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inon-rednammoc · 9 years

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To Appease The Beast Within

Summary: Piers has a secret. For the past three months, he's done all he can to ensure it stays hidden. The sacrifices made to protect those loved are often boundless. Halloween AU.

Warning: Dark themes. A bit of playful banter thrown somewhere amid the chaos. Best suited for mature audiences.

It started the way it always did, with pain flooding through his senses.

Piers groaned against the stained bed sheets, bloody fingers brushing across the soft fabric as he pushed himself up and squinted against the light of the open window. Agony was always a constant in the aftermath, although understandable given what his body was forced to go through each night. Piers rolled to swing his legs over the side of the mattress, the room spinning around him as an ache pounded a hard rhythm against the inside of his skull. Unstable in his movements like all times before, shaky legs guided him toward the bathroom, his only intention being to wipe away the remnants as per his usual routine. It would last the remainder of the day; up until the sky grew dark again and history repeated itself as it so loved to do.

Piers reached for the knobs that adjusted the steady flow of water, and weakly tore at the tattered remnants of his garments to free himself and step beneath it. The liquid passed over his skin, soothing to the touch as it wiped away the evidence that had painted itself in red along his flesh, and mismatched eyes blinked under the spray as they watched the crimson swirl into the drain, out of sight. But Piers didn't leave, even after the water ran clear. His body was still a throbbing mess, the rain sputtering from above only mildly dulling the feel. He could erase the indications of what transpired; make them seem as though they'd never existed. Memories, however, were not so forgiving.

The ace sighed heavily minutes later, shutting off the stream as an alarm from the other room resounded, telling him his time was growing thin. The sound had originally been there to rouse him from slumber whenever the chance arose that it would be necessary... But ever since the first night that the terrors began, he found himself sleeping less and less until the alarm became more of a reminder that he had a job to see to.

Grabbing a towel off the nearby rack, Piers dried himself off and left the fabric tied at his waist. Quivering fingers reached for his discarded clothing from earlier, and he hissed in distaste at his body's reaction. It wouldn't do to make it obvious to everyone else. He clutched the stained items and made his way back into the bedroom to grab at the bed sheets, equally red as they were, he'd lost count of all the times he had to replace them both. He wrapped them in a dark blanket and brought them outside to the backyard, leaving them to burn in the pit of a bonfire.

With a hard frown at the popping flames, the ace turned to make his way back inside. All he had left was to get dressed; there was no sense in eating. He never had much of an appetite after waking up anymore.

Somehow amid all the troubles and the torments, the pain and crimson painted memories, Piers managed to keep a schedule close enough to what was normal. No one seemed to notice the changes. The shifting in his glances from time to time, the occasional shaking of his hands he had to fight to steady. He was never open about his personal life, and that worked in his favor -- there were no out of place questions, no suspicions when he avoided discussing certain matters.

Focus. That's all he had to do. That's what he was good at; keeping his head in the game and away from distractions. But even he had his limits, and there were times his mind dared to wander. His past had become a heavy one. Dark, corrupt. It was tainted with a secret he couldn't let slip free. He had to snap himself back from those moments, those recollections of nightmares shifting into reality, before someone else caught on.

Luckily, most of the day consisted of nothing but basic drills -- run through a few hoops, spout out a few orders, and Piers was in the clear. It wasn't problematic, even if he was still a bit sore. No one noticed. No one else on Alpha was that observant. It worked both ways, having the eyes of a hawk; Piers could point out the tiniest uncharacteristic fluctuation in a person's stance, and the skill itself kept his mind alert, taking all the proper steps to shield his own problems from view.

"Piers," His Captain had greeted in the break room, pulling out a chair to sit beside the ace. The sniper's spine felt the urge to stiffen, to straighten itself into a more upright posture that had the risk of drawing attention. Piers collected himself before his body betrayed him, and gave his superior a small nod before the ceramic of his glass was brought to his lips. "You have plans tonight?"

Blood. Everywhere, there was crimson -- wild, staining sprays cast along the floorboards and the walls. He'd never forget those colors or the patterns they shaped. Piers wanted to scream, to cry out, to share his torment with the world as untold pains flared throughout his system spreading like wildfire. His nerves were a bundled mess, body aching for a mercy he couldn't grant himself.

Piers nearly choked on his coffee at the question and the memory it brought to life. "You could say that," He mumbled against the brim before taking another sip and setting the glass over the tabletop, fingers still woven around the warm exterior.

Chris prodded for more, "Anything I should be worried about?" The tone indicated it was more of a curious gesture, and not something he found off about the ace. It was times like those when Piers was actually grateful Chris wasn't all too observant, particularly when it came to reading people.

There was no hesitation in the reply, "Nothing I can't handle." Just barely. The closest thing to a lie he could get without it actually being one. Not completely. "Something you needed?" Mismatched irises lifted to the older of the duo in silent expectance.

Chris eyed his own glass, so far untouched. "Not exactly. Just thought you might've been up to spending a few extra hours with your Captain." Piers couldn't blame him for that. Aside from the time spent working together, they hardly had any moments to spare with each other during their off time.

Piers watched the older man thoughtfully. "I have the rest of the day," He half-shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "I get busy when the sky gets dark." Busy. That was an award winning word for it. He inwardly cringed.

Chris had his chair pushed back in an instant at the news, "Great. Then we can go now," He stated as though it was the most obvious thing, rising from his seat and into a stand.

Piers frowned, "But we still have--"

"Jill can take care of things while we're gone. A missing half-day isn't going to ruin our careers, Piers. I've got enough favors stuffed in my pocket to buy us more time than that if we needed it."

"Captain, we shouldn't--"

"Yes or no, Piers. It's all the answer I need." That was that. Chris had been firm on the matter, and Piers wasn't sure if he could really turn down the offer. They had so little time as it was, even the smallest opportunity felt more and more like small miracles.

"Okay." The sniper settled for, downing the small remnants of liquid in his cup before rising to a stand of his own. "I don't suppose it's out of the question to ask about changing first, sir?" He lifted a mock brow.

Mahogany eyes slid into near slits, lips pursed in feigned annoyance that ushered the ace to hurry. "Shut up and get to your locker, soldier."

Piers gave a lazy, two fingered salute. "Aye, Captain." He wouldn't be caught dead acting so carefree under normal circumstances. Chris had always been that one exception. But even they were more down to business on the actual field... Most of the time.

The two of them headed out the door together, practically shoulder to shoulder on their way down the hall. It had been months since Piers felt any true sort of contentment, but a flash of it tickled just under his skin. Maybe a small getaway was exactly what he needed. Maybe it would help him forget for a while, until night came around again.

Piers could have counted the minutes that passed by on both his hands -- by then, neither one wanted to wait any longer than what was necessary before they were scurrying out the front doors in casual attire and shuffling into the nearest vehicle they had access to. It wasn't until they were on the road that Piers piped up, "Where are we going exactly?"

"Some place quiet," Chris answered as they made a turn, heading off in a direction they'd never gone in together before. "We can be alone. Gives us time to get a little closer to nature," He glanced briefly at the ace before his eyes returned safely to the road. "And each other."

Piers turned his attention from the side window toward the Captain, mismatched eyes accusing. "We're not having sex in public." He was stern on the matter.

"That wasn't what I had in mind, but now that you've mentioned it--"

"Chris, no."

"Here I thought you were the exhibitionist, getting on all fours like the obedient 'pup' that Muller kid is always accusing you of being, during that mission in--"

"I'll shove you out of this car spasming from an electrical shock and drive myself back home if you finish that. Captain."

Dark brows raised in mock surprise, "Electrostimulation, too? Piers, I had no idea."

The sniper grunted, one hazel and one gray shifting back toward the window. "It's not too late to change my mind about the trip, is it?"

That had been enough to stir a smile from the older man. "Not unless you want to walk home. We're practically there." He motioned toward the span of concrete in front of them with a jerk of his head, and a few turns later they found themselves twisting off the main road onto a dirt path. The vehicle slowed to a full stop in front of a vast span of lush green trees, and mismatched orbs sought out the Captain in curiosity.

"There's a small clearing a few miles in up the hill. Gives a nice view of the land." Chris explained as he shut the engine down and snatched out the keys. "Come on," He opened the door to step outside, and Piers pushed at his own to follow.

Chris started the trek forward through the surrounding trees, and Piers matched the pace next to him, much like he had in the halls of the base. "It is quiet here." The ace murmured, voice like a whisper as though it would shatter the silence to a hundred messy pieces. A hand at his lower back beckoned for him to edge closer, and Piers leaned into the thicker frame as the arm wove itself around his waist.

"Didn't believe me?"

Piers lifted his eyebrows only to relax his features, letting them immediately drop back to the norm in a facial equivalent to a shrug. "Your... Perspective isn't always the most accurate, Captain."

Mahogany irises snapped toward the smaller frame at that as though the words actually hurt a little. "I know what silence is." Chris huffed, stepping over a fallen tree trunk, arm still snug around Piers.

Plump lips gained a slight curl, but stayed shut for the remainder of the walk. It was nice enough on its own being there with just Chris -- even doing such a simple thing they often did on the field regardless. But there was no pressure, then; no battle situations, or raging infected. No threat inducing B.O.W.s trying to tear them new holes to breath from. It was a rarity, and also rather... Pleasant.

Piers wasn't normally one to enjoy the simple things. He was often headstrong, combat driven -- most comfortable out on the field, where he belonged. But there were always those few moments in time such as that, when all the problems of the world didn't seem as important anymore. They only ever arose with Chris. He had tendencies to... Brush away the more hideous thought patterns to a far point in Piers' mind, where they stayed until some other time. Piers never thought he'd need someone like that. The bad, in combination with all the good, created an equal blend that made people who they are.

Sometimes, though, he discovered it was better to live as someone else for a time. Someone happier.

"Here," The voice tugged Piers from his line of thinking, and mismatched hues shifted to the larger figure who eyed the vast lands around them. Piers followed his gaze, and inhaled sharply. It was true, it was beautiful -- lush fields of green, a blend of trees and grass alike, bristling just beneath the stretch of blue sky that carried on together for what seemed like forever. Piers was never much for scenery; they got to see many different kinds in the B.S.A.A., but their time to look was often limiting. That took away any real pleasure that could have been gained from it.

"It's better at night," Chris added as they stood together, and Piers didn't doubt it. The way the sky would darken to a misty black with tinges of blue, how the stars would twinkle among the blanket of space, dazzling onlookers with their brilliant shimmering that would cast a feint light down across the trees. The soft breeze that would follow in the night air, causing branches to dance a rustling rhythm only they knew how.

Piers shifted closer now that they stopped, feeling the grip on his waist tighten in response. "Stay a while." The words brushed against his ear, and not even Piers had the heart or lack thereof to say no. He nodded, feeling lips tickle against the span of his cheek, and turned toward the gesture to seek them out with his own. It hadn't been the view he'd initially came for, and he was intent on showing that. Behind his lidded eyes, Chris was lowering them to the soft ground at their feet, and Piers didn't dare fight against it as his back landed in the grass below.

The soft pressure against his plump tiers retracted, followed by a rustling of clothes as Chris shifted to lay beside him. The arm that had been on him all the while never left its proper place, and mismatched eyes fluttered to blink at the sky. "I have a few hours." He breathed.

Just a few. For you.

"Knew you'd see it my way." Came his lover's voice, as though he'd won some argument. Piers made a jab at his side, and gained a short chuckle in response.

They stayed like that, for a while. Gazes cast to the bright blue above, with floating shapes of white strolling past their vision. Talking of all the little unimportant things; ones that had no place out on the field or at the base. Things that were meant to be strangers to soldiers. Things that offered them both a short period of normalcy, as though they weren't fighting for the world every other waking breath they shared.

It was only a matter of time before they got too comfortable there with one another, and hardened minds began to flutter with heavy lids. Ageless souls had fought for so long, and the time of peace they so righteously deserved brought with it a sense of fatigue. Their soldier minds soon found themselves helpless to its spell.

Piers furrowed his brow, groggy as he rolled free of the warm frame beside him he had come to curl up against to now rest instead at his back. It had been the first time in a long while that he had actually gotten any decent amount of sleep, where he finally found some semblance of peace in it that he deeply lacked for months. He lifted a palm to run it over his features, allowing the pads of his fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to move for fear of losing what had been denied to him for so long, not until there was a soft exhale from beside him that had his arm dropping back to his side while mismatched orbs fluttered to give him a clear view of the darkening sky.

His body stiffened. No! Not here, not this way! His eyes grew wide an his body set itself in motion, no longer allowing itself the pleasantries he wasn't accustomed to. He rolled again, this time to his stomach where his hands placed themselves to the ground beneath him and his knees joined them beneath his weight to push him upward. One hazel and one gray shifted frantically toward the body nearby, and Piers reached out to clutch at the older male. "Chris! Chris, you need to wake up! You can't stay here!" He pleaded to the motionless frame, far too deep in slumber to be normal.

Piers glanced again toward the sky, catching the gleam of distant stars already in view. It wouldn't be long at all, now... The sniper wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep things in check, out there in the open. Not to mention if more people were to stumble upon them... But Chris... Chris could be in danger.

"Captain!" The ace tried again to no avail as the shadows of the night slunk over their frames. Chris shifted in his sleep with a soft groan, and Piers pushed himself to a stand that had him staggering back from his superior and lover. It was too late. They were out of time. "This wasn't supposed to happen..." He murmured, voice at the edge of hearing as he shook his head.

There was a hard crack of bone as it adjusted itself, twisting and shaping, tugging at the flesh that covered it as the groan from the older man became something more akin to a snarl. Mismatched hues dropped to the muscular build now contorted in pain as the tanned skin sprouted dark fur, covering up all evidence of humanity as though it never existed. Strong features shifted, expanding into a powerful jawline; bear-like muzzle stretching forth with bared teeth as normally mahogany eyes snapped open to reveal irises drenched in a yellow gleam.

The beast pushed itself up from the ground beneath it, having grown more than three times his human size. He hovered over the ace, aggressive and dangerous -- his stance prepared to strike for the kill.

"That's right," Piers commented, resigned to his fate once more as he slipped free of his jacket and dropped it off to the side. "It's me again. You know what that means." He lifted his hands in surrender, a gesture the monstrosity before him would likely be unable to recognize as with all times before. As though to indicate the truth behind that thought, the giant maw of the beast opened in a roar, and its massive frame dove forward so large teeth could sink themselves into the ace's shoulder, driving them both into a heap against the cold ground. Lengthy claws jerked in repetitive downward motions, slicing through the sturdy chest below, carving sinews of muscle into tiny strands that dangled from the overgrown nails. A cry built itself up within the depths of the sniper's oral cavity, slipping loose from open lips to dance a lullaby beneath the stars.

That was why Piers preferred it when Chris aimed for his jugular. Under most circumstances, he was thankful when his throat was the first place the transformed Captain attacked; Piers wouldn't have to force himself to stop screaming with no vocal cords to speak from as the powerful jaw clamped and tore. Yet out there in the wild, for the first time, no one was around to hear. Not in that moment. His pained wails were left to freely soar, with only the two of them in range of its lyric-less remedy. Piers could only hope that Chris wouldn't wander off once he was through; that some poor innocent folk wouldn't choose that night to hike through the area and find them out. The ace had always been so careful hiding Chris away before the transformation took hold, he scolded himself for such a stupid, stupid mistake that put everything in jeopardy.

Pain was a familiar friend, but no less difficult to adjust to as red flashed across his vision. Unsteady hands lifted themselves to the beast that shredded his flesh into ribbons, roaming lovingly through layers of fur. It's okay, it's okay. Piers thought each time, and he wasn't sure if it was more to himself or to his lover. But if it meant he had to die every night to appease his Captain's hunger and prevent Chris from murdering innocents, he would make that sacrifice.

And Chris would never know.

#Chris Redfield #Piers Nivans #ChrisxPiers #Nivanfield #Resident Evil Slash #Halloween Fic #Only slightly late #;~;

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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queenleblanc replied to your post:ffffffffffff

Goddess inon-rednammoc thank you for bestowing me hearts and fic updates <3 welcome back bby xD

Hey, you! c: Thanks for the welcome back - I'm always happy when I can actually get my fingers typing away the stuff I want them to. XD Thank YOU for filling my dash with awesome things~

Stay safe and take care! <3

#queenleblanc #reply #reply to a reply

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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Please continue! It's been a long time since I've read a great W/C fic.

c: !

I’m glad it interests you! Thanks for the comment - and no worries, I plan to keep it updated as much as I can. I’m not fully sure exactly how long before another chapter is out, I don’t want to give any false promises, but one day or another (soon, so long as I have my way and my inspiration agrees with me), it’ll come. :)

#ask #reply #Anonymous

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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redfieldandnivans replied to your post:ffffffffffff

Haha thanks for all the little hearts on our stuff! Now go to bed!

D: !!

Technically it's you guys' fault for posting awesome things in the first place~! P: BUT I don't think many people will consider that an actual problem.

I did finally catch up, so I will take that advice! ...As soon as I reply to the ask I just got. o.o

#morethingstokeepmeup

#redfieldandnivans #reply #reply to a reply

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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siberian74 replied to your post:ffffffffffff

Hi dearest, glad your back online. Take your beauty rest first and thank you for the fic post. (*’ω`★从)*:.。. .。.:*・

Well, I finally caught up with everything that was shared on tumblr since my last post, so I'm satisfied lol. Always glad to be back~ Now if only I can just stay on here and not get sidetracked... :I

Anyways, you're welcome! c: I still have so much catching up to do with everything, and the more I push off, the more I fall farther and farther behind. X_x One day I will correct this. One day! >:o

Nnng, the bad part is I'd likely be in a good writing mood if I wasn't gradually getting more tired lol. My sleeping schedule is on the fritz. Anyways, with a little good fortune, I'll be able to pop out another chapter somewhere soon. Along with that prompt I got from you a while back! Eeek, that was supposed to be out by now by my recent absence threw that off too. x_x

#siberian74 #reply #reply to a reply

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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ffffffffffff

I want to go to bed. I really should.

But I've been gone so long and I can't stop liking all the things. D:

My mouse has been getting the workout of a lifetime in the span of the last hour. Yeesh. I'm forcing myself to leave.

...Once I scroll down a bit farther until I reach where I left off. >:o

#all of the things #like button spam #oh absences #you leave behind so many things #and all the sleepless nights #ysobad #putting the blame on nivanfield #and wesker #that SOB #click #clicking #clickity click #all the clicks everywhere #really too tired for this #i think it shows

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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Throes Of Oblivion (2- Hypnotic Hands)

Summary: AU. Chris is too haunted by the past to stay with the B.S.A.A. despite knowing it’s what Piers wanted. He surrounds himself in solitude, where visions plague his aching soul. A face from the past emerges, and it’s far more cruel than guilt.

Pairings: WxC with the tiniest bit of Nivanfield.

Warnings: NSFW m/m content. NOT quite what I intended for the second chapter... But that stuff has a tendency to write itself. X_x Likely not what you'd expect though. *shrugs*

Chapter One.

It was such a horrid thing, to have the comfort of oblivion ripped out from underneath oneself, where all the truths and pains of the universe come clashing in as reality settles back into the life it always has been. Bitter, abandoning.

Chris lacked the will to reopen his eyes, to face the hell that his reality had come to be. He wanted to retract into his own personal hole in the world, where he could be safe and happy and not have to worry about all the deaths he's caused and lives he's ruined. But choice was not always an option, especially when his body did not hold the same desire.

He almost wondered if the night before had been a dream that plagued him. But it had been too real, too painful, and the sense of dread he'd felt couldn't have come from a nightmare alone. It meant that he had another monster to face - this one of flesh and blood and other things he didn't understand, while the others had been tormenting memories that kept him awake for days on end.

His men, dead. Piers, dead.

Piers...

That had left the deepest wound, one that ached and throbbed as freshly as the day it was made. No amount of stitching could ever mend it, not even rope it into a scar. He's lived with scars before. But that cut just won't stop bleeding.

Resigned to his fate, Chris sighed and sat up, groggy with brown eyes blinking.

"Pleasant dreams, Christopher?"

The retired Captain frowned at the voice, offering the blond little more than a shake of his head as he stumbled out of bed. "Go away," He mumbled, the words holding no real force behind them as he staggered into the bathroom without even making an attempt to look toward the older male. He settled for going straight to the sink, fingers twisting at the handles to allow a rush of water to spill from the pipes. He cupped his palms under the stream to splash away the images haunting him, wishing that the world he was in now had been the real dream.

"One can only wish it were so easy."

It was then that the brunet did straighten himself to glare at the tyrant's reflection in the mirror, lacking the fire to do any more than that. He dried himself with a towel and made his way to the kitchenette with a demon on his heels, whispering of darkness and alluring evils that threatened to drag him under. The ex-Captain had no patience for it as he stormed over to the fridge with a hand outstretched, fingers frozen inches away from the handle.

He wasn't even hungry, food had long ago lost its taste. He'd eaten much less than he used to prior to... To everything he wanted to forget.

Thick fingers curled around the fridge door to tug it open with the intention of raiding its contents and filling up the ever-hungry growling stomach of the grizzly bear Captain. A smaller hand met it at the wrist, causing the outstretched limb to retract back to its owner's side.

Chris frowned and eyed the ace accusingly, "Stopping a man from eating is a crime against humanity, you know." The younger male stepped between himself and the way to a full stomach, leaving the older man little choice but to take a step back with one arm folded over the other. "Such travesty from a B.S.A.A. Operative." Chris settled himself into a lean against the counter behind him.

The sniper followed in his steps, crowding in on the older man with only a few short movements. "Just stopping you from downing all the contents of the fridge - including anything made of plastic or foil that really doesn't belong in your stomach."

"...I think there was a jab at my eating habits somewhere inside there."

Normally pouted lips took a rare upturn, something only Chris seemed to have the luxury of being greeted with. "Somewhere," Came the teasing reply.

"Well," Chris started as brown eyes flickered downward toward the sight of curved plump rows, "I have to eat eventually, you know."

"Then I'll make something," Piers insisted instead, dipping forward so pearly whites could tug gently at his lover's lower lip. "Guaranteed to fill you right up."

Dark eyebrows shot up curiously, and the older man's mouth curved at its corners. "Was that an innuendo, Nivans?"

Piers edged closer, both hands falling to a rest on either side of Chris, resting over top the counter behind him as the lean figure pressed itself air tight to broad musculature. Chris inhaled sharply with the ghost of a breath that whispered to his ear, "It is, now."

"Remembering something?" The query from behind snapped the brunet back into the moment. Chris retracted his hand with a tightened jaw, his fingers flexing into a fist as his arm dropped back to his side. He was being tormented - his soul had become tainted, haunted by ghosts unwilling to let him rest.

Without a word, the ex-Captain turned on his heel and brushed by the blond who eyed him all too familiarly like a predator sizing up their prey at the very precipice of striking, and out toward the living room where he collapsed on the sofa. Brown eyes stared ahead into the vast nothingness that had become his life as light, nearly inaudible footsteps followed behind, making their way closer. A weight settled itself onto the cushion to his right, and Chris closed his lids, desiring nothing more than to will away the image of memories long past.

A familiar scent flared through his nostrils from the blond - all that he was, all that Chris remembered him ever to be, blended together and hit home hard. It was a piece of his life that had been stripped away more than a decade ago, a recollection of times much less darker than those of the now. Before he'd ever become aware of anything involving hordes of mindless infected, before he'd lost his S.T.A.R.S. comrades in that nightmare of a mansion.

Chris had focused more on his anger, up until and beyond the events of Kijuju. He hadn't stopped to fully think, to let himself remember everything he wished he could forget. But now that the anger was gone, now that he had nothing but his own sorrow to drown himself in, the past would not remain silent.

The ex-Captain shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling much too cramped between the armrest and the black-clad tyrant at his side. He swallowed hard and stilled his breathing, gathering himself as his eyes reopened to stare at the wall on the other side of the room. At the corner of his view, he could still see the blond - though he had no full focus on the man, his knowledge of him was enough to confirm that air of smugness Wesker did so enjoy carting around with him.

Chris wanted to be angry. Wanted scream and cry and cast blame on the other man, accuse him of the downward spiral his life had been on for fifteen years. He wanted to hit and throttle and fight the older man, for justice, for revenge - for himself, to make things better.

But the chances of them ever improving after such a long, hard fall, were so limited. So close to impossible.

Chris was tired. Tired of fighting; of war and bioterrorism. He was tired of breathing.

The silence only made things worse. It made it easier to remember. What they once were, so long ago. A past he desperately needed to be the truth and not the clever lie it was made out to be.

Chris had found himself there a dozen times over. Lifted up and on top of a desk normally organized, now a mess with its contents disposed of all along the floor in careless heaps to be swept up at another time; when the moment was far less important, when contact had been satisfied enough to hardly be a necessity in the hours ahead until work would no longer be of consequence for the remainder of the day.

The young Redfield, whose vest now lay in the remnants of items that used to occupy the space his ass had by now settled itself into, tilted his neck in a backward angle, head dipped between his shoulder blades to leave the span of his throat exposed. Thin lips did not deny his flesh its desired ravishing, latching on and suckling possessively, marking him low where no eyes could see.

Lean legs parted open, paving the way for powerful hips to nudge against his own, inciting a mewl from the brunet. Slender fingers reached between them to unzip the layers that parted flesh from flesh. The Captain, still fully clothed much unlike Chris, unsheathed his throbbing length from its confines where the head immediately settled itself against the already slick pucker. It twitched hungrily, and with a smooth push of his hips, the tip slide right in through the caving sphincter.

The young marksman's hands scrambled behind him, seeking out a better purchase as the muscles in his arms nearly collapsed and spilled his full weight back onto the desk. His fingers curled at the edges of the surface, keeping himself lifted upward with an open mouth that soon found itself claimed by another. He groaned into the oral cavity that devoured his own and muffled the sound, just as the prodding cock that breached him slipped itself further inside his eager fuck chasm in a rhythm that had Chris whimpering like a pleading pup.

Chris bracketed the older man between his thighs, legs tangled at his back where ankles intertwined and tensed, closing in around the blond in hopes of drawing him closer. He needed everything that Wesker could give - he was drawn to it, more than any moth ever was to flame. His body screamed with a craving only the older man could sate, and Wesker never held back.

Chris hissed as a hand lifted to his forehead as though its presence could will away the memory. No. Damn it, no! His thoughts screamed to him in warning. So often did they get lost and stumble, so often did the past become the present as faces and images filtered themselves through his mind's eye like his own personal theater he wanted nothing more than to burn down.

Bury the past. Bury the lost.

If only it were so easy.

Chris still felt eyes on him, burning holes into his flesh and flaying him alive - cracking him open, tearing him apart until he melted into ash that had the sole purpose of being swept up and away. He'd become too weak, too vulnerable. The monster that had fought so much, tried so hard to kill, to conquer, to destroy the world that Chris had struggled for so long to protect; he was there, inches away in his own living room. Yet the brunet had lost his will to stand up, to fight for some semblance of order, of peace, when all that was ever offered to him was chaos.

People had the nerve to call him a hero, once.

Now, there were no more heroics left in his bloodstream. No will to keep going against the odds that only ever seemed impossible. There was nothing left but the absence of hope; the one weapon he'd previously carried so proudly throughout his career.

On an impulse, Chris chanced a glance toward his side. The silence was unwavering between them, and the god-awful stare that haunted him for years never averted itself, no doubt with the intention of making him squirm. His gaze dropped lower, scaling at first over features he'd known so well and all across the ever present leather right down to his gloved fingertips that shielded away long digits and surprisingly soft flesh. It'd been some time since Chris had seen them; not since they were used on him, in him. Not against.

When they were a different weapon, not used for pain, but something else entirely.

Skilled were the palms that pressed at his skin, brushing over all the right places that made him buck and squirm. Chris had become a well-traced map under the fingers that knowingly swept over each sensitive spot like a musician to a well tuned instrument until he shook and begged. "More," The brunet breathed just as they had slipped inside, twisting against his tightening sphincter that threatened to swallow them whole.

A quiet hum emanated from behind where he lay, "You'll have to specify, Christopher." The young marksman groaned in response; the way his name fell so perfectly from those lips in the darkness where sound and touch had become so much more sent an erotic thrill throughout his system.

The brunet grasped fistfuls of the sheets beneath him and clung to them as though they were a lifeline, the only thing keeping him sane as his body was reduced to mush. "I need- I need more," He gasped again, brain struggling to form the proper words. The fingers inside gave a cruel jerk, and a rather unmanly squeak slipped from his throat as his hips thrust themselves into the mattress below. "More- Just more."

The blond tsked, "Words, Christopher. Consider them a requirement."

His face now buried into his pillow, Chris let free a muffled whine at his position, held down and teased so thoroughly by hands that were too skilled for their own good. "Fingers," He rasped, "Want to be... To be full." It was all the scrambled egg that was the only remnant of his brain had managed to come up with. He wasn't even sure whether or not it was fully coherent, as desire fueled his senses more than any one word.

Chris could have wept when another finger slipped into his stretching anal cavity, pressing more thoroughly at his walls now with every thrust of the hand. Chris shuddered and groaned, eyes fluttered shut as he burrowed his face even deeper into the pillow.

Chris almost missed the next words from Wesker, who half-feigned ignorance to further his frustration. "...I suppose your body is offering enough indication that this is more to your satisfaction." The fingers expanded, pushing against his inner most flesh, causing ripples of pleasure to dance under the marksman's skin.

"Yes!" The brunet cried into the pillow as he tried to push himself back against the invading digits, only to find himself reminded that Wesker's other arm, which had only become more forceful in keeping his movements still, held him down tight. Chris whimpered, torn between the lovely sensation of being more full, and the ongoing torture of having his orgasm kept just out of his reach. "Fuck," He whined as his body tensed around the fingers.

Wesker's hand pushed harder, burrowing knuckle deep into the heated orifice. "Or perhaps it's more friction you prefer?" His digits curled, and skilled tips brushed over something inside that had the brunet screaming his name.

Chris swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and found himself hurriedly turning away, but not before he caught the reemerging smirk over the blond's features. Although Wesker had no way of knowing what ran through his mind, something must have shown over his own countenance in the subtlest hint.

Damn the tyrant, his deceptive nature, and those fucking hands; hands that gave him pleasure, hands that gave him comfort - above all, hands that saved his life.

"This... This really hurts," The marksman admitted lamely as he clutched his side, where trails of blood ran rampant, pouring through his fingers. The blond was crouched beside him on the cold floor with digits that hovered themselves over his own.

Damn his own stupidity - Chris had been off duty at the time, but the moment he'd caught word of a suspect being in the area, instead of taking the time to properly suit himself back into the standard protective vest, he'd charged in like some gung-ho hothead and took a bullet for it. Chris had been fortunate enough to take the guy down with him before he could get away - or worse, finish the job - but that did very little to stop the flow of blood from his side. Thankfully, some of the other S.T.A.R.S. members had already been on their way.

Wesker had found him like that - crumpled to the floor with his gun now left untouched inches away from his form. He'd come to his side in an instant the moment it was obvious that the room had been cleared. Thin lips were tight to one another, the words of scorn over the marksman's stupidity remained unsaid between them, but the air was no less accusing.

Chris grunted, settling his gaze on the older man and not on the wetness between his fingers. He tried to ignore it, to block it out and focus more on the hands above his own instead of what was under them. He didn't need to see the red, didn't want to check just how bad it was when the pain was constant, screaming at him for the wound to be treated.

"Wasn't s'pose to play out like this." The brunet mumbled before licking at his dried lips.

"Then let it be a lesson for the next time," The blond replied with no hesitation and a crease in his brow. Chris didn't like that look, even as Wesker tore scraps from the marksman's shirt and used them in an attempt to still the bleeding.

For a moment, Chris wasn't sure there would be a next time.

The Captain seemed intent on proving otherwise.

There had been so many chances. Chris had been much too careless on numerous occasions, especially during his time in S.T.A.R.S. where it wouldn't have taken much for the tyrant to have simply let him die and played it off as an accident. No one would have thought twice about it. If Chris didn't already know better, a small part of him might have maintained some sort of false hope that, perhaps, there was a real reason behind it all, hidden away under mountains of lies.

The brunet sighed and let a hand pass through his hair, brushing some of the short strands into tiny spikes. Chris almost preferred drowning in his own sorrow as opposed to being reminded of the past he shared with the man still sitting such a small distance from his side. It was disconcerting.

But enough was enough, and the silence had gone on for far too long. Too much thinking, too much guessing, and not nearly enough answers. Chris needed to know. Brown eyes sought out tinted shades, and this time his gaze held firm and unwavering. "What do you really want from me?"

All it took was a single word for the world to collapse over his shoulders.

"Everything."

#Chris Redfield #Albert Wesker #CxW #ChrisxWesker #Resident Evil Slash #nsfw

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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*FLAILING*

GUYS.

SO, I BROKE EVERYTHING AGAIN. I'M SORRY. D:

In my defense (lamely), ORIGINALLY things started out as "Hey! I just started talking with an old friend I haven't seen in forever. I'll spend the next few days chilling with them." <-- That expanded into about a week. I THOUGHT I was going to get back on to write something after that, but karma was like, "Oh, no you didn't!" Finger waving, head bobbing and all. I ended up sick for the second week, and that threw off my inspiration for a few more. :I

BUT I'M HERE. I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THINGS THE LAST FEW DAYS.

I'm going to post the next chapter of Throes Of Oblivion shortly. I was going to originally do These Lies We Tell, BUT I decided to do some massive editing on that so the other one finished first. Caught At The Center is making good progress too, so I'm going to try and wrap that one up next since it seems the closest and people had voted for that one, too.

After that... I do have some prompts I REALLY need to start working on again. I've got at least two that have 1-3k words done thus far, so I wouldn't mind wrapping them up.

Anyway, I best not plan TOO far ahead... That tends to not work out for me. x-x Uhm... You might not want to hold me too hard to any of the above, juuuuust in case. I'm so bad at keeping any sort of plans/schedules. :c

Also, TO ANYONE WHO SENT ME A MESSAGE, I'm getting that read more error, so I'm going to try and fix that before I can reply to anything successfully! I'm not ignoring you! D:

#GUYSGUYSGUYS #notice #update

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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queenleblanc answered your question:So, I decided to go back and play a bit of RE6...

Onoooo T-T I wanna play with you but my platform is PS3 T-T

D: ! If there ever came a day when I could afford it (pffft, yeah), I would settle for buying every platform I'm able to because of reasons like this... >_> It's becoming clear that I know plenty of people who would play, but we're all on something different. ;_;

I would have liked to play with you tooooo~ :c

/saddaysaresadtimes

#reply #reply to a reply #queenleblanc

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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istanaangin answered your question:So, I decided to go back and play a bit of RE6...

gud luck. the game is old… like 2012 yo

Oh, I'm aware - I preordered it back in the day and got it at the midnight release. Still, I've seen some players hanging around so it doesn't hurt to reach out. P:

#reply #reply to a reply #istanaangin

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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siberian74 answered your question:So, I decided to go back and play a bit of RE6...

I have re6 on PC since I can’t afford to own consoles. I really would loved to play RE6 with you. =)

Indeed, it would have been fun~ c: More of a reason for me to try and upgrade to a better computer, as is I can hardly run anything so I need to do that anyway. Just a matter of getting within the price range of something that's actually worthwhile. X_x

#reply #reply to a reply #siberian74

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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redfieldandnivans answered your question:So, I decided to go back and play a bit of RE6...

We would volunteer to play with you, seeing as we’re both pretty chill gamers, but our platform is ps3 :(

That would have been great - regardless of the platform issue, it's the thought that counts, so thanks. c:

#reply #reply to a reply #redfieldandnivans

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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So, I decided to go back and play a bit of RE6 earlier on the 360... And I've noticed that while there are still quite a few on going campaign games, which is great, it seems like mercenaries has jumped into a more serious play style. :/

I don't suppose anyone is still around that's more laid back about each of the game modes, including the campaign? People that are in it for the fun as opposed to anything else? I'm so iffy about playing with other folks nowadays because I don't know if they'll be really serious, or just wind up being douchebags. -_-" All my friends that played have either drifted apart, are otherwise occupied, or have it on a different platform (I'm still in dire need of a new pc to play with some of them >_> but by then RE7 will be out :I).

I can understand setting goals, but I mean, I hate feeling pressured into playing a certain way right off the bat. >_> I don't care what people sound like. I don't care about their age or if they don't even use a mic. I most certainly don't care about gender. It would just be nice to play with someone a person can feel comfortable with. You can always drop me a line here or through an ask... I feel as though this will probably not get much reception since most of these requests do not lol. But I admit there's a sense of desperation here. >_>

Regardless, are there any lax players still running about out there?

#resident evil 6 #re6 #xbox 360 #doesn't hurt to ask #anyone?

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inon-rednammoc · 10 years

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Through The Glass, In Shades Of Black (10)

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves Chris frustrated, so he turns to the gym to blow off steam after hours… And after downing a few too many drinks. Piers seeks to comfort him, even if the price of doing so leaves him shattered.

Part nine.

Piers didn't show up the next day.

Still didn't after two more.

That was when the worry settled in, and on the fourth, Chris drove by his household on his way to work. He'd stopped the car just outside with eyes that scanned the windows, temptation thick in his veins. He'd considered it; walking up the small trail to knock at the door, but if words had not been enough to convince the sniper the last time, he was sure they wouldn't be any more helpful right then either.

So, his foot lifted off the breaks and he kept driving. With great reluctance.

Things were... Strange, during hours. Chris had a gaping hole in his side at the absence, and no one to blame but himself for it. He could have easily been harder on Alpha; lengthened their drills, pushed and pushed. He might have if it was still anger flowing through the current of blood in his veins, and not emptiness. But instead he'd taken the opposite turn; grew more distant, less observant of progress. His own tasks were faltering, but no one dared to call him out on it. Paperwork stacked, unattended, no barbed-tongue soldier to drill him out for it.

It hardly helped that the rest of Alpha planned to bring him in on their little boy's night out, later. Normally, he'd be glad to get out - spend time with familiar faces, with family. But things were more broken now, as the mirror had lost a shard.

The idea of drinking when that was the source of all his problems had lost its attraction long ago, and it was currently no where near being written on any to-do list of his. Still... It had been rather difficult to find himself saying no to the pleading, doe-eyes of his demolitions expert. Finn undoubtedly felt more comfortable going to such occasions with the Captain in tow.

He had to wonder, then; would it hurt, really, if he went just to go? If he could restrain himself from the temptation of a drink. If he could manage watching his men have their fun getting wasted, while he sat on the sidelines feeling miserable.

Chris had only gotten half way through the thought process before he realized he'd said yes. It lightened his heart just a little to see the spreading smile on the other, and for a moment he thought that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't have to be so bad. Perhaps going out with the group was everything he needed.

Which is exactly why mere hours later, he found himself seated at a table with the rest of the unit, all BDUs stashed away and replaced with relaxed, off hour clothes. If the members of Alpha were anything, they were known for being loud and rather wild - especially in the case of one Andy Walker, who insisted on taking drinking bets with his fellow agents.

It wasn't until after they'd chugged down four, possibly five drinks, that Chris had found himself eyeing the bottle when they poured themselves more. He predicted such would happen, that he'd be walking such a slim line over a bottomless pit. His mind had shifted elsewhere - away from the laughing masses around him, the wild howls for more more more. Part of him wanted to be among them, but a larger part knew better. It hadn't been the same.

He was stirred from his thoughts only when Finn had started to cough and sputter, his body not taking kindly to some of the alcohol the others had convinced him into downing. Chris shot from his seat to move behind the kid who, by legal standards, probably shouldn't even be allowed into the damn bar to begin with, clutching at his shoulders so he didn't drop from the chair. "Damn it, Andy, you'll drown him like that!"

Being the inconsiderate asshole he was, Andy snorted, "He shouldn't fucking be here if he can't hold his own!" Which earned him a hard glare from Chris that had him straightening in his seat.

"I'm - I'm okay, sir." Finn insisted beneath the Captain, possibly true given that he seemed like he collected himself for the most part, no longer coughing from the effects of the drink; though it was more than likely that he was still just trying hard to fit in. Chris gave his shoulders a light squeeze and a soft pat before pulling off.

A voice cut in from the side, "Doesn't look like it, rookie."

It was enough for Chris to recognize the sound and perk up, brown orbs seeking out the owner. Andy seemed curious in his he-thinks-he-should-know-everything way, and Finn had become a lovely shade of red, now shifting in his seat with frantically darting eyes, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else. After what he'd walked in on some time ago, he couldn't be blamed. He was more aware of... Certain events than the rest of the unit, but luckily hadn't been pressured into exposing what he'd seen to anyone other than Chris.

"Captain," Piers greeted with a rough edge to his voice, "Drinking again, already?"

Chris circled back around to reclaim his seat, and there was the tiniest flicker of pride stirring inside when he answered, "Not a drop, Piers." The reward for his statement had been the slightest twitch at the corner of plump lips, so brief that blinking once would have made him miss it. He'd begun to question if it had ever been there, until the ace grabbed a chair from an empty table nearby and joined them, very much to his surprise. Though the fact that Piers had even approached for that matter in itself was enough to give a shock to his system - the ace was certainly hard to understand at times.

The conversations continued back on track around them, but all Chris had focus on was the sniper that watched him from the corner of an eye. A few times their gazes met, and he wondered if his resilience was being tested. But brown eyes would always hold firm, until it was hazel that shifted.

"So, where the hell have you been, Nivans?" Chris nearly missed the comment, catching onto the mention of Piers and letting his mind translate what he'd originally heard as gibberish. It looked like Andy was prepared to start his shit again.

Piers, always the one to keep his personal life folded away, answered with a simple, "Busy."

Andy snorted, "Like hell. You ain't got a life outside the job." He quickly downed a shot, how many that made none of them were sure, and eyed the sniper with squinted eyes. "Which ties into the fact that you've never taken any prior leave. What gives?"

Bow-shaped lips pouted further into a frown, "Shit that doesn't concern you," That well known barbed tongue lashed out again, and Chris felt his lips twitch at the bickering he'd have usually broken up. It made things seem almost... Normal, even when they were anything but.

"Oho," Andy leaned forward in his seat, "That just makes the details even more juicy. Never heard of sharing the goods, have you?"

Sharp eyes stared down the other man, "Pour yourself another shot if it'll shut you up."

"I thought you were Mister 'see all, hear all'. Drinking doesn't make me quiet," Walker threw back yet another drink as though to prove a point, "It just spices up all the fun and turns the party into a goddamn parade of tossed out rules and broken hymens." He lifted a finger, motioned with it towards the still healing bruises and swelling around the sniper's eye. "Finally bite off more than those oversized lips of yours can chew? Fuck somebody's babe when your rifle was outta reach? You look like shit-"

Piers pushed himself out of his seat, fully prepared to act more on hot-headed instinct until an enclosed fist slammed down against the table and drew the attention of the unit as well as any strangers nearby. "That's enough, Walker." Firm, threatening, three words directly from the Captain. Chris surmised he should have stepped in sooner, though Piers hardly needed his help. But, like hell he'd let any of his men make a scene by brawling in some damn bar.

Silence flooded the table, and any onlookers began to slowly return to their own conversations. Andy had a hell of a mouth on him and didn't know when to shut it closed, but the look Chris pinned him with had been more than enough to stifle his dirty trap.

The Captain pushed up from his seat, letting it screech across the floor. "Piers, with me." He headed for the door, leaving no room for questions. It was about time they talked more directly, if Piers had been willing to approach, perhaps his previous feelings on the matter had dwindled from reach. Chris wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

Piers eyed Walker for several drawn out moments longer before tailing after the older man like the good little soldier he was. He heard another snort resound from the table on his way out, even caught the beginning of a conversation about him, but despite his desire to he didn't turn back. Not with his Captain in wait.

"You've been gone a while," Chris stated the obvious as Piers positioned himself by his side, now under the soft glow of moonlight. Meaty hands dug around in the fabric of his coat, scrambling around for the box of cigarettes he always kept on him. The Captain lit one up, and brown eyes lifted to the sky. Black, with faint shades of blue and sparkling stars that twinkled their silent song to the universe. "The swelling's gone down. Bruises look a lot better." He puffed out a wave of smoke and turned toward the ace. "This where you've been hiding?"

"Sometimes," Came the single word reply, and the ace seemed to try a little too hard to keep his gaze anywhere but on Chris. "See that alley behind you?"

Chris furrowed his brow and turned at the question, brown eyes directed down the darkened strip, "Yeah?"

"It happened there." Piers admitted as a brush of cool air skittered along his cheeks, tousling through his hair ever so slightly.

The Captain's attention snapped back to the ace at that, "What happened, Piers?" The sniper had only ever allowed him to guess, and his mind had hardly been any good at filling the blanks.

"Everything," The sniper breathed as though it was some secret answer to all their problems. In some small way, perhaps it was.

Chris appeared even more mind boggled, now. "I don't follow."

Piers hesitated a moment, thoughtful. Although his features were often stoic and unreadable, Chris got the impression that he was debating over something. The Captain almost wondered if it would be better to divert the conversation to something on a lighter note, but he didn't think he had the will power to just let everything go. Not with Piers looking the way he was... Distant. Vulnerable, almost. Cautious, as though he was walking bare foot on heated coal or broken glass.

The sniper turned then, mind made up. "Let me show you something." He motioned for the older man to follow as he slipped down the alley, leaving a still confused Chris to follow after. The Captain discarded his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with a heel before he chased down the ace.

"Gonna tell me where we're going...?"

"Not far."

Chris frowned at that, but didn't stop until Piers had. "Piers, what are-" The sniper spun on him then with a suddenness that cut him off as two hands shoved up against raw muscle and pushed with all the weight they could muster, knocking Chris into the nearest wall. Meaty hands rose on instinct, clutching the wrists of those that had pressed to him, "The hell is-"

"This, Chris," Piers cut through his words with a volley of his own, "Is what happened. The last time we talked, you wanted to know. This is..." The ace seemed to choke on the words, lips fumbling to spill them out only to shape into gibberish at the absence of sound. Hazel eyes darted over older features, along the wall behind Chris, down at his clothes - everywhere all at once in a frenzy like a trapped madman. Chris traced a thumb over the wrist of one of the hands at his chest, an attempt to soothe the answer out of Piers upon the realization that the younger man held no further desire for violence. Their gazes reconnected, and Chris saw the small bob of the ace's Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.

"This is where we were when he tried to fuck me." Olive skin shifted, leaving a deep scowl marked over younger features as the memory replayed in mind.

Chris frowned at that, even more overwhelmed now than he had been all damn night. "Who? Piers, I don't-"

"Never got a name. It wasn't important." The hands against Chris curled up, gathering fistfuls of his jacket. "He was supposed to be a replacement. Fuck, Chris, I only let him touch me because I wanted it to be you." Needy, desperate lips were thrown over his own, and for a moment Chris found himself opening up to them until the situation sunk in. He pushed, flipping them around and reversing their roles so Piers was tight to the wall as their mouths parted.

Brown bore into hazel, and Chris saw something there he never had before. But he remembered the pain - the bruises and beatings, and his mind just couldn't accept that. "You let him do this to you? Piers, what the hell?" It had been bad enough remember all the things Piers had allowed him to do... But a stranger, now? At the very least, even as his own actions were brutal and bestial in nature, Chris hadn't come anywhere near beating him to a bloody pulp! He remembered the bruise, remembered the ace being shaken up and elusive, but not to the degree Chris had found him in those several days back.

"No, Chris," The ace shook his head, putting a halt to such thoughts with his fingers still clinging to the older man's jacket. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't finish what I started, and that's why this happened." He had four days to think of everything, and in the end even his own stubborn mind caved into the truth. Things had already been fucked up between the two of them, he doubted he could cause any further damage. "I was wasted, and he took advantage of that... But he didn't win."

Chris eyed him with a furrowed brow, taking in the new information. "He tried to force you-"

"It was still my fault," Piers cut in again for what must have been the fourth time, and the Captain's lips fell into a firm line trying to understand everything as the ace continued, "Everything was." Hot damn did it put a good crack into his pride. Piers made a career out of striving to be best at all he could - better, better, always better and now it was so clear that wasn't true.

Chris adjusted his hands, moving them to the sniper's shoulders and squeezing tight, "Not us," He shook his head, brown orbs wide and willing the ace to understand the words. "That's on me. But the man you were talking about - does he still come here? I can find him. I can-" Piers gave a tug at his coat, and the words died off.

"He's gone," The ace assured, "Got a few good hits in, you've seen that much. But even drunk off my feet, I'm not helpless, Chris."

It was true, and Chris already knew that. He even said as much, "I know... But after what he did," There was a pause as his gaze flicked along olive flesh, eyeing the gradually healing damage from a much closer angle now that they were inches away from one another. "I just want to do something, Piers. You're one of my men, you're-" A good soldier? A good person? No, he was more than that. Especially to Chris, who was only now on his way to discovering just how much more. "Special," The Captain settled for, and he could have sworn he saw a sparkle in familiar hazel oculars.

"Forget it, Chris," Piers still clung to him like a lifeline, perhaps in many ways that's what Chris was to him. Something to keep him going. Something to keep him holding tight. He'd always been fine on his own before, but after spending all that time with the S.O.U. he didn't think he could go back. Not after meeting Chris, not after... Everything. "I had a lot of time to think. I wasn't sure about saying anything when I saw you, but... I think you deserved to know."

Chris wasn't buying it, not fully. "Why, Piers? There has to be more to it than that."

Piers sighed, despite the stoic nature of his features, he still appeared rather uncomfortable having to confess so damn much. "Because I'm tired of running, Chris. I'm tired of playing around with secrets. The truth can't hurt us anymore than I already have." The ace admitted, realizing his mistakes. "When all of this first happened... It wasn't some sick enjoyment that kept me from telling the truth. It was you, Chris. It was just you, and I didn't want to lose that."

Chris blinked at that, eyebrows lifting in surprise as his next inhale came in sharply. "Then why'd you stay away for so long?"

Hazel averted, and Piers finally dropped his hands. "I wasn't sure you... I didn't know what you'd want. I still don't." His gaze lowered, slinking away from the older man.

The Captain released his own hold, thick digits rushing to mingle with nimble ones now that they were free. Piers stiffened a bit, and hazel immediately rose right back to brown. "I want us to get our shit together, Piers. We can't keep dancing around this."

"Then what do we do?" Piers never looked so uncertain in his life.

"We move on from this," Chris replied simply, making the sniper's brow furrow.

"Exactly how do we do that? How can we just forget all this?"

Chris took a step back, but didn't let go of the hands circled in his, "We don't. We replace the memory and move on."

"Replace?" Piers frowned.

The Captain nodded, offering the slightest curve to his lips. "C'mon. I'll show you." He released one hand and pulled at the other, gently tugging Piers along with him.

The ace eyed the older man suspiciously when he was led to his vehicle, "What about the rest of Alpha?"

Chris finally allowed their hands to part to open the passenger door, and his palm never felt so empty in his life. "They can call in another ride, or grab a taxi." Piers shuffled into the seat, unsure, leaving Chris to close the door for him and saunter around to his side. He climbed in and slipped the belt over his shoulder, then within a matter of moments the engine was roaring to life.

"Where are we going?" Piers asked at last as they pulled into the street.

He hadn't been expecting the reply that followed, "Back to base."

Piers sat up, back straighter than Chris had ever seen him, "What? Why would we-"

"Just trust me, Piers." The older man offered a quick glance away from the road and toward the sniper. There was a click as Piers' jaw snapped shut, plump lips pressing into each other as he resigned himself to a short nod and a soft, "Okay." Even though he already did.

#Chris Redfield #Piers Nivans #ChrisxPiers #Nivanfield #Resident Evil Slash

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