Chapter Text
"All that muscle for nothing. Acting like you're a frail little bitch under me." Wesker's voice was low and taunting, a sneer pulling his lips back to show his perfectly white teeth. His breath was warm on Chris's neck as he held the man's thighs. Chris's hands were planted firmly on the lip of the table, the veins under his skin were pulsing and his nails were scratching the metal of the lab table, his elbows bumping the occasional test tube which Wesker would promptly move out of the way.
"It's not just for show. I could strangle you. Or if I needed it done easier I could put a bullet through your skull. Make those amber eyes glaze over." Chris's voice was grunted in return as his shoulders flexed, his muscles rippling under the tight green shirt he wore. His dirt stained grey pants and boots felt tight and hot on his skin and he found himself whimpering softly as Wesker's grip tightened around the larger man's legs.
"Oh yes, I'm sure you could," Wesker's voice was condescending, sarcasm laced it as he pressed Chris's waist further against table. One of Wesker's hands slipped up from Chris's legs the grab and trace along brunets abdomen and up to his pectorals. "But you won't. You've always been good at obeying orders. Ever since you showed up in that S.T.A.R.S uniform in my office, eager to listening and obey. Write this, turn-in that..." Wesker lowered his voice as his tone held it's condescending appeal. "Kneel, suck, bend-over. All happily obeyed. Like a giddy puppy. Let's see if you're still trained well."
Wesker's hand slipped from Chris's pectorals to rest on the brunets groin, palming at the larger man's stiffening co*ck and listening with intent as he waited to hear a quiver in Chris's breath. Though Chris seemed to steel himself and gave no signs of acknowledgement for the action in the slightest. "Alright, Redfield. Belt off."
Chris stiffened at this, seemingly realizing that his fleeting light hope of leaving with his dignity, was disappearing quicker than the setting sun. Chris brought his hands off the table and tugged the metal buckle open before slipping the belt onto the table next to what he could only assume was a small injector of swirling black liquid. The Tri-Cell logo was brandished on the different rows of equipment and vials that lay along the wall.
Christ, what're you doing? You're better than this. Grab your gun, shoot him in the skull, go find Sheva and be done with this. Be done-
Chris's thoughts seemed to come to a halt as the cool leather of Wesker's jacket hit his arm before he watched the garment land in a crumbled mess on the floor. The scratchy material of Wesker's undershirt now bit into the lower of Chris's back as the larger man began working on the zipper of his pants. "We'll do this like we used to, yes? That's something simple enough for you to remember. I hope Ms.Valentine hadn't ruined your self image, made you think you're something more than what you are." Wesker spoke softly now, his hand moving to Chris's hair to quickly slam the man's face against the cool metal of the table top. "There we go. Good boy."
Chris's face held a bright red colour smeared across it as he shuffled uncomfortably where he stood. Chris felt the glove of the narcissistic scientist begin to squeeze at his side, pulling up the edges of his shirt and over his head. Chris shivered at the air temperature of the laboratory, sending gooose-flesh up his arms and back before Wesker held the brunet's hair again and guided him to sit against the table, face-to-face with the blond.
Wesker was slightly shorter than Chris and as such, to avoid having Chris looking down at him, he roughly pushed Chris off balance. Wesker used his weight and continued pushing Chris till the brunet's back was against the table and his boots were just barely off the ground, his neck was crooked as he moved the crown of his head off the wall, instead looking up at Wesker.
His chest rose and fell with a few frantic breaths as Wesker stared down at him. The table squeaked as the black-clad man mounted the brunet's hips, his gloved hands moved to trace along the man's abdomen. Chris's hands quickly moved to hold Wesker's waist as gingerly as he could.
Despite knowing that the blond man could take a more brutal beating than himself, Chris still kept his grip loose, his fingers moved to tug the blond's sweatshirt off and tossed it aside. Chris shuffled where he lay, attempting to situate so that his stiffening co*ck wasn't pushing against the back of Wesker's pants.
Though Wesker tightened his thighs on Chris's hips, effectively holding him down. Even in his days on the S.T.A.R.S team, Chris had always found the strength of Wesker in accordance to his build to be suspect or un-proportional. Though Chris couldn't bring himself to question it at the moment as he moved his hands to loop under Wesker's arms and hold his shoulders.
The blond's shades slipped slightly down his nose as Chris pulled him down with a startle. The warmth of his palms on the tensed muscles of Wesker's shoulders made the blonde grit his teeth. Wesker used one hand to hold himself up, while his other hand moved to tug off his own belt. Wesker flexed his shoulders and leaned back into the touch of a Chris, relishing in the embrace before moving his hands back to Chris's zipper and groin. Wesker gave Chris a snide smile before undoing the brunet's zipper.
Wesker's hands moved to palm at Chris's co*ck through his boxers, his length lay firm against his thigh. Wesker sighed inwardly before taking his thumbs and tugging the band of Chris's boxers down till his length lay erect on his abdomen, small beads of precum dribbling onto his skin as Wesker simply admired him for a few moments.
Eventually Wesker's gloved hands moved to the base of Chris's co*ck, gliding smoothly along the underside of the length as Chris exhaled softly at the touch. Making him shiver and attempting to pull Wesker closer, though Wesker held strong where he sat. His form, rigid as he stared down at Chris. Wesker kept one hand around the base of Chris's co*ck, and brought the other to Chris's abdomen and tracing along the protruding muscles and flecks of hair.
Wesker's gloved hand worked firmly, moving up and down along Chris's length. His own co*ck sitting hardening in the tight nylon of his pants and boxers. A soft grunt was heard from Chris as Wesker kept his painfully slow pace, leaving Chris desperate. Wesker seemed either unaware of or uncaring for Chris's distress and continued his lackadaisical pace as he moved his hand to push his glasses up as he began talking.
"My, my. You really are just like how I remember. Alright let's try this. Stay still or I'll shoot you. Understood?" Wesker's tone was deadpan, serious as the grave. At this point Chris seemed to realize he no longer felt the weight of his side arm in the holster. The cold metal of the gun sat pressed on his temple, Chris swallowed hard and glanced from Wesker to the gun before mouthing silently "yes."
"Good." Wesker waited for a moment before a thought crept into his mind, he was sure Chris wasn't fully aware of the extent that the Uroboros virus had infected or manipulated Wesker's DNA to it's will. As such, Wesker found himself debating in his head what he could surprise the larger man with. Wesker found his grin turning cold as he used his free hand and turned his attention to his left hand. He used his teeth to tug off the black glove, his eyes tracing along the slender form of his fingers before attempting to connect to the parasite as it squirmed and yowled through his veins.
Wesker sighed and let the virus manipulate his flesh and blood vessels for a moment, turning the flesh of his pointer finger and the gradient of his left arm into the colour and shine of an oil slick as the flesh melded and changed to a slick covered tendril.
It was a few inches in diameter and Wesker began using what he could force of his will as he shrunk it to nearly the size of a pencil as he slid the gun under Chris's jaw. Wesker used his ring and thumb to angle Chris's co*ck as the brunet whimpered softly. Wesker furrowed his brows and manipulated the tendril, the tip of it squirming before forcing it's way down the hole of Chris's co*ck like a sounding rod.
"f*cking damn it- " Chris trailed off into frantic swearing as he fought to keep from writhing on the table as Wesker sent the tendril further down, his co*ck pushing out with the indent as the black tendril moved further down his shaft. The gun biting into his chin served as the only thing keeping him from grabbing Wesker's hand and yanking the tendril out. His balls tightened painfully and Chris felt sweat trace his forehead as the veins on his co*ck thrummed. "That's new, huh?" Chris attempted to keep his tone level but his look of near fear betrayed him as Wesker grunted in reply.
"One of the many perks." Wesker seemed to speak aloud to himself, his voice was hollow as he watched Chris stifle grunts and whimpers. Eventually through some miracle, Wesker seemed to grow bored of Chris holding still and retracted the gun from the tensed tendons of the man's throat. Watching as Chris gave a huff of relief, though instead of swatting away Wesker's hand like he'd planned, he instead brought it to Wesker's hips and began to thumb at the blond's belt.
Wesker seemed ready to slap away Chris's hand, though instead he squeezed Chris's hips a bit tighter and exhale a huff. Chris's finger worked nimbly before getting down Wesker's zipper. He'd discarded The scientist's shirt, leaving his skin exposed. The inky black veins that spider-webbed down from his finger ended in a string of lines along his side.
Though a mess of veins were visible disappearing under Wesker's boxers. His chest rose and fell with his breaths and he watched Chris with an intense stare before Chris eventually worked up the nerve to pull out and palm Wesker's co*ck. The black veins continued along the length alongside other veins. A curve was not particularly prominently visible along Wesker's co*ck, but when Chris would be getting his brain's f*cked out, he always swore he felt one.
Wesker sighed and rubbed his eyes with his now free hand before lowering the gun and placing it to the side as he cast his gaze back to Chris. Wesker ran his hand over his own co*ck as he huffed softly. Wesker's hand worked feverishly at his own length, the veins of black and normal flesh pulsed against his skin. He envisioned Chris as the young rookie crouched under his desk again. His mind held the image of the young man's brown hair speckled with Wesker's cum as his chest rose and fell.
Chris's green jacket usually lay discarded on top of Wesker's desk, his eyes hazy and his lips open and a flush red around Wesker's co*ck. His legs were open in a pose akin to the butterfly stretch and his hands were laying between them. Wesker remembered his fingers in the greasy hair of the rookie, sweat on his skin from a recent mission and his boots caked with grime.
Wesker brought his mind back to the reality of the situation and he spotted the terrified expression on Chris's face as his gaze lay on Wesker's co*ck.
"Christ- f*cking- what the hell is that? What the f*ck is that?! You're not normal like that- Jesus I can''t- you're gonna get me sick! That's some raging infection waiting to happen!" Chris's voice warbled as he attempted to push himself back with his boots hitting the top of the table despite already being against the wall. His wrists pulled against the tendril Wesker was using to restrain him and he watched Wesker grunt and twitch from pain or discomfort from the tension the tendril began holding.
Wesker's brows scrunched in confusion before casting a glance at his co*ck and seeing the cum that had leaked over his hand. It held a sickly black and seemed thicker than it was supposed to be, he found Chris's panic to be understandable but he found Chris's yelled protests to be annoying.
"Damn it, you nitwit. There's nothing wrong with it-" Wesker gradually lost his energy to keep trying to yell over Chris. Eventually giving up and instead slicking his free hand over his weeping co*ck to collect enough of his cum to cover the tips of his pointer and index finger before forcing them into the unwilling mouth of Chris. He choked around Wesker's fingers for a few moments before seemingly realizing Wesker was being honest in this specific moment.
The familiar salty taste bathed his tongue in seconds, the consistency was thicker than he'd expected and his tongue felt like it was moving through molasses as he gradually began lapping at Wesker's fingers in habit.
An embarrassed flash of red crossed Chris's face as he let his legs fall back over the side of the table, moving his hands closer to Wesker to remove the strain the tendril had been under. Wesker sighed and removed his fingers from Chris's mouth, watching a small trickle of his cum pool at the corner of Chris's mouth. Wesker stared down at Chris for another moment as the brown haired man swallowed and glanced away in embarrassment.
"Hips up and flip over, Redfield." Wesker's didn't seem to be asking, his glasses had slunk down his nose but he payed it no mind. He loosed his legs from Chris's hips and waited for the larger man to oblige. Chris whined softly and instead gritted his teeth which had begun to chatter.
"Take the- the- whatever you're calling that disgusting thing, out of my co*ck first and I'll consider it." Chris attempted to keep his tone level, his discomfort under a thinly veiled mask.
"Carrot or the stick, Redfield. You aren't in control here." Wesker chuckled softly and instead, used his free hand and exerted his inhuman strength to grab and slam Chris onto his front. Wesker then pulled Chris's unzipped pants down to the middle of his thighs, his boxers along now fully with them. Chris's co*ck and Wesker's tendril lay against Chris's stomach again and the larger man gave a stifled cry of pain in response.
Wesker seemed not to care in the slightest and stiffened his own co*ck to the full extent that he found the virus allowed, his co*ck throbbed with tension and he found himself with a good amount of discomfort at the sensation. Wesker sent another tendril to snake out and wrap Chris's wrists tightly. Wesker then hummed to himself before lining his co*ck head up, and abruptly brute forcing it into, Chris's ass. Chris yelped and Wesker watched as the man's shoulders and back muscles rippled in a strained fashion as Wesker continued to hold him down.
Chris gagged on his own sit for a moment as his legs trembled before falling silent again as Wesker began to sink further into Chris's ass. The burn was blatantly painful and Chris's fingernails dug into the flesh of his own palms as his breath hitched and he fought tears from his face.Working his hips quickly to match against the flesh and muscle of Chris's ass and tightened muscles of his legs.
Wesker's hand moved to lay on Chris's side and hold him tightly, his glasses slipped further down his nose as he began to exhale hissing breaths through his gritted teeth. He listed to Chris moan softly against the table, his shaggy hair bumping the corner of a torn out journal page that Wesker had scrawled formulas and chemical equations on.
In a stroke of seemingly a flash of altruism before pulling the tendril out of Chris's co*ck, met with the cry from Redfield as the tendril slid and took shape as Wesker's finger again. He listened to Chris's strained chuckles of half deluded joy. He fell quiet again aside from his huffed breaths and the sound of Wesker's skin on his. Chris's shoulders tensed and he seemed to be expecting Wesker to remove the bond from his wrists as well. Wesker's brows furrowed again and he waited another moment before obliging and sliding the tendril out from around his wrists.
"Don't say I never do anything for you." Was Wesker's muttered comment as he watched Chris's fingers move to hold the sides of the table again, his legs pressed tight against Wesker's as his spine pressed against his skin while Chris arched his back in an attempt to work out the strain.
Wesker brought his boots between Chris's to spread his legs much further. The blond was chasing his own high again as he looked at the broad scarred canvas of Chris's back. Attempting to presume what caused each of the discolored lines of flesh to appear on Redfield's back.
"What would Sheva think of you? Watching you fall back to your acquiescent ways? The man she's laying her life on the line to help, fighting off whatever she comes across; what do you think she'd think if she knew you were about to be man-handled like a bitch?" Wesker's comment seemed to hit Chris in the heart, his breath halting for a moment as he waited for some kind of reassurance that he didn't mean it. Though Wesker didn't give one.
Instead, Wesker's mind drifted to any number of cruel plans and ideas, some involving others that Chris cared for and some being simply just for Chris. He found himself wondering if Chris would ever allow him to indulge in his sad*stic nature further, and his mind summoned up images of Chris's face at his groin again back in his S.T.A.R.S uniform. Back then, Chris had always allowed Wesker to pull his hair or slap him across the face when he acted out of did something that displeased him.
He could drag Chris away from whatever organization he was signed up with, take him somewhere no one would ever find them. Though his mind chimed up with a counter. Chris was altruistic, unlike himself. The brute would always run off to go help whoever was in danger, usually at the hands of Wesker or his allies and usually with the help of another happy-go-lucky idiot who believed in the "good of humanity". So how did he ensure that Chris couldn't go back and link up with some clutch of humanity to help rally against Wesker? To pull the headstrong brute away from him again? Turn them against him. Alright well, how would he do that while ensuring Chris could only rely on him?
~
Chris's breath was short and his mind raced as he thought of how the situation would end. The warmth of Wesker against his back was enjoyable but the moment would end soon and Chris knew the issue of Wesker's nature and bioweapons would be the most prominent thing in his mind again. Wesker couldn't be reasoned with, he couldn't be dissuaded from his goal. His thoughts were cut short by Wesker pulling out, a groan on his lips. He hadn't felt Wesker org*sm and he paused for a moment to try and think of what could have possibly broken the scientists concentration.
He held quiet for a few moments more before carefully standing back up. His co*ck was sore in displeasure and his balls still felt full as he tucked them back into his boxers, his mind focusing more on how quiet the room now seemed. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw nothing but the now still and empty laboratory. Chris swallowed hard and reached for the gun on the table. He reached for his shirt and pulled it back down over his head. His jacket followed soon after, slow, gradual movements as if the slightest disturbance would cause some kind of drastic repercussions.
His gaze scanned the room again and still found no semblance of Wesker. Instead the fluorescent light being the only movement he found beside his own. He called out quietly for Wesker, his boots clunking softly against the clean tiles of the floor. The lab wasn't particularly large, a line of resting test tubes stood on display on a counter that divided the room in half.
Sheva might've found her way close enough to here to get his attention. He might've heard her steps. Can he hear through walls? Is that something he can do? Focus.
Chris tightened his gun holster, finally spotting movement in the form of Wesker's coat flittering as he entered the room again from however far off at an unnatural speed, seemingly having taken the time to redress and recompose himself. Neither spoke for a moment and Chris wondered if Wesker would simply disappear again and pretend that the whole ordeal had never happened when they inevitably encountered each other again in a fight.
Chris opened his mouth to speak, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say. The air felt heavy and the tension seemed palpable as the heavily shaded lenses of Wesker's glasses divided the two. Wesker's dominant hand held something that Chris couldn't quite make out due to how Wesker held it, slightly behind his back in a manner similar to a child holding something in guilt. Chris debated asking what it was.
Though he never got the chance to speak anyways, before he could think of a line to try and defuse the situation that had arisen. Wesker's movements had barely registered to Chris before he felt the sting in his neck. Wesker's arm had pulled back and slammed forward, the needle had sunk fully into Redfield's flesh. Wesker's thumb pressed down swiftly on the injection handle and watched as Chris frantically grabbed for the needle, tore it out of his skin, tossed it aside and grabbed Wesker's collar.
"What the f*ck was that?"
Wesker stared at him as Chris sloppily groped and patted at his neck. His legs swayed underneath him and his eye lids fluttered. Wesker watched as Chris attempted to assume a fighting stance, though his legs kept wobbling and his knees continued to buckle. Chris whined softly as he stumbled for a few steps before grabbing at the counter, knocking over a line.of brightly colored test tubes as he did. His skin felt as if it was on fire and his hands trembled, knocking into shards of glass from the newly shattered test tubes. He tasted blood and found his shirt feeling tight and snagging in sections. His boots felt too tight and when he patted at his neck again, his hands felt a rough layer of something he likened to scaling. His mind swam and after another grunt, Chris collapsed fully to the ground in a trembling heap as he fell into unconsciousness.
~
Wesker had to admit, it wasn't a great plan. Chris could easily lose his mind entirely to the virus if the worst came to, but Wesker had a hard time believing that the man's mind was weak enough to fall completely to the will of the Uroboros. Though his ideal was a Chris, hunted by his own government and friends if they ran into him. A bioweapon. Only able to rely or find solace in Wesker. Completely dependent on him for company. Chris would be fuming when he realized what happened, that much he was sure of. And it might take a while, but Wesker believed Stockholm Syndrome would smooth over the majority of the issues, regardless of how long it took to set in. Wesker watched as Chris's face contorted and his jaw twisted while he lay unconscious. Wesker could hear the quick pace of Chris's heart as he scooped the larger man into his arms with seeming ease. If nothing else, Wesker would make an obedient, subservient pet of Chris once again. He'd done it once before, and he knew that with enough force, he could do it again.
