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Chris was still feeling hazy when he came to. Leather was strapping him down. Or maybe it wasn’t leather. It felt stronger than that, but Chris was weakened. Not only was his head foggy, but lifting a single finger was a titanic task. The restraints around his wrists and ankles were almost superfluous. His head turned around, he noticed someone approaching. He heard him more than he saw him, but his captor’s identity was no mystery.
It was Wesker.
Of course it was. Chris remembered enough to at least point him as the source of his pain for most of his adult life. He tried to call him out, but no sound came out of his mouth. A sting in his neck answered some of his questions. Only one remained: what would Wesker do? Did he intend to gloat about Uroboros? Chris could not fathom any discernible reason as to why Wesker hadn’t killed him yet.
As Wesker got closer, Chris swallowed his saliva. His mouth was producing a lot of it, no doubt a consequence of the drug he’d been administered.
“Oh, Chris,” Wesker said, and he did seem to be gloating. “I wish you knew how much I dreamed of this moment… Though, on the other hand…”
Chris felt Wesker’s fingers brush his cheek and looked away. “On the other hand… I never truly believed we would get to this point. My victory was a certainty, yet your failure looks like a mirage. How intriguing, given how inevitable it is.”
The fingers went away, and Chris realized he’d stopped breathing for a moment.
“Tell me, Chris… Do you not have something up your sleeve? A hidden blade in your pocket, perhaps. Another silly friend of yours who might break our…”
The next thing Wesker grazed was Chris’s inner forearm. “...rendezvous.”
His touch was soft, serpentine over Chris’s veins. The strapped soldier felt indescriptable chills running over the back of his head.
He still couldn’t speak. If he could, he would say that for all he knew, Sheva, Josh and Jill had perished trying to save him. There was no one else. His sister Claire was on another continent. No one could help him.
Wesker’s ring finger reached the most sensible part of his wrist. “It appears not. Well, I disposed of my associates just the same. It’s only us, Chris. Here you are, under my thumb…”
And his thumb did trail after the rest of his fingertips. “All mine.”
The chills propagated through Chris’s neck and shoulders, and he managed to articulate, “What… do you want…?”
“You know the answer, Chris.”
Wesker was grinning as he leaned toward his face. “You know it and you will say it.”
Chris grunted and tried to move again. No dice. The only thing moving on his body was one of the straps on his legs, which soon parted him from a bag that, until hours ago, contained precious herbs. His other leg had the same treatment, and each time the straps slid off his thighs, he felt more vulnerable. He’d already lost his tactical vest, and now, his belt was being opened with those same precious fingers that had given him some innocent, relaxing pleasure in the back of his head moments ago.
“Say it, Chris.”
He refused. Saying it would mean admitting many things he didn’t want to admit. Hope, regrets. The only thing he needed was determination.
His determination shivered when Wesker threw Chris’s belt far away and opened his pants. Each second that passed made it more evident, yet Chris closed his eyes.
They jerked open when Wesker started touching him over his boxer briefs. In his wildest dreams, he’d never let himself believe…
And Wesker was still staring at him. The same loud smile that screamed victory. His sharp teeth in spite of his soft touch.
To Chris’s defense, it took until Wesker slipped his hand inside his underwear for him to groan. He’d tried to be strong, but his weakness was all in Wesker’s palm, and Wesker was playing with him.
His mind was screaming too. He tried his best to stay unbothered, to not show any attraction, but the fact of the matter was that Chris had never become hard so fast. Wesker had to lower his pants (and perhaps Chris unconsciously lifted his hips, just perhaps) to get his full glory out.
“My, my, Chris. Aren’t you eager! Have you been so solitary all these years that a simple contact sends you over the edge? Where’s your heroism? Your American perfection? Where’s the uptight soldier I couldn’t wait to see again? Unless…”
They stared at each other, and Chris felt a tear reach his jaw. Wordlessly, Wesker kept stimulating him. For a long moment, neither could look away.
Then Wesker finally spoke again. “What a needy young man, you are, Chris. I can feel how close you are, you know.”
Chris was pretty certain his cock was lubricating itself, with how much precome he was producing under Wesker’s patient hand. He groaned and finally looked away.
“I have other things planned for you, naturally, but I had to touch you, to finally know how you would feel at my mercy. I needed to make you whimper, and my dear, I must say you exceeded my expectations. Look at you, desperate for it. By now, I’m sure you could free yourself. You’ve become quite a strong man, Chris. Was that for me?”
He’d… noticed. Of course, Chris hadn’t intended his efforts to pay off this way, but… he’d noticed. Ignoring all reason, he nodded and blinked.
“Show it to me, Chris,” Wesker said with lust. “Show it all to me.”
Wesker was right. if Chris was able to pull at his tactical shirt, he was able to fight him. Instead, he let his shirt fall on the ground and, after confirming with a single glance that Wesker wanted to see everything, he undid his boots and, with a tad of a difficult time, he slid his pants and underwear off his legs.
“Marvelous. Simply marvelous. Now… answer your own question. What do I want?”
Chris whined as Wesker accelerated his pace. “Wesker…”
“What. do. I. want?”
He couldn’t breathe, yet he drew enough air to whisper, “You want me.”
Wesker seized him and susurred right next to his lips, “What a good little soldier you are, Chris.”
Unable to contain himself anymore, Chris spurted on his bare stomach and on Wesker’s cold, pale hand.
However, he wasn’t to rest. Still thinking of missed possibilities, of all the anguish he’d ever felt for Wesker, Chris barely noticed Wesker putting an elaborate contraption on his cock. Soon, Wesker stood beside him, a hand on his chest, an arm against Chris’s jaw, as the machine drained him, with no end in sight. By the third time he came, it had become painful and his moans filled the room, yet Wesker kept encouraging him.
“This was all for you, Chris. The c-strain of Uroboros, named after you naturally, will further the world’s fall into chaos. Together, we will rule this planet. With you in my possession, nothing can stop me.”
Chris could only think of how much pleasure Wesker was finally deigning to give him, of how thankful he was. Every bit of pain, mixed with bliss, made him cling closer to Wesker. As long as Wesker stayed, it would all be worth it.