"Where the hell are you takin' me Nivans?"

"Somewhere to sleep it off captain."

He looked up from those soft pouted lip and the way they curled at the corners in a way perfectly made for sucking dick, to Piers eyes briefly, noting the way his curved eyebrow cocked at him curiously for the slurred strand of unintelligible words. He was glad he'd already drank a substantial amount, enough that even though Piers was dragging him out of this place with all the force the kid could muster and it still didn't bother him in the least. Chris Redfield would have decked a guy for all this. Claiming they were partners, about the BSAA, about everything, but he couldn't push back the way those eyes had pierced him back in he bar. That all too suggestive way that the soldier was use to getting from women, not pretty boys like Piers. He was relishing in those reassuring, strong calloused sniper hands manipulated him and Chris couldn't help but wonder how many times they'd done this before. Piers knew all the right ways to move the older man, and after tonight he needed the distraction. Even if they knew each other and this was some master plan to get him back into fighting bio-whatevers, Chris wasn't sure that's what he wanted. He was here, drowning his sorrows for a reason, and that kid's mouth looked just right for it.

Oh they knew each other. Obviously. It was all in the way the kid kept calling him captain. The way it was rolling off his tongue like a sin, or the subtle glances his way that was telling Chris they were probably much more than partners. He could see it too. Being intimate with this kid wouldn't be a problem. Sure he was a kid, but hell if he wasn't a fine piece of ass. He didn't remember ever being with a guy before, so what, maybe it was new, but there was no way this wasn't right. The lips and the way his tongue would dart out to wet them every time they'd get chapped; the tone, the way he threw around his name like he was doing now. Hell, if Chris wasn't banging him before now it was a miracle. He was built perfectly for it. He was slimmer at the waist and had an ass that wouldn't quit, even for a guy. He was smaller than Chris, but everyone was. Chris' bicep was bigger than most people's heads, but this kid wasn't small by any means, and looked like he could handle himself easily enough. Reaching around him for support, they tripped up on a lip of concrete sticking out that sent them stumbling down the alleyway and he gave the kid a sloppy grin, before he shamelessly copped a feel. He couldn't help but love the way it made Piers jump, but he still managed to catch his balance and resisted the futile attempt to remove Chris' hand from his ass. Fuck if that ignoble way he eyed him wasn't turning him on. There was no way they hadn't done this before.

And then he was talking again, and Chris zoned out as they meandered together like the worst three-legged race on the planet. It was more like six-legged right, and Chris had to be winning. He could already feel the way this kid was affecting him and there would definitely be no trouble there. His own feet were cumbersome under him, causing him to amble and it was giving Piers a run for his money to keep upright. Strength and balance were in his favor sure, but Chris was getting caught up on everything they moved passed, fighting back the instinct to hurl up his last 5 shots on the hood of a car parked in the alley. He stopped to lean against the brick wall, red dust brushing off onto his leather coat; slumping halfway over as his head reeled. He put his fingers through his own short charcoal hair trying to focus, tipping his head against the cold of the mortar in an attempt to gather himself and let it soak in.

It took several minutes with his eyes closed before it was enough to make the world stop dancing before his face, but it had managed with the vodka to make a perfect mix for he revelation that this was sweet destiny. Enough that when he felt Piers grab for his shoulder again that Chris beat him to it and jerked himself upright, gripping Piers by his wrist with all dexterity of the captain of the SOU and yanking it up behind his back, forcing the younger soldier straight into the wall beside him, face scrapped on the chipped brick. He was hissing something between his teeth, shoving backward against Chris to absolutely no avail at all. Fuck the kid was strong, but his captain was stronger. Chris let the world do its ballet again after the example of physical prowess and it took a bit to remember how he'd got himself there. Drunk or not, Chris' instincts were tight, better than most people, and Piers had stopped fighting back by the time Chris had recalled what brought him there.

He leaned close to the sniper, brushing his lips against his ear and taking in the sight of him trapped there. His height and muscle mass made it easy to know how often this kid won a battle between the two. Chris outweighed him by a at least a buck, and despite being lithe Piers had that submissive way about him, that read that he took it like a good boy..., particularly the way he popped his hip when he stood there trying to confront him in the bar. It was killing Chris though; like this with his back to him, Chris could smell the sweat and gunpowder on his neck, just beneath the fabric that hid his skin and wanted nothing more than to lick it. Fuck this kid was pretty. Why the hell was he so damn pretty? "Tell me how you like it." His lips pulled into a smirk, leaning forward with his weight pushing Piers ribcage into the wall, darting his tongue over Piers' perfect lips. "You've got a hand soldier, show me."

"Captain..."

"Mmm," Chris hummed when felt his breath on his mouth, finally releasing his grip on Piers sweaty wrist long enough to turn him, keeping his body pinned between his captain and the wall. "I bet you like it rough. Back alley fuck with your pants around your knees. Take orders like a good soldier do you?" He was writhing under Chris, stuck there apart from the minor shift of the hips unintentionally brushed against Chris,' and shoulders that were being ground against the wall. He could see it almost clear as day; Piers braced against the wall with his gloved hands holding him from being slammed against it like Chris was doing now. Reaching his arm around him and pulling away the ammo clips and peeling off the straps and rigging that kept his fatigues in place. Piers was gritting his teeth against the dirt and grime, swearing Chris' name under his hitched breath while his captain took him completely unprepared, pushing back to take every inch of it like he was suppose to. Hell if he didn't know better it was a memory floating behind his eyelids and it was making his hard as fuck. If that was what he was missing, soldier boy could take him home every night. "Get on your knees soldier."

Piers couldn't say anything. Not against Chris. Even when his captain could hardly remember his name. They'd been through so much shit together and now that he'd found him he didn't know what to do. He was at a loss, pinned between a brick wall and his superior. Yeah they'd had sex. It was fast and hard, just like this and his muscles were aching where they remembered his captain and everything they'd done. It burned when he felt the bricks slam up and meet his face, but there was something there that said Chris remembered who he was. What does someone say to their captain when all he can remember is fucking you in an alleyway. He couldn't help that Chris' voice went straight to his groin, or how he rocked his hips against the taller man when he shoved him that way. "Captain..." None of it was registering for him, he couldn't think straight. Just breath and let it pass. He'll remember you eventually, he'll come to his senses.

The warmth of Chris' mouth stank like booze, but the feeling of his tongue darting across his lip made him part them. He couldn't help that every inch of him wanted back the captain he'd had before. Even if it meant having just the part that remembered this and every time before it. He said something, but Piers didn't hear it passed the rush of the blood pounding in his head, eyes darting from the red brick, to the trash beneath his feet, and then Chris. Christ he was kissing him. He couldn't help but let it happen, and part his lips when Chris' tongue demanded access. Piers was fighting back the moans that were muffled by his captain's tongue, fighting the hands that found his hips almost immediately attacking the belt that held his pants in place. Their teeth clashed once and then he was fighting to breath, warring for dominance with Piers' head sore from the way it was being ground against the wall as Chris' hands sought to grab the straining material between them.

Rough calloused fingers manipulated Piers like a doll, yanking open the last part of the buckle that held his belt in place before he was fumbling with them too, shoving them downward and finding the bulge in his boxers, kneading him, while his teeth bit down on Pier's soft pouty bottom lip. Chris worked his own jeans rough and quick, finding the zipper and loops far easier than the sniper's. He couldn't help himself, or how bad he missed the feeling of Chris' hands on his skin. He was a furnace, and Piers was like melting ice, turning into putty in his hands as the older man grasped at his hips. He was the one to break the kiss, saliva clinging to the two and a trail running down the corner of the protegé's lips that made Chris' earlier demand to suck him off all too tempting to pass by, but as the last layer of fabric on Piers' body was shoved away and the contact of having his erection there in his hand brought him out of his hypnotism and there to the task at hand.

Forearms caught against the wall, scrapping and tearing the flesh up and bricks bit the skin on Piers arms, leaking bits of blood. He felt Chris fumble to get closer to him, his larger frame encompassing him with ease. He had to lean down to bite Piers just where the back of his neck peeked over the delicate fabric of his scarf. "Fuck soldier boy, beg for it." He wanted to hear the hitch in his voice, the moan that tumbled from those perfect cock sucking lips as he gripped the fabric in one hand forcing Piers to gasp. Gathering the soft material in one hand and twisting it he relished in the sound of Piers choking off the words, time and time again. Chris smirked into the crook of Piers' shoulder, lining himself up to take everything he wanted. Piers soft flesh was cold, but he remembered the fire that burned him form the inside out as Chris rubbed the head of his dick along the soft puckered flesh, growling at him to despite the moaned hiss that escaped his partner's lips from the vice grip on the fabric about his neck.

"Please, Captain."