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Chris has an embarrassing fixation.
Not the most embarrassing thing he could endure, obviously, but definitely not something he'd want getting out. Definitely not in the vicinity of Wesker. He always seems to be listening, always so aware of things, it makes Chris mortified to just think about it.
Wesker's hands. More specifically, the way they look and feel, especially when he's wearing those black leather gloves of his. They fit like a second skin, and Chris has had the pleasure of touching them a couple times; when he shook his hand, and then when Wesker clasped a hand on his shoulder while he was talking to him. Oh, it's awful.
At first, it was just stealing glances. Watching him while he works, how he writes, how he holds the steering wheel when he drives the cruiser, how he takes apart his gun and cleans it. He noticed pretty quickly that Wesker is ambidextrous, an interesting trait which only served to further his little fixation. Now, it's a daily thing, where Chris can get distracted watching him so easily, he drifts off into ridiculous fantasies about them.
Like right now, for example.
"Chris."
"Yes?"
"You're not paying attention."
"No, I am, sir," Chris assures his captain, "I heard you. Another follow-up on the Alpha case, maybe do a drive-by with Jill."
Wesker raises his eyebrows just the tiniest bit. "Good. It's important that we ensure this is a single string of violence, not a group. In my experience, it's better to have one target, if push comes to shove."
"Yeah."
Wesker scrubs a hand over the lower half of his face, then leans his elbow on the table to hold his chin in his hand. The way his fingers frame his jaw is just...
"Do you need anything else?" he asks, after a minute.
"No, sir. Sorry. I'm kind of spacey today."
He gets up to leave, keeping his eyes averted, since he can feel the blush rising in his cheeks. What a stupid thing to get worked up over.
"That's no good. We can't have you just drifting off, Chris."
"I know, sir. I just... Didn't sleep well, that's all."
"Mmm. Get yourself some coffee, and make sure Valentine drives this time. Not that you're a great driver on your best days."
Chris frowns a little, but nods. "I will, don't worry."
The rest of the day was unremarkable.
There was hardly anything noteworthy during the whole drive with Jill, but it was nice to get some fresh air. The past couple weeks had been grueling, with Chris glued to his desk and filling out a bunch of paperwork and signing off on assignments, which he didn't see why he had to be the one signing anyway. Didn't they have interns to do that? Maybe Wesker was punishing him for some slight he didn't know he committed again.
Chris just wishes he can get more times like this. Jill's a fun partner to have anyway, even if it's just on a boring drive-by, or helping with reports.
By the time they got back, it was nearing time to clock out, but it didn't even look like Wesker had moved. He keeps his area so clean all the time, it's hard to tell when he's coming or going, or what he's working on. He's a very private guy, and that kind of adds an air of mystery to him.
"Hey, Captain, I'm gonna clock out," Chris calls from the main room.
Wesker looks up at him from behind his sunglasses. "Is it eight-thirty already?"
Chris glances at the clock again. "No. It's fifteen minutes till."
"Then you're not clocking out, are you?"
Chris drops his shoulders in disappointment. "No."
He looks around for things to do to keep him occupied. He walks around and tidies up things, checks the fax machine for anything important that's come through, gets a drink of water, and sits back down at his desk. Only about four minutes closer. Damn.
He hears Wesker sigh from his office. "Chris, are you really so desperate for more work?"
"I don't know what I can do for the next... ten minutes, now."
He can feel Wesker's eyes on him, glaring.
"Come here, boy."
Chris jumps up and joins his captain in his office, standing at his desk. Wesker doesn't look up at him, which hurts a little, since his captain is seemingly always at attention. He waits for a few minutes, starting to look around for what Wesker could want him to do. He receives no instruction.
"Captain?"
"Hold on."
Chris frowns and bites his lip. He was the one who called him in here, after all. Whatever. He doesn't exactly mind just standing around, watching his captain work. In fact, he probably spends more time doing that than doing actual work throughout the day. Jesus, maybe that's why he called him in here...
No way. Chris had been subtle enough. Just innocent glances of admiration, as far as Wesker knew. No way he knew about the other stuff. And can he even really punish him for that, if he does know? Chris starts rocking back and forth on his heels a bit, making himself nervous as his brain spirals into conspiracies. Wesker hasn't even done anything to him, yet.
Finally, Wesker scrawls a long, thin signature at the base of a report, places it in a stack, and sets it aside.
"So. You wanted something more."
Well, now it was time to clock out, but Chris nods anyway. Might as well.
"Good. Lock the door for me, will you?"
Chris follows the order given, and resumes his place in front of his captain's desk. Usually, Wesker would tell him to sit, or to get him something from the file cabinet, but he's just staring at him. It makes Chris especially uncomfortable, since he can't even see what Wesker's looking at. Or, maybe it would be worse if he could. He feels his face getting red.
"H-How can I help, Captain?"
Wesker folds his hands together, tapping a fingertip on the lacquered wooden desk. "Sit."
Finally. Chris practically flies into a seat, looking back up at Wesker expectantly. His unwavering gaze makes him feel small, somehow, like he's not even looking at him but right through him.
Why does he seem irritated at him? He's almost totally ignoring him and it bruises Chris' pride a little.
"It may come as a shock to you, but I've heard about your antics."
Oh, fuck. "My... antics?"
"Yes. I don't care about what you do in your off hours, Chris, but everything you do here is my business, and I will know about it. Sooner rather than later."
Chris' throat feels tight all of a sudden.
It's true, Chris isn't the "best" employee. Maybe not even a good one, some days, but he tries to do whatever his captain asks of him. He really does, and it has nothing to do with his weird preoccupation with him. Definitely not.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Well, I might start with..." He pulls out a notepad, where it seems he's scribbled a few things down. "Playing hooky, to go to a bar with your coworkers. Showing up without a uniform. Discharging your weapon on the premises, which you should know is illegal. Spreading sexual gossip about members of S.T.A.R.S., myself included-"
"Captain, that was-"
"Quiet!"
Chris' voice disappears and he shrinks into his chair. Now that Wesker was reading it all out loud, it sounded really bad. Extremely bad, especially if your captain is Albert Wesker.
Wesker's jaw tenses and he points at him threateningly. "I'll give you a chance to explain yourself, once I'm done. The most interesting little transgression of yours was a game you played with Jill, this morning. I wasn't meant to overhear it, I imagine, but like I said... It's my business."
"Is this about the truth or dare thing?" Chris asks meekly, "If it is, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean any of it, it was just a joke, sir."
"Really? I heard you get quite graphic." Chris imagines he's as pale as a ghost, right now. "If I recall correctly, Valentine dared you to admit something secret, and you started going on about... What was it? My hands, and what you'd like me to do with them?"
"Sir, I swear I was joking," he lies. It's so painfully obvious, and he knows it.
Christ, he never thought he'd be found out over a stupid game. They weren't even talking that loudly, and Jill would whisper her answers to him. So, unless Wesker has secret super-hearing, he doesn't even understand how this could have happened.
"Mm. Are you sure?" he asks. His voice is slightly lower, now, almost like he's mocking him.
Wesker smirks and cracks his knuckles, flexing his hands together while he does it. Chris feels a weird little tingle go down his back, and suddenly the way he's sitting is really uncomfortable.
"Can you remember exactly what you said? I'd love to hear it again."
He's not asking. That's an order.
Chris swallows hard, wracking his brain for the words. "I... I said... I said I think you're good with your hands. And that I like watching you do stuff with them-"
"What stuff?"
"T-Taking apart your gun. You just do it so quickly, and you put it back together just as fast. It's really nice to watch."
Wesker seems to be enjoying this too much. "Mm-hm. What else did you say?"
"I said... I... I'd like you to touch me. With your hands. I'd like you to do stuff to me, sexually. I said I wanted you to put your fingers in my mouth, I remember that."
"Is that true?"
"No! No, sir."
"You sounded very genuine when you said it the first time."
Chris stammers, opening and closing his mouth, not even sure what to say to that. "I... I'm sorry."
"Hm?" Wesker frowns.
"I'm sorry. It was really inappropriate, and I'm sorry I said it."
He nods. "It was inappropriate. You shouldn't be talking to your colleagues that way, in any case. Not during work hours."
Chris didn't want to bring up the fact that Jill told him plenty of dirty stuff she'd like to do, because then he might have to spill the beans on her, too. It was just a stupid game they played sometimes, it was never meant to be so serious. It definitely wasn't supposed to make Wesker angry at him.
"What you should have done, is come in here and tell me yourself."
Huh? Chris isn't even sure he heard that right. Did Wesker want to know about his fantasies? Jesus, that's weird. Why would Chris ever tell him something so humiliating? Does he get off on making people embarrassed?
He's startled when Wesker stands from his chair and leans over the desk.
"Go on. Tell me yourself."
Wesker is making his way around the desk, now, headed towards his marksman. He's trembling a bit, and he can't figure out why. He just feels so weird when he's close to Wesker like this, like his stomach gets tied in knots, and he can never get that redness out of his cheeks. It's mortifying.
"I... I just told you, Captain."
"That wasn't a request," he snaps, and Chris feels a shiver spread across his body.
He swallows again, trying to speak clearly and retain just a sliver of his dignity. "I want you to touch me. And run your hands all over me. I want you to do stuff with your fingers..."
"Speak up."
"I want you to put your fingers inside me," he admits, tears of shame prickling at his eyes, "And let me suck on them. That's what I said."
Wesker comes to a stop behind Chris' chair, placing his hands on his shoulders firmly.
God, they're so strong. He's forceful with his grip, digging his nails into his skin, and it stings briefly before that "stinging" feeling travels further down. Way down.
"Sir, I'm really sorry-"
"I heard your apology. It doesn't excuse your filthy behavior, however," he says, his warm breath hitting the back of his neck, "Why don't you elaborate?"
"Elaborate, sir?"
"You know. Add on to your fantasy." He runs one hand up to the nape of Chris' neck, squeezing lightly. "Since it's something you want so badly. You can consider it part of your punishment."
Chris' breath catches in his throat, and for the first time, he's extremely aware of his hard-on. Jesus Christ, how long has he been like that?
"I- I can't, sir."
"Then let me help you."
Wesker's hand snakes around to grab his chin, tilting his head back so that he can peer down at him. He's smirking.
Chris whimpers aloud when his captain pushes a finger into his mouth. He instinctively closes his lips around it and sucks, feeling the soft, warm skin on his tongue. It lights up his whole body with sensations, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.
"There. A grand prize for all your babbling."
Chris makes another soft noise when he adds a second finger, moving his free hand to his neck. Wesker squeezes gently at first, then harder as Chris sucks his fingers diligently. Never in his wildest imagination did he think he'd get something like this. It's ripped straight from a wet dream, or one of those crazy fantasies he'd have while fucking himself alone in his apartment. Except he can actually put a physical feeling to the fantasy, now.
"I'll need you on that desk, Chris."
Oh. Maybe that's why he keeps it so clean.
Chris obeys as fast as he can, not even caring how embarrassing it is, anymore. He notes Wesker's cruel smile as he follows him, pushing him forward onto his clean workstation. He deftly unbuckles Chris' pants, seemingly about to satisfy another one of his great fantasies.
"S-Sir?"
"Get these wet for me," he commands, shoving two fingers back in Chris' mouth.
He sucks them desperately, hoping this dream never ends. They feel so perfect inside, bumping against the back of his throat as he coats them with saliva. He might cum from this, alone.
All too soon, Wesker pops them out of his mouth and yanks down his pants, just far enough for him to access what he wants. Chris feels a wet finger tracing around his hole, and he whines at the sensation. He's aching for attention, his cock and balls hanging heavy between trembling thighs. He's worried that Wesker's not as into it, until he feels his bulge press against him.
"If you take this good enough, I might give you something bigger."
He lets out a broken moan as Wesker pushes one long, slicked finger inside, hardly giving him a minute to adjust before nudging in a second one alongside it. Chris is clinging to the desk for dear life, trying so hard not to cum, but he feels that familiar, mounting pressure in his abdomen. He's so unbearably hard.
"Good boy. Does this live up to your expectations?"
"Aah..." Chris whines, barely able to make a coherent noise, "Ah, y-yes, sirrr..."
"If you want more, you'll have to ask for it," Wesker says in a cruel, teasing tone.
"Please," he chokes out, feeling his captain's fingers scissoring and stretching his ass expertly.
He's definitely done this before. Chris has done this before, too... Plenty of times, actually, but he's sure all those pleasures won't compare after tonight.
"Please?"
"Please, give me more, sir..." he sobs, "Please touch me."
"Aw," Wesker simpers, "So needy. You've wanted this for so long, haven't you?"
Chris feels shameful tears run down his cheeks. "Yes."
Wesker finally obliges his request, not with another finger inside him, but with a hand around his throat. It squeezes hard at the sides, graciously leaving his windpipe unblocked so Chris can still take shallow, shuddering breaths as Wesker pumps his fingers in his ass. He's not sure he can ever come back from this.
Wesker pushes in a third finger, completely dry. It burns and stretches him wide, making his thighs shake as it forces his body to make room for it. The hand clamped around his throat is making his vision go blurry, and he can barely hold it together. He's sure he's making all sorts of embarrassing, pathetic noises, but above it all, he hears Wesker chuckle darkly.
"So hungry for it," he teases, "Unfortunately for you, so am I."
Chris whines when he slips his fingers out, but his disappointment vanishes when he presents them to him to clean. He eagerly takes each digit into his mouth, sucking them dutifully, laving his tongue all over and being sure to get between them. He feels Wesker's cock head prodding at his stretched hole, but he's too focused on his hands to even care. He could plunge his cock in raw and Chris would thank him, right now.
Some punishment.
"Ah!" he yelps, feeling the tip push past the loosened ring of muscle, and slowly begin sinking deeper.
"Mmm. Keep sucking them."
Chris is making a mess of himself, drooling all down his chin and smearing it across his cheeks as he desperately sucks each finger. Wesker tightens the grip on his neck, making him buck his hips and inadvertently push his cock deeper. He holds Wesker's hand against his throat, a silent plea for more, for Wesker to squeeze harder, to rub his hands up and down his neck like he's been doing, just so he can feel the warm slide of his palms on his skin.
Wesker fucks him nice and slow to start, letting his tight hole get used to the intrusion. Chris can feel his cock leaking precum all over his thighs as he moves, so hard he feels like he might explode at any moment.
Wesker drags the hand from his throat and runs it up through his hair, playfully tugging at his short brown locks. He picks up the pace and uses his hair to hold him there, bent over his desk and worshipping his fingers.
"Tsk, tsk. What would your teammates think of you, Chris?
"I... I... Please, don't tell..."
"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, "This stays between us."
Wesker runs his free hand down Chris' muscled back, raking his fingernails over his skin and making him cry in pleasure. He does it again and again, probably leaving red marks all over his shoulders, but Chris wouldn't have it any other way.
He wishes he could turn to face him, just so he could see if Wesker's enjoying it as much as him, but then he couldn't fuck him as fast or as hard as he is now. Chris has never had anything so big or so brutal shoved around in his insides, and God it hurts, but for however much pain there is, there's more pleasure.
Wesker brings his hand up to hold Chris' face, tilting it backward at an awkward angle to look at him. He's barely broken a sweat, and he's smirking down at him in that cold, menacing way that tells him he's so, so vulnerable.
He nearly pulls out, before slamming back into him and making him cry out.
"Shh, shh. No complaining. This is what you wanted, after all."
Chris chokes back a high-pitched whine, feeling his captain's cock slamming against something that makes him jolt in shock. It burns and feels amazing, before it burns again like electricity. He can barely control himself, now, grabbing at Wesker and begging, not even able to make sounds like words anymore. It's all so much.
Wesker reaches around, grabbing his cock suddenly.
"Ah, W- Wesker-" he gasps, "Please... Please, I'm so-"
"So close?"
Chris sobs. "Yes."
In moments, he's crying out and cumming harder than he ever has, his legs buckling under him as he fills Wesker's palm with his release. He shakes and leans against the desk, trying not to fall over, barely able to open his eyes when Wesker is bringing his hand to his mouth and feeding him his own cum.
The act alone almost wrings another dry orgasm from him, but sadly only almost. Wesker is ruthless, destroying his ass long after he's finished, even laughing while Chris cleans up his fingers and swallows his own sticky semen.
"Such an obedient boy. Really made for this, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," Chris blurts out, before he even understood the question.
He supposes that's verification enough.
Chris feels like he's about to pass out from motion sickness, or exhaustion, or both, just before Wesker finally finishes. It's just as brutal as the rest of his treatment, dumping his cum deep inside Chris' guts before unceremoniously pulling out and smearing it across his thighs in the process. With only the desk holding him up, Chris half-collapses and drops to his knees on the floor. He can feel his captain's semen pouring out of his sore, swollen hole.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Wesker jokes, clearly enjoying the ruined state he's left him in.
Chris shakes his head, feeling almost drunk and dazed.
No, it was so much better than he could have ever imagined. Wesker grabs some tissues and cleans himself up, before sliding the box in front of Chris to do the same. He's wrecked.
"I have a nice pair of leather gloves you've never seen. Might play with those, next time. Only if you want, though."
Chris manages to nod, blindly committing to whatever Wesker has in mind. His captain slides his fingers under his chin and tilts his head up, rubbing his thumb along his jawline.
"You're quite late to clock out. Should I mark this down as overtime?"