Work Text:
Albert opened his eyes. Something he shouldn’t have been able to do, given that he had just died, but he did - he opened his eyes, which weren’t burning, weren’t sizzling to nothing in the lava, weren’t framed by sticky, writhing Uroboros.
He slowly sat up. Uroboros writhed under his skin, congregating around his heart like a shield. He had still evolved, then, but the integration had changed. And it shouldn’t have; you couldn’t de-mutate without erasing the virus, but he was back to his standard height, with limbs fully intact and skin smooth and unblemished in the places Uroboros had scoured it away.
He slowly looked around. A black, rolling fog surrounded him, preternaturally cold and thick enough to make his lungs ache. It slid along his arms and back and crept over what little skin was visible, feeling alive in a way that put Albert on edge. Was this thing, this fog, responsible for his current situation? Had it dragged him from the claws of death and rebuilt him? It must have been powerful indeed to reverse the damage done by the volcano and change the way Uroboros integrated with his body. That would make it a useful ally, provided it didn’t have hostile intentions.
His surroundings were what looked like a clearing in a forest, quiet and dimly lit by a hovering full moon. It smelt of pine and rain, fresh and crisp. He dragged himself to his feet to better examine where he was, and the fog whispered up his legs, coiling around them like a nest of vipers.
Something in his peripheral moved- he rounded on it in an instant, a coil of tendrils erupting from his left arm in preparation to repel any threats. But the thing he rounded on appeared stationary. He might have mistaken it for a tree in the dark if not for the strange, hook-like appendages that extended from the black mass in its middle. There was something there that might have been a head, but it was too ambiguous to tell.
Uroboros slowly receded into his body. The Entity didn’t speak. It twitched gently, like branches swaying in the wind.
“Well,” Albert prompted, narrowing his eyes at it. “Are you going to explain what this is?”
The twitching continued unabated.
He knew this creature, whatever it was, had to be responsible for his recovery, so he couldn’t be overly annoyed by its silence. Perhaps it couldn’t speak at all. Albert had interacted with enough creatures whose mutations had stripped them of their ability to speak to know how to navigate the situation.
“If you can’t explain,” he said, “Then show me.”
The fog rolled in on him again, soft black currents spilling across the ground before climbing up his frame. Albert remained calm while it encased him. It drifted around his body in a languid swirl that chilled him to the bone, and before long, it had covered him entirely. When it receded, he found himself standing instead in the Raccoon City Police Department - except, even with a cursory inspection, it was apparent this wasn’t the police station he was familiar with, not least of all because the station should have been a ragged husk of itself after the bombs.
It looked immediately like a recreation rather than the genuine article. An accurate one, but with differences that were apparent to Albert at a glance. He’d spent too much time in this building not to recognise things being off: the entrance hall being larger, the front desk being a different shade of wood, the floor lacking some of the familiar scuff marks he’d seen every time he entered. It was an imperfect re-creation, but impressive nonetheless.
The place held some nostalgia, as reluctant as he was to admit it. While the pay had been abysmal, he had been fond of his little piggies and had enjoyed turning them into a functioning unit, with different strengths employed in different missions, moving them around like chess pieces. He’d held some of them in higher regard than others, but they’d all had their role in his merry-go-round.
His gaze strayed to the door that led to the S.T.A.R.S. office, a place that struck him with nostalgia even at a distance. The memory of one man - his best man - burrowed into his thoughts, sticky with sentiment and intimacy, and he wrinkled his nose in disdain. After all this time, he really should have excised those old affections. They were nothing but a burden.
“An inconvenience even in death, Chris,” he muttered to himself, before the faint rumble of footsteps tore his attention away from his old point man.
He turned just in time to see an unfamiliar face emerge from the front door, take one look at him, and then turn right back around and flee. Albert understood implicitly why they were there, and he smiled.
So this was the creature's game.
“Since you so kindly recovered me from the throes of death, I suppose I could do this for you,” he said, speaking as though in conversation with the Entity. He assumed it could understand him, since it had brought him here upon request. “It'll do wonders for my mood, in any case.”
With that, he turned toward the door and began the hunt.
It didn't take Albert long to adjust to the situation. Being the soldier of the Entity wasn’t the worst thing, given that the alternative was being dead. It provided a much-needed opportunity to vent his frustrations with mankind on the various humans that ended up being tossed into his arena. Better yet, the offerings provided by the Entity would occasionally have a familiar face - Jill, Ada, Rebecca - and he found great pleasure in tracking them down and impaling them on a hook.
The Entity seemed pleased with his efforts. It would occasionally allow him to choose his arena, which was - more often than not - the Raccoon City Police Department, a place he knew so well that it rendered hunting there trivial. It was large, which was somewhat to his detriment, but the Entity had knocked down enough walls to make hiding less effective. In any case, he knew how to use the expansive layout to his advantage.
The only thing that really bothered him about his situation was the absence of Chris. He’d seen everyone from Jill to Sheva, but not Chris - a strange thing indeed. But he kept an eye out, glancing over every new face and imagining all the things he would do when Chris finally arrived, all the hungers he would whet. They had only escalated after the volcano.
When weeks passed without any sign of the man, Albert began to grow frustrated by his conspicuous absence. There were people from his world that he hadn’t even met showing up - how was Chris not among them? Surely he hadn’t escaped this winnowing again?
He’d begun to think he and the Entity needed to have a talk - or whatever equivalent it could manage - when a flash of green caught his peripheral in the main hall of the Police Department. He turned his head, and there Chris was, just standing there, staring at him. The shock on his face was profoundly satisfying. And when Albert turned to advance on him, so was his visible unease.
A cursory glance told him Chris was unarmed. No knife or firearms attached to his belts, no rockets to use as a hail mary. And, as his footsteps echoed through the hall, Albert became acutely aware of how quiet it was - he couldn't hear any footsteps but his own, nor the rustle of clothing or the chug of a generator. Apparently Chris didn’t have any fellow survivors to lend him aid either.
Chris was alone. Perhaps, simply by thinking it, Albert had managed to convey his desires to the Entity, and it had paid him in full.
“Chris,” he hissed, and Chris’ gaze whipped in the direction of the nearest generator. It wouldn’t do him much good. Without fellow survivors to scatter Albert’s focus, there was no scenario where Chris evaded him long enough to escape.
He stepped closer, and Chris made a futile attempt to flee.
“Long time, no see, Wesker,” Chris called over his shoulder as he hauled across the room. “How did the volcano taste?”
A low growl slithered up Albert’s throat. Still offering quips, even under these circumstances. The gall of this boy.
“You think yourself funny, do you, Chris?”
He wouldn’t think it so funny when Albert started a fire and shoved his face into it.
Chris clamoured his way up the stairs two at a time, and Albert hastened to follow. With his speed, it didn’t take him long to catch up.
“I am funny,” said Chris, before throwing down a pallet, much to Albert’s displeasure.
It shattered without issue, fragments of wood spilling across the floor. “You’re only making this worse on yourself,” he called, stepping over the mess to follow Chris onto the second floor.
Chris had disappeared through a doorway, but the building was so quiet that he could track Chris from his breathing, the rustle of his clothing, any of those tiny, involuntary sounds prey made when it thought itself hidden. He just had to pause and strain his ears.
His attention slid to the doorway leading toward the S.T.A.R.S. office. There. A strange direction for Chris to choose, all things considered; he would have thought Chris opposed to the reminder. Or perhaps he’d already walked these halls so many times that the effect had eased off. It was a displeasing thought that other killers had taken their pound of flesh before he could, but he doubted any of them had gotten Chris alone, at least. That was a privilege extended only to him.
There was breathing from beyond the door, faint but detectable. Albert couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from, but that didn’t matter; either way, Chris had conveniently cornered himself for Albert. He just needed to chase him into his office and then there’d be nowhere for him to run.
He took one step over the threshold of that door and-
THWACK.
He staggered back, his ears ringing and vision flashing white. The shattered remains of something spilled down his face and chest and skittered across the floor in jagged fragments.
Chris’ guitar, he registered vaguely.
He had enough forethought to remain in the doorway so Chris couldn't dart past him, one hand curled around the frame for stability. Once his vision had righted itself, he picked the shattered remains of the guitar off his coat and pelted them at the floor, snarling and grinding his teeth. Smart. But it didn't change the fact that Chris had gotten himself cornered.
The moment he’d detangled himself, he saw Chris was winding up with a monitor now, those powerful arms making easy work of the weight. Apparently he’d entered just for the projectiles. A little annoying, but it wouldn’t be difficult to evade them.
“Is this really your best effort?” asked Albert as he advanced, his voice wry.
The monitor came flying at him and he batted it away, sending it smashing into the ground. Glass and electronic components spilled across the floor.
“You already saw my best effort,” said Chris, jumping across a desk to put more distance between him and Albert. “You didn’t seem impressed, but I guess you were busy with other things.”
Albert ground his teeth. “Cute,” he said, in the tone of a man who had never found anything less cute.
“Have you been here long?” asked Chris, like they were having a conversation. “It’s been a few weeks for me.”
Albert paused, then continued his pursuit. “Much the same. I’m surprised the Entity didn’t present you to me sooner.” He wasn’t able to keep the bitter note out of his voice.
“Jealous that the other killers had a go at me first?”
“Disappointed,” Albert corrected him. “That this reunion was postponed for seemingly no reason.”
He was almost upon Chris when the man seized Rebecca’s medical bag and threw it at him. He caught it and pelted it right back, prompting Chris to duck and roll.
“Good,” said Chris, leaping up and racing for the door.
Before he could reach it, Albert caught him by the wrist and swung him bodily into his old office, sending him slamming into the desk, scattering papers and making the awards hanging on the wall shudder on their hooks. The boy hadn’t quite recovered his bearings before Albert was upon him, pinning him down with a hand around his throat. The warmth of Chris' neck gave him such a thrill. He squeezed it, marvelling at the pulse pounding against his palm, perceptible even through the leather of his glove.
He leaned down, putting them face-to-face. “You had to know we would meet eventually. The others had to have told you.”
“Yeah,” Chris breathed. “Gave me time to think about how little it matters, in the grand scheme of things.”
Albert’s brow furrowed. He squeezed his fingers, crushing the vulnerable cartilage of Chris’ windpipe under his palm.
“How so? I could flay you alive, Chris. I could subject you to unimaginable pain.”
“And I’d still be whole by the end of it,” Chris strangled out.
The corner of Albert’s mouth curled, displaying his molars. “Physically, perhaps.”
“I’m already not whole psychologically,” said Chris. “Because of you.”
Albert drew a slow breath in through his nose. “Then let's see how much more brittle I can make you.”
“Go right ahead,” said Chris, like his pulse wasn’t skipping against Albert’s palm; like Albert couldn’t hear his heart pounding. “Kill me. Do it.”
Albert’s smile looked more like a snarl. Standard torture didn’t feel adequate. Certainly, he could break Chris’ bones, make him bleed, make him whimper, but the other killers were already doing that to him. It would be more of the same.
“Perhaps later,” he said in a purr, leaning down to brush his lips over Chris’. The man froze, and there it was - the dread he’d been hoping for. “The Entity brought me here to indulge, and that’s what I will do. Just like old times, Chris.”
“Huh,” Chris breathed, his hands moving to Albert’s shoulders.
He wouldn’t be getting very far with pushing him off, but Albert would relish the attempt. He would teach this boy a long-overdue lesson in not underestimating the depths of his cruelty. Whatever fond memories they had in this office, the long days spent indulging in each other’s bodies, he would crush to nothing. He couldn’t allow those wistful memories to survive for either of them.
“You can struggle, if you like,” he murmured, moving his free hand to Chris’ waist and pulling at his fastenings. “It won’t do you much good, but I’ll enjoy the effort.”
He leaned down to press a kiss to those slack lips, swiping his tongue over the tight seam of them to try to force them open. He thought Chris might bite, or push, or thrash, but instead he parted his lips and pressed back, like he wanted this-
Did he want this?
Albert was so shocked that, for a moment, it was only Chris moving, his warm lips moulding over Albert’s and tongue pressing into his mouth. Then he remembered himself long enough to pull back. He half-expected it to have been a (successful) attempt to throw him off guard, but Chris’ face was flushed in a way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but arousal. Albert stared at it. A pretty, full-faced blush that felt like a slap under the circumstances.
“What?” said Albert, his voice thick with indignation.
“More,” Chris breathed, soft and wanton, which made Albert want to kiss and throttle him until he was gasping.
“More?”
“Yes,” Chris murmured, head falling back in invitation. “Take me, fuck me, please.”
Oh, he hated this man, hated him, loathed him, wanted to peel his skin from his flesh and twist his head until the vertebrae snapped, and instead Albert gave him what he wanted. He smashed their lips together in a ravenous kiss.
“Damn you,” he snarled past those lips, but all Chris did was kiss back, arching up into him. Against all odds, Chris had managed to manipulate their game into a stalemate.
They got their clothes out of the way in short order, Chris spreading his legs for him as he slathered his cock in spit and got himself into position. It was an inadequate form of lubrication, but Chris still shuddered and moaned as he pressed inside, his arms curling around Albert’s shoulders and holding onto him like a lifeline. How ironic.
He was boiling with anger yet terribly, painfully aroused at the same time. His head swam with it all. There was no one else who could do this to him, make him lose control like this.
“How could you possibly still want this?” he breathed out between thrusts, his hands moving to seize Chris by the hips, pulling him into them.
Chris shuddered and writhed under him. “This shit do- doesn’t usually make sense.”
It certainly didn’t. If anything made sense, Chris would have been under him in a far different capacity, moaning and writhing for an entirely different reason. But he couldn’t bring himself to complain about the situation overmuch. Not with Chris clenching on him, wet and sweltering inside, his body gripping Albert on every pull out like it couldn’t stand not being full.
“Harder,” Chris said, the word barely audible over the clash of their bodies, and Albert gave him that too.
The desk creaked with the rhythm of their bodies, in the same way it had all those years ago. He pressed hot, wet kisses to Chris’ neck and throat, tasting him, while Chris arched his neck to offer more skin. The question continued to plague him - how could he still want this? - but with the taste of Chris on his lips and the warmth of him wrapped around Albert, inside and out, the answer no longer seemed quite so important.
A high keen spilled from Chris’ throat, a sound Albert had thought he would never again be able to pull from Chris. It satiated him in ways he hadn’t realised he’d been hungry for. He tightened his grip on Chris and pounded into him, panting against his neck, letting out his own little sounds - groans and gasps - as he hurtled toward his climax.
“Good boy,” he murmured, a force of habit. “Good boy, Chris.”
Chris practically vibrated under him, his cock a hot, hard line against Albert's hip. When Albert wrapped his hand around it and stroked it from base to tip, that, too, was a force of habit. Even after everything that had transpired between them, he wasn’t inclined to leave Chris unsatisfied. At least, not in the heat of things.
He stroked him ruthlessly, hard and fast, in time with his thrusts. Pre-come smeared his glove. He gathered it and used it as additional lubrication, sliding his fingers up and down Chris’ shaft with greater ease. The man gasped and bucked up into his grip, and Albert leaned down to shove his tongue past Chris' lips while they were open. He tasted every inch of the inside of Chris’ mouth, sliding his tongue along Chris' molars, over his tongue, tracing the familiar ridges of his palate, the kiss wet and desperate in a way it had never been in the past.
He had missed this, and what a terrible thing that was.
The stimulation both in and outside of Chris was clearly too much, because he didn’t need to maintain his stroking for long before Chris suddenly seized under him, a violent shudder wracking his body. He spilled thick, sticky strings of come into Albert’s fist, his hips lifting off the desk to fuck into the firm circle of Albert’s fingers. His nails bit into Albert’s back, the only leverage Chris had to keep himself upright while he shuddered through his climax.
It was the sting of Chris’ nails and the rhythmic clenching of Chris’ body that ultimately drew Albert over the edge. He bowed over the man, forehead against his shoulder, and fucked his seed into him with desperate snaps of his hips, driving it deep. His entire body quivered in that involuntary way it always did during a particularly violent climax.
Then he slumped, going uncharacteristically limp in Chris’ arms, depleted of his strength. Albert had a near non-existent refractory period, but even he needed a moment to recover after sex as intense as that.
He sucked in deep, needy breaths and closed his eyes, his head lolling as though it had gone weightless. It had been a long time since his mind had last felt so warm and empty. The quiet of it was uncharacteristic.
Chris was equally as still under him, his hot breaths sliding through Albert’s hair. Albert was only distantly aware that the golden blond strands had fallen over his forehead and glued themselves to his skin.
Surprisingly, it was Chris who found the energy to speak first.
“Have you tried escaping this place?”
Albert slowly opened his eyes to look down at him. “No,” he said. “I benefit from this arrangement.”
Chris snorted. “Sounds like you just can’t find an exit.”
That made Albert wrinkle his nose. It was true, but he hadn’t gone looking especially hard.
“I don’t recall you being this bad at pillow talk before,” said Albert dryly.
“Yeah, well, we weren’t trapped in some alternate dimension before,” said Chris. His head lulled back, eyes sliding to the ceiling. “I’ve been trying to find a way out since I arrived, but I’ve found nothing so far.”
“And why is that my problem?”
“We’re both stuck here.”
“I’m in a better situation than you are,” said Albert, his mouth curling into a smile. He pressed a kiss under Chris’ jaw. “Don’t think just because you seduced me that I’ll assist your escape.”
“You really are the worst,” Chris mumbled, glaring at him. “The Entity is trying to destroy me, then you won’t get the satisfaction of doing it yourself.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Albert gently took Chris’ chin in hand and tilted it back, admiring the flush on Chris' cheeks and his messy brown hair. He looked artfully dishevelled. “And if I find anything that might help you along the way, well, I might be inclined to tell you, for a price.”
As far as Albert was concerned, Chris already owed him. This would just increase his debt.
“A price?” Chris repeated warily.
“To be decided by me,” said Albert, who already had several ideas. Some of them involving the hook, even. Just because he’d fucked Chris, didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pursue him just as fervently as the other rats.
Chris’ jaw tightened briefly before he forced it to relax, shifting his cheek into Albert's palm. “Fine.”
Albert's smile sharpened. “According to the other killers, some of them have been here for eons.” He grazed a kiss over Chris’ lips. “So I expect you’ll be trying for a very long time. But that’ll just give us the opportunity to… resolve some things, won’t it.”
Not a question. Chris didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Chris groaned softly, likely with the knowledge he would be getting the hook many, many times before escape became a glimmer on the horizon.
“As long as the sex wasn't a one-off,” muttered Chris.
Albert almost laughed. “Of course not, Chris. There’s more than revenge for the volcano to consider, which I will be getting eventually.”
“Good to know,” said Chris, though he didn’t sound enthused.
Albert slowly pushed himself upright and began to move, sliding in and out of Chris’ used hole. Still tight, despite everything. “Now then,” he said. “Let's see how many rounds we can go for before the Entity decides to separate us.”
Chris sighed and lifted his legs, wrapping them around Albert’s waist.