Chrisker One-Shots

I love you not

Chris felt the stab of betrayal wash over him, cutting into him like the blade of a seriated knife, over and over, as Wesker's hand slid down his leg. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't shirk the blonde. Wesker had him pinned; those inhuman arms gave him an ungodly strength, from which Chris had no hope of pulling free. With his wrists held tight in place above his head, Chris was completely at his former-captain's mercy.

"Why Chris, I do believe you're trembling." Wesker cooed right next to his ear in that silky, superior voice he was known for. He was always so calm. Always so calculating. Always so... cold.

"I am not!" Chris spat back, snarling and bearing his teeth. Again he struggled against the blonde's grip, and again he was met with defeat; he couldn't make him budge.

He wanted to break free of the demon's grip. He wanted to throw his weight, roll Wesker onto his back, and snap the filthy bastard's neck. But with each effort to break free, Chris only grew more discouraged. He wasn't strong enough to defeat Wesker. He wasn't strong enough to avenge his fallen friends and comrades, all the people in raccoon city, or the countless victims around the world that had died as mere 'test subjects' for this man. Chris wasn't strong enough, in more ways then one...

"Let me go! You fucking sadist traitor!" the former S.T.A.R.S. member screamed, pure hatred burning behind deep blue eyes.

Wesker didn't seem amused.

"Chris, stop that." He commanded the brunette in a solid, barking tone. He was growing tired of Redfield's persistence and continuous desire to fight. But... then again, wasn't that exactly what Wesker found so endearing about poor, heroic Chris...?

"You're really beginning to annoy me with that charade of yours."

Chris swallowed hard.

Wesker saw right through him just as clearly as if those glasses he always wore had ex-ray vision.

How?!

'Dammit' Chris sounded internally, gritting his teeth as he glowered up at his opponent, whose one free hand was still wandering dangerously close to forbidden territory.

It was no surprise to Chris that Wesker had known about his infatuation with him.

Wesker always knew everything.

What bothered Chris was that he thought that it had died along with everything else in the inferno the mansion had become that hot night in July, oh so long ago....

Why now? Why were the feelings that he thought he'd rid himself of so suddenly re-awakened? Why were adolescent hopes he thought he'd left in ashes rekindled so easily? He wondered now; had he ever really let those desires go...?

A gloved hand stopped to rest on Chris' upper thigh. The pressure it caused taunted him as the leather-clad appendage only served to drill him harder into the concrete beneath his back.

What had existed between he and Wesker... had never been anything more then a mere crush. Sure, Chris found his noble and brave captain handsome. Hell, who didn't? With that stunning, perfectly fit body, those pale, blonde, slicked back locks and-once- icy green-gray eyes that (which he always kept hidden behind a pair of thick shades), Albert Wesker was the epitome of perfection. He turned the heads of both men and women alike. He was mysterious, seductive, and captivating, with a voice of liquid sliver... and Chris had admired him greatly.

However, despite his feelings, Chris had kept things professional. He didn't give Wesker any reason to suspect anything, and he kept his somewhat awkward attraction to the Captain a well-guarded secret. Chris wasn't really gay-he had one hell of a crush on Jill, actually-but for some reason he had never been able to shake the blonde Adonis from his thoughts.