No ship specified, so fate hands you chrisker (Wesker x Chris)
That afternoon before the big meeting Wesker kissed Chris in his office as usual. It was a throw away kiss, with no time or reason to linger over it. As if it was just another day. As if he everything wasn’t falling apart, and he hadn’t just been ordered to sacrifice them all.
Chris x Wesker drabble. Lightly suggestive.
Chris was Wesker’s dog.
Chris loved it when Captain Wesker treated him like a dog. Loved it when he forced him down on all fours, and grabbed his hair, when Wesker called him a good boy, and when he put a collar on him.
He loved it when the captain made him lick his boots, or anything else he wanted in Chris’ mouth.
Even years later, after everything had fallen apart, and they stood on opposite sides, Chris hated how hard it was not to come running like a hound to heel when Wesker called his name.
And he hated that Wesker knew it.
Chris – “Wesker!”
Wesker – “So you’ve come. Chris, you make me proud. Of course you are one of my men.”
Chris – “Thanks.”
Resident Evil (2002)
“Chris, since you’re one of my best men, I’ll let you handle this.”
— Wesker, leaving Chris to fight Alexia, Resident Evil CODE: Veronica.
These quotes just get me so… 🥺🥰
Love, I’d never hurt you
But I’ll grind against your bones until our marrows mix
I will eat you slowly
Ludo– The Horror of Our Love
Chris x Wesker ficlet. Under the cut for suggestive imagery, medical imagery. 220 words.
The former STARS captain turned bioterrorist had a sadistic smirk twisted on his lips, his black glasses reflecting Chris’ bound form, his hands tied behind him in the chair he was strapped to.
Chris squirmed underneath him, as much as he could, humiliated to know that Wesker could certainly feel the thick bulge of his cock against the other man.
Wesker cupped his chin roughly with one gloved hand, and pulled his face up to look at him. He held a syringe in his other hand, brandishing it in Chris’ peripheral vision.
He stroked his lips with his thumb. “I hope you aren’t getting cold feet, Chris. Remember, you asked for this. Begged me not to leave you behind.”
A shiver crept through Chris’ body. It was true, even if it disgusted him. He had begged. And here was the result. He didn’t have cold feet, not exactly, but it was hard not to squirm. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, thinking about what Wesker was going to do to him.
He flushed, and looked away. But he stopped struggling.
Wesker patted Chris cheek fondly. “Good boy. Now, shall we begin?”
Chris felt the syringe press to his throat.
END
Where He Belongs
Wekser’s gloved fingers tightened around Chris’ airway, making him feel breathless and lightheaded as he scrabbled for purchase, pinned under the other man’s body.
Wesker held him up with a single hand, a cruel smile twisted on his handsome lips as he looked down at him. He stroked Chris’ face almost tenderly with the back of his free hand.
“I love when you struggle, Chris; it shows just how helpness you are.”
Humiliated, Chris felt his face flush, at the same time as dizziness started to overtake him. He levered himself against Wesker to push him away, and took a deep breath as the other man dropped him, only to feel a starburst of pain light up as Wesker’s fist connected hard with his jaw. It was the same hand he’d been caressing him with a moment earlier.
Chris’ body connected with the ground in a heap, and he gasped as he tried to recover; but it was pointless. Wesker was too fast. His boot connected with Chris’ ribs in another starburst of shooting pain, and then pinned down his chest. Chris felt the heel of the leather boot digging into the place just above his chest. Along with the throb of pain through him, it sent a tight heat in his body– between his thighs.
Catching his breath, he spat out blood as he glared impotently up at Wesker.
Wesker pressed harder down on his chest, and leaned down, the curve of his back catlike, as his face came close enough to Chris’ to feel the heat of his breath. He sneered at him, and smudged the blood across his lip over his cheeks with the thumb of his black glove.
His other hand snaked down and traced the bulge between Chris’ thighs.
“Does your sister know how much you love it when I beat you up, Chris?” Wesker demanded snidely. “Does Jill?”
“Fuck you,” Chris hissed beneath him, his cheeks burning as he kept struggling, unable to find purchase, or maybe unable to find the will, to truely shove Wesker away.”
“Say please. Say please, and I’ll ease your suffering.”
Chris felt Wesker’s fingers tighten slightly around his bulge, feeling his grip through layers of fabric. The blood was still hot, and tangy in his mouth as he panted for breath.
Damn it!
“…please,” he growled out in a low voice.
Wesker’s smirk grew. He hooked his bloody thumb from Chris’ cheek into his mouth, over his tongue. “Say it again.”
Chirs squirmed under him.
“Pleash!!” he yelled. It came out slurred as Wesker held down his tongue in his bloody mouth.
“Good boy.” Wesker patted his cheek, and Chris felt a fresh surge of embarrassing heat throughout him.
The pressure on his chest eased as Wesker lifted his boot, and stood up, pressing it against Chris’ face. The black leather boot loomed in his vision, the edge up it rubbing against his cheek.
“Kiss it, Redfield,” Wesker commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.
Chris’s heart thudded in his chest as his lips met the same boot that had just been abusing his ribcage. His whole body throbbed with desire.
He hated and loved that this was where he belonged, on his back, kissing Wesker’s boots.
There would be plenty of time to be angry about it later, assuming Wesker let him live when he was done fucking him.
He always had so far.
END