So, this little story is my take on how Chris and Piers first met (told from Piers' pov). It is a yaoi take on it, so if you don't ship these two (don't know why you don't, but whatever) turn back because you won't enjoy the story. I rated it T because there isn't anything explicit or overtly sexual, though there are a lot of dirty thoughts. If people read this and think it should be upped in the rating, I'll change that but, for now, I'll leave it at T. It is a one-shot but, if I get enough people interested in it continuing, I might turn it into a chapter fic. Time will only tell. Anyway, read, enjoy and review!

-Emil Lime

I could hardly think when I saw him, hardly process anything the director was saying to me-crap that was probably pretty important in hindsight but, well, I missed it all. The man before me stole all of my attention. His short dark brown hair, his deep brown eyes and those muscles-damn, those muscles-god, those arms were captivating. I couldn't stop watching them. He'd gesture and, god, I could have fainted from awe. The way his lips moved too. Those thin yet delicate lips that were just begging me to kiss them. I felt like a freaking high schooler, staring at him and practically drooling over his perfectly sculpted body. Mentally, I began imagining what it would be like to wake up next to him, to let my fingertips trace his abs after a good roll in the hay, to gently trail hot kisses down his chiseled body before they made it to their destination-oh god, I couldn't concentrate.

I'd never felt like this before-and I mean for anyone. Not that jock back in high school or that lab partner in college. Hell, not even for that one army guy who I was obsessing over last week, that one with the girlfriend. No, none of those men even came close.

For the first time in my life, I knew what true love was, what that 'head over heels' felt like-and I hated it.

I'm a guy for Christ's sake! I shouldn't be falling for another man! That's insane! It was back in middle school that I noticed I had this terrible tendency to stare at the other guy's asses and, regardless of every preventative measure I took, I still fucking did it. Even now as a 23 year old bachelor, I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering up and down every toned and tanned half naked man-body in the workout room. I even tried-and I mean tried-to check out the very fit and beautiful ladies the military had to offer but I would quickly get bored and find my vision wobbling back over to some handsome man with a very handsome chest.

How I managed to fall into the graces of such a lovely creature as the man before me, I have no idea. But he was talking to me, those wonderful, kissable lips moving up and down. I watched as they twisted into a smile, sucking every last pinch of oxygen from my lung. How on earth could anyone be so fucking gorgeous!?

That's when my name entered the conversation and the growing 'interest' between my legs was the least of my concerns, "Uh, yes. I'm Piers Nivans. Nice to meet you."

The god before me gave me another captivating smile and my heart probably stopped beating at that point. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Nivans."

And if my heart hadn't stopped beating from his smile, it surely had from his voice. That deep gruffness that sounded coated in dark chocolate, the way that delicious voice spoke my name. It was almost enough to make me blush, but I contained myself. Barely. His voice smoothed over my eardrums again and it took every ounce of my military trained attention to listen to him without fantasizing about that voice moaning my name, "I happened to be watching your team during the drilling earlier, since some of them have slated themselves for review by the BSAA. Your team performed very well, but I was particularly interested in you."

Heat rushed to two distinct areas, one being my face and the other being unmentionable. My stupid brain conjured up all kinds of fantasy ideas about what in specific he was interested in and suddenly I became very self-conscious. How exactly did I look during the drill? Had my hair been a mess? Was my uniform wrinkled? Things of extreme unimportance became the world to me and, right then, I had a horrific thought.

How did I look right now? No doubt my cheeks were flushed because of the intense heat under my uniform as well as the heat in the locker room. And no doubt I smelled like sweat, I mean, the shit was pouring off of me. And I probably looked roughed up-hardly romantic-because of the dirt and grime I had to crawl through during the middle part of that mock mission. Shit, I probably looked repulsive.

A blush threatened to overtake my face again but I swallowed it down. There was no way I was making myself look worse.

I looked into those brown eyes, being taken in by the, and then I realized they looked to be expecting something. Then I realized he was looking for some kind of indication I was listening. Fuck. "Uh, me, sir?" I didn't have a clue what this guy's name was-even though he probably introduced himself to me-but I was already falling in love with him. I hated myself even more at that point.

He gave this warm and all-knowing smirk and I absently wondered if he was used to being marveled, and he was just ignoring my stares. I mean, after all, he was flawless. Who wouldn't want to look at him? "Your skills with a sniper are par none. I've never seen someone as talented as you, and I've been to hundreds of recruitment days. You didn't miss a single target, and the leadership skills you showed during that run were astounding. The director here says you're what, 23? I can hardly believe there's a 23 year old with such authority and skill."

I couldn't keep from blushing at that. I'd never so much as gotten an 'good job' from my superiors and suddenly this very attractive-and totally straight, he has to be straight-guy was showering me with praise. "Well, thank you, sir. But I'm only doing what I have to to keep the team safe."

That's when the director spoke up, "He's the youngest in this team but he out-works even some of the highest ranking ones. Nivans is a good solider and a good man, captain Redfield."

This god had a name after all. Captain Redfield. I ducked my eyes away, looking at the ground as the beautiful man before me spoke again. "I'm impressed beyond words by your skills, which is why I'm personally meeting with you."

An odd mixture of pride and lust rushed through my veins. In some ways, I was special in getting to meet captain Redfield in person on a recruitment day-as the recruiters usually have pretty tight schedules so they don't hang around after viewing all of the people up for review. Though, the fact that he wanted to meet me personally brought up a good question-and first clean thought-to my mind, "Why would you want to personally meet with me, sir?"

I reminded myself that it was definitely, totally, not because he was also very into me and that he wanted to take me out back and show me a real drill, that he wanted to force me front side forward against the hot steel siding of the military base to pound our together in a wonderful, consuming rhythm that would send me over the edge again and again, leaving me as nothing more than a puddle at his feet. That was not the case and I knew I needed to stop thinking like it was.

"Well, Mr. Nivans, I wanted to personally invite you for a job interview with the BSAA. I know you didn't sign up for a review or recruitment opportunities, but after seeing you in action, I knew I'd be crazy not to ask."

A personal request for an interview…for the BSAA? I'd never even heard of the group, but obviously they were important, especially since the military held recruitment days for them. And the fact the military director was pulling me aside to speak with captain Redfield? Another dead giveaway. I tried not to let it all go to my head-or other parts of my body.

Captain Redfield's luscious lips curved yet again into a smile, "So, are you interested in being interviewed, Mr. Nivans? The BSAA is looking for soldiers like you, ones that are dedicated, skilled and natural leaders. I have no doubt that you would be hired as my second-in-command should you choose to accept the interview."

"S-Second?" I stammered, nearly chocking on my own astonishment. I was really that good? I knew there had to be some kind of mistake. Even perfect men like captain Redfield made mistakes, right?

"That's right. You have the makings of a captain. That's why I want you under me."

And that's when my stupid brain forgot about the position being proposed and instead started drawing me pictures of the possible meanings of the phrase, 'I want you under me'. Each picture was more tempting then the last, making me crave a quick dismissal so I could take care of the need growing inside of me. The showers would be open at this point, right? All of the men had gone to the cafeteria for lunch, right? I'd be alone, just me and my imaginary captain Redfield…Fuck, I was horny and feeling desperate. It was the first time in my life I was happy the military uniforms were so thick and well insulated. At least no one outside of my mind could observe my inner turmoil.

"So, what do you say? Would you like an interview with the BSAA?"

I glanced at the director, the man nodding in approval. I gave a small, curt nod then as well, looking into captain Redfield's deep, chocolate-god, I wished he'd throw me down and drizzle chocolate over me, only then to sensually lick it off-eyes, "It would be a great honor, sir."

That lovely smile played across his lips once more, hitching my breath and melting my heart, "Thank you, Mr. Nivans. The BSAA and I thank you."

"You can call me Piers." It slipped out before I could even stop myself, the thought of captain Redfield speaking my name being ever present in my mind but doing nothing to curb my growing hunger. And that smile that crossed his face didn't help that hunger, either.

"Alright then. I thank you, Piers."

Everything inside of me was on fire and I found my entire body aching for his touch-for someone's touch. I'd never needed something so badly. I'd never been so easily consumed by another man who hadn't so much as touched me yet. Hell, he was even fully clothed, a suit and tie! And yet, he'd managed to steal away my heart and, most likely, he wasn't even aware of it. That's just how men are. Oblivious. Really oblivious.

The captain of the gods held out his hand, that heart-swiping smile still across his gorgeous, flawless face. "Alright then, Piers. I'll leave you with my office number. You can call me personally to set up a time for your interview." My hand slid into his own large one. As we both gave our hands a solid shake, I could feel the power behind those fingers and I wished that they would snatch me up and take me away. God, the feeling of his coarse and callused hands was almost enough to make me break, my mind adding to the sensation as I envisioned those rough hands travelling up my arm and onto my chest. With me naked and at his mercy, he'd want to explore and, perhaps, tease me some as he did so. After I'd gasped and mewed enough to satisfy his sadistic appetite, he would move his hands lower, those fingers going directly to my heat. God, I was still in uniform and still standing right in front of him. Not where I wanted-needed-to be. And already, I was imagining the impossible situation of him being at my apartment, the devilishly handsome god dressed in tight, dark wash skinny jeans-to show off those legs and his sure to be divine ass-all while his chest was exposed. I could see us on the couch, those fingers working my naked body to its very limit before his mouth finished me off.

The fantasy seemed to last for several minutes, certain parts of me throbbing and pulsing, begging for the release they so desperately needed. But, in reality, the handshake was over in a flash and when he removed his hand, I became breathless.

I watched him reach into his suit pocket, this time forcing myself to focus and not think about where his hand was going, what it could possibly be touching, how it might work my body up or what that damn sexy chest must look like under his painfully thin-god, I could just rip it off-suit jacket. Pulling out a card with his name and number on it, he handed it to me and I took it.

In a special font, it said his full name and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Christopher Redfield.

"I'll be looking forward to your call, Piers." My attention flew back to him at the mentioning of my name. There was that smile again, capturing every ounce of me.

"Yeah," I managed, still breathless from our mythical-and completely impossible-sexual encounter. "Thank you," I smiled a little, the thought of using his name too tempting to refuse, "Christopher."

"Of course." He nodded and turned to leave, my heart sinking into the floor as he did, but then he stopped and turned back a little, his brilliant brown eyes travelling over his shoulder and piercing right into my soul. "And you can call me Chris."

That smile-god, that smile-and every last bit of me melted into a puddle. He didn't even have to bang me against the building to turn me into a speechless puddle of happiness. I smiled back and he turned around again, leaving along with the director.

I watched him go, realizing I'd been right about his ass being divine.

And that's when I was hit with the need that'd been building inside of my system. I quickly went to the showers, peaking around to make sure I was completely alone. When I deemed that I was, I locked the door-even though it was against protocol-and shed off my uniform, tossing it carelessly to the side. Delicately, though, I sat the card I'd received down on one of the little counters that was inside the shower room-that counter where we're supposed to place our neatly folded uniforms but, well, that wasn't going to happen today.

"Christopher Redfield." I smiled to myself but then shook my head, "No, Chris Redfield. He said I could call him Chris." Just saying the name brought back the memory of his voice and how desperately I wanted to hear it again.

I'd call him tonight, set up an interview. Maybe make some small talk.

The very thought made my heart flutter-and the growing heat between my legs throb. I stepped into the shower and turned the water on, the heat of it serving as the perfect distraction as I set myself to work.

Chris Redfield.

Second-in-Command.

Yeah, I liked the sound of that.