waistband, snaking around to the front clasp of Chris’ pants before coming to a rest. A few inches down and he’d know just how hard the other man was right then.

Chris glared down at that gloved hand, willing it to move down so he wouldn’t have to ask – to beg - but it stayed put and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting his hips out a bit, just hoping that something would happen if he did.

Wesker pulled his hand back almost immediately, causing Chris to curse him while he chuckled. “I’m not going to make it that easy for you, Redfield,” he sneered, grabbing Chris’ hair and speaking directly into his ear from behind. “You’re going to know it’s me and you’re going to be begging me to do it!”

The words were harsh and Chris bit his tongue as he felt his will to resist slipping away. It was melting from the heat that was throbbing between his legs and he screwed his eyes shut as he bowed his head and took a steady, deep breath. “Wesker…?”

That simple word brought the blonde’s hand back around his waist. One simple name and he could get what he needed. Chris whimpered as he watched that hand find its place on his belt buckle before pausing again.

“That’s a good little soldier, Chris,” Wesker flicked his wrist and the belt was released.

“No…” Chris moaned before biting back the sound as Wesker’s hand slowly pinched the fly of his trousers and drew it down oh-so slowly. Click-click-click as the teeth parted, grating lightly against his hardness. “You’re such a bastard,” he groaned.

He was jolted as Wesker brought his free hand down on his rump again, this time with his full force and Chris jumped, his hips pressing forward, grinding into the hand working his zipper and he felt a stab of pleasure spread through him.

“I don’t have to do this, you know, Redfield,” Wesker was heaving into the back of Chris’ neck. “I could just leave you hanging here in this state...” he trailed off, letting the other man’s imagination take over.

Chris looked wildly over his shoulder as best he could, teeth clenched as he breathed through his nose. He could feel a hardness pressing into his backside and he knew that Wesker wouldn’t just leave him like that. He closed his eyes and threw caution to the wind before grinding back against the other man’s clothed erection. “Fuck,” he groaned. It had felt far too good…

“Only if you insist, Redfield,” Wesker purred, finishing his task of unzipping his fly and quickly pushing the remainder of his clothing down to his knees, fully exposing his excitement.

Chris bit out a moan, his erection was rosy pink and painfully solid, the heat pouring from his groin a strong juxtaposition against the cool air of the room. He stared down at it, feeling his testicles swinging heavily from below the base of his shaft, round and swollen and full. He couldn’t remember being so hard in his entire life, and Wesker was the one to see him like that – to cause it. Despite the fact that it was the drugs’ fault, he was feeling humiliated at his weakness. The arousal took some of the edge off that embarrassment, his blood buzzing through his veins, carrying the drug through his system, and he could only bitterly hope that Wesker helped him find release. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to think of something else.

“Ah-ah,” Wesker’s tone went hard again.

Chris’ eyes flew open as he felt a hard smack against his bare ass, his heightened senses making the strike so much more intense. He turned his head to look at Wesker who had a smug look on his face.

“That look is priceless, Chris. Just priceless,” he hauled his hand back again and brought it down on the brunette’s rear again, repeating the action again and again, each cheek burned fiercely as the blonde dealt his punishment to his captive. Each smack echoed through the room and in Chris’ ears.

He wouldn’t say anything to Wesker; he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing him beg to stop. He was dying for some contact with his cock, but he still had some sense about him and knew that asking the other man to help wouldn’t get him what he wanted. He hung his head, feeling each smack on his bum resonate through his body as he stared down his torso at his erection that swung heavily with each strike.

The movement of air from Wesker moving against him was enough to heighten his pleasure and he imagined that he could come just from that. There were drops of pre come glistening at the tip of his prick and he was mesmerized by the dollop that danced on the end, becoming larger as the beating progressed before dropping off to splash on the ground, another droplet quickly forming to repeat the process all over again.

By the time the blows stopped, Chris was panting heavily, his lip swollen from where he’d bit it and he bowed his head, resigned to accept Wesker’s punishment. The blonde snuck around to his front, bringing a hand up to gently cup his face as he moved in close to speak directly. “I really enjoyed that,” he said, before hauling back and hitting the bound man across the mouth.

Chris reeled back, body held in place by the ropes that held his arms above him. His head fell forward as he felt Wesker’s gloved hand close around his shaft, gripping him firmly, a sigh escaping him.

“Now that I have your attention,” he drawled, flexing his fingers around the shaft. “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

Chris clenched his jaw, shaking his head violently. His body was fighting to nod ‘yes’, but he still had a modicum of pride about him and he wouldn’t let Wesker hear him beg.

The fingers, which had been stroking him gently, suddenly gripped him hard and pulled him forward. Chris cursed loudly. “Very well,” Wesker purred close to Chris’ mouth. If you don’t want me to touch you…” he released the erection, an action that sent a violent shudder through the brunette.

“Nnn…” Chris said without thinking. He held back, his defenses falling as he grumbled unhappily. His brain could only focus on his cock and the feeling of Wesker’s skilled hand. He could say Wesker’s name, but close his eyes and think of someone else. His blood was singing in his veins and knew that he’d lose his mind soon if he didn’t do something.

Wesker was the only one who could do anything.

“What was that?” the ex-Captain asked, victorious glee lining the question.

“No,” Chris said in a desperate gasp, his defenses crumbling. “Don’t… don’t stop… Wesker…”

The gloved hand was on his member again and Chris thrust greedily into the passage that the fingers made. The leather was soft, he noted, as he was jerked along. It was very soft, almost like a woman’s hand, and he let his eyes drift closed as he drew up memories of a woman – any woman. An ex-girlfriend or a pinup from the latest skin mag he’d bought, he didn’t care. He found it easier to thrust into that welcoming hand while imagining that it was someone other than Wesker jerking him.

His blonde, ex-Captain’s body was hard against his, but Chris’ lust-addled imagination turned it into a woman, the curves of her body, hard against his angular ones, her flat chest against his side, her manhood pressing hard into his thigh…

Chris opened his eyes to look down into Wesker’s mischievous grin. “Having trouble, Redfield?” he asked, pumping harder.

This earned a grunt from the brunette, his fantasy vanishing as the harsh reality of his situation presented itself to him in masculine form. He tried thrusting harder into his Captain’s fist, climbing the never-ending staircase to his release, but never quite finding the pinnacle. “What the hell did you do, Wesker?” his desperation clear in his voice. It was one thing to bow down and ask the other man to jerk him off. It was another to realize that the rhythmic pounding of his cock only made him hornier, without any idea of how to reach orgasm.

“I forgot to mention,” Wesker slowed his hand and leaned in to breathe into his captive’s ear.

Chris nearly cried out in shock at the abandonment of his arousal. If he’d been in pain before, it was ten-times as worse with nothing touching him. “What the fuck did you do?!” he asked again, turning his head to glare angrily at the other man. “What do you want?”

“I told you before, Chris,” Wesker said, stepping back to casually unfasten the belt to his pants. “I want you to be humiliated so that the next time we meet, you won’t be able to look me in the eye.”

“And… you want me to ask for what now?” Chris panted, his muscles tightening in rage.

“That sweet release that you’ve been thrusting towards for the past thirty minutes… you asked me to jerk you, but you never asked me to make you come.”

Chris let out a moan of desperation, low and whining. He hung his head, staring down at his dick which was now an angry shade of red, pre come leaking from the end in rivulets, the floor before him was a dark, wet patch from where his pre-essence had fallen. The centre of his being was throbbing in agony, only morphing into pleasure as he felt a hand on his ass and he leaned into the touch.

“You can only find release through stimulation of your prostate,” Wesker hummed, massaging the globes of Chris’ ass.

The brunette felt his resolve to resist breaking down.

“I think you know what I want you to ask,” Wesker said, moving in front of Chris so that the other man could see him massaging his own hardening dick. “Better ask me fast, Redfield,” he said, making a show of thrusting into his own fist. “Only I know how to give you release, and if you wait too long, then I’ll finish and have no reason to stay here. There are other things that I need to-”

“No!” Chris cried out before he could stop himself.

“Then…” Wesker drawled, a sneer coming to his face and his eyebrow arched.

“Fuck me, Wesker…” Chris bowed his head and gasped. “I want you to make me come…” the word ‘come’ turned into a low moan as Wesker’s hand returned to his ass and unceremoniously parted the cheeks.

Chris didn’t care anymore. His heart was racing with lust and desire for more. More pleasure, more… just more. His skin was on fire and his will was bending in half. He couldn’t help but thrust his ass back as Wesker’s finger tested his puckered entrance. He tried spreading his legs, but his pants were around his knees and he couldn’t get them very far apart. His arms had long-since lost feeling and he could only hang limply from the ceiling and angle his bottom out, hoping that Wesker would get the hint.

“Ah~aaaaa,” he moaned as the other man pushed a finger into him. There was pain in the friction, though it was superseded by the pleasure. He eagerly tried pushing back against the retreating digit before crying out in hopelessness as Wesker withdrew his fingers. He cursed and bit and was ready to fight to get that deliciously dry digit inside him again so he could grind against it. He attempted to turn and confront his tormentor when time seemed to stop as he felt the other man’s hands on him again, one on each cheek, deliciously spreading him apart as something else was pressed against his tight pucker and his breath caught in his throat. “W-Wesker…” he mewled, losing all inhibitions and thrusting back against the feeling. “Oh god…”

The blonde didn’t reply, his tongue teasing the ring of muscle at Chris’ entrance. His mouth worked the fleshy swirl that throbbed against his lips, clenching down on his tongue as he pushed it inside, trailing globs of saliva all along the passage while he licked around the rim. He pushed in hard, going in as far as he could go before withdrawing to gently lap at the surface of Chris’ asshole. He forced the cheeks further apart, lapping along the fullness of his throbbing entrance before pushing the tip back in to lick around the edges of his insides. The muscle relaxed, parting easily for his invading muscle that playfully poked before withdrawing to lavish attention upon the surrounding area.

Chris was moaning and swearing, groaning roughly before his voice tittered off into a higher-toned whisper of a plea for more. His sobs were loud in his ears, echoing off the walls and he just plain didn’t give a fuck how he sounded. He yanked down on the hook with all his strength, begging for just a little more slack so that he could fully seat himself on that damn mouth. “Fuuuuu~ck!” he ground out, wriggling his bottom as best he could to direct his ex-Captain’s tongue.

The blonde kept licking him, bringing a finger down to push against the opening, slipping in beneath the first knuckle before pulling it away and forcing his tongue in again. He did this a couple of times before suddenly pushing two fingers inside as far as they would go. Deep inside, joints deep they slid in past the constricting muscle until Wesker’s fist was deeply seated against Chris’ asshole and the brunette let out a loud moan from deep within his chest. The sound surprised Wesker and he knew he’d hit on something, flicking his fingers inside the other man before withdrawing them and returning his tongue to the entrance.

“Wessssssss~ker,” Chris moaned, lust and desperation thick in his voice, the name begging for something more, something bigger. His skin felt like it was on fire and he just couldn’t handle the teasing. There was a tiny voice in the back of his mind saying that he would regret his wanton begging in the morning, but there was a much louder voice that was screaming for him to find his release no matter the cost. His pride be damned, he wanted Wesker to fuck him raw.

His demands for Wesker to screw him senseless were matched with a harsh laugh from the other man who withdrew from his ass, a trail of saliva following him as he sat back from the brunette’s opening, now pliant and wet and oh-so ready for something bigger. He stood, spitting into his fist to quickly slather his own thick shaft before positioning himself at the hole that his mouth had been worshiping moments earlier.

Chris bowed his head forward, the thickness penetrated him slowly at first and it was both relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. Wesker moved in so slowly, his head of his dick finally clearing the clenching muscle before it stopped moving. The brunette snapped his head around, glaring white-death at the other man, his fists balled though he couldn’t feel them and he went rigid in his bonds. “Hurry the fuck up!” he cried before his demand was met and Wesker snapped his hips forward, fully seating himself inside Chris’ body.

“Is this what you wanted?” Wesker hissed in his ear, grinding inside him.

Chris could only gasp and let out a choked cry.

“Well, it’s what I wanted,” the blonde grunted, pulling back until his head met the resisting ring of muscle that gripped him tightly. He paused a moment, waiting for Chris to make another delicious sound before thrusting back up to the hilt. His thrusts increased from there, going from slow drawn-out movements to fast, jerky pistoning that wrenched a continuous string of cries from the bound man.

Chris couldn’t think straight, all he knew was that there was something deliciously filling inside his ass and it was moving towards that spot deep inside him that was throbbing to be touched. He sputtered, his eyes rolling back as Wesker grabbed his hips and struck that spot with even greater force, each move of the other man’s body sending a shock straight through the heart of his unbridled lust. Wesker was playing him at the right speed with his cock throbbing at the right tempo against his insides. He could feel the right rhythm striking his prostate and his vision got hazy as he tried to breathe, as his mind reeling from the heightened sensations.

Wesker was breathing harsh and heavy in his ear. Chris looked back to see him through a delirious gaze. Wesker’s eyes were still harsh and inhuman, though they were misted over with his own passion and there was a faint blush to his alabaster cheeks. “W-Wesker…” Chris mewled, his head falling back as he allowed the other man to pound into him.

“Yes, Chris? What… do you…ah, want?” Wesker asked between pants. His usually stoic, sadistic demeanour faltering under the weight of his own pleasure

The brunette huffed, his head bowed forward to watch his arousal bobbing desperately in the air. He bit his lip until he tasted blood; this wasn’t what he wanted, was it? But he couldn’t think anymore. He just wanted his release, everything came secondary to that. Everything.

“Chris?” Wesker huffed warningly in his ear.

“Make me come…” Chris panted out, desperately wanting the other mans’ hand on him. That thick shaft was thrusting inside him, haphazard and irregular. He needed the blonde to strike that spot inside him. He wanted his hand on his prick, milking him until he could think straight again. He just wanted Wesker to fucking do it to make it stop.

But Chris didn’t want it to stop.

“Fucking make me come, you bastard!” Chris screamed as the blonde increased his thrusts, angling his prick down to strike that spot within Chris. That invasion in his most private of areas was the most welcome thing he’d ever felt, the best thing he’d ever taken into his body. He never thought he’d be screaming such things, but at the moment it was the only thing to say.

He pulled on the restraints above him, hanging hopelessly as Wesker fucked him raw and hard. He was in the home stretch. He was nearing the top of the staircase he’d been climbing toward his orgasm and he could see the light shining down from above.

Or maybe it was the stars that Wesker was making him see.

The other man’s hand was on his prick, stroking up for every thrust in, roughly jerking down and slamming into his balls on the way out. Up-down, in-out, Wesker was relentless and strong and brutal and Chris gave his body over to be used, to let the other man carry him up to his release. Wesker pinched the head on the upstroke, a little flick of the wrist that struck out at the nerves just beneath his crown before tightening his fingers to form a solid fist the drove down hard against his abdomen. Chris was moving his hips helplessly trying to control the action.

And then he was coming.

Oh god, was he coming, and he was screaming Wesker’s name as he felt his entire body convulse in that perfect moment that went on forever. His head was snapped back and he cried out, though Wesker’s hand didn’t stop, nor did his thrusting. He continued to fuck Chris’ body through his release, the drug drawing out the sensation far longer than was normal.

Thirty seconds passed, forty, fifty seconds and Chris was losing his mind in the waves of pleasure that continued to wash over his body until they ebbed and he was left to hang limply from the ceiling and babbling incoherently.

He didn’t become aware of his surroundings again – or that Wesker had even pulled out of him – until the other man slapped his rump, jarring him to awareness. He looked down, staring blankly at the floor in front of him where his seed spilled, forming a puddle, large, wet, and staining the floor with his release.

“Oh god…” he shuddered, trying to stand, although finding it impossible.

Wesker was already stuffing his prick back into his pants, wiping sweat from his brow as he adjusted his clothing and sniffed his fingers with a smirk. He looked directly at the brunette, snaking a tongue out to taste the remnants of Chris on him before walking back to his bound captive, getting in close and grabbing his chestnut locks to wrench his head back. “That was more fun than I thought it would be. You really do make a great plaything, even though I hate your guts,” he said, licking up Chris’ throat to his jaw. The younger man tried to pull away, but Wesker held him fast. “Remember, Redfield,” he said his tone cold and malicious. “You begged for it.”

Chris turned his head away, his cheeks burning with humiliation as his head cleared from the fog of desire and the reality of his situation came crashing down on him. He’d cried out for Wesker to violate him, invited it, and damn enjoyed it.

The blonde released his face, grinning wolfishly as he set his sunglasses back into place and watched before turning to leave.

“Wesker!” Chris cried out after him. “Let me down from here, you bastard!”

Wesker tilted his head to look back, his strange eyes visible from beneath his glasses, before he reached out and flicked a switch on the wall. The ropes suspending Chris from the ceiling were released and the spent STARS officer fell to the floor, naked and exhausted.

Wesker left the room, closing the door behind him, although there was no sound of a lock falling into place. He’d finished with the other man. It would be pointless to lock him up. He’d humiliated Chris, made him ask for what he’d never have asked for any other time. Chris crouched on the floor where he’d landed, on elbows and knees in a pile of his own seed, willing the blood to rush back into his arms. He was beyond embarrassed at how he’d acted and felt when the other man had touched him. He still had memories of Wesker’s soft, gloved-hands on his prick at the forefront of his imagination. The way he’d massaged his hard organ to a state of bliss, the feeling of Wesker inside him… he shook his head, he’d never allow it to happen again, and yet… the greater humiliation, the one that he wouldn’t even admit to himself, was the regret that it would never happen again.

It couldn’t happen again, because he was going to kill Wesker the first chance he got.