Chrisker One-Shots

The light to drown in darkness part. 2

Summary:

"Why so angry, Chris?" he practically purred, as he eased his hold on Chris' throat. Warily Chris stared at him but didn't immediately make a move, as if he was trying to figure out what game Wesker was playing with him. Even when he was standing on his feet again, Wesker's palm on his chest the only thing keeping him in place, he stayed still.

Enjoying the confusion, the myriad of emotion he saw flickering in Chris' eyes, everything from confusion to anger to hurt and... Wesker didn't even try to hold back his smirk. Instead he stepped closer, angled his body until their chests were almost touching, and tilted his head so that their faces were only an inch apart.

"Did you miss me?" The words were practically only breathed out, barely audible, but the shift in Chris' expression was instantaneous. The struggle within him was palpable, clear to anyone who was willing to pay any attention. It could go either way at this point, Wesker thought. Either Chris would wrench himself free and make an attempt to get his gun, or...
-

It didn't come as a surprise to Wesker in the slightest when the first thing Chris did upon setting his eyes on him was to raise his gun and shoot. It was a laughable attempt, really. All it took was one quick step to the side and Wesker dodged the bullet, and poor Chris didn't have the time to do much else but blink before he'd been slammed against a bookshelf.

Amused, Wesker looked up at the man he was holding by the throat. Chris' boots barely touched the floor but that didn't stop him from struggling, fire blazing in his eyes. "Where's Jill!?" Was the first thing he spat out, clawing at Wesker's hand in a futile attempt to pry it off his neck. "What did you do to her?" His voice was only a low wheeze, the last of the words barely audible, yet the anger was clearly audible in it.

"Relax," Wesker said, bored. At the moment he had zero interest in Jill, despite her numerous assets, but he knew Chris well enough to recognize that he wasn't going to let this drop unless he got some kind of an answer. "She's fine. It'll take her at least an hour to find her way out of the maze, though." A hint of a grin slowly rose to Wesker's lips. "Which leaves plenty of time for fun for us, now doesn't it?"

Something flashed in Chris' eyes, his arms straining with effort as he tried to pry Wesker's hand off his neck. "Get your hands off me!" he spat, baring his teeth.

Pleased at the reaction, Wesker observed the other man. As fiery as he remembered, as bullheaded too. Wesker had always enjoyed a challenge, to the point that it had been almost a disappointment when Chris had practically fallen into him almost a decade ago. Now though...

"Why so angry, Chris?" he practically purred, as he eased his hold on Chris' throat. Warily Chris stared at him but didn't immediately make a move, as if he was trying to figure out what game Wesker was playing with him. Even when he was standing on his feet again, Wesker's palm on his chest the only thing keeping him in place, he stayed still.

Enjoying the confusion, the myriad of emotion he saw flickering in Chris' eyes, everything from confusion to anger to hurt and... Wesker didn't even try to hold back his smirk. Instead he stepped closer, angled his body until their chests were almost touching, and tilted his head so that their faces were only an inch apart.

"Did you miss me?" The words were practically only breathed out, barely audible, but the shift in Chris' expression was instantaneous. The struggle within him was palpable, clear to anyone who was willing to pay any attention. It could go either way at this point, Wesker thought. Either Chris would wrench himself free and make an attempt to get his gun, or...

Wesker didn't need to wait for long. He felt the tension in Chris, felt him coil to attack, and the next second there was a hot, insistent mouth on his. The kiss was angry and brutal, but there was no mistaking the sheer explosion of need within. Chris kissed him with eight years worth of pent up frustration, hard enough to bruise.