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Being infected with the Prototype virus had its benefits. It enhanced his physical prowess, his senses, his speed, his longevity - all desirable outcomes of infection. But the result, regrettably, wasn't without its flaws.
First, his reliance on PG67A/W. While the virus had initially been stable and he'd had a good, few years of not needing chemical intervention, it had eventually reached a stage where he required shots of PG67A/W to keep it in check and to prevent his abilities from degrading. His only reassurance was that this likely wouldn't be a problem once he took uroboros, which would be considerably more stable in the right vessel.
Second, at this new, tumultuous stage of infection, he found his self-control suddenly had a deficit, and it chose a terrible time to present itself: he was three words into telling Chris about Jill and P-30 when Chris ventured close enough for Albert to smell him, and a breath full of pine forest and mint somehow managed to render him silent. He’d always appreciated Chris’ scent; he’d paused to breathe it in more times than he cared to admit, but it’d never done this to him before.
Albert Wesker was (or had) not (been) a man beholden to his instincts. He’d never smelt an omega and found himself uncontrollably needy for them, like a dog salivating over a steak. But he smelt Chris now, and inexplicably found himself unable to function normally.
He’d never wondered what it was like to be an alpha of less steadfast self-control, and he hadn’t cared to find out either. But he knew now. There was a foreign hunger prickling at him, something far more profound than the usual niggling he had to court during his ruts. Given how many omegas he’d interacted with without incident since the Prototype virus had begun to present issues, the response was entirely unexpected - it seemed isolated to Chris, much to his chagrin.
Chris and his companion looked confused, which was understandable. Albert had just abruptly cut off mid-sentence and proceeded to stare, silent and slack-jawed, at them. It was only his remarkable self-restraint that stopped him from doing something embarrassing, like lunging at Chris, tearing off his clothes, and fucking him on the filthy temple floor. The thought was deeply appealing; he was being assailed with fantasies of holding Chris down and taking him in front of the two women he held in such high regard, claiming him while they watched helplessly on. But he wouldn’t degrade himself by behaving like a base creature.
Albert exhaled through his teeth.
“Jill,” he said, recovering his voice at last. “Put one of your guns under your chin.”
At this, Sheva and Chris looked alarmed. More alarmed than they had previously, at least.
“Jill, stop-!” Chris began, but Albert simply spoke over him.
“Finger on the trigger,” he said, watching impassively as her finger settled over the trigger. One press of that, and her brains would be relocated over half the temple. “Good.” He turned his attention back to Chris and his companion. “You,” he said, addressing Sheva now. “Leave.”
Sheva’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Leave,” he repeated. “Or would you like a taster of what will happen to her if you refuse?”
“Jill,” said Chris, his voice cracking in his desperation. “Jill, snap out of it, put the gun down.”
Jill didn’t move. Wesker didn’t even dignify the attempt with a response.
“Jill,” he said calmly. “Apply pressure on the-”
“No!” Chris gasped out, the word spilling out of him. “She’ll leave. She’ll leave, Wesker, don’t. Please don’t.”
Sheva’s mouth twisted and her brow pinched, but she slowly lowered the weapon she was holding. Her finger didn’t move away from the trigger, not yet. “Are you sure, Chris?”
“He’ll do it,” said Chris. “Look, we’ll- we’ll catch up later, okay? I’ll be fine.”
Sheva looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn’t. The barrel under Jill’s chin made the stakes clear.
“I’ll find you,” she promised Chris. “Don’t die until then.”
Chris' gaze remained on Jill and the gun wedged under her chin. He took a shuddering breath. “I won’t.”
“Enough,” said Wesker, growing impatient. Too much stalling, too much unbearable heat in his bones. “I won't ask you again. Get out. Now.”
This time, Sheva obeyed, albeit reluctantly, backing up until the dark of the hallway beyond closed over her. Albert stared at her to make sure she had moved out of sight, and only then did he turn back to a very distraught-looking Chris. He’d received three blows in quick succession: Jill was alive, but under Albert’s control, and her utility could no longer protect her from Albert.
Alone with Chris now - well, symbolically; Jill was more like furniture than a human being in her current state - Albert could finally indulge. He lifted a hand and crooked a finger.
“Come here, Chris.”
Chris visibly hesitated, his boots scuffing against the floor as he took one half-hearted step forward. “You gonna kill me, Wesker?”
“In due time,” said Albert, hand still extended, finger still making a come-hither motion. “I suggest you don’t dawdle. That trigger finger of hers is very sensitive.”
Cursing under his breath, Chris took another step forward, then another, so stiff he looked as though he could pass for a marble statue. It took him almost a minute to reach Albert. Though Albert was feeling distinctly impatient today, the hesitation was amusing enough for him to allow.
“Turn around,” he said, enjoying the way Chris’ eyes widened.
“Why?” he asked, gaze sliding between Albert and Jill. Testing boundaries, clearly.
“Because if you don’t, this reunion will be dreadfully short for Jill.”
Chris sucked in a breath. Slowly, he turned around, hands fisted so hard at his sides that his knuckles were bleached white.
Albert closed what little distance remained between them and raised his hands to Chris’ shoulders, holding him still, his gloved fingers biting into warm flesh. The contact made him shudder. An unacceptable loss of control, but there wasn’t much to be done about it right now.
“Don’t move,” he instructed. “And try to relax.”
He worked his fingers into the hard muscles of Chris’ trapezius and massaged lightly. This did nothing to soothe the tension out of Chris. Made it worse, if anything.
“I did say to relax, didn't I?”
With a chuckle, Albert leaned forward and pressed his face against Chris' nape, inhaling deep, sucking in the scent of Chris. Omegas were usually more floral or sweet, but Chris’ scent was decidedly masculine - and Albert liked that, the thought that Chris’ very body rejected the feminine ideal of an omega and would still capitulate to an alpha like Albert. At the end of the day, regardless of any masculinity, he was still an omega, still the receptor, a warm place for an alpha to bury their cock, and no fighting against his designation would change that.
Chris shuddered at the contact to his scent gland. Albert slid his tongue over it, and that made Chris shudder even harder. So responsive, thought Albert. His cock had already begun to swell at first detection of Chris’ scent, but he was so hard now that his trousers were visibly tented. The pressure of it was almost unbearable.
“Can you smell me, Chris?” he asked in a rumble, lightly closing his teeth over Chris' nape, applying an uncharacteristically gentle bite. He didn’t want to mark Chris there just yet; that place was designated for mating. He would bury his knot in Chris first, have him writhe on it. “When we first met, I remember the way your pupils dilated. A young, little omega that fancied his boss.” Chris wasn’t so young and little anymore, but those things still felt applicable when compared to Albert. “I was polite enough to ignore it, but I wondered then, and I wonder now, how you pictured us together. Was I pushing you face down into a pillow? Mounting you in my office, over my desk? Were you begging for my knot?”
A tremble slid down Chris' spine, wracking his entire body. “I didn’t,” he choked out. “I didn’t think about-”
“Omegas don't look at alphas like that if they’re only courting innocent thoughts.” Albert grazed his teeth over Chris’ scent gland and slid his hands down Chris’ back, curling his fingers around Chris’ hips. “Whether you admit it or not, you wanted me to be your alpha. You hungered for it.”
Chris swallowed audibly. “Well, I don’t now.”
“Don’t you?” He idly ground the hard bulge of his cock against Chris’ backside. Not something he would usually do with an audience, but he was rapidly losing control now that he had free access to Chris’ body. “I can smell your arousal.” He moved his lips to Chris’ ear, kissing the warm shell. “I can feel you getting wet for me.”
“No, I-” Chris’ protest faltered. His hands moved to the fingers on his hips like he wanted to pry them off, but he couldn’t seem to will himself to do it. “I hate you. I fucking hate you.”
“They do say there’s a fine line…”
“Not like that,” Chris bit out, his head dropping forward as Albert’s clothed cock rubbed against the rapidly dampening backside of his trousers. His face was delightfully red. “I don’t want this, not after everything you’ve done.”
Albert laughed softly. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” He leaned back just enough to address Jill, who was stationed far too close for Wesker’s liking. “Jill, head upstairs. Chris and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart, and we need the privacy.”
Her footsteps echoed through the cavernous underground. Chris tensed at the reminder of her presence, and only relaxed a fraction once the sound of her exit had faded.
It was at this point Chris could have fled or tried to fight Albert; Jill was no longer in immediate danger, after all, and his partner was just around the corner. But he remained where he was, legs slightly spread to accommodate the rutting against his ass. Albert couldn’t tell if it was from fear or genuine interest, and the distinction didn’t really matter to him anyway.
Now that they were well and truly alone, Wesker let loose a groan, the sound fanning over Chris’ ear, a proclamation of heat and hunger. He ground his cock against Chris a little more firmly, his fingers venturing lower to undo the front of Chris' trousers. The boy allowed it. Or, at least, he didn’t try to resist.
The moment he was able to do so, Albert slid one gloved hand past the waistband of Chris’ trousers and closed it over the warm wetness below, sliding his fingers through the plush folds of Chris’ cunt, spreading them open. The touch elicited a whimper from Chris, his hips jerking, and that left Wesker so hard it felt as though his cock might just split in two. Still, he continued his idle exploration of Chris’ cunt, rolling his thumb over the man’s swollen clit and pressing the tips of his fingers to Chris wet, open entrance, teasing him with the promise of thrusting inside.
It’d been such a long time since Albert had slept with an omega, much less one he was sincerely, deeply attracted to, that just touching Chris was making him unbearably ravenous. His mind was becoming threadbare, his thoughts coming in in an uncharacteristic jumble. He’d never lost control like this before.
“Chris,” he breathed. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Ah- mpph, need something inside me, please, fuck, I can’t, please.” Arousal had clearly overtaken Chris’ coherence. He jerked against Wesker’s fingers, grinding his throbbing clit against Albert’s thumb.
Needy little thing.
He gave Chris’ clit a pinch, and the man cried out so loud that Sheva - provided she was still in the vicinity - probably thought he was being tortured.
“So sensitive,” he murmured. “I think I’d like to have a taste of it.”
Without warning, he seized Chris about the waist and simply hauled him over his shoulder, letting him hang there with his pants and underwear around his thighs and wet cunt on display. It would have been humiliating if there had been anyone to see. Perhaps he should have kept Jill around as a witness… but he wasn’t about to call her back now.
He brought Chris into one of the side halls and deposited him on a tomb, throwing Chris’ legs immediately over one shoulder so he could get to his cunt. His mouth descended before Chris had the chance to process what was going to happen, his lips moulding over his cunt, around Chris’ engorged clit, sucking firmly. Another cry tore out of Chris, this one even louder and shriller. He tasted just as good as he smelled, salty and musky and faintly sweet.
The stone tomb creaked under them while he ravaged Chris with broad strokes of his tongue, sliding it through the sensitive folds of Chris’ cunt. The fact they were fucking on top of someone's final resting place was an oddly compelling realisation. Albert was desecrating their tomb with Chris’ body, and Chris was letting him - something he would have thought beyond the boy until now. But any inhibitions he might’ve had clearly yielded to something more primal.
He ate Chris out like a man starved, sucking on his folds and his clit and licking him from perineum to clit again and again, until Chris had begun to cry prettily from the overstimulation. He applied his teeth, gently so to not cause any real damage, and that made Chris’ back bow and his cries turn into a keen.
Beautiful, thought Albert dazedly, dragging his eyes away from Chris’ cunt to look at his face. He was a flushed, sweaty, tear-streaked wreck, and Albert hadn’t even gotten his cock into him yet. Beautiful.
His mouth remained latched onto Chris’ pussy, sucking idly while his attention otherwise remained on Chris face and the way his eyelashes fluttered and stuck to his wet cheeks, the way a fresh spill of tears carved a path down the curve of his jaw and dampened his neck and hair. There was no little amount of saliva as well, Chris' lips and chin shiny with it. He was a wreck, and Albert had been the one to make him that way.
Then Chris’ thighs began to shudder, and Albert knew he was close. If he were a kinder man, he would have given Chris the release of an orgasm right there, while he was on the precipice of it, clit throbbing against Albert’s tongue. But he withdrew instead, leaving Chris hips twitching and his eyes open and wide with confusion. He looked dazedly at Albert, seeming unconcerned with the degrading position he was in, legs spread and wet, pink cunt displayed.
“Not yet,” Albert rasped, hands shaking faintly as he undid his own trousers at long, long last, freeing his aching cock. It was rigid, flushed red, veins throbbing and head beaded with pre-come. The knot hadn’t swollen yet, but he didn’t expect that would take long once he was inside Chris. “You’ll come on my cock, or not at all.”
“Just-” Chris kicked off his own pants and underwear, his legs falling open. The perfect image of a needy omega. “Hurry up, I can’t- it’s too much.”
“I know,” Albert soothed, even as his own hunger reached a peak, breaths coming in choppy pants as he got himself into position between Chris’ spread legs.
He would have liked to say he maintained some modicum of self-control when he pressed into Chris, but it was like a cracked dam breaking - the moment the head of his cock made contact with those soft, wet folds, he found his hips snapping against Chris’ ass, burying his cock to the hilt. Not the slow fuck he had intended on, but he was too busy rutting into Chris like a feral animal to be bothered by it. His hands curled around Chris’ hips for leverage as he plunged into that perfect, gripping heat. He’d never felt anything so divine. This was the real ascension of a god, the complete yielding of another, the warm heat of them squeezing around your cock. This was the best throne he would ever claim.
The sound of their bodies joining was obscene, the loud, wet slap of flesh on flesh. Albert relished it. Such a base sentiment, perhaps, but it was the music to which he was making Chris writhe and come on his cock. He leaned his mouth against the side of Chris’ neck and panted there while he bullied the sensitive nerves clustered shallowly within Chris’ cunt, grinding against them with every inward stroke. His fingers found Chris’ clit to resume stroking that as well.
The stimulation was clearly too much for Chris, because he went as taut as a bow and began to shudder all over, his clit throbbing and insides fluttering rhythmically. Additional moisture joined the deluge already between his thighs. The moan that crawled out of him was surprisingly low, soft like a prayer. And that too was beautiful.
“There we are,” Albert breathed. “Coming on my cock, just like I knew you would.”
He continued rocking into Chris through his orgasm, his hunger satiated enough for his desperate rutting to transition into gentle thrusts. The base of his cock had begun to swell. But not yet, he wouldn’t come yet, he wouldn’t knot Chris until he dragged at least a few more orgasms out of the boy.
He eased his grip on Chris’ waist and found he’d left a perfect imprint of his hands on Chris’ hips. The thought that they would linger and rub against the waistband of Chris' trousers every time he moved was delicious. He curled his hands around Chris’ thighs next and pushed them wider apart, giving him room to drive his cock deeper, into depths no one else had ever touched.
As he continued to rut, he ran his lips up Chris’ exposed throat and applied a bite to his adams apple, then another just under his jaw, tasting his throbbing pulse. He licked up sweat and salt and groaned softly against Chris’ neck, a feasting animal. The increasing sensitivity of his cock was so overwhelming that he barely remembered to roll his thumb between Chris’ legs.
“Come for me again,” he gasped out, his words far more ragged than they’d ever been before. He’d taken near-death with more poise than this. “I want to feel your cunt squeeze around me, I want you wetter, so come again for me, my dear omega.”
He wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. Maintaining composure didn’t seem important right now.
The pet name made Chris bite his bottom lip, his glazed eyes meeting Albert’s through the heat and haze. He took Albert’s hand and held on, an oddly sweet gesture, all things considered, but omegas were known to get affectionate with the alphas they were mating with.
Mating.
The word had been so perfunctory to Albert until this, even with his last beau. It hadn’t carried the heat it now did.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, because he knew Chris would like it, and he was oddly invested in giving Chris what he wanted right now. “My darling. My dear Chris. Come for me, let me feel you flutter around me.”
And that did it. Chris’ fingers and toes curled, his limbs shifted restlessly, and he squeezed so tight around Albert that he had to stop moving mid-thrust. His warm, silken walls were a vice Albert was more than happy to be trapped in. He leaned his flushed cheek against Chris’ shoulder and held there a moment to catch his breath, feeling an uncharacteristic sweat on his brow. It was only through great exertion that he sweated at all these days. What a pleasant surprise that fucking Chris had been enough to make his skin bead with it.
“One more,” he murmured against Chris’ clavicle. “You’ll give me one more, and then I’ll knot you.”
“Please,” Chris rattled out. “Knot me, I need it-”
“I know. I know.” His fingers, thoroughly wet now, resumed their circling on Chris’ clit. “But you’ll give me one more. You can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?”
An overwrought sob tore from Chris’ throat. “Y-yes.”
Albert smiled with his teeth. “Good.”
His thrusting resumed, slow and grinding now that he was focused on teasing Chris into another orgasm. His cock was so hard, so eager that holding back was actively painful, but he wouldn’t let himself come yet, wouldn’t let the knot develop. Chris owed him one more orgasm.
He pinched the clit lightly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and watching with satisfaction as Chris whimpered and writhed. His legs kicked helplessly. He’d already come twice, and Albert could tell he was close to his third despite that. Omega sensitivity truly was a thing to behold. He’d known some of them were more sensitive than others, but he’d always suspected Chris would be on the other side of the spectrum - clearly an incorrect assumption. He gleefully watched Chris’ face crack with euphoria as he pinched and rubbed Chris' clit and used shallow thrusts to abuse Chris' sweet spot.
A rattling gasp was all the warning he received before Chris abruptly tensed up, his eyes rolling back and walls fluttering around Albert’s cock. And Chris was still in the throes of this orgasm when Albert picked up the pace of his thrusts, holding Chris’ hips down against the sarcophagus lid as he fucked him with renewed vigour. He let loose now, making no attempt to hold back his encroaching knot, thrusting in deep and hard, seeking the climax he’d spent so long denying himself. It’d been well worth the wait: Chris was perfect like this, limp and blissed out while Albert railed him through oblivion.
He slid his hands under Chris’ knees to push them back against the man’s shoulders, folding him double so he could bury his cock to the hilt with greater ease. He wanted his knot inside Chris, to get trapped within his walls. And if he had to bully it past any initial resistance, so be it; he would find space in Chris for it.
His mouth unconsciously sought the soft flesh of Chris’ nape, which Chris contorted himself to offer, head bowed in submission to his alpha. A sight that made Albert salivate. He tore his teeth into the offered flesh and stilled inside Chris’ body, his knot ballooning and stretching Chris impossibly wider. He pumped the man full of his seed, a low groan slithering out around his teeth.
For a moment, Albert couldn’t think, could only feel, his awareness narrowed to the heat and tight clench of Chris’ body. And then he slowly came back to himself, becoming cognizant of the filth between his legs and blood sharp and hot on his tongue. He’d bitten Chris so deep he’d broken the flesh. A perfect ring of teeth on his nape, encircling his scent gland.
A mating bite.
There were implications in that, but Albert was too disoriented to concern himself with them right now. He would think on them later, and perhaps examine what advantages - and disadvantages - they afforded him. He was distantly aware that alphas couldn’t kill their mates… but while killing Chris had been a possibility, he was much more taken with the idea of keeping him now. A god and his first worshipper.
It was almost ten minutes before his knot diminished enough for him to draw out, which still wasn't enough time for either of them to fully recover from the exertion.
“Three times,” Albert murmured. “I knew you had it in you.”
He removed his glasses briefly to wipe his brow on a sleeve. He was a sweaty, trembling mess. If Chris hadn’t been so much worse off, he might have been humiliated by his own ragged appearance and the way his usually nimble fingers fumbled when he went to fix his trousers and do up the zipper.
“This isn’t over, Chris,” he murmured, leaning down to take Chris by the chin. “Let's see how well your partner does against Jill. You can rest here, in the meantime.”
Chris barely seemed to register his words. “Jill?”
“That’s right.” Albert stroked his cheek, the sweet gesture incongruent with his words. “I’d much prefer you come to me alone.” He pressed a kiss to Chris’ forehead, just underneath his damp hairline. “And you will come to me, Chris. If not through your instincts, then that desperate need of yours to play hero. When you do, I’ll take you as the new world dawns.”
He let his fingers venture up into Chris’ hair, stroking gently at the crown of his head, before he withdrew. He’d spent far longer here than the seven minutes he’d intended to waste on teaching Chris a lesson with Jill. What he’d gotten out of it was well worth the time sink, however.
He gave Chris one last, lingering look, admiring the mess of semen between his legs and his ravaged pussy, before turning to leave. Jill would be sent to dispatch that woman soon, and all going well, it would be Chris alone who would journey to the heart of his operation. He didn’t need cling-ons present for their reunion. It would just be him, Chris, and the new world.
“Forever intertwined,” he murmured to himself.