Well, shit.

This was long overdue. I've always wanted to write up a RE fic, and here I finally am, writing you some Nivanfield! Ohh.. The feelz. ;-;

This is pretty explicit shit. So if you're not up for it, please press that wonderful back button.

Kay? (: We begin!

oOo

There was a howling blizzard outside that wouldn't let up.

Both BSAA agents found themselves at a dingy diner out in the middle of nowhere, awaiting further orders from HQ.

Things weren't good since Finn.

If anything, things were only getting progressively worse.

Hopeless.

Piers looked out the foggy window from where he sat, chewing softly on a bite of the marinated chicken breast that steamed quietly on his plate. He hadn't eaten decent food in weeks. He was most properly on the verge of starvation, ravenous, ready to devour a feast for ten on a quick whim, but the fact that Chris sat motionless before him – eyes blank and downcast towards the wooden table like the soul had been sucked out of him – was slowly beginning to thieve away the younger soldier's appetite.

Chris' food lied completely untouched. Chris wouldn't eat.

Chris hadn't said a single word, let alone a complete sentence, since the incident involving Ada Wong. But that wasn't the only tension Piers was picking up on.

The grungy mercenary's smart remarks back at the European town – Jake, or whatever his name was – continued to eat at his conscience. How Chris could let something like that slide (in front of Finn and all the others, no less) clawed at Piers' thickest, most delicate nerve, a pricking flea that never let loose, a rancid smell that never went away.

Stabbing the fork into his meal, Piers looked straight towards Chris, lips pressed and brow creased.

"Captain."

Chris didn't budge, if only to down his second shot of hard alcohol that night.

The waitress happened to walk by.

"Capt–"

"Another."

"Right away, sir."

"Captai–"

"Thanks."

"Captain."

Chris' shot froze flush against his lips, eyes dark and stolid towards Piers. He set his glass down slowly, hand stiff around the thing, not saying a word.

"About what happened.."

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Captain, please, about what that mercenary said –"

"I said –"

"How come you did nothing to keep his mouth shut? After what happened to Finn? Do you know him? 'Cause it sure as hell seemed like you did."

Piers' voice had risen by four simmers, blatantly laced with bottled-up irritation The diner went into a complete stand-still. The waitress froze in her spot, slowly backing away as Chris' hand began to visibly clench around his glass. Piers' fist tightened against his own thigh from underneath the table, eyes fierce and steady with the spirit of a true BSAA soldier.

Captain or not, enough was enough.

The wait was long and dreary, but the only response that Piers ended up with was Chris downing his third shot of vodka in one loud and careless gulp. Another one of Chris' insensitive reproaches, maybe. He was always good at making those up.

The previous noise in the diner slowly began to presume; hushed whispers, muffled laughter..

There was a call from the bar moments after. "You boys should take your lovers quarrel outside, yeah? Business is already bad as it is."

Chris readied his fourth shot in silence.

Piers seethed where he sat, harshly sliding his plate to the side. Not only was their entire partnership crumbling to utter shit right before their very eyes, now they were the laughing stock of a fucking run-down diner.

"Stop it, Captain. You've had enough for the night." Piers reached for the glass in Chris' hand, trespassing into very personal space; a very dangerous line to be crossing with a less-than-happy Chris Redfield, but never once did Piers ever think to waver. "Chris, come on. This isn't–"

"Do me a favor, Piers."

"..What?"

"Leave me alone."

And with the impassive dismissal of the other's fervent concerns, Chris shoved his hand away from the younger soldier's grip to then bring the glass of alcohol towards his lips once more. Every soul in the room stared shamelessly; men snickering, waitresses chuckling with amusement in their eyes –

"No, Captain. I won't."

And with a sudden movement of his own, Piers stood and snatched the glass from Chris' hand, shattering it loudly against the opposite wall in a fling of impressive dexterity.

"It's a good thing Finn's not around to see you like this, Captain," he turned back, swinging the bottle of vodka upside down in mid-air so that a seamless stream of clear liquid poured in thick currents towards the wooden ground, emptying it. "Or that mercenary, for the matter, to laugh in our faces."

Chris stood up in a slow tensity that consisted of long seconds.

Setting the bottle down, Piers' hands balled into fists at his sides, looking fearlessly into the colored scrutiny of his captain. Chris' height was obvious and largely intimidating, as he was much taller and more physically capable than Piers, but even that didn't seem to sway the younger soldier.

There was a perpetual silence between the two men that began to fog a cloud of unease throughout the place. Customers in the background began to stand cautiously. The waitresses backed up. A single echo of a footstep cracked the sleet of strain, however, as Chris stepped forward calmly, nearly bumping chests with Piers.

Piers' heart began to ram inside his chest, breath quickening with the kiss of adrenaline, brows pressed, muscles tense; this was his captain after all, his pride and life-long role model, all that he'd known for the past several months –

But Chris, stone-eyed and adamant, said nothing.

Instead, he stepped back and made his way out of the diner and into the blizzard cold, slamming the door shut in a way that practically tore the entire place down to the ground.

Piers took a deep breath, left a few dollars on the table, and immediately followed behind.

oOo

It was a cold hell outside.

Each gust of ice wind felt like a sharp, glacial gash across the face.

Piers hugged into himself before quickly gloving his hands.

Squinting through the snowfall, Piers caught a faint glimpse of Chris' figure making its way towards the truck. Tightening the scarf around his neck, he jogged towards it, hand falling onto the other's shoulder. Chris turned almost immediately.

"Captain, you shouldn't –"

"Go away."

Chris swung the door of the truck open, pushing the younger soldier's hand away with a brute shove of his shoulder.

"But Captain, you shouldn't drive," Piers pressed, bringing his hand upon the other's arm in a notion to stop him, "what happened to Finn and the others wasn't your fault! I'm sorry for bringing up that mercenary so much, it was out of line, I understand that! But stop this act already, Captain, you've had too much to drink for the night –"

"I'M NOT FUCKING DRUNK ALRIGHT? NOW FUCK OFF AND STOP ACTING LIKE SOME LOST DOG!"

A cleaver to the chest, the breath thieved right out of him.

Piers' hand fell from Chris in a slow agony, chestnut eyes wide and disbelieving. There was an ire brewing in his palms now, in his heart, in his entire body. The rims of his eyes began to sting. The threat of tears. The hurt and anger that brimmed. Yes, a single tear had almost fallen against the snow-drops that had sought solid ground against his face.

But the tear hadn't been. Never did.

Never would, and Piers' fist had suddenly stricken raw bone in a second's breadth.

Chris reeled back, hand tender on the fresh bruise burning on his right cheek, eyes alit towards Piers, an awakened rage in his eyes that led him to throw a punch right into the younger soldier's stomach. Piers fell back, nearly to the ground but not quite, and somehow managed to return the staggering blow towards Chris' jaw amidst the haze of the searing pain throbbing inside his gut.

Chris didn't take this lightly.

He tackled into the other like a wild bull, sending the both of them flying and rolling into the snow-covered floor in a violent flail of limbs and curses. Piers struggled for some control, but the clear indication of Chris' much larger and stronger figure was as real as the cold winter wind of that particular night. Piers took a pounding all across his body amidst his own savage kicking and thrashing from underneath Chris' weight, never once showing the qualms of defeat.

Both grunted loudly in aggressive fatigue, a seemingly endless cycle of tireless blows wherein each soldier –

But there was one small incident that had ceased everything and all in a single hellish second.

Chris froze.

It was only in this moment that Chris noted that his knee had lied firmly pressed against Piers' crotch from between the younger soldier's thighs all along, abdomen hard and flush against Piers' own.. Panting hard, sharing air, looking into each others eyes in a dismal unison of mutual realization.

Piers was hard.

Hard as a rock, thick with a width that left even Chris at the brink of masculine jealousy.

Piers immediately flushed a bright red, helplessly wriggling from beneath Chris' weight to maybe escape and find some sort of hole in which he could claim his early grave in.

He hadn't meant to..

But the close distance, the lack of space between them..

Chris' warmth and breath against his skin amidst the pain that cindered a fire of need in him, the source of his habitual fantasies; his darkest, deepest dream. The reason, his loyalty. The source of his passion, of his drive, and of his motivation.

His captain.

Whenever and wherever Chris may need him –

"G-get off me..!"

He'd be there.

Piers squirmed and writhed, attempting to push Chris off of him with his one free arm.

Realizing the sheer degree of embarrassment on both parts with a dumbstruck look on his face, Chris moved to the side, stumbling to his own two feet in a cluster of stiffened limbs. Piers dashed upwards and instantly stormed off towards nowhere without saying a word, never looking into Chris' eyes, or even daring to.

The dishonor behind what he felt all along.. A soldier was never meant to..

Nothing would be the same again.

The shame that came with the secrets he'd tried so hard to keep at bay destroyed Piers slowly from the outside in; a blackened disgrace. Chris knew. And now that he knew, there was no way of un-knowing anything.

He felt disgust twist itself from within the pit of his stomach. A retch in his throat. The vomit that threatened at the mere thought of it all.

What would Chris think of his 'best soldier' now..?

Piers bit his lip hard, hearing the deafening sizzle of shame ringing from within his ears whilst he clutched on to whatever pathetic amount of dignity he had left as he tightened the scarf around his neck. Snow-drops stung at his face, made his vision blurry as he staggered through snow, but it all hardly even mattered anymore.

He could hear Chris' heavy footsteps jogging closely behind him, his manful voice a strong bellow through the wind that wrapped them.

"Piers! Wait!"

Piers didn't stop. Not until Chris forcefully spun him around by the arm, steel hands keeping the younger soldier in place by the shoulders. Piers didn't dare meet the other's gaze and instead glared towards the ground, quivering softly from the cold.

"Piers, look at me."

No response.

"Piers, goddammit, that's an order."

Hesitant, Piers managed the impossible and met with Chris' dark blue eyes, an unreadable expression marked all across his virile complexion. Piers cursed himself. Cursed his disability to hide his own emotions; to be as stoic and as composed as Chris was at all times.

"Piers.. Talk to me."

Piers' lips felt as if they were practically frozen together, his throat clogging up with the smog of guilt. He tried, he really did, but nothing came out. Just a strange sound of uncertainty that managed only in making him feel like even more of a hapless fool. The slight arch on Chris' eyebrow that denoted possible confusion, anger, or maybe even revulsion, wasn't helping much, either.

Piers couldn't do it anymore.

He'd gladly leave his backbone behind if it meant not having to face Chris. So he attempted to do just that, only to be stopped in mid-turn by one of Chris' un-gloved hands. Chris' grip was firm, eyes steady on Piers' reluctance.

"Stop," he said softly, "I shouldn't have.. I –" Piers still wouldn't look at him. Chris brought a hand to his jaw, forcing mutual eye-contact. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

At this, Piers laxed where he stood. Never did he think he'd hear Chris apologizing to him. Let alone for something that he said.

"Ca.. Captain.."

"What happened back there, won't happen again, alright?" Gently, Chris' hand began to fall from Piers' face and onto the plaid-green scarf that warmed him, fingertips absently caressing the stitched seams, falling and drafting down towards the cleft of Piers' clothed collarbone, stopping, and then, as if nothing had happened, the fingers were gone. Piers' face began to burn right up. "We're a team."

A gentle gust of wind traced the silence, and then Chris was already letting go, ready to walk away.

The absence of the other's warmth was an immediate felt loss, and before Piers could control himself at all, he reached out for Chris' wrist, reeling him back where he once stood. They were horribly close now. Chest to chest. Chris' parted lips were only inches away. His breath traced Piers' own, speechless.

Chris smelled like cologne. Chris smelled good. He looked good. He felt good.

He was a good fucking person.

Chris, in all of his faults and scars, in the eyes of Nivans, was perfect.

"Piers – "

But Piers' lips were already sealing Chris', and not another word was said between them.

The constant fear of rejection was a haunting plague in Piers' head, however; his woeful doubt and insecurities. His hands trembled, arms awkward and tense at his sides, not quite knowing what to do, but wanting, so bad.

There was no going back. Piers willed his gloved hands towards Chris' face to keep him in place, but before they could make contact, Chris' robust arms were already wrapping around his waist, pulling him in.

The rejection never came.

Piers absently noted that Chris had begun to slowly push him backwards, their lips still pressed firmly against each other as they moved. He felt something solid hit his back, and realized that they were now at the back of the diner. There was a trash can on the left, and black night on the right. Only the dim moonlight aided Piers in confirming that this was really Chris Redfield actually kissing him and no other.

He was pinned now. Between solid brick and solid muscle. Chris was heavy, alarmingly strong, and oh so hellishly handsome. Piers froze, not knowing what to do. Sure, he'd kissed a few girls in high school, took some on dates, maybe messed around a few times during his short stay in college.. But never with a guy. Let alone a full-grown man. A legitimate BSAA North American agent.

Chris. His superior. His captain.

He could feel Chris' reluctance, too, however, as he had also grown stiff and awfully frigid, unsure if or when to continue. The mere possibility of the moment ending and never happening again was an instant stab to the heart. Piers couldn't let this opportunity slide. Inexperienced or not, this was what he'd been dreaming of since.. Well, since ever, really.

He lifted his arms, nervously wrapping them around Chris' neck. Chris didn't seem to mind this, but still made no response, so Piers took it upon himself to get the kiss moving, experimenting with tilting his head to the side so that he would allow the older man more open access of his mouth. There was a visible shudder that clearly came from Chris. Piers clenched his eyes shut, hoping for the best as he gently prodded Chris' lips with his tongue, begging for an entrance.

Chris quickly complied.

Not only did he comply, Chris also returned the gesture. Thrice-fold. His tongue immediately invaded Piers' mouth, swiftly claiming control of the situation. Piers slackened against the wall, his clothes already growing much too hot to be in.

Chris tasted good.

Like sweet virility and experience.

There were hands at his thighs now, caressing, touching, eager. Piers made a small noise against the heated kiss, trying his best to relax his raging boner, but to no avail.

He was hard. Throbbing.

The fact that Chris' own arousal had also started to fiercely state its presence against his stomach wasn't helping the situation, either. Piers could already tell Chris was more than just 'well-endowed'.

He was thick. He was big. He was perfect.

Piers moved his hands to Chris' back, softly tracing the prominent crook of the older man's spine. Chris deepened the kiss, hands set on Piers' hips, clenching.

Worming around in the craze of his own lust, Piers found a rhythm and angle that allowed him to grind perfectly well against Chris' thigh. He swallowed into the kiss, a soft groan of encouragement nearly driving Chris to the edge.

Chris was a biter.

He nipped into Piers' lips in a way that hurt so good, bit softly onto his tongue when he could, licking gently. Piers was helpless not to melt into the other's weight, surrendering all control as he feverishly rocked into Chris back and forth. The need for air was imminent, however, and Chris pulled away with a thin string of saliva connecting them still.

"This isn't a game, Piers," Chris said, words palpable and sweet against Piers' sodden lips, "I won't be able to stop. This is your chance to say no, and we'll leave it all behind us."

Amidst his quiet panting, Piers' brows began to knit lightly into a subtle frustration. "I'm not a boy, Captain. I know what I want, and I want it now more than ever." He inched towards Chris' ear, and with a soft, ghostly breath that reeked of cunning, he gave a sheepish whisper that sounded a lot like "Please, Captain."

Needles to say, it drove Chris absolutely insane.

He slammed Piers right into the wall, and in a flurry of rough movements, he'd ripped off the other's scarf and jacket, discarding them somewhere on the snow-sodden floor. The belt wasn't spared. Piers shivered in quiet anticipation, watching himself be undressed from 'neath the visage of his enamored gaze.

How someone who literally had the most renowned BSAA women tailing on their ass (Jill Valentine, for example) could ever want him was beyond Piers.

It was a fantasy come to life.

Soon, Piers lied shirtless, pants undone, the cold wind of the night nullifying itself against his heated skin. Chris stared, dark blue eyes intent on Piers' toned figure. He was more than impressed, and he expressed this thoroughly by pinning Piers against the wall, wrists held above the younger soldier's head, sealing him in a wet and violent kiss.

There was no getting out of it.

Piers knew exactly how badly Chris overpowered him, and the thought alone made his already-leaking erection the more painful from in between his trembling thighs.

Damn, he needed it. Needed it bad.

Chris lowered down towards Piers' neck, sucking harshly onto the sensitive skin, leaving behind several which obvious marks.

"Ca-Captain.." Piers hissed, head tilted back towards the roof of the diner's ledge.

Using his one free arm, Chris began to unbutton his pants in a fervent rush whilst he kept Piers' wrists in place. Piers looked below and was immediately met with the sight of Chris' rock-hard cock, a good eight or nine inches in length.

Before he could voice his shying concerns, however, Chris had already spun him around, shoving him hard against the wall, cold brick against jaw.

Chris never let go of his wrists.

The dawning realization that his pants were now being tugged down to his knees struck Piers with the pang of nervous anxiety.

He'd honest to God never done anything like this before. No man nor woman had ever gone too near that.. area, and he had never really planned on it. Seldom the occasion in which he even came to touch his own ass, let alone breach it.

Piers took in a deep breath, quivering softly as Chris' hand fell to his ass, kneading firmly. It felt nice. It felt great, actually. It made Piers' cock jump, aching for attention. An audible gasp escaped him the moment Chris closed in on him from behind, pressing his thick prick in between the globes of Piers' cheeks, teasing the hole with what was to come.

Chris lent forward, a trace of a smirk etching against his lips. "Fuck, you're so good."

Piers couldn't help but to tremble at the baritone lull of Chris' manful voice, a faint veil of blush marking against his olive complexion.

"You want it?"

"Y-yes.."

"Yes what?"

Piers swallowed, sizzling in the brew of his own embarrassment, "Yes, C-Captain.."

And without much of a prior warning, Chris' fingers were already parting Piers' virginity; wet and gentle, pushing in slowly. Piers bit his lip, clenching his eyes shut. It was an odd feeling, having your ass fingered for the first time, but the sheer notion that it was Chris drove the young BSAA agent to the brink of impatience.

Chris could have it all. Chris could take all that he'd like. Chris could ruin him, fuck his brains out 'till it hurt, and it still wouldn't be enough to sate Piers' insatiable desire for the older man.

Piers' mouth shot open the moment Chris' fingers had filled him to the knuckle, his jaw crushed hard against the stone wall in a choked whimper. Piers lied helpless in his position, writhing in arousal as Chris gained a languid pace with his fingers, fucking slowly, sliding in and out, stretching him open.

Chris whispered dirty nothings into Piers' ear, his steadfast fingers like flashes of light at the younger soldier's ass, loud and relentless.

"You like that?"

"A-ahh.."

"Answer me."

"Yes, Cap- tain.."

"How much?"

In.

"So.."

Out.

"Much."

Grinning, Chris allowed one of Piers' hands free.

"Go ahead."

And so Piers went on and did. With much enthusiasm, to say the least.

He pumped hard and fast onto his unattended length, easing some of the ache that threatened to explode into a white dream at any second. He moaned softly, biting his lip. Chris' three fingers never stopped fucking him senseless. The feeling was heaven. His mind spun, he was gonna come.

"C-ca – "

But just as Piers was about to experience the best fucking possible orgasm of his entire short life, Chris stopped, slid out, and left Piers cold in his release.

"Not yet."

Piers opened his eyes, panting hard as his jaw lied crushed against the cold wall, legs trembling in the sheer anticipation of it all.

"Beg," Chris whispered, pinning both of Piers' wrists above his head again.

"Please, Captain.."

"Please captain what?"

"Fu.." Piers swallowed, clenching his eyes shut as he surrendered the remainder of his pride into the night air, "Fuck.. me."

"Fuck you how?"

"H-hard, Captain.."

And with minimal movement, Chris placed himself flush against Piers' loosened hole (and he is, at this point, astoundingly, hard and ready), the head of his girth slowly beginning to slide into virgin heat. Piers whimpered softly, nipping his lip, his ass pushing back towards Chris' lap in a reflex to his need.

It felt like nothing else, as thick cock began to fuck into him; whole, wetted, and to the hilt.

Piers spasmed helplessly around the mass of it; his mouth falling open as cramps began to rack his entire body. Like this, with a belly-full of Chris' dick, Piers' eyes began to retreat into the reef of his skull, a wanton mewl escaping his pink lips.

Chris began to pick up his pace, skewering into the younger soldier with a vicious abandon that left Piers feeling raw and stretched past his capacity, until whatever constraint was left in him began to be overwhelmed by the sinful pleasure that only Chris could give him.

Piers cried out in ecstasy and arched his back beautifully, his lithe figure the epitome of sensual obscenity wherein winter's cold moonlight.

Chris took this opportunity to take Piers by the hair, pulling hard, hissing sharply.

"You like that?"

"G-god yes.."

Chris growled softly in complacency, hammering into Piers for a half-minute while he clawed weakly at the wall.

In this way Piers was despoiled, sometimes with his leg brought up against the wall for greater access, sometimes with his legs kicked so open wide so that Chris could fuck up into him, lean back, and watch.

Piers eventually grew limp and breathless against the other's movement as he continued to be ruthlessly fucked open. The searing coil in his pelvis began to twist, pleasure peaking, and he knew that he'd be coming soon.

Chris seemed to have picked up on this because he released Piers' leg and shot his hand forward, milking the younger agent's prick in a sensuous pattern that reeked of past experiences. Piers' lips immediately parted open, a choked whimper wherein his throat as he spilled his essence until nothing was left of it.

And with his final convulsions of orgasm, Chris had also gone rigid, burying himself balls-deep into Piers' hole in one final thrust.

Chris made no noise, if not for the exhale of a heavy breath when his seed spilt deep within the other. Cum dripped slowly from the inner of Piers' thighs, lewd and hot.

They stayed that way for a long moment, breathing loudly, senses setting.

It wasn't too long, however, until Chris regained his composure and pulled out, nearly softened.

A million things instantly began to run through Piers' mind as his sanity simmered back down into reality.

They were behind some diner with a trash can to the left and the humvee to the far right. There had been a pretty violent altercation between them not too long ago, one that had been riddled with insults, blows, and the like.

Chris had had a few drinks – alcohol could do things to people, right? – along with his habitual issue with not remembering things. A panic began to settle, and Piers quickly snatched and stumbled to put on his clothes, not daring to look anywhere near Chris' direction.

Chris watched Piers almost endearingly, a faint seam of a smile somewhere on his lips as he buttoned up his pants.

"Piers."

Piers froze, hands at his scarf.

"Captain..?"

The moment was tense, the moment was painful.

Piers' mind reeled, but before he could stammer a thousand mindless apologies for whatever he he could possibly think of, he found himself suddenly secured in Chris' arms and into a comforting.. embrace.

The feeling was more important to Piers than even the entirety of his pride in being part of the BSAA. The feeling of acceptance, of Chris' warmth..

There was a ghostly silence between them, lulled only by the sudden gusts of winter wind.

The moment felt sweet, like a preternatural eternity, one Piers foolishly wished would never end.

But it would.

And it had.

The horrors that awaited them ahead, more death and more countless casualties.

Ada.

But perhaps in this small, insignificant moment, Piers shamefully thought, there could be no Ada.

No Finn, and no thirst for revenge.

Chris pulled back, looking deeply into the hazel eyes of his prized soldier, the unreadable expression that he often wore taking its rightful place once more.

No, there could be no such moment.

Duty calls.

Duty never ends.

This.. hell, would never end.

"I won't ever leave you behind, Piers. I swear it. Stay by me and we'll both get through this alive, got it? You mean.. too damn much.."

To me.

"Yes, Captain," Piers smiled,

"...'till the end, Captain."

For you, Captain.

oOo

A comment would make my day a helluva lot brighter. :3 Just sayin'. Till the next! xx