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Chris sucks in a breath as he’s led out into the yard where hundreds of other alphas flit about. Some run, some jog, some play basketball and some use a small amount of gym equipment supplied by the prison. The guard leading him unclicks his cuffs, waving him off with a cold, “Behave, Redfield.” He had been transferred from his jail cell after his trial to big boy prison , and it seemed very different.
The alphas here had a status quo. One you couldn’t get with people constantly coming and going. Chris immediately clocked different gangs and cliques, and some loners. He steps forward, eyeing each person within those groups.
They say when you get to prison, to go up to the biggest person in the yard and—what was it? Beat them up? Befriend them? Shit, Chris couldn’t remember. He clenches his fists, rubbing his wrists in an attempt to hide the anxiety he was feeling over that. He doubted any of these alphas would willingly let a suck-up join their midst as fresh meat, so he was going to have to exercise his strength as an ex-military Alpha.
He takes a few steps forward into the yard, crossing over to an empty table. He sits down at the edge of one of the benches, eyeing each person. There were a lot of big alphas, some bigger than he was. None of them gave off the vibe he was expecting though.
Chris is so caught up in his search for the biggest fish that he doesn’t notice when someone flops down on the other bench. “Hi,” the man says, honestly a lot more chipper than Chris would’ve expected, “I’m Forest.” Chris blinks in surprise as he snaps his head around to face the brunet.
“Oh. Hi. I’m Chris.” He offers up, immediately clocking this man as low in the hierarchy. Forest probably got by, friendly with everyone for the most part. Strong enough to defend himself if needed, but not belonging to any gang. “Before you ask, I’m in here for armed robbery.” Forest smiles at him, eyes full of mirth.
“Cool. You gonna be here for a while, then?”
“Yeah.” Chris huffs, taking a glance around before leaning in. “Say, who’s the most influential guy here?” Forest blinks, alarm filling his expression.
“Woah now. It’s a super bad idea to get mixed up with the Mastermind. Why don’t you just go suck up to Frost over there? He’s friendly enough.” Forest points to a man in a bandanna fashioned from some sort of shirt. He was chatting with a couple other alphas, presumably his friends. Chris knew that was probably the safer bet, but how does one acquire the nickname the mastermind?
“I’ll think about it.” Chris says vaguely, and Forest frowns. He obviously doesn’t like where this is going, but it is Chris’ skin, after all. He points over to a far corner of the yard where a couple of men sit playing chess. There’s a lean blonde on one side, a stocky brunet on the other. Chris would’ve assumed the larger man was the mastermind, if not for the fact that his face was furrowed in concentration with every move he took, thinking each action through. The blonde, however, moved his pieces nearly immediately—as if he had already run the actions in his mind. “Thanks, Forest.” Chris blinks gratefully at the man before hauling himself up from his seat, picking his way across the yard carefully avoiding anyone’s ‘territory’.
The smell of pheromones is thick in the center of the yard, but as Chris approaches his target, it fades. Neither man playing chess seemed interested in the dominance game. “Check.” The blonde says smoothly as he places his queen just a square diagonal to the brunet’s King, and the brunet groans.
“Fuck, man. Every time.” This earns a quirk of the lips from the blonde, who begins to reset the board for another round.
“Hey,” Chris hisses, “You. You’re ‘the mastermind’, right?” Two pairs of eyes snap up to look at him, one in shock and slight trepidation, the other complete neutrality. The blonde hums to himself as he pauses what he was doing, gracefully getting to his feet as if some sort of big cat.
“That is me.” Holy shit, he was a lot taller than Chris expected. Chris was an even six foot, but this man had nearly a head on him. Chris lets out a low growl, baring his fangs. The Mastermind crinkles his nose in disdain as Chris’ pheromones assault his nose, and then the fight is on.
Well, ‘fight’ would be an overstatement. Chris could barely get a punch in. The mastermind’s fist meets his left side and then the right, and when Chris is trying to block the blows with his arms, he gets a knee to the face. He yelps, clawing at the man’s arms as he’s tackled to the ground, blood dripping from his nose and mouth as he’s brutalized.
This obviously attracts attention and the fight only goes on for a few seconds before some guards break it up. The Mastermind pulls back as soon as the guards show their faces, wiping his bloody knuckles off on his orange scrubs. Chris groans softly and the brunet sighs, clambering to his feet and leaving the chess board behind as the Mastermind is dragged off by a couple of guards.
“Alright, let’s go, Redfield.” Damn, it’s the same guy from earlier. Chris groans as he’s hauled up by his armpits onto shaky limbs. He thinks he might vomit, he got hit so hard. That man might have looked rather twig-like, but he definitely could back up his reputation.
It probably would’ve been better to befriend him…
Chris was covered in dark bruises, and his nose had been dislocated, though not broken. It hurt like hell still, though, and all the nurse could give him was aspirin. By the time he was released from the beta nurse’s office, it was past dinner time and he was given no opportunity to get a meal.
He had been given an apologetic glance from the female prison guard, though, and she wished him luck dealing with Wesker—the Mastermind, presumably. It seemed the man’s reputation preceded him, and Chris should’ve done more research.
Chris supposed this was his punishment for picking a fight on day one. He shamefully limps into the showers, thoroughly cowed. No one messes with him, though, which he’s relieved by. He picks one of the furthest showers—not because he was ashamed of his body, but because he really didn’t want to deal with anyone else. There’s a small curtain to give some semblance of privacy, and so Chris uses it after undressing and turning the water on. Its blistering cold for the first minute, the brunet’s teeth chattering uncontrollably as it warms.
At least it warmed up at all.
He had been lucky enough to be given a bar of soap by one of the guards as a ‘welcome’ gift, and he was certainly going to guard that shit with his life. Chris valued his hygiene way too much to let someone rob him of it.
Chris suds himself up, only vaguely aware of what was happening around him as his body throbs in pain. Water flowing, chattering, some sort of metal clattering sound—probably the overused pipes. Chris sets his soap on a tiny groove in the wall as he begins to scrub his sides, grimacing as his fingers trace over the darkening bruises there.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses under his breath, nose wrinkled in annoyance. He had been bested by that fucking weirdo, and now everyone knew he was a weak alpha. At least it felt that way to him . No one else had bothered him, or even given him a glance. It was like he didn’t exist at all. Maybe that entire fucking thing was a bad idea… Chris never was known for his intelligence. That was why he ended up trying to rob a convenience store to pay rent before he got evicted.
He lost his job, too, after everything came out. Chris doubted he’d be getting anything that wasn’t minimum wage any time soon. So much for veteran’s assistance.
Chris is thrown from his thoughts as someone slips into his cubicle much too quickly for comfort, shoving him up against the tile wall. Chris begins to hiss and snarl, the tile cold against his cheek. His blue eyes flit backward and he can vaguely see the face of the blonde from earlier. “You already proved your point, motherfucker. Let go!” Chris bites out, earning a scoff from his attacker.
“You started this,” Wesker purrs right back, leaning forward to hiss in Chris’ ear, “I’m just making sure you know your place. ” The most terrifying part was that the blonde wasn’t emitting any pheromones at all. If Chris didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the man a beta—but no, Wesker just had great control over his own body and scent, which is tinged with a rather masculine smelling soap.
Chris lifts one foot to kick at the Mastermind, trying to forcefully dislodge his head from the palm holding it down. He yelps as his ankle is caught, a finely muscled hand traveling up his leg and forcing it over his attacker’s hip. The man’s blue eyes constrict in panic as he realizes just what Wesker has planned for him.
“I—I won’t let you bitch me, you ffucking prick.” Chris croaks, scrabbling against the man’s bare hips with dulled claws. His hands were too slicked with soap—he couldn’t get a proper grip on the blonde to push him off.
“Bitch you?” Wesker laughs, voice low, teasing; as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at all. “Oh, dear Christopher. I don’t want, nor need to bitch you. You’re going to be much more fun when you’re struggling to take my knot.”
Fuck! He knows my name already! Chris doesn’t have time to dwell on it as the man’s fat cockhead presses against his taut hole, forcing inward. Chris opens his mouth to scream in pain as his insides stretch unnaturally, but fingers are forced down his throat, muffling his cries. The pouring water doesn’t help either, hiding the blonde’s heavy breathing. Chris is crushed against the wall as Wesker ruts into him, the water doing little in the way of lube as tears stream down Chris’ face. He jerks weakly, though can get very little in way of leverage. A breathy groan leaves Wesker’s lips as he hilts himself fully, pausing to take in the feeling of Alpha ass. He was a bit too tight and scorching hot, clenched around Wesker’s cock as if he were trying to cut it off.
Chris bites down on the fingers stuffed in his mouth in retaliation as he sobs, but they just end up further down his throat, forcing him to gag and treading the fine line between discomfort and vomiting. His mind swims as Wesker begins to thrust, nails dug into Chris’ tanned, toned thigh. The blonde is slow at first, taking his time and feeling Chris out; deciding how he wants to play.
In some way, it was a mercy as Chris’ body loosened up around him, though not as nearly as easily as an Omega’s would’ve. Chris moans around the blonde’s fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggles to hold himself up on the tips of his toes, only one foot on the ground and barely there. The floor was too wet to get a proper hold. If Wesker let him go right then, he would go crashing to the floor.
The blonde’s breathing grows ragged rather quickly, knowing he has to finish up before the hour’s over. Chris can feel the man’s knot grinding against his virgin hole, sniveling and begging in muffled whines.
“Quiet,” Wesker huffs in his ear, “You’ll attract attention. Are you sure you want to be humiliated twice in one day?” Chris groans in reply, blue eyes struggling to meet the blonde’s as the knot pushes deeper with each thrust. He can feel it tugging and dragging—attempting to squeeze inside a space it doesn’t fit into—warmth explodes inside his guts as Wesker finally knots him, locking their bodies together. The only acknowledgement verbally that he came was the low moan that spills from his lips, the heavy panting in Chris’ ears.
Wesker’s soap slicked body presses hard against his, crowding him against the wall as he finally pulls his bloody fingers free, bite marks embedded deep in the skin. Chris groans as his leg is slowly released, surprisingly guiding him down to the floor instead of just letting him flop over.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re a natural.” Wesker wasn’t laughing, but the amusement was thick in his voice as he wrapped one hand around Chris’ cock and began to pump. He was already leaking, precum swirling down the drain between their feet. Chris whines and struggles, not wanting to cum on another alpha’s knot.
“St…stoooop,” Chris pleads, “A-ah—mmf!” Wesker’s hand is clasped over his mouth again to muffle his scream of pleasure as cum spurts from his tip, splattering the wall and floor. He clenches tight around Wesker’s knot, the pressure only heightened by his sudden orgasm. Wesker had only made him cum for his own pleasure and nothing else.
The man’s knot goes down within fifteen minutes, allowing Wesker to pull himself free. Rivulets of cum dislodge from Chris’ hole, staining his beautifully tanned thighs as he shakes. Wesker gives him a firm pat before sauntering off, leaving him behind as if nothing happened at all .
Chris shudders, trying to clean himself out with the short amount of time he had left to do so. Shower hour was almost up, and he couldn’t afford to have to do so with his cellmate right there over the toilet in their cell. “F-fuck…” He whines under his breath, knocking his head against the wall. Things just kept getting worse.
Chris’ cellmate had been a black haired Alpha, one much weaker than him. When he returned from the showers, however, new items had taken the place of the old ones. His heart drops as he registers that fucking chess set, the same one Wesker was playing with earlier. They let him keep that?! Regardless, the man had major connections, and Chris had put a giant red target on his back.
Now, Chris was glad he hadn’t eaten dinner. He thinks he might throw up if he had anything left. Fuck, he still might. He quietly slinks from the entrance to the empty side of the room, where only a metal frame bed sits. It was better just to go to bed and hope he was wrong, even though Chris knew very well he wasn’t.
Chris is roused from his rather fitful slumber by hands clawing at his thighs, pulling down his scrubs. He jolts awake, a snarl leaving his lips as he’s pinned with his arms beneath him. “Haven’t you proved yourself enough, you fucking knothead?” Chris bites, but Wesker doesn’t dignify him with a response. The blonde’s breathing is heavier than it was earlier, his pheromones finally coming out in some faint streams.
It’s enough to make Chris’ mind swim from the close proximity. Wesker was choking him without his hands. One of the man’s arms pinned his shoulders down, his other hand pulling apart Chris’ ass cheeks to access his filthy, already fucked hole. The brunet sucks in a ragged breath as Wesker thrusts into him, not bothering with easing either of them into it this time. Chris was still loose from earlier, swallowing up Wesker’s dick easily.
Pre coats Chris’ walls, thick globs slicking up the area as opposed to nothing. Wesker’s heavy balls needed draining once again, and Chris was just the alpha for the job, it seemed.
Wesker lets out a low growl as he humps into Chris’ tight ass hard, each thrust bruising his soft insides. “I’m gonna pump you full of pups,” he draws out, and Chris growls right back.
“Good luck with that,” Chris spits, back arching off the bed with a shuddering gasp as Wesker slams the tip of his cock directly into his sensitive prostate. “Fuck!”
This time, Wesker does laugh. As if he knows something Chris doesn’t. Or maybe it’s because he found a spot that makes Chris scream—yeah. That was probably it, considering he ruthlessly targets it after, not giving Chris a chance to breathe.
The brunet jerks and sobs beneath Wesker, legs shaking uncontrollably as he’s forcefully knotted for the second time. Wesker’s knot nestles up against his G-spot, the man grinding his hips just to hear the overstimulated whines that came from his ‘mate’. Chris shivers, his own cum staining his bed and his clothes as Wesker rolls him over, belly pumped full of Alpha cum.
“Please,” Chris groans, “a break. Please.” He feels pathetic begging, but it was like Wesker was trying to break him.
“Is this not enough of a break for you?” The Mastermind trills in Chris’ ear, lapping at the inside of it with happy, sloppy huffs. “I thought you were a big, strong alpha. You can’t take a little breeding? Pathetic.”
Yeah, Chris was feeling pretty pathetic right about now.
Chris spent most of his time knotted, or so it felt. Any time Wesker could drag him off, get him alone, he would. He was used to drain the man’s balls—or as Wesker so affectionately called it, breeding. That fucking idiot really thought he could get Chris pregnant if he tried hard enough. Wesker wasn’t even attempting to bitch him, either, which made the entire thing just more confusing.
Chris had come up with the reasoning that if he became an Omega, he’d be transferred to the Omega ward instead, and Wesker didn’t want that.
“My stomach hurts,” Chris complains as Wesker laps at his neck, right where a mating bite would go, if he cared enough. “Give me a break.”
Wesker huffs against his hickeyed neck, lightly scraping his teeth over Chris’ scent glands and breathing in deep. He did so every day, as if he were searching for something. Chris knew his scent wasn’t going to change; it had remained stable since he hit puberty.
“I have no plans of breeding you today.” Wesker offers him between nips, shifting his focus to mouth at Chris’ adams apple, the lovely hollow of his throat before drifting down towards his bitten collarbones. Chris feels only the slightest bit of relief at that, because obviously the horny blonde mutt planned on doing something to him.
It happened to be sucking on his chest. Chris groans as a rough, wet tongue rasps over his nipple, orange shirt dragged up to his slobber covered collarbones. Wesker nips and swirls his tongue, whining softly. In the beginning he had been silent, but as the weeks wore on he grew more vocal. More desperate. As if that foolish threat had cemented itself in Wesker’s mind as a real possibility, or that Wesker genuinely valued Chris as a mate. Not that Chris had ever seen Wesker with anyone else, or heard anything of the sort. Everyone seemed to avoid the overly-intelligent blonde like the plague, except a select few he had chosen to keep around.
Chris included, not that Chris had much of a choice himself.
The brunet grips Wesker’s shoulders, torn between attempting to push him off and letting the man continue. Wesker was careful not to cause pain in this case, just barely scraping his teeth over the sensitive buds as he pulled them deeper into his maw. Chris ends up melting beneath him, cock throbbing with arousal as his legs give out. The only thing holding him up was Wesker’s body pressed against his, the cold hands on his hips, pinning him.
When he’s finally satisfied with the work on Chris’ left nipple, he moves to the right. Chris blearily looks down at the swollen bud, drool sliding from the corners of his lips. Fuck, he almost felt as if he could cum just from this alone. The heat was too much, it burned , a raging inferno in his belly that Wesker was exploiting.
“Fuck… fuck, I’m—That feels weird,” Chris can’t find the words. He doesn’t want to admit just how close he is to exploding from just his chest being played with, but he knows Wesker can smell it on him. The blonde swipes his tongue over Chris’ right nipple, pressing it inward. He breathes the man’s scent in, Chris’ arousal thick in the air surrounding them. He was releasing his pheromones without even realizing, though Wesker could care less about it. He teases Chris a bit more before finally pulling away, leaving him to deal with his knot alone.
Chris glares at Wesker, eyes watery with unshed, needy tears as he leaves the bathroom. That bastard did that on purpose!
He was so smug about it, about everything. He owned the prison, and Chris, and wanted Chris to know it.
Chris’ stomach had been hurting for months. He hadn’t gone to the nurse about it—that seemed like a recipe for disaster—and he just assumed it had to do with the fact he spent a lot of his ‘free time’ with a knot up his ass. The worst part was Chris had begun to enjoy the sensation—Well, if not the knotting , the warm heat that engulfed him as finely muscled arms trapped him in and the rough tongue that would caress his scent glands but never biting, never claiming.
Wesker seemed serious about not wanting to bitch Chris—although Chris was beginning to wonder if he was, in some way, turning into an Omega.
He stares at himself in the mirror of their shared cell, a frown on his lips.
There was something different that Chris couldn’t quite place, no matter how long he stared.
Wesker unfurls from his bed behind Chris, yawning quietly. His blue eyes lock onto Chris’ bare back and he sniffs the air, pupils rounding out. Chris sees him in the mirror, a soft groan rising in his throat. “Not today, for fucks’ sake,” Chris snaps, “I’m not in the—mood?”
His sharp words lose their heat as Wesker leans forward, sniffing his cheek and neck; he buries his nose into the brunet’s scent glands, something he had done every day for the past six months. Today, however, instead of immediately mounting Chris, he backs off.
He listened?
Chris blinks in shock as Wesker heads back to his bed, looking like the cat who had caught a canary. Chris grumbles an insult under his breath as he pulls his shirt on, still trying to grapple with the fact that something was different about his appearance and he couldn’t place it.
It was driving him crazy.
“You smell different,” Forest tells him at breakfast, which is rather lackluster today—toast, grits, milk and a boiled egg—which makes Chris’ nose wrinkle.
“What do you mean?” He can’t keep the anxiety from his voice and Forest tilts his head, leaning closer to get a better sniff. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a frown on his lips.
“Uh… Well, you smell extra Weskery?” Forest replies, obviously uncertain.
“He hasn’t even touched me today!” Chris bites, an infuriated growl escaping his lips. “I hate him. I hate his smug goddamn expression. Even after six months of hard workouts I still can’t beat his ass.” God knows Chris had tried. It happened once or twice monthly, now, but every time Wesker just pinned him down and fucked the fight right out of him.
“He’s always been the strongest.” Forest says sympathetically, “maybe he’ll move on soon? I haven’t seen Wesker be super sentimental since I got here a year ago.” He crunches on his toast, swiping his tongue over his lips to dislodge crumbs. “Maybe you should go to the nurse just in case, though. Miss Chambers is really nice, you know. And with the belly ache you’ve had, it could be something more serious. Like cancer.”
“I don’t think getting dominated leaves you more likely to get cancer, Forest.”
“No—separate from that! You can get cancer at any time, you know. One day you’re fine and boom, the next you’re on death’s door!” That was not comforting in the slightest. Chris rolls his eyes, trying to choke down his meal despite the discomfort roiling in his belly. He was nauseous; it must be stress because of Wesker’s sudden change in behavior.
A few days later Chris ends up in the nurse’s office, just as Forest suggested. He twitches, tapping his fingers on his knee as Rebecca Chambers, the resident beta nurse on staff, sits across from him in her chair. “So what’s the problem today?” She smiles at him, not having yet lost that soft, child-like demeanor to the prison system. Most prisoners liked her, anyway. She was nice to interact with, and always seemed to be there—or so Chris heard. He hadn’t dealt with her since his first day.
Chris clears his throat, unable to look her in the eyes. “I… I think I’m being bitched.” Fuck, how humiliating. Chambers gives a thoughtful hum, tilting her head to the side.
“Has someone been dousing you with pheromones?”
“...No,” Wesker didn’t do that.
“Has someone marked you recently?”
“N-no…” Wesker didn’t do that, either.
“Has anyone tried to use their tone on you?”
Chris frowns, lowering his head. “N-no.”
Rebecca doesn’t seem terribly worried about his responses, sighing softly. “You haven’t been around for very long. Here, knotting between alphas is something that is seen as normal dominance behavior. It’s odd, sure, but nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It’s not that,” Chris yelps, “I–I–” he groans, burying his head in his hands, cheeks flushing bright red. “My… my chest has gotten uh… bigger.”
“Bigger?”
Rebecca does seem surprised by that . “I’m assuming you don’t mean in the way of working out?”
“N…no… it’s… it’s…” Chris’ voice edges on a whine, “I don’t want to become an Omega.” Not that there was anything wrong with Omegas… but he had made his place here , with the Alphas, and he had always been an Alpha.
“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s do some blood work and we’ll see what comes up. I don’t think you’re turning into an Omega, however.” Chambers soothes, her smile doing a little bit to keep Chris calm. He allows her to run her tests and take his blood, and then she sends him away, promising that she’ll call for him when the results are in.
A day and a half later, he sits in her office, feeling very sick to his stomach.
“How are you feeling today?” Chambers questions as she pulls up his chart, face schooled into neutrality.
“Sick,” Chris complains, “like I’m going to throw up.” She sighs softly at that, clicking a few buttons so his blood results begin to print.
“Alright. I’ll get an anti-nausea medication written for you.” she turns to face him, eyebrows creased in concern. “I got your blood test results back, as you know. I have good news and bad news.”
Cancer?! Was Forest right?! Fuck that guy! Chris swallows down bile. “Okay. Give it to me.”
“You’re still an alpha. Your hormones are as stable as they were during your intake check-up.” Rebecca starts, pausing as she finds the words to say—before just ripping off the bandaid. “And you’re pregnant.”
Chris balks, pupils constricting in shock. He couldn’t be pregnant. “I’m an Alpha,” he barks, “you just said I was! How is that possible?” She plucks the still warmed paper from the printer and hands the proof over to him. She was right. He was secreting hormones that he was not before, and others were much higher in number.
“There’s one much lesser known subgender known as Enigmas, Mr. Redfield.” Rebecca explains, “They generally present as either an Alpha or Omega, though they carry traits unrelated to either. Because they’re so uncommon, the prison doesn’t have a seperate ward for them.” Chris is shaking. He can’t be pregnant. There’s no fucking way.
Wesker knows! That’s why he had been so fucking—lenient. Disinterested. He’d been practically ignoring Chris for the last three days, because he got what he wanted.
“They’re just floating around with the rest of us?!” Chris barks, fury thick in his tone. “What am I supposed to do?”
“There’s only three Alpha-Class Enigmas in this prison, and most of the time they have no interest in sharing their pheromones or their knots. It hasn’t been an issue up to this point. However, I did some research before calling you in.” Rebecca replies, scribbling something down on a piece of paper, “60% of pregnant Alphas miscarry within the first twelve weeks of pregnancy. Your biology is not equipped to handle it. There’s a very high chance that you will lose the baby.” Somehow, that didn’t make Chris feel better. Not that he wanted the fucking thing… “I’d suggest trying to let nature run its course here. You won’t be showing at twelve weeks—you’re already around eight—and if you decide that you really don’t want it, I can always supply you with a pill.”
Neither of those options sounded good, but at least he had them. Chris thinks about it for a little bit, picking at his orange pants with anxious vigor.
In the end, he leaves with a prescription for anti-nausea medication and some vitamins to keep his body strong as the little parasite within him sucks all of it away. It’s only temporary…
Chris bares his fangs at Wesker as he furiously bundles into their shared cell, bristling. “How fucking dare you?” Wesker lifts his head off his pillow, eyes hazy with sleep. The man had been in the midst of his mid-day nap, it seems.
“Hmmm?” The questioning noise rumbles in Wesker’s throat as Chris lunges for him, going straight for a chokehold. He wanted to strangle the blonde bastard to death. Wesker grabs his wrists and though Chris digs his thumbs into the man’s bared throat, gripping on with his dulled claws—mandated biweekly filings by the prison itself—he can’t hold on for long. Wesker was in a class all of his own, and it showed .
Wesker flips them over, pinning Chris’ hips with his legs, his neck with one toned arm. “Dear Christopher, I made my intentions very clear with you from day one. You’re the one who didn’t take me seriously.” There’s a shit eating smirk on his face, eyes now vibrant and excitable even as bruises form on his pale skin. Chris writhes beneath him, spitting furiously.
“How was I supposed to know you were a freak?!” Chris spits, “Do you know the odds of me carrying your freak baby to term? Slim to none !” Wesker leans down, nuzzling his face into Chris’ overused scent glands. He breathes in deep, ignoring the sharp bite to his ear as Chris sinks his teeth in, a snarl deep in his throat.
“That just means I get to have all the fun of doing it again,” Wesker murmurs to him, running his tongue along the sensitive flesh. Chris shudders, finding the way his body relaxes into the sensation sickening.
“No fucking way—”
“Well if it doesn’t work out most of the time, why shouldn’t I play with you? There are no consequences, after all.” Except my health, you selfish prick! Chris can taste the iron in his mouth as Wesker settles his body onto his own, crushing him under heavy weight.
“I don’t want to get pregnant,” Chris hisses, “I’m not an Omega! I’m an Alpha !”
“And yet,” Wesker laughs, mouthing kisses across his stubbled jaw, “here you are. Full of my pups. Funny how that works, isn’t it, Christopher.” Chris shivers. Wesker was right. Though he was still biologically an Alpha, he was pregnant. He might as well be Wesker’s Omega.
Wesker had treated him as such from the beginning.
“Why me?” Chris asks weakly, the fight flushed from his system without any violence thrown his way at all.
“I find you intriguing.” Wesker offers, “You’re fun to tease. Even more fun to imagine plump with my pups.” He finally nestles his head against Chris’ shoulder, settling his nose right against the man’s collarbone. “I enjoy smelling myself on you. Everyone knows you’re mine .”
For some reason, those words make Chris’ face flush. “I…I’m not being bitched.” He says with a low whine, and Wesker hums in agreement, though Chris is mostly trying to convince himself.
“No. I do not wish to bitch you. Even if you never carry my mark, you will always be mine. ”