Chapter One.

Piers sighs in exasperation as the night continues on. It was already late, but he needed to finish his damned paperwork before he went home. Besides, it's not like he lived home alone, anyway. Piers is staring at the paperwork in front of him, completely and utterly zoned out. He sits, staring at the paper about some mission he went on months ago. This is what you get for procrastinating, Piers, he thinks to himself, chewing on his lip. How is he going to write this when he can hardly remember? He sits there, staring for god knows how long, unsure. He just keeps reading the title over and over again. Field Mission 26: Grandaya investigation. Okay, so Piers knew who Grandaya was. Mason Grandaya was a suspect they had for Bioterrorism. He remembers faintly going on that trip with Chris, but barely. He went on so many these days.

"Earth to Piers," a deep voice speaks and he jumps. Piers looks up to see Christopher Redfield standing over him, "you've been staring at that paper for ten minutes, what is it, anyway?"

"Grandaya investigation," Piers says and Chris nods, leaning a little bit on Piers' desk.

"Oh, are you stuck? I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't remember. You're such a dunce, you know?" Piers was nodding at his comment until the last part. Piers gave him a glare that he hoped would freeze over hell.

"Hey, fuck you Captain," Chris smirks because it's obvious he won this arguement. Piers glares at him, folding his arms. Chris chuckles lightly, before straightening his posture.

"Well, if you're really that busy, I suppose you can stay here while I go home," Chris says, and Piers glares further, "I'll see you at home."

Yep. Piers was living with Chris. To anyone else, they'd think it was either a. out of place or b. just plain odd. It wasn't for them, Chris and Piers were partners, and were reletively closer than the rest of the men to one another. Almost at the moment that Piers thinks it, Chris pats Piers' shoulder before walking out of the office. Piers sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He had to finish this report. He gets back to work, trying his hardest to remember, but he just can't. Okay, so Grandaya was...was...where was he even stationed? I can't remember. Fuck, I need to finish this report, god damn it. Okay, so, he was a suspect. But why, again? Ugh, why is my memory such a mess? He sighs and looks at the clock. How long had he been thinking for? A while, obviously. When Chris left, it was eleven-thirty. It was past midnight, now. Yeah, okay, Piers had to leave now. He got up, organizing the paperwork best he could before sticking it into his drawer. He grabs his black jacket and pulls it on before leaving the office with the last couple of people who were still quietly working.

Piers heads down to the parking lot, walking out into the crisp, cold fall air. It wasn't cold like winter, but it was cold enough to chill him. He shivers slightly, before heading to his car and hopping in. He turns the keys into the ignition and starts driving home. He sighs, running his fingers absently though his hair. Maybe Chris would remember that mission, and, like Piers, maybe not. Yeah, Captain will remember. He usually does. After all, he is my superior for a reason. Yeah, a superior that I wish wasn't my superior because - shut up.

Piers shut his mind up and focused on driving, sighing with anxiety.

Piers was home faster than he would have liked, and the door, unsurprisingly, wasn't locked. He walked in, expecting Chris to either be in the living room or the kitchen. Or his bedroom, that always worked. But when he walked in? The lights were off. And that was weird. Piers looked up at the clock in the house that was nearly engulfed by the darkness. 1:30. Yeah, it added up, Piers took the long way home, hoping to calm himself down because of his anxiety of a lot of different things. He looked around and turned on the light in the kitchen. It turned on, and lit up some of the apartment they shared. Yep, sure enough, everything in here was untouched. Did Chris lie and not even come home? It seemed that way. It seemed he'd just unlocked the door, stepped in for something and then left. He couldn't have been here for more than...five minutes?

Piers turns on all the lights in the apartment, and waits. Piers hates that he's so nervous about Chris, he could take care of himself. But it wasn't that Chris was gone that worried him, it's what Chris was doing while out that did. Piers sighs, rubbing his face and running his hand through his hair. An hour passes, it's now two-thirty and no word from Chris at all. Piers feels sick to his stomach as he paces, and, blessedly, his phone starts ringing. He reaches in his jacket pocket, looking at the ID. Captain, it read and Piers sighs in relief, flipping the phone open.

"Captain? Where are you?" Piers asks, relief still in his chest. Relief short lived. It's noisy in the background, and that makes Piers suspicious.

"Piers, come get me?" Piers feels like he's been punched in the gut as his worst fear is realized. His captain has been drinking, and not just a little. He was completely drunk. His words slurred together, and his voice had a gruff tone to it. But why? He'd been doing fine, absolutely fine when he left the office. Piers didn't understand, and he feels hurt. All of his trust in Chris flew out the window. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck.

"Stay put. I'm coming to get you," Piers says as he grabs his keys. He hangs up, heading toward the elevator of the apartment, "the fucking shit I do for him. I need to stop covering for him." Piers is talking mostly to himself, trying to talk himself out of going and getting him, no doubt. Piers rides the elevator all the way down, and walks out to his car. Fucking Chris. He gets in his car and starts it up.

"Hoofuckingray," Piers says flatly. This would be fucking good.

When Piers gets to the bar, Chris stumbles out, and Piers, once again, has to play mommy. Chris stumbles into Piers, who sighs.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" Piers asks, and Chris stays silent. Oh ho ho, the silent treatment. Piers sighs as he helps stable Chris and they start walking towards the back of the bar where Piers' car is, "captain, answer me."

Silence. Ugh. Why did he always do this? What was his reason, anyway? Good god. Chris looks at him, and then looks ahead. After what feels like an eternity, they're in the car on the way home. Piers feels so stressed, and the smell of liqour is all over Chris. It smells disgusting. Why did he drink, why? He chewed on his bottom lip obsessively, truly irritated. When they finally get to the apartment, Piers is more than angry, he's raging. Piers cannot wait to get into the building. Fuck this.

"Piers," oh, so Chris can talk.

"What," Piers snaps, walking towards the back of the apartment building that would be faster to get to the elevator from. He wants to sprint to the elevator and get the fuck away from Chris. When he drinks, he disgusts Piers. He's almost to the door, oh god, just a little farther. He could make it, yes, he could make it. Just a bit farther.

"Piers," Chris is pushier now, and Piers whirls around.

"What!" He barks and suddenly, without warning, Piers is against the wall next to the door, sandwiched between the cold wall and his superior's warm body, "captain...?" Chris doesn't answer, and Piers feels a huge burst of panic along with fight of flight. He feels caged and scared out of his mind. Chris is looking at him as if he's searching for something. Piers swallows uncomfortably, his chest pushed against Chris'. Chris meets his gaze, and Piers feels his panic increase. Run, push him away, Piers mind is trying to stay calm, but he just can't move. He's frozen in place. One of Chris' hands came up from keeping him in place to stroke Piers cheek. Piers swallows again, starting to lose it. He wants to speak, but he just can't. Piers has to suck in air to breathe, and he feels clausterphobic. Chris keeps stroking his cheek, then moves to stroke his neck. Piers shivers, breathing out. Piers decides it's time to try to speak.

"Captain, we should go inside -" Piers starts, trying to find some excuse to stop his captain and stop him now. But he is cut off by...Chris' lips meshed against his. Piers panics, starting to struggle to push Chris away. He only succeeds for a moment enough to speak one word, "no-"

"Shush," his superior growls, and Piers feels even more panic. Chris presses his lips back to Piers' and pushes him tighter against the wall. There was no way Piers could escape now. He was completely trapped. Chris' lips know exactly what they're doing, kissing Piers and stealing his breath. He can hardly breathe as it was just being close to Chris. With each brush of Chris' lips, Piers is gasping to keep air in his lungs. Chris was kissing him harder, sweeter. His stubble scraped Piers' chin as he deepened their kiss. Suddenly, without warning, Chris' hand begins to glide under Pier's shirt and jacket, touching his skin. Piers gasps, Chris' hand is hot as it glides over his skin and muscles. Piers' head is reeling, his brain short-circuting. Chris touches Piers' chest and abs, stroking, caressing as their kiss gets hotter, more desperate. Chris' lips make Piers feel like he's flying. Piers' hands rest on his superior's shoulders, but they itched to touch the skin that would burn him. He was cold, and Chris was hot, and it was such a contradiction that should never be mixed. Yet, here they were, playing with fire that could easily get out of hand.

Who was he kidding, it was already out of hand.

Despite the contradiction, Chris felt so deliciously good and the last thing on Piers' mind was stopping. But he had to. This was his captain, his superior, his work partner. Yes, Piers had wanted Chris for so long it hurt but he always kept himself in check. Having sexual relations with your partners in the BSAA was strictly banned and here they were, breaking that rule. He had to stop this, he had to stop this now. Chris' lips moved, then, following along Piers' jaw and down onto his throat. Now was the time, Piers decided.

"Captain, stop. You're shitfaced, you don't even know what you're doing. Stop this before it gets too far, which we know it will. Now stop," Piers said and Chris laughed humorlessly and scraped his nails against Piers' naval. Piers' hips bucked.

"Why are you trying, Piers? You know you don't want me to stop. You say no, tell me this is wrong, yet, despite that we're doing it, you're body tells me yes. Your mouth says no, but your mind, your skin,your body," he growls the last word, causing Piers to shiver under its intensity, "wants my attention, wants my touch, wants my lips. Stop trying to fight it, and just fucking give in and let me fuck you."

"No, no don't - we're work partners captain, stop this madness," Piers tries again to stop him, "you're not thinking straight -"

Piers is suddenly silenced when Chris' hand cups the bulge in Piers' jeans. Chris rubs, giving Piers friction. Piers' eyes roll back. Oh god, fuck, his brain goes blissfully blank when Chris squeezes. Piers feels his hips shake, and he lets out a breathy moan as Chris continues his treatment.

"You were fucking saying?" Chris growls in Piers' ear.

"I- I- I.." Piers tries to form an argument, but it doesn't form in his head. All he feels is Chris' hand rubbing against his arousal. Piers pants, his legs shaking with the effort to stay standing against the wall. Chris goes back to kissing his throat, letting his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. Piers shakes further, the pleasure intensifying. He can't breathe, he can't think. All that is at this moment is Chris, and he doesn't want it to stop. Chris begins to slow his hand, almost to a halt. Piers desperately bucks his hips against Chris' hand, and he realizes he is no longer in control of his body. Chris is the one in control, here, "don't stop, captain. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"I thought you said you wanted me to," Chris says, and Piers knows he's got the upperhand. How fucking dare Chris throw his words back at him.

"I want... I want..." What do I want?

"Yes, Piers? What do you want?"

"..this," it comes as a whisper, and Chris kisses his temple.

"Then I'll give this pleasure to you," his words still slur, but thier power makes Piers shiver. Chris undoes Piers' jean button and unzips the zipper. Piers feels panic rising again, and he tenses. Chris kisses him again, and suddenly the panic is gone, replaced once again by the addictive pleasure that Chris is bringing him. Chris gets back to rubbing Piers' arousal, and Piers whines. The only thing holding Chris back now is the thin cotton of Piers' boxers. Chris rubs painfully slow. Piers bucks, throwing his head back.

"Please, more," Stop this, Piers. He's your captain, stop begging him like his fucking dog. But Chris obliges, gently pulling down Piers' boxers down. His jeans and boxers drop to the ground, and he feels horribly exposed. He shivers because of the cold, but then moans as Chris' hand strokes his length. Piers' legs are shaking so hard that he can hardly stand. Oh god, oh god. Chris kisses behind his ear, and Piers shivers again, the heat and knot in his stomach growing. Chris growls in his ear, Piers' shaking increasing.

"Fuck, you're making me crazy," Chris says gruffly in Piers' ear. Piers gulps down air, barely breathing. His moans and whimpers increase as Chris squeezes him harder. Piers licks his lips, panting.

"Oh god, I can't- fuck, kiss me," Piers begs, and Chris complies, pressing his lips against Piers, silencing his moans. Piers kisses back, biting Chris' bottom lip. Chris growls, forcing Piers' mouth open, his tongue sweeping against Piers'. He tastes like liqour, but underneath that, he tastes sweet and savory, and Piers tries his best to imprint it into his memory. Chris pulls away, and Piers whimpers.

"I can't take it anymore, it's too much," Chris says, and he undoes his belt and his pants. He pulls them down, and then he looks up. Piers looks at him, meeting his gaze. His pupils are so dialated, his eyes look pitch black. Piers shivers, because Chris is looking at him as if he's the most beautiful thing in the entire world. Piers watches as Chris lets his boxers drop. Piers looks away once they hit the ground, his face hot. Chris presses his hips to Piers' and their erections brush together. Piers gasps, and Chris kisses his neck all over again, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a mark. Suddenly, Chris puts his hand around both of their lengths and begins to stroke. Piers' eyes roll back. Their lengths brush together while Chris strokes, and the heat in Piers' stomach intensifies. He shakes, unable to stop himself. Piers leans forward, his lips searching for Chris'. They meet, and Piers sighs, kissing him hard and sweet. In response, Chris' stroking increases speed.

The knot in his stomach is getting tighter, the pleasure increasing as Piers moans into Chris' mouth. Chris is bringing him closer and closer to the complete edge. Piers is shaking, and suddenly, without warning, he speaks.

"Faster," Piers rasps, pulling away from Chris' lips. Chris obliges, not denying Piers anything. The speed once again increases, faster, faster, and Piers is dangling on the edge of oblivion. Piers' muscles start to tense, and his moans get louder. He leans forward to bury his face in Chris' neck, shaking so hard he can't even stand anymore. Chris presses him against the wall again and uses his free hand to pull Piers' legs around his waist. Piers uses his legs to pull Chris ever closer. Piers is suddenly there, without warning at all, at the edge, and he's ready to beg Chris to tighten his calloused grip and bring him release. Chris kisses Piers and then, sure enough, tightens his grip. Piers cries out into his captain's mouth, his back arching, body shaking as his erupts into Chris' hand. Piers' head is just full of white hot pleasure for a moment, and then, several words that describe how Piers feels slip through.

Used. Scared. Confused. But most strong of them all, filthy. Piers feels dirty and digusting and he uses his strength to push Chris away. Chris lets him. Piers unwraps his legs from Chris and pulls up his boxers and pants. He turns, opens the door, and sprints to the elevator. He presses the close button, their floor, and then puts his hands on the doors. He's shaking, pleasure still running through his system. But at the same time, he knows what happened is a. wrong and b. can never, ever happen again. Not. Fucking. Ever. He feels sick, so completely sick.

Flithy. Flithy. Flithy.

Piers basically bolts for the apartment once the door opens and opens the door. Chris isn't there yet, thank god. He runs, jumping over the couch to make it to his room faster. When he reaches his door, he opens it, slams it, then locks it. He presses his forehead against it, breathing hard. He prays that Chris doesn't come and try to talk to him, god forbid he does that. Piers feels like he's going to be sick, like he'll gag and retch all over the place. He lays down and starts taking deep breaths.

"Just calm down, just calm down," he says to himself, trying to stop the shaking. Eventually, it does stop, and he relaxes. Then another feeling overwhelms him. Tired. He's suddenly falling asleep. He sends one last look toward his door, but eventually, falls asleep.