Disclaimer: Wesker and Chris belong to Shinji Mikami/Capcom

"Halloween Special – 2011" belongs to me (IrisHime/R.E.S.)

Author's notes: Hey guys! Iris here. It's been a while since I've written a fanfic, now hasn't it? I know it's been literally been years since I've worked on the "RE – Relapse" series, which, yes, I have still NOT given up on. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I realized that I've been too harsh on myself about the story and too worried about what online readers will think to sit and actually WRITE. I've told myself to just get over it, so hopefully I will be working on it again soon. In the meantime, this fanfic should keep you guys happy.

I got the inspiration for it just yesterday morning and popped the whole thing out over the span of a few hours. I normally would have rolled over in bed and ignored the story idea, but my Chris muse was being particularly loud about wanting to submit something in time for Halloween, so here we are.

This story does NOT fit into the cannon of "Resident Evil – Relapse" strictly because Relapse!Chris and Wesker did not have any kind of sexual relations together until post mansion. That, however, does not mean that I did not have fun writing the story. Well, I hope that you guys will enjoy.

Songs used for Inspiration:
-Not Strong Enough (by Apocalyptica)
-I Should Have Told You (by Fuel)
-Better Than Drugs (by Skillet)

~Whisperings of a Little Flower

Halloween was a special time for Chris. It brought back fond memories of days gone by; clever costumes hand-sewn by his mother, years of candy splurges, sugar highs, and eventual cavities. And then later in life it had meant TP-ing with his friends, a river of childish pranks (which, he was still not above), and taking his little sister for runs, showing her the ropes; which neighborhoods to hit and how to sort your candy the most effectively.

The summer of '85 had almost brought all of that to a screeching halt with a car crash that took everything but Claire away. Chris was twelve and Claire was six. There was no Halloween that year. There was still a dull ache in his chest over the memory, but it had eventually gotten better and dulled with time. Now he could easily celebrate the holiday with the same eager, boyish conviction as before. A conviction that he, Forest, and Joseph all seemed to share. The three were becoming something of 'infamous' around the station for being a trio of terror.

Raccoon was the sort of small-town American City that Chris loved. It was quaint and quiet, and only so far from where he had grown up. And with small towns came a splurge of holiday excitement and festivities that you just couldn't get in the big cities. Christopher loved it.

Kids dressed as ghosts and ghouls (he'd passed several of them on his way to work), parents throwing house-parties (sure to have apple-bobbing, plastic decorations, and cherry punch), hell, even the station was all done up with paper cutouts of bats and pumpkins, and (thanks to Forest) the two weird-ass statues on the second floor that kept the doors open, those were mummies. The evening air was filled with jovial merriment, and a large part of him sincerely wished that he could be out there enjoying it, but in as much as he doubted that something malicious enough to warrant the S.T.A.R.S. attention would happen tonight, he was on-duty. Wesker had promised to make it up to him though, personally, and besides, after (literally) pouring a box of thumbtacks in Chief Irons' chair along with his two cohorts—and being subsequently berated by his captain—Chris had gotten his wiggles out and was ready to work.

The hours were spent chipping away at paperwork from case files a week overdue and taking long coffee breaks in the lounge, which was exactly where he happened to be right at this particular moment. Today of all days, time seemed to be going particularly slow.

"Hey Chris, don't you think it would have been fun if we'd all come into work dressed up in costumes?"

It was Jill who asked the question, and quite frankly Chris was a little surprised. She didn't really strike him as the 'trouble-making' sort. He took a sip of his punch (the precinct's mess hall had chips and dip and punch all set out for the holiday - their way of letting Raccoon City's boys-in-blue enjoy) and leaned against the counter, smiling,

"Hey, damn, that would have been an awesome idea. Why didn't you say anything before?"

Although Chris loved Halloween, somehow he could see Jill being bigger on Thanksgiving or Christmas or maybe even Easter, but then again, he knew that there was a reason that he liked Jill.

"Because I knew that you and Forest would have actually done it." she stated, snorting, as she took a drink of the equally-red liquid inside of her paper cup.

While wearing their uniforms every day was one of the "stricter" aspects of their job even that was a little flimsy; their units were about as un-uniform as it could possibly get. When it came to assembling their gear, Wesker had pretty much handed them each a lump-sum amount of cash and sent them off on their merry little way to the local army surplus store, telling them to buy whatever they wanted (provided that it was actually USEFUL) and then slapped the S.T.A.R.S. decals onto the backs and shoulders of everything that they had purchased.

"But it would have been awesome!" Chris protested, cobalt blue eyes lighting up at the idea. He could just imagine it now: They'd have all showed up in painted faces and cheesy getup, acting just like everything was perfectly normal, and Wesker wouldn't have known what to do. With all of them dressed up together he wouldn't have been able to call a single person out as insubordinate or send anyone home to change. It would have been awesome.

"Yeah well, maybe next year you boys will be a little smarter." Jill smiled. "I can't imagine how furious Wesker would have been." She laughed. Then, after a moment, she thoughtfully asked, "What do you think everyone's costumes would have been?"

"Me? Well, ok, so, since you asked: Barry would have been a 'sailor lost at sea'—don't ask, he just always is—Forest would have been the wolf man (we argued about this), Joseph would have been a pirate, Edward would make an amazing "Frankenstine's monster", Kenneth… "Blackula", for sure—"

"—CHRIS." The brunette woman groaned painfully.

"Ok, I was kidding," he said, putting up his hands, "actually, some kind of undead soldier. I was talking with him about it last week. Kevin: astronaut, Richard said something about a "snake wrangler", Enrico… augh, that'd be tough. Something classic I imagine. If we could have gotten him to play along. I dunno. A Mummy or something. And how could Brad be anything other than a giant chicken?"

At Jill's upraised, skeptical brow, Chris amended,

"Yeah, ok. That was low-brow. Fine, like a ghost in a sheet then, maybe."

"And yourself?"

"Well, that's what Forest and I were arguing about. See, I think I would have made a way better wolf-man. But in the end, I'd settle for a zombie-skeleton. Or a lake monster. How about you, miss Valentine? What would you be? Cupid? A Sandwich? The 'Master of Unlocking'?—ooh, ooh, how about "Catwoman"! You know, since you and Selina Kyle both used to be—"

"Hey, c'mon. I told you. I'm not a 'cat burglar' anymore, and I'm not proud of it." Jill cut in sharply, before Chris even had the chance to say it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." the brunette young man said somewhat quietly, the wind taken from his sails. He felt sorry that he had offended her, but he didn't know what else to say. Taking small sips intermediately, they sat quietly for a moment before Jill spoke up again.

"I would have been a witch." She said, going back to the punch bowel for thirds-ies and popping a handful of potato chips into her mouth, "Actually, I still am. How about you? Are you going anywhere tonight?"

For a moment Chris flushed, thinking about back upon the implications that their boss had made to him about tonight and what they would be doing together, just the day before. Then he realized that Jill was asking him out for the evening.

"Oh, um, no. When Claire said that she had mid-terms coming up and couldn't come to visit, I kinda lost interest in finding a costume. A few friends have invited me a few different places for a few different gigs, but I think I'm just gonna go home and watch horror movies until the sun comes up. Sorry."

"It's alright. It was a bit last-notice anyways."

They fell into a more comfortable silence then before Jill spoke again;

"What about Wesker? You never said what you thought Captain Wesker would have been."

Chris grinned at the question.

"I think Wesker would have been the Devil himself."

After what felt like too many hours, the shift of those S.T.A.R.S. who were on duty for the 2-10 schedule of this particular All-Hallow's Eve drew to a close. Friends went their separate ways for the evening, and as Chris made his way out to his jeep, Wesker stopped him in the parking garage.

"You won't be going home in that, Redfield."

Jesus, the blonde had just about made him jump out of his skin. Did he always have to sneak up on people like that? Fuck.

"Oh, um, no?" Chris asked. His captain, who was already standing suspiciously close behind him, moved in close enough so that Chris could feel his breath on the back of his neck,

"No."

Wesker's hands moved to either side of him, pinning him to the faded green, mud-spattered vehicle, and the teeth testing the nape of his neck made Chris shiver and groan, pressing back against the man standing behind him involuntarily. Biting his lip so as to choke the sound off at the head, he quickly stole a glance around the garage to make sure that they were really alone and outside the field of vision of any of the security cameras. Damn, not here. This was a really stupid place for this. But in as much as Chris wanted to refuse, he couldn't help but turn around and devour the other man's face. Fuck, damn, shit. There was a strategically placed van that blocked them off from the camera's view, and no one else seemed to be around, but Chris still didn't like Wesker's political ambitions to make out with him in a parking garage, even if it had worked. Well, ok. More like he didn't like the idea because if he had been the one to come up with it Wesker would have pushed him off of him and called him 'unprofessional'. Chris loved his boss, he really did, but the man could be such an ass sometimes.

The two of them had been together for the past seven months—well, if 'together' was the right word. More or less they had some kind of 'constant fuck-buddy' type of relationship going on, but Chris liked to imagine that there was something more substantial behind it, even if he couldn't be completely sure that Wesker felt the same way—and Chris was loving every minute of it. His partner could actually be pretty surprising and romantic for a guy who walked around like he had a stick shoved up his ass. But that was all a part of the allure: Albert Wesker was one dazzling mystery, the very image of cool. Wesker had captivated and held all of his interest from the very moment that they had met, and when this very non-professional aspect of their relationship had surfaced Chris had been quickly swept away, even though he had never been with a man before. It was… exciting, for lack of a better word.

When their lips parted, Wesker took the moment to straighten out his uniform and Chris, realizing that he had disheveled himself, quickly followed suit. Man, why was he already so damn excited?

"So are we taking your car then?" he asked casually, rubbing his mouth free of stray spit with the back of his gloved-hand, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. He wouldn't let Wesker see him winded or fazed. Not until after sex, anyways.

"Mm." was the single murring answer, not even a word so much as it was simple acknowledgement. For as often as Wesker told him to 'use his words and not his fists', Chris sure did think that his captain seemed to enjoy cutting corners when he could; the man was quite effective at saying something though a whole lot of nothing.

They made their way over to Wesker's car in mutual silence and Chris got into the passenger's side of the slick black Cadillac without any fuss.

"So what did you have in mind?" Chris asked, looking up at Wesker and locking gazes with him in the rear-view mirror as he buckled himself in.

"You're going to be my date to a Halloween party."

Chris blinked.

"It's mandatory."

Well. This wasn't the evening that he had been expecting.

"Your 'costume' is in the back seat."

Chris turned around in his seat to find two black tuxes draped across the back seat.

"Hey, that isn't funny." Chris pouted, scowling at the idea of Wesker calling a tux a 'costume' when it was worn by Chris.

"It isn't mean to be." Wesker returned, and Chris realized that his boss wasn't joking.

"Fine." The brunette sighed, folding his arms and setting his feet up against the dashboard. "But there had better be sex afterwards, and it had better be fan-fucking-tastic sex to boot."

The blonde didn't say anything but chuckled, and Chris decided that was good enough. Maybe he could make pretend to himself that he and Wesker were both going as James Bond. And Albert had called him his 'date', hadn't he? But seriously, Chris had to wonder; who the fuck invites Wesker to a Halloween party?

So it wasn't so much a 'party' as it was a Halloween-themed business dinner/gala. City hall, Mayor Michel Warren, and Umbrella Incorporated were all throwing some kind of holiday banquet-charity-thing, and apparently Wesker had been invited. Formal attire, expensive red wine, steak dinner, and all of it hosted at a rather expensive (and elaborately decorated) meeting hall; it was the whole works. Chris wasn't necessarily comfortable at these sorts of stuffy upper-class socialite types of events, but Wesker seemed perfectly calm and in his element within their surroundings, and somehow Chris couldn't help but wonder (and not for the first time), what kind of environments the blonde had grown up in. Everyone who was invited was supposed to bring either a date or a business partner (guess which one Chris got to be introduced as?—the business partner, much to his displeasure. But he guessed that outwardly being acknowledged as a 'date' would have just been embarrassing for the both of them. It still bit, however), and although Chris supposed that he should have been flattered, frankly he was just bored. Man, why oh why didn't he just say yes to Jill? He could have blown the whole thing off, made as though he'd forgotten about his plans with Wesker for the evening, and made it up to the man later. But as cordially as he smiled and politely as he shook hands, Chris could see that underneath it all Wesker seemed just as bored with the whole charade as he was, and at the very least they could be bored together. Still, Chris thought that he had seen the last of the Chief for the evening and after the stunt that he, Joseph, and Forest had pulled earlier, he would have thought twice about it if he'd known that they'd be sitting tables away from each other all evening in just a few short hours. Talk about awkward.

Time chipped by tediously and Chris kicked his feet beneath the table, sipping at his wine boredly, as he tried to pass the time the best way he knew how without being a total nuisance. If Wesker had trusted him enough to invite him to such a big event, obviously he trusted him enough to be a big boy and sit there until said event was over. Auctions went up, city business was hashed and rehashed over the podiums at the front of the building, and a rather large donation was made by Umbrella Corporation (in the form of announcing a new medical plan for the under-privileged as well as a check to the mayor), who smiled and shook hands, his wife and his daughter just as seemingly used-to the eye of the public as he was. Both women were pretty, blondes, and though she was a little young for him, Chris couldn't help but smile and wave back when Beverly looked his way and gave him a coy grin, waving flirtatiously with her pinky finger extended. He'd met her very briefly once or twice before, and she seemed to remember him too. Of course, the stern and cutting expression that Wesker gave him put a little of the salt back in Chris' mouth, and he thought very hard about deliberately making his way over and flirting back just to make his boyfriend ornery before ultimately deciding against it. Pissing Wesker off was a just a surefire way to get dropped off at his own house after the event was over, and then he really would get to spend the rest of the evening alone rather than go back to the blonde's place for a romp. Still, Chris couldn't help but think that she must have been pretty bored herself, considering Chris was the closet person to her age-group around here. There were a few kids at the party, but she looked like she was around nineteen, and Chris had boyish features anyways, apart from only being twenty-four.

Quite suddenly he felt a hand squeeze his upper thigh, and Chris turned in confusion to his boss, a little surprised by the action. Leaning in close Wesker whispered a quiet, "don't draw attention to yourself," into his ear, and immediately the brunette felt his cheeks heat up. He fumbled around with his silverware, pushing the vegetables around on the plate the way that he had been doing up until just a few moments ago. He wasn't entirely sure what the older man was playing at, but if he'd be damned if he was made a public display of (especially after Wesker himself had stated that he wanted for them to keep their 'relationship' discrete)! The blonde was uncomfortably close and the hand on his thigh shifted just about two inches higher, effectively moving out of 'good friend' territory and into 'I want inside of you'. Chris went redder and thought about crossing his legs just to be deliberately difficult. Was Wesker honestly that jealous that he and Beverly Warren had exchanged eyes from across a room? Seriously. Then Wesker's hand was gone and he leaned back to where he had been sitting before, wiping his lips on a napkin before standing up and excusing himself;

"If you'll excuse me…"

Chris' captain pushed away from his chair and made his way over to the buffet table, putting more food on a platter than he was probably interested in, and Chris' eyes quickly shifted to where Wesker had been looking. His gaze fell upon a family of three a few tables away from them; a man, a woman, and a young girl, maybe between ten or twelve, all blondes. The head of the family (an obviously over-worked man who looked like he either had a chronic case of insomnia or like he had come from another Halloween Party and forgotten to wash off his face-paint) was glaring distinctly at him. Chris forced a polite smile but that just seemed to make things worse. What was his problem anyway? He tried to shake the feeling that the other guy was throwing mental daggers at him when Wesker came back and placed a hand on his shoulder,

"Would you like a glass of champagne?"

Chris was always told to never mix wines, but the man standing right behind him had caught him so off guard all he could do was nod and take the glass.

"Yeah. Sure. Hey, um… do you know that guy?" Chris asked almost awkwardly, fidgeting with the glass in his hands, decorated with a little black cat, stars, and a moon.

"William? No. Why do you ask?"

"William?" Chris asked skeptically, in that kind of voice that hinted that Wesker had just given himself away.

"A friend of mine from a long time ago. College days. I haven't spoken to him in a long time."

Chris looked back at the man who had gone back to eating dinner with his family. He couldn't help but notice that Wesker was staring too, and as they did so the other man wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder, going back to his meal as if he didn't see them. And what was when Chris put two-and-two together, and he felt like punching Wesker in the stomach for it: Wesker put his arm around Chris' waist at the same time that the other guy put his arm around his wife, and then he took a long shot of his drink before turning away from the sandy-haired gentleman in a white dress-suit. Chris knew that Wesker wasn't flirting with him or trying to get him in the mood - he was showing him off like a trophy. He could taste it in his mannerisms and sense it in his sudden familiarity; Wesker wanted to make this 'William' guy see their relationship for what it really was, and the idea made Chris ill to think about. He hated to think that he was being used. Not by Wesker, not by anybody. Was that the entire reason that his boss had brought him here?

"I want to go home." Chris said suddenly, so suddenly that he, himself, was surprised that he had even said it, but he didn't let that surprise show on his own face, instead he just watched it reflect across his Captain's alabaster features, his eyes masked as always by a pair of dark black shades.

"I want to go home." Chris repeated when the blonde didn't seem to hear him.

"Are you quite sure?" Wesker asked after a moment and Chris could only nod. He was too angry to say anything else.

"Give it just a little longer, the party's almost through."

Chris could have given Wesker the bird and splashed his champagne in his smug prick face for how unhappy he was, but that was what women do and they were both men.

"Fine." Chris sulked, obviously unhappy with the situation. "But don't touch me."

"As you wish."

When the charity was over and a sufficient amount of money had been raised, Chris was surprised to see the freckled blonde leave his wife and daughter's side and make his way over to them. He really was thin and those really were bags beneath his eyes, and for some reason the guy seemed really paranoid. He kept throwing looks over his shoulders and he kept glancing back at his wife who was currently talking with Chief Irons.

"Here. I believe this was what you asked me for." The man said, placing a nondescript manila envelope down on the table in front of Wesker, "It was good to see you, Albert."

Wesker took the envelop from the table discreetly and countered with, "It was good to see you too, William. I hope that you are doing well."

Their words felt cold and forced, more like blades that were made to cut rather than simple pleasantries, and Chris felt like the exchange was entirely too bizarre and staged to be real.

"Quite. Stop by some time. Sherry misses you. She still calls you 'Uncle Albert', you know. Take care of yourself."

And with that the other man left, leaving Chris to wonder what in the hell had just happened.

Wesker stood and pushed his chair back in, then turned to Chris and said, "We may go now. If you'd like I can drop you off at your house. You'd have to walk to work on Monday, however."

"Yeah. Sure…" Chris said, still in a daze of sorts. The champagne and red wine had obviously gone to his head and now that he thought about it he really wasn't angry anymore—the scene that had unfolded before him just now was just… too sad. The tension between the two men had been as thick as butter and Chris could have cut it with a knife. Their words had been so hollow and course, as though there might have been meaning behind them once, but now it was too painful to do anything but carry on and pretend. Chris knew that feeling: it was how things between he and his aunt and uncle had been since he had 'come out' to them about his relationship with another man just shortly after he and Wesker had gotten together. Now he didn't dare tell Claire because he knew that he couldn't risk losing her like that too. That feeling, it hurt. But he didn't want Wesker to think that he was completely off the hook, so he'd let the blonde drop him off at home and he'd sit there alone until tomorrow.

They both got into Wesker's car wordlessly and Chris undid the bow-tie around his neck, tugging it loose with his index and middle-fingers. He guessed that he'd just hold onto the tux until whenever Wesker came for it, because he wasn't going to get undressed here. The two of them rode in relative silence; the only sounds were that of those few teens who were still out, giggling on the streets, and the music from surviving house parties which were dying down even as they went whipping by. Otherwise the October air was quiet and Raccoon was empty.

When the turn came for Chris' street however, Wesker took a right instead of turning left.

"Where are we going?" Chris asked after a minute. It was pointless asking since he already knew the answer, but the words came out just the same.

"I've waited too long for this, Christopher. I can't take you home yet."

Chris was quiet. He didn't feel like fighting; his anger was dead anyways, and damn if he hadn't wanted this all day. He had no control when it came to Wesker.

When they pulled up to the apartment complex where Wesker lived, Chris just kept staring out the window. How many times had he been here anyways? How many nights had they pulled up silently together, gone up those stairs, waited eternally in the hallway while Wesker inserted the proper key into the proper door, and then thrown themselves into bed together like animals? Wild Animals… Why was he doing this again? Why was he surrendering himself over and over again to his boss and Captain, a man thirteen years his senior? Why did he want this guy so badly? If he was really into men, couldn't he find someone who was a little less his polar-opposite? But as much as he wanted to deny it, Chris liked the fire in their passion, the constant power struggle. He liked arguing, he liked getting thrown up against a wall, hell, he even liked getting fucked. Their love-making was hot and fast and hard, something mutually gratifying because they could just let themselves go wild. Was this really healthy? Was this really a healthy relationship? Where was it all leading to, and, god, what if Chris wanted more? What if he were to ask Wesker for something serious? What then?

Keeping his thoughts bottled inside of him, Chris unbuckled his seatbelt and slammed the car door behind him. Fuck, he didn't want for it to matter.

They walked the same foyer, climbed into the same elevator, took the same floor, and passed the same corridor of doorways that Chris had never seen before in the daylight. Wesker slipped the keys into the keyhole and they jingled as they turned, the key to his precinct locker and the key to his car hitting into each other as they twisted in his wrist.

Chris swallowed as he stepped inside of the darkly-lit room; the only light was that obnoxious orange colour coming in from the streetlamps outside. His whole body was shaking with nervous anticipation but he swallowed it back, sure that this was what he wanted. Wesker stepped in behind him and fidgeted a minute before turning the dial on the wall to a low-lit setting. Chris was about to turn to Wesker and ask him what was taking so long when he felt the pin-prick of plastic teeth against his neck. Chris spun around and realized that Wesker had taken off his sunglasses, donned a cape, and was now wearing a set of 'fangs'. Wesker eyes, which were usually the most stunning shade of gray-green that Chris had ever seen, were currently a deep, deep red with contact lenses. Wesker was… dressed as a vampire? The younger man couldn't help but laugh, the nervous tension gone from his stomach almost immediately. Oh my god, Wesker was dressed as a fucking vampire!

Tears threatened to spill past Chris' eyes, and he had to double over on his knees to keep from falling over, although he tried very hard to stop himself at Wesker's ruffled, disgruntled expression.

"Sorry, I just…" Chris began, wiping at his eyes, but he didn't know how to make himself finish. "Were you wearing those contacts all day?"

"Yes." Wesker said, sounding rather put out, "I told you: I've been waiting too long for this. …Is it too much?"

"No. Sorry; I just didn't expect it."

"I would have thought you would have liked it."

"I do it's just, fuck, did you actually do this for me?" Chris asked, arching his brow and smiling in disbelief.

"Yes. I told you that I intended to make it up to you. I'm sorry about the dinner party, but the person that I had previously invited cancelled on me. I didn't have any other options."

Chris smiled, draping his arms around the taller man's neck, "So what, am I the 'fair maiden' that you kidnapped? You gonna force me to be a 'ghoul', your personal sex slave for the rest of eternity?" he teased, kissing at Wesker's lips.

"Perhaps. If that's something that you would want." Wesker purred back, leaning into him. Chris slipped his tongue over the plastic teeth and across Wesker's tongue, arching his hips up to meet the blonde in front of him.

"Yeah. Fuck. C'mon." Chris groaned, half clawing at Wesker and half trying to drag him into the bedroom.

Wesker pulled out the plastic teeth and set them on his night stand as he threw Chris down onto the bed a little bit rougher than he had intended, but Chris was back up in an instant pulling at Wesker's belt buckle and gnawing at his own lip. Oh fuck of fuck oh fuck he wanted it bad. Wesker pushed Chris back down and the young man writhed there on the bed while he unbuttoned his vest and dress shirt and pulled off his coat, all in beautiful, fluid movements. Chris began to work at his own belt and unzipped his black trousers before pulling off his shirt and vest, his own movements a bit more frantic. By the time that Chris had his shirts off Wesker was already undressed, wearing nothing but the red and black cape that still hung over his shoulders. He undid the cape quickly and then moved onto the bed, tugging at the laces to Chris' shoes, pulling them off before peeling away the socks and wriggling off Chris' pants and undergarments. Chris swallowed deeply, feeling like he was going to choke on his own lust at any minute. God he was already so hard and Wesker hadn't even touched him yet. The fair-haired blonde stayed where he was, at the foot of the bed, and then lowered his mouth down to Chris' lap, using his right hand to guide Chris' cock into his mouth and massage his balls while he used his left hand to keep him propped upright. Chris shuddered and let out a soft groaning noise, curling his toes and kicking his feet out strait in order to keep a firm grasp on his sanity. He had always thought of blowjobs as being kind of a 'submissive' act before and had never been much a fan of them because most of the women that he had been with were a bit clumsy and awkward at it, but those thoughts had been entirely blown out of the water the first time that Wesker had ever put his mouth around his dick. Wesker entirely OWNED that shit, working him like a pro from base to tip using his tongue, lips, and teeth. Now, just as then, Chris could only flail limply and try to keep his hips from jerking too roughly, crooning like some kind of virgin.

"Ah, ah, mmm, fuck, oh, yes, goddammit, yes…!" Chris whimpered, his hips rolling in shallow lulls while Wesker worked his mouth around him, his lips squeezing and teeth nipping at just the right moments. His head was swimming and suddenly Chris wondered if he should have had quite so much to drink even as Wesker sucked at the head of his erection, the older man's tongue playing with the slit. Chris gasped and heaved, trying to keep his cool but knowing that he was failing spectacularly.

"Nnngh, ah, dammit Wesker, I'm gonna, if you keep… ah, no, I want you inside of me...!" Chris protested, kneading his fists into the black sheets beneath them.

"Shouldn't you be begging your dark lord, instead of making these sorts of audacious commands?" Wesker whispered in a sultry tone, his voice silky and controlled as ever. As he spoke he flicked his eyes up to Chris, those currently blood-red orbs burning into him like hellfire. Oh fuck, they were still "playing".

Chris rolled his head back onto the equally black pillows and felt Wesker continue to fondle and message his manhood slowly. He knew that the other wasn't going to stop until he complied, so Chris swallowed his pride and began;

"Oh, please, master. Please. Take me, drink me, use me. Do whatever you desire with me. I'll do your every bidding, please. Just fuck me." Chris should have known that it was going to come down to a power-struggle. It always did with Wesker.

The blonde's tongue made a slow trail from Chris' inner-thigh, up his pelvis, across his stomach, and over his chest, until he stopped at his nipples. Licking the left nipple playfully he rubbed at the other with his thumb, smoothing the pert nub over and over with the pad, pushing and testing and pinching it as he teethed at the other. Chris' hips bucked and met with Wesker's abdomen impatiently, humping his stomach slightly in a desperate attempt to hurry things along.

'C'mon c'mon c'mon', he thought desperately, 'I want this too damn much. No more teasing', c'mon!'

As though hearing his thoughts Wesker sat up on the bed, pulling out his bottle of lubricant and a condom. Given that they hadn't had sex in over a week it took a few minutes to prepare Chris, but Redfield took his accostment well: He bit his lip and snorted through his nose, only swearing once at being scissored and stretched.

"Maybe I should look into purchasing 'stretching devices' for my little slave so that we don't have to put up with such mundane and burdensome encomberments in the future…" Wesker purred into Chris' ear, and the brunette felt himself still for half a moment. Did they actually make something like that? Chris wasn't really sure that he wanted to know the answer to that question.

When Wesker seemed to think that he was ready he slipped on the rubber and applied a generous amount of lubricant before forcing his way inside of the younger man. Chris gasped at the sudden entry and grasped Wesker's upper arms, Squeezing down so hard he knew that he'd leave bruises. ASS! The pain only lasted for a minute though and quickly he threw his head back, howling as they began to thrust against one another.

Wesker thrust himself in and out of Chris, his weight bearing down on the brunette heavily as he grunted in concentration. All Chris could do was kick at the sheets and try to right himself, setting his feet to either side of their warring figures and pushing up against the body looming just above him. He grit his teeth as he tried to swallow Wesker's girth while the blonde pounded into him, and while he felt stretched to the breaking point it felt so goddamn good at the exact same time. Grunting while he made fists in the sheets, Chris panted and moaned and screamed Wesker's name, screwing his eyes shut as Wesker began to hit that spot inside of him over and over again.

The blonde arched and angled his hips, fighting against the ring of muscle that opposed him as he dove in and out, up and down, rocking them back and forth on the bed which protested loudly. Chris felt like he was dying from all of the pleasure, the sensation building up inside of his muscles, seizing his chest and crushing his lungs. So good, dammit, Wesker was so fucking good.

"Ah, nnngh, ah, oh, fuck, yes, yes, mmm," Chris sobbed, making enough noises for the both of them. Wesker was always quiet during love making, biting his lips and making only the occasional growl or panting sound. He and Chris were even opposites in this.

Wrestling and grappling against one another in a dance as old as time, both parties struggled and flexed and pushed against one another in the dark room, their figures crushing and straining for more pleasure, more pain, just, MORE.

Wesker bit at Chris' lip, splitting it open, and the younger man hissed, squinting his eyes at his captain in annoyance.

"Ow, fuck." He groaned. What was that for? Wesker just lapped at the blots of red as they came rushing to the surface and Chris sincerely hoped that wouldn't scar.

"Call me your master again, Chris."

Chris scowled, stubbornness creeping into his chest;

"No." he said plaintively, going back to kissing Wesker.

The blonde pulled his lips away, just out of Chris' reach, and Christopher groaned, flexing his hips to little avail.

"Fine, fuck. MASTER." Chris surrendered and Wesker slammed into him with enough force that for a second he was seeing double. Holy fuck, Chris knew that Wesker loved to have control of a situation, but really? This was almost too much. There had to be a name for the level of eroticism that Wesker got out of having control. It didn't feel like regular "S&M" because, as far as Chris had ever known, the "Slave" was usually the one with all of the actual power. That wasn't so between the two of them: at times Chris wondered if he could have actually gotten Wesker to stop if he wanted him to. Not that he DID, but IF. It was… dangerous. Powerphiliac maybe? Either way, at the moment, Chris could honestly care less. Wesker had really gotten off on that, and Chris, being the cheeky devil he was, really felt like exploiting it for his own pleasuring purposes.

"Mmm, oh, Master! Master! More, c'mon, I want you to come inside of me…!"

Wesker stopped at that and they stared at each other for a moment, Chris flushing as he realized just what he'd said. It wasn't like they hadn't done that before, but Wesker was a bit of a 'clean freak' and it was difficult for Chris to clean himself out sometimes, but right now he really meant it. Without giving it so much as a second thought Wesker quickly jerked himself out of Chris and tore the rubber off before slamming back into him, grabbing him by a fistful of hair. Urgh, god! It really did feel better than before! Chris started to scream but cut it off at the back of his throat, trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn't disturb Wesker's neighbors.

"No, don't. SCREAM for me, Chris." Wesker half purred, half demanded, again thrusting himself roughly inside of the younger man. He had repositioned them on the bed so that Chris was now face-down on the sheets, his ass in the air and Wesker stood right behind him, on his knees. Wesker grabbed one of Chris' arms and wrenched around it painfully, twisting it as he thrust in and out, grunting deeply, and Chris scrunched his eyes shut before screaming bloody murder into the sheets and pillows, his entire body shaking and quivering. Relishing the sound Wesker pumped harder and faster, the rhythm of their bodies creating a loud slapping sound in the darkness.

"Oh, please, m-master, hnnngh, ah, give me—nnngh—give me more…!" Chris baled, feeling like he was going to pass out at any given moment from the way that his head was spinning. Honestly he didn't know how much 'more' he could take, but he knew that he had to have it. He was getting so close, so close. He just needed a little more.

"Anything for you, my pet." Wesker strained through a sneer. His own breathing was quite erratic, and Chris knew that his captain couldn't last much longer either. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees (so that they were now effectively doing it 'doggy-style', as much as Chris hated that term) Chris shoved himself back against the hard cock ramming inside of him, panting and huffing at the pleasure that shook him to his very core.

"Ah, ah, more, master, Wesker, my god, more…!"

Wrapping his arms so that they were around Chris' stomach, Wesker heaved and pumped, thrusting and straining, until the both of them went completely tight and rigid. Chris came first, spilling his sticky stain across the bed sheets and over his chest, and Wesker followed just moments after, Chris' stomach expanding with the sudden pool of warmth that he had been wanting so desperately, his captain's body jerked behind him, his hips bucking just a few more times into Chris' tight ass, enjoying the brilliant all-encompassing sensation of his orgasm.

They toppled against the sheets in an instant, Chris collapsing and Wesker falling on top of him. They were a still for several endless moments, bodies shuddering in the after-glow of their passion, and Chris couldn't help to smile to himself at the way that Wesker's fingers twined absently around and around in his short, spiky red hair. When the blonde finally pulled away, Chris rolled over onto his back and pulled him into a long and deep kiss, their mouths melting against one another. Wesker didn't try to stop him and instead relaxed into the sensation, letting Chris take control of the kiss only because he had more than gotten his fill. Besides, he didn't think Chris would have been half as fun if he didn't try to act like the dominant partner sometimes.

"Was that as good as you had hoped?" Wesker asked, purring when they broke for air, and Chris just nodded, to out of breath.

"Yeah, great." He huffed, sounding more winded than he should have liked.

Wesker stood as though to leave and Chris grabbed for him, throwing his arms around his middle and tugging him back down onto the bed. He knew that Wesker wasn't much of the 'cuddling' sort and wanted to shower as soon after sex as possible, but Chris wanted, oh he wanted, to just hold the man if only for a minute. He nipped at Wesker's neck and licked his way down his shoulder and to the middle of his scapula.

"Chris." The blonde threatened before he went any lower, and Chris moved his face back to the crook of Wesker's neck, burying his face in his hairline.

"Do have sex with other people?" Chris spat out, not quite sure where this was coming from, but knowing that he needed to say it, "I won't be mad if you do, I understand. I mean, fuck, I don't even know what 'this' is, but I have to know."

Wesker was quiet for a moment, looking at him from his peripheral, from over his shoulder.

"Why do you ask?"

"That guy, earlier tonight. I kind of got a vibe. Look, I haven't fucked anyone else since I started sleeping with you and I don't really want to."

What was he saying, really?

"I understand if this is just casual sex for you, and I think that I can deal with it if there's someone else, or even if there are multiple someone's, but Jesus he has a wife and a daughter. Doesn't that bother you? I don't want to be some kind of 'trophy'."

Wesker turned and cupped Chris' cheek, drawing him into a slow kiss.

"Christopher, whatever happened between William Birkin and I happened a long, long time ago. He left when he found Annette and the two of them have been happily married for the past eleven years. I haven't been sleeping with anyone else, much less William Birkin. I'm sorry that I used you like that. I can still be somewhat bitter over the matter. It was unprofessional and cruel of me. It won't happen again. William is just and old friend and now-informant of mine. Nothing more. That is all."

Chris felt his heart soar with relief. So then, it was nothing? He was the only person that Wesker was sleeping with? Chris smiled and buried his face against Wesker's cheek, enjoying the smell of his expensive cologne and the sound of his heartbeat.

"Stay with me a little longer. You can take a shower in a minute. Please, Mr. 'Dark Lord'?"

"Alright."

Wesker leaned over to the night stand once again, throwing away the ripped condom and putting away the lube before pulling out the case for his novelty contacts and pulling them out one at a time. Chris marveled as Wesker's eyes went from crimson to emerald and basked in the beauty of their true color. After a moment he reached over to his pant pocket and pulled out his cigs and a lighter, something that he hardly left home without. Tapping the box he pulled out a Marlboro and was surprised when Wesker took one too. He lit the cigarettes at the same time, the both of them touching foreheads as Chris held the lighter in place. They moved apart and Wesker pulled Chris into his lap, the both of them resting against the headboard.

"Hey Wesker." Chris said thoughtfully, feeling thoroughly drained and completely satisfied.

"Yes, Chris?"

The younger man smiled, tracing a hand down his captain's jaw-line.

"Happy Halloween."