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It was rare that Chris ever got a day off, really, but it was even less likely for Wesker to have a day free from work. These days hardly ever coincided, of course, but when they did, Chris couldn’t help but be excited.
He woke up in Wesker’s bed alone, and for a moment, he forgot that he had spent the night in his home. He groaned and rolled over, not ready to be awake yet, but sleep escaped him. It was cruel that even on his day off, he still rose with the sun.
Something smelled good, at least. It was easier to push himself out of bed when the promise of a good meal was wafting through the air.
His pajama bottoms slipped lower down onto his hips as he rolled out of bed. Chris rubbed at the sleepiness in his eyes and stumbled into the kitchen.
Wesker turned on his heels when Chris entered the room, but relaxed when his tousled brown hair tickled his jaw. Chris slotted his head between Wesker’s shoulder and his head and snaked a hand around his midsection. He could feel the toned muscles even over his shirt and felt the older man shudder at his touch. “Morning,” he cooed.
“Good morning, Christopher. Did you sleep well?” The spatula looked almost strange in his hand, as if this show of domesticity was out of place, though Chris knew it was because it was a sight not often seen.
“Mmph,” he replied.
“I see. You’re welcome to lie down a bit longer, if you’re so inclined, but I have planned something for our night together.”
“Such a gentleman,” Chris teased. “I won’t be able to get back to sleep, so I’ll keep you company, if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” Wesker hummed, “though I would prefer to have a little more space. For now, at least.”
“Sounds good.” He planted a kiss on Wesker’s pale cheek and withdrew from him. He sat at the kitchen table and watched as Wesker turned his attention back to breakfast.
It was almost strange to see him without his sunglasses, but at home, Wesker often declined to wear them. The blue of his eyes was icy and piercing every time, Chris thought, but so beautiful they could bring a man to tears.
Wesker plated something and fussed over it for a moment, pinched some salt and pepper over it, and swiftly turned to him. “This is an omelette.”
“I know what an omelette looks like,” Chris huffed.
“Yes, well, if you could let me finish…” A nod signaled him to continue. “This is an omelette made with ham, cheese, peppers, bacon, onion, and avocado, topped with salt, pepper, and cilantro.”
“Sounds delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dearheart.” He took a seat at the other end of the table, despite the open chair next to Chris, and watched as he shoveled food into his mouth. It was a bit disconcerting to be watched like this, but he shrugged it off. Wesker must have eaten before he had even awoken.
“What’s the plan for today?” Chris asked between bites.
“I thought we could rent a movie and relax until six. I made a reservation at the new restaurant just outside of the city limits.”
“Have you been there before?”
“I’ve heard good things,” he shrugged. “I wanted to wait until we had a day to ourselves.”
“Hmm. Can’t think of anything I haven’t seen yet. Guess we’ll have to go searching for something.”
Wesker nodded. “Shower, then we can look.”
Chris sat his empty plate in the sink and retreated to the bathroom. Truthfully, he was happy to have a hot shower. This place was much nicer than his apartment, and he had absolutely planned on taking advantage of it. He turned the water on, careful to set the temperature just how he liked it, and tugged his shirt over his head. Next came his pajama bottoms, then his boxers, and once the water had sufficiently warmed up, he stepped into the shower and closed the curtain behind him.
As the warm water beat down on his form, Chris realized how worn out he felt. He was solidly built, but S.T.A.R.S was physically demanding in a way that even the Air Force hadn't been. Sore muscles and knots in his back were slowly becoming the norm. A hand reached back to knead the tense spots under his skin, and he sighed as the soreness drained from his body. It was as if it washed down the drain with the sweat of the previous day.
There was a knock on the door. "Chris?"
"Yeah?" he called over the pattering of the water onto the base of the shower.
"Do you mind if I come in?"
Chris scoffed. "It's your house. Do what you want."
The bathroom door opened and Wesker idled next to the curtain, as if he hadn't asked to enter for any specific purpose.
"I've got all of these knots. You work us too hard, you know?" Chris teased.
"How else will you learn to be competent?" Chris could imagine— and almost hear— the smirk adorned on his face. "Let me help," Wesker offered.
"Okay," he agreed. The sound of clothes hitting the ground excited Chris and soon the older man stepped in behind him. He angled his body to the side so that he could share the warmth of the water with Wesker, and he could tell that it was appreciated when he heard the other man hum. Long, slender fingers wrapped around Chris's waist and for a moment, the two of them stood under the constant stream above them, satisfied with just being close to one another.
"Turn around," Wesker demanded. Chris obeyed and hands left his waist only to be planted onto his back. They worked into the soft skin of his back, and the relief was immediate. Without guidance, Wesker had managed to find the spots that needed his attention the most. Small, soft groans filled the air as more and more of the stress left his body.
"That feels fucking amazing." Wesker bent down to press a gentle kiss to the side of his neck while he continued to massage sore muscles. "Come on, let me try now."
The two of them brushed past each other as they traded places, and Wesker pressed another kiss into Chris's forehead. Still mindful of the slick surface beneath them, Chris reached to hold the back of his boyfriend's neck and chased another kiss. This time, it landed square on his jaw, and he chuckled and adjusted his posture until he could reach Wesker's lips. He pressed another kiss there, and then another, and slid his hands down Wesker's flat chest. The scars under his pectoral muscles had faded even more since the first time Chris had seen them, but he still caressed the slightly raised skin as he licked into Wesker's mouth. Chris's purpose was momentarily forgotten and Wesker's skilled hands returned to hold him again at the hips. Chris tugged at Wesker's hair, slightly softened by the water, and he let out a small moan at the pulling sensation.
"Chris."
"Quiet. I said to let me take care of you, didn't I?" Chris backed him into the shower wall and pressed his body closer to Wesker's. His dick, not quite hard but not fully soft, rubbed against the inside of a toned thigh. He leaned into the stimulation and sighed when Wesker's hand dropped to cup him. The pads of his captain's fingers gently teased at his balls, dancing around the taut skin, not quite enough to satisfy him, but enough for him to crave more. Hands once again tangled into blond hair and Chris's hips bucked against the cool skin between Wesker's thighs. A choked whimper left Wesker, muffled due to the breath he was unknowingly holding. A thumb brushed across the nub between his legs and the breath was gone, fully exhaled onto Chris's shoulder. "Ready?" he asked, and after seeing a nod, he pushed his index finger into Wesker's wet cunt.
"Ugh," Wesker groaned.
"You okay?" Chris asked. Something so simple, but so important.
"Yes," he said. "Keep going." Chris obliged and curled his finger inside of him. A thumb was still mindlessly brushing against his dick, gentle pressure that added to the stimulation of penetration.
"You're doing so good for me. Can you take a little more?"
"Yes," Wesker replied. He closed his eyes when another finger slid inside of him.
"No, no. Look at me, Albert. Look at me when I'm taking you apart." His electric blues fluttered open, and Chris smiled. "There you go, that's it. Keep looking at me, baby." It was uncomfortable, but he maintained eye contact. It was almost hard to look away when Chris looked at him like he was the whole world to him, like Wesker was the only thing keeping him sane.
"Come on," Wesker whined, impatient. "I need you."
"Need me to what?"
"Just fuck me, Chris. Please." The loss of Chris's fingers inside of him was enough to make him keen, but the sight of him using those same fingers to languidly stroke his cock had him dizzy with anticipation. Now fully hard, Chris aligned himself with Wesker's hole and surged into him. The stretch was more than he had expected, as always, and the burn made tears well up in his eyes. Brown eyes flicked back up to his, and Chris slowed. He wiped the tears away as they spilled down pale cheeks.
"Shh, it's alright, I've got you." Part of Wesker was just happy to have an excuse to close his eyes again. "I'll go slow," Chris promised.
Wesker shook his head. "Don't stop."
"I wasn't going to stop, darling, don't worry. Just slow down a little. It'll be better for now, I promise. It'll make you feel better." He was right, of course, but that didn't mean that Wesker didn't want more. To compensate for the slow thrusts, Chris returned his attention to his clit. "You're getting so much bigger," he praised. It was true— he felt harder than he had ever been before, and a higher dose of testosterone had been thrown into the fray a few months ago. The results were spectacular, small increases that felt like big steps, but were hardly ever noticed by others. He didn't care. Chris was the only one who mattered when it came to seeing him like this, vulnerable but proud.
Small 'ah's and breathy gasps punctuated every thrust of Chris's hips. The both of them were lost in the pleasure. Chris nibbled at Wesker's earlobe as he finally pushed himself all the way inside. Wesker moaned, a filthy and completely debauched sound as he clenched around Chris. His energy was draining, and fast, but it still wasn't enough. "Harder, please," he whined, and pushed his pelvis up to meet Chris's.
"Fuck, Albert, gonna— gonna cum." His hips stuttered when he pushed in, again and again, and chased after an orgasm.
"Inside," he babbled, dumb with desperation. "Cum inside of me, God, please, Chris."
Chris's balls clenched as he roughly shoved himself entirely inside of Wesker, and he moaned when he came inside of his captain. Wesker startled at the unfamiliar sensation of warmth spilling inside of him, but groaned as his pointman twitched inside of him and tipped him over the edge. He could feel the white-hot burn of arousal inside of his stomach as he bore down on the cock filling him, and Chris whined at the overstimulation as the walls he had buried himself inside of fluttered. When both of them had finished, he pulled out of Wesker's cunt.
He clenched around nothing as he was left empty. He was vaguely aware of the cum leaking out of his hole, still warm. He found himself very thankful that the two of them were still in the shower, where he could get clean. Chris watched it drip out, then gingerly brushed the wet hair from Wesker's face.
"How do you feel?"
"Sore," Wesker answered honestly. Chris made for a washcloth and wet it beneath the water, then lathered Wesker's expensive soap onto it. He drew small circles on his skin and left small kisses in his wake. "Mm," he hummed in satisfaction.
"You should let me take care of you more often," Chris chuckled. Wesker rolled his eyes. "No, I'm serious," he protested. "I like to make you feel good, you know, no matter what I'm doing. Doing it for you is enough to make me enjoy it."
"You're only telling me that because you'll want to try your luck again after dinner."
"I mean it," Chris insisted. "I could spend my entire life waiting for you to find me something to do."
"Then you can start by getting me clean."
"Of course." Chris mirrored the kiss he had received earlier, and his lips grazed Wesker's neck.