Chapter Text
Wesker breathes roughly as he pushes a finger inside himself, lubing up his hole and rim. He doesn't finger himself often but his dick is only semi-hard and he wants to get off quickly and without waking Chris in the next room.
Chris isn't his roommate. Roommate suggests an equal and Wesker knows that he doesn't have many of those. There's only a tiny circle of elite who can match him and a puppy like Redfield isn't one of them. They're only living together because it's.....convenient for Wesker right now. He suffered an intense and prolonged ordeal at the hands of Umbrella and it left him shattered on so many levels. It left him changed! His body isn't what it used to be and his mind can be messy sometimes when he tired and finds his old self-control melting into anger or near-tears.
Chris might be stupid but he's also stable and Wesker needs stability right now. It lets him get up in the morning after he's had a bad nightmare and it helps him get out of bed and eat what Chris cooks instead of throwing up. When he feels panic rising inside for no good reason, he can look at Chris' wide smile and adoring face until the room stops spinning. It's not because Wesker is weak, oh no. It's because he's been through and survived something that would have destroyed anyone else. At least that's what he tells himself. So what if he needs a little comfort now? So what if that comfort is Chris?
He manages to fit two fingers into himself and slides them back and forth, almost purring. It's not as good as getting fucked but it's still pleasant enough. Wesker's had plenty of women but only limited experience with other men. A short fling with William in their late teens and then the terrible time when he was recently captured and "re-educated" by Colonel Sergei Vladimir on Umbrella's orders. Spencer had suspected the blond of making deals with rival companies.
Remembering his ordeal still makes Wesker snarl and grit his teeth. He was trapped for nearly a year with the mad Russian and the "re-education" consisted of beatings and being forced to wear women's clothing and enduring who-knows-what injected into him weekly. And sex of course. Lots and lots of sex. It was hardly the standard Umbrella practice for dealing with wayward employees. When it ended, Sergei had warned him to keep the dirty details between the two of them. Like Wesker was going to tell anyone what had really happened!
He doesn't want to think about those past same-sex hook-ups because William chose Annette in the end and Sergei nearly destroyed him. He pictures Chris instead. He's seen the brunette's cock before (in the STARS locker-room and sometimes in the apartment when Chris is getting dressed in a hurry in the living room or running naked out the shower after forgetting a towel.) It's large and well-shaped, the kind of dick you see in porn plunging between parted buttocks or into wet pussy. Wesker's breath hitches at the thought and his tempo speeds up. His heartbeat thunders as he sees himself taking the brunette brutally. Or making Chris bend and spread himself. Or drop to his knees and swallow Wesker's rock-hard cock whole, his eyelids fluttering when Wesker starts to fuck his throat.
It's not enough, not nearly enough. Even as Wesker fingers his own hole, the mental images aren't intense enough or bright enough or close enough to what he wants....what he needs...to get off properly. Without his permission, his brain opens a door to one of his more shameful fantasies. He can see it bright as day:
It's after-hours in the STARS office and he's working late. Chris is there too, standing over his desk...no, Chris is sitting behind it as if he's the one in charge, the boss, and he pulls Wesker onto his lap...Wesker struggles but the months as Umbrella's prisoner have changed him...changed his body....he's weak as a kitten and he falls into the younger's arms...
Then they're both naked...wait, Chris is naked and Wesker is half-dressed, that's better....Chris tugs at the blond's uniform pants and slides a hand under the waistband to fondle his dick, rubbing it against the satin of Wesker's panties...it's humiliating wearing those...a habit left-over from his time as Sergei's prisoner...Chris starts to jerk him off through the fabric...
Wesker's hole flutters and tightens around his thrusting digits as he orgasms with a shudder and without so much as touching his cock. The aftershocks tremble through him like tiny earthquakes and it's a long, long time before he can find the energy to push himself off the bed and go clean up.
Almost dreamily, he showers in the closet-sized ensuite bathroom. He and Chris have to share it and it's cluttered with Chris' shaving cream and deodorant (which he doesn't use as much as he should, Wesker thinks) and his shabby toothbrush. The stupid boy forgot to put it away again. Messy. Wesker can see its still wet from when Chris brushed his teeth before bed. He shakes his head and opens the bathroom cupboard, reaching for the toothpaste and looking for his own brush.
All of a sudden, he stops and his eyes drift to Chris' toothbrush again. Without pausing to think, he squeezes toothpaste onto it and slowly and methodically starts to clean his teeth. He can't taste clean mint when he does it. All he can taste is Chris inside his mouth.