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The Resident Evil Kink Meme!
Looks like there was already at attempt at this somewhere, but nobody ever wrote anything, just a handful of requests. THAT'S NOT GOING DOWN THIS TIME GUYS.
First:
HOW TO USE THE KINK MEME
Simple. Just post an anonymous comment asking for a fic to be written. Obviously, this is called the kink meme for a reason, and ( Read more... )
Looks like there was already at attempt at this somewhere, but nobody ever wrote anything, just a handful of requests. THAT'S NOT GOING DOWN THIS TIME GUYS.
First:
HOW TO USE THE KINK MEME
Simple. Just post an anonymous comment asking for a fic to be written. Obviously, this is called the kink meme for a reason, and ( Read more... )
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Convenience was a luxury he had finally been able to achieve; years of masterminding and coercion had offered the fruits of reward. Wesker smirked as he gazed as the state of the art infiltration device; this piece of equipment had been quite an expensive purchase, but definitely worthwhile. Now, with little to no effort, he could remotely control any network regulated security system - globally even - from this secure location.
A chuckle rose on his lips as he touched the smooth stainless steel housing unit… so pristine…so perfect. Knowing full well that a simple machine set him back quite a bit on his investments, he wanted to make total use of its capabilities as soon as possible.
Wheeling an expensive leather chair to face the console, he slid into it, gazing at the many lit buttons on the keyboard. He’d studied the contraption, learned every configuration…now, what did he want to try it out on?
Wesker calmly laced his fingers together and rested his lips against them. What indeed should the first task at hand? Ada already had her assignments, Sergei was no longer a threat…what should he do?
A smile graced his features, the humor in his eyes covered by the mirrored shades he always wore. Certainly now was the time to begin his new project…
First, however, was the pressing desire to find out what his ex-colleagues were up to. For a plan to be a success, all the key players needed to be in place…how else would he be able to obtain the test data he needed?
Refined fingers met the keyboard as he typed a simple command: Chris Redfield.
Wesker practically purred in delight at the instant response. The computer was near silent as it calculated within milliseconds the codes he needed, offering a delicate tone after finishing the procedure. In a fraction of time, several cameras were already fixated on the one person he knew to be his ultimate rival.
Wesker scoffed. Like Chris would ever be an equal…more like inevitable plaything.
The address that popped up on the screen was highly unusual. “Wyndham Mansion in Rhode Island,” he whispered curiously to himself. What would Chris be doing so far from home?
Resting his gloved hand on the volume, the soldier’s voice rose in the speakers to a comfortably audible level; Wesker simply watched and listened.
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The person on the other end was giving him a hard time. He rolled his eyes at no one and continued. “I know I need to finish up here - just give me twenty more hours to do the work and then I’m gone.”
More sounds coming from the device at his ear.
“No” Chris spoke incredulously, “You don’t need to send anyone in to check up on…”
Chris sighed loudly as he gazed at the Blackberry’s facing. The caller hung up.
“Goddamnit.” Chris tossed the phone and watched it bounce on the mattress, landing haphazardly on a pillow. Chris was soon to follow, untying his boots before swinging his legs onto the bed.
He reached for another gadget, a smaller, silver one, and the item clicked. Chris began talking into it…a recording device of some sort.
“Twenty two hundred: Jill will be meeting me in Newport to talk with the contact about Spencer. We’ve heard rumors that he’s alive and living somewhere in Maine, but the location hasn’t been confirmed.”
Wesker stared intently on the officer as he lay in on the bed. So Ada was right…Spencer was still alive…
The recorder clicked off again and Chris placed it on the nightstand. With a sigh, he stretched and rested his head on his arms.
Wesker’s glasses reflected the image of Chris’s reclined body. There wasn’t much more than this, then? A gloved hand hovered over the end key, twitching only slightly as Chris stood and locked his room door.
“Drafty,” Chris spoke aloud. “Wish I could’ve just stayed at a hotel.” He mumbled to himself, returning to his mattress.
Another sigh. “It’ll be nice to see Jill again.”
Enough with the sentimental banter. Wesker’s fingers searched the end key again, but froze dead in place as Chris’s hand traveled to his belt, deftly unbuckling the leather strap quickly.
Wesker hadn’t even noticed what the other man was wearing until now. It was unusual to see him out of tactical gear - the soldier was dressed in jeans and a simple grey shirt; apparently the mission was an undercover operation.
This was getting out of hand - Wesker nearly turned away in embarrassment as Chris loosened and pulled the belt free, letting it fall beside the bed. Next came the buttons, the zipper easily slid down.
Though his demeanor never changed, Wesker’s heart was pounding in his chest. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, yet no matter how many times he intentionally attempted to end the transmission he couldn’t; he was a slave to his own curiosity…his own experiment.
Chris was unguarded, vulnerable even…no idea that he was being watched. What harm was there in watching him?
Wesker stared at the soldier, fingers laced together as Chris pulled off his jeans. An eyebrow twitched upright - boxers, was it? - as he lazily tossed them so that they landed across the back of a chair.
It was as though Chris was giving him his very own performance; Wesker’s eyes watched every curve as Chris wiggled back up to his pillow and stretched out, folding an arm behind his head.
Then ever so subtly Chris’s hand moved to the hem of his shorts, thumbing at the waistline between his tan skin and the cotton underwear slowly, purposefully, as if considering something. Then his hand disappeared inside the fabric, a fold of cloth the only clue as to what was transpiring.
Chris spread his legs slightly, sighing deeply. A peek of skin, a flash here and there, suddenly shorts were tugged down, Chris’s half hardened member in his hand.
Wesker smiled darkly. How quaint to see his oldest adversary in such a personal situation…Wesker adjusted his position, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. Gloved fingers stroked his bottom lip as he watched Chris intently, watching every subtle move the soldier made.
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Wesker’s eyes narrowed. He could only imagine it was Jill he was thinking of, recalling his earlier statement. Still Wesker shifted uncomfortably as his own erection was taking hold, watching Chris in the throes of his own excitement.
What harm was there to indulge? Seeing Chris open and wanting filled him with a desire that begged to be explored. The tyrant, however, denied himself the sensation of his own hand - instead he clicked the volume slightly higher, and adjusted the camera view. Watching Chris was more fun than pleasuring himself.
It seemed that Chris was having some trouble satisfying himself in this happenstance performance; a change in tactics and Chris curled on his side, his hand keeping the rhythm of his body’s tempo. Fingers went to his lips that he tongued greedily, wetting them before moving down to that spot.
It was Wesker then, who felt his pulse racing, finally submitting to the needs of his own body. Slowly he pulled the zipper down on his carbon fiber jumpsuit, down the length of his chest, fingers finally freeing his own painful erection. His skin was heated and moist, his breaths in quick regular bursts, matching those of Chris. Wesker let his head fall back against the back of his leather chair, gaze never once leaving that of the soldier.
The exact moment Chris breached his entrance was hidden from view, but the glorious gasp that he made was enough to recognize it. Wesker could imagine then, that warm heat to immerse him in, the tight spot as he pressed harder into the waiting body.
Chris was nearing it too, writhing on the bed in a pleasure induced euphoria, riding out his own hand and pumping into his own fist. Tempo increased; sweat beading on his brow as he mumbled unintelligible things softly to himself.
The man in black could hardly subdue his own reactions - he was breathing heavy, droplets of moisture running rivulets down his smooth, toned chest. Leather gloves were slick and warm against his cock as he thrust harder in his hand, tailoring to the moan thick on Chris’s lips.
Sharing the urgency of release their rhythm doubled, each stroke mirroring that of the other. It wasn’t long before Chris arched upward, the first droplets of white milky substance splashing across his hand.
Loud enough in the speakers of Wesker’s state of the art infiltration device, Chris cried out in a low, broken moan.
Wesker’s climax ripped through him as he heard the soldier’s cry, a mix of surprise and exhilaration as he comprehended the short two syllable word.
“Wes…ker…”
Somewhere in the back of his exhausted yet ever scheming mind, Wesker made a note to spy of Chris Redfield more often.
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The end. Hope OP likes! :D
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i love Chris/wesker almost as much as wesker/birkin, and i have a bit of a masturbation fetish, so this was just lovely to read... thanks~! ;)
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