Work Text:
Chris knows he's going to hell for a lot of reasons, he's got a long list that has been getting longer as the years go by. Yet he never thought that adultery would be an addition he'd have to make.
He thought going as low as sucking dick in a McDonald's bathroom would be the lowest point on his sex life but life surprises you, and now he's on the laundry room of a married man's house, holding that same married man against the washing machine, tongues exploring each other's mouths and hands deep inside the shirt of the blonde.
Ethan is the married man in question, a good friend of his, a very nice and sweet person that deserves anything but this. Chris is madly in love with him but there's no chance for that, he'll never be nothing but a warm mouth and a pair of pleasuring hands for Ethan.
That's enough for Chris, he can take that place, he can be Ethan's toy if he needs to be.
The blond's skin burns against his ice cold touch, they just came from the bar they tend to go to on Fridays after work. Tonight the routine changed when Ethan followed Chris to the bathroom and pressed him against the filthy wall, mouth covering all the territory of the older man's jaw.
Chris said they could go to his place, he has a nice bed that'll fit them both and can drive Ethan home when they're done but the younger man refused, telling him he had a better idea.
It was a shitty idea, they sneaked through the backdoor of Ethan's backyard like a pair of teenagers and locked themselves inside the laundry room. The awareness is killing Chris on the inside, knowing anytime Ethan's poor wife could bust through the door and find him pounding his husband against the machine she probably uses to wash their baby's clothes.
Ah yes, Ethan's got a baby too. If it wasn't already too fucked up of a situation to begin with.
You'd think that as a rational, smart man, Chris would've just walked away and said no, you know, consent 101 but he's actually an idiot, an idiot in love with a very clever man who knows how to pinch his weak spots.
That's the thing about Ethan, he knows how Chris feels about him, he's known for such a long time and he knows how to use it against him. It's what some people would call textbook manipulation, Chris doesn't call it that.
Now he's deep inside the mud, his feet are trapped in something and he can't get out. Chris feels like he's gonna die anytime.
"Shit, you need to get these out." Ethan plays with his belt, fingers folding on the belt hooks as he brings Chris closer, if that's even possible.
"Yeah, yeah," Chris breathes out, he's ashamed but his body won't stop, his mind isn't letting him process a coherent thought. All he thinks about is Ethan, about the way Ethan's lips feel against his, the way Ethan's hand brushes against his crotch.
He takes his belt off and his pants come off as well, rolling all the way down to his ankles. Ethan's watching him, blue eyes bathed in lust looking directly at the cock that's hidden underneath the wet underwear.
"Knew you were big." Ethan murmurs, hands preoccupied with caressing Chris's abs now go down lower, teasing the elastic band of the brunette's boxers.
"Jesus," Chris's face goes red, shame and arousal battling it out on his chest as he lets himself feel the way Ethan's fingers brush over the fabric that's trapping his swollen cock.
"I'd suck you but that'll be for another day, alright?"
There won't be another day, it's what Chris has to say, he has to have the willpower to stop this before he ends up broken like he always does. "That's fine with me," Is what he goes with instead and he makes a mental note to jump headfirst in an empty pool after he's done here.
Then Ethan's getting rid of his own belt and pants, he tugs at Chris's shirt and he refuses to take it off because if he has to suddenly run away then he at least wants to have his shirt on.
They kiss again, it's not a loving kiss, not comparable to the ones he gives to his beloved wife, he would never kiss Chris like that. It's a hungry, desperate kiss, they're trying to consume the most of each other and Ethan's getting the best of Chris.
Chris grabs Ethan's ass, soft flesh coming to contact with calloused hands that have never touched sometimes so holy, so prohibited. He almost feels like this could be a metaphor for the Garden of Eden if they weren't, you know, two men in a laundry room.
Ethan moans, Chris shuts him up with another kiss. How could the blonde be so loud when there's so much at risk? His marriage, Chris's dignity and morale. Everything can go to hell in just a second.
"Chris, come on, man." Man that's what friends call each other, they're best friends aren't they? Very good friends that kiss each other and have sex with each other despite one of them being married. "You need to give me, ah, something."
Chris obeys, because at this point there's no poetic excuse, he's just an idiot. There's no lube, only laundry soap and other chemicals that would probably give Ethan third degree burns if they ever came in contact with his skin.
So, he does what a man with limited resources would do, he uses his own saliva to get his fingers as slick as possible. Sucking on his own fingers isn't something very pleasing, it's kinda gross but he'd do anything for Ethan.
God, he's such an astronomical loser.
Once they're all slick enough, his fingers align with Ethan's entrance and he slowly works his way inside, one at a time, he pushes the fingers in.
Ethan gasps as the first finger enters his asshole, he bites on the flesh of Chris's shoulder and rests his head on the crook of the brunette's neck. It probably stings more than usual (not that Chris thinks Ethan does this on a weekly basis, based on his way of living) due to saliva not being enough to lubricate as well as lube could.
Things go easier as Ethan gets used to the sensation to the point where three fingers aren't enough, Chris is impressed to say the least.
"Please, more." Ethan pleads and Chris feels like he's losing his mind bit by bit, maybe when he gets home he'll even have a panic attack over this, who knows.
Chris freezes because the realization of what he's about to do washes over him so suddenly that it feels like a train is hitting his body and he manages to make it out alive, torn to pieces, but alive.
Upstairs, sleeping on a bed that she shares with the man that's coming undone under Chris's touch, is a woman that loves this man even more than Chris does, probably. Next to her, in a room that's possibly very lovely, there's an infant sleeping.
He's about to tear a family apart just because he can't gain control over his own emotions, the control lies in the hands of the man whose life is about to be turned upside down and there's no stopping him. Ethan wants this, Chris wants to fade away.
"Chris, hey," He's brought back down to earth by the warmth of Ethan's hands cupping his face, forcing him to meet gazes. "What's wrong?"
"This, Ethan," Chris says, finger pointing back and forth to the two of them. "This is wrong, we're in your family home, your wife's upstairs with your child. Doesn't that upset you?"
Ethan laughs in his face, the sort of laugh that would draw a smile out of Chris if it wasn't for the fact that he's having a crisis. "Silly goose, there's nothing wrong with this."
He plants a small kiss on the brunette's lips and he wraps his hand around his length, Chris's eyes roll all the way to the back of his head and he has to hold onto Ethan's thighs. There's something severely wrong with the blonde.
With slow, torturous strokes he works Chris's cock until he's aching and desperate to just get done with whatever's going on. "Don't you like me?"
Chris feels like he could cry, both from a lack of proper pleasure and sadness. He does like Ethan, so much in fact that he'd do this every night if the blonde wanted him to. "What do you need?" He asks, there's no way he's turning things around now.
"Fuck me, Redfield."
That's all it takes to send Chris off sanity's edge, with a quick motion he turns Ethan around and bends him over the washing machine. Chris strokes himself for a second, he even spits in his own hand to make himself slicker and ease his way inside.
Ethan's laughing, a cynical sound in the midst of an event that'll haunt Chris forever.
"Don't be too nice, big guy." That gets a groan out of Chris's mouth, he won't even dare to speak to Ethan anymore, he'll only embarrass himself at this point.
Chris pushes his way in slowly at first but then the warmth of Ethan's insides is making his brain get all fuzzy and blurry, his mouth is ajar and his hands are gripping Ethan's hips as hard as they can which will probably leave very noticeable bruises.
He finishes penetrating the blonde with a smooth, yet sharp thrust. Ethan's knuckles are going white because of the tight grip he's got on the edge of the machinery and his eyes are closed, tears rolling down the edges.
A minute passes by, Chris is letting Ethan get used to the feeling but then there's the faint sound of footsteps on the upper floor, a door opening and a light switch being flickered.
Panic settles inside Chris's chest but it's quickly overshadowed by Ethan's voice, "Now, move."
Chris swallows hard because he doesn't know what to do but then Ethan is pushing his ass against Chris's cock, trying to get the message to be processed by Chris's subconscious and he wins, the brunette starts to thrust into Ethan like his own life depends on it.
"Harder, cowboy. Stop holding back." The smug tone on Ethan's voice is angering Chris, he doesn't know why but he gives the blonde what he wants anyway.
His thrusts become more rough, violent even. The machine underneath Ethan's body is even shaking due to the body movement that's happening. Ethan's wife hasn't made an appearance yet, Chris doesn't know if he should feel lucky.
It's nothing romantic or even beautiful, it's just pure sin. Chris would've been beheaded for this in other times, beheading sounds nicer than having to face a broken down wife because he fucked her husband and caused her family to collapse.
Underneath him, Ethan's a mess of muffled sounds and cries for more, harder, there, don't stop in whispers. He's just now decided to be as quiet as possible, which is very off-putting to Chris.
It feels good, too good, Chris hates himself for enjoying it so much but he can't help it. Ethan is tight and warm, his hole is the perfect fit for Chris's length yet he still feels like he's filling him up too much. He feels like he's drunk, even high on the sensation.
"God," Ethan cranes his neck to look at Chris, there's sweat rolling down his forehead and his beautiful blonde hair is now a mess. "You love this, don't you? Why would you ever doubt me?"
Chris doesn't respond because that's the mature thing to do, Ethan's playing with his mind like he always does, like he did to get him where he is now.
Chris wants to pretend that he hates Ethan but then there's soft lips against his, promises of love being made and thrown into the air and he's crying. Chris is crying.
He doesn't stop, even after Ethan says they should take a break so he can catch his breath. He keeps going, Ethan doesn't protest, instead he smiles at Chris, teeth and dimples that he can see due to the dim lightning of the room.
The brunette buries his head against Ethan's neck, his thrusts are unsteady and have lost their rhythm but they're still brutal, hitting that sweet spot that makes Ethan's mouth go dry.
One of his hands comes up towards Ethan's neck and wraps around it tightly, the other gets a hold of the blond's cock and starts to stroke slowly.
"I love you," He says in a ragged breath against Ethan's ear. "I fucking love you."
"Jesus, Fuck–" Every little air that tries to enter Ethan's lungs is blocked by the grip Chris has on his neck, the younger man is already growing weaker and more tired, his hole clenches around Chris's cock and he can feel it. Ethan's about to come.
"Say it back, Ethan." Chris orders because now things have turned around, if he wants to he could just leave and never give Ethan the orgasm he wants. "Say it or I'm out the door."
His grip on Ethan's neck is loosened, the blonde takes a deep breath and tells Chris what he wants to hear. "I– Ah, uh.– I love you too."
There's no real meaning behind those words, Chris knows it yet his subconscious does incredible gymnastics to get him to believe them. He's happy with this, he can lie to himself all he wants.
He strokes Ethan's dick faster and his thrusts are deep and rough, relief is trying to get ahold of him already.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ethan yelps, it doesn't even matter anymore. There's nothing else he can destroy because Chris is already done, the only thing on the table it's his family but that's his business. Isn't it? "I'm go– I'm gonna come."
Once again his grip on the blond's neck is tightened, strokes are unsteady and lazy and Ethan's coming, his entire body shakes as his own climax takes over the little sane part of his brain that was left.
As he gasps for air he also gets a wave of pleasure to wash over him, which is also enough to make Chris come as well, he comes in thick spurts inside Ethan as he groans the younger's name.
Not a word is said, Chris just pulls out and watches as his seed drips down Ethan's thighs with horror. He quickly pulls his pants up and doesn't bother to say goodbye, he just leaves the way he came from.
Chris gets inside his car as fast as he can and he drives, he doesn't even care about getting a ticket or going to jail for violating speeding laws, he drives towards his home as fast as he can without looking back.
Maybe he'll quit his job, move to Mexico and change his name, only tell Claire of his whereabouts and never speak to any other blonde guy in the entire world.
He gets home safe, sadly enough. He takes a very quick, messy shower but he isn't able to wash the feeling of Ethan's fingertips on his body away and he can't forget. Ethan's the only thing in his mind and that's how it'll be for a long, long time.
Chris can't escape, even if he tries he knows he'll always end up in the same place: sitting very close to Ethan on the booth of a shitty bar every Friday, making out in dirty bathrooms, exchanging lust filled looks in the middle of work hours.
Ethan will always hold Chris's heart in his hands and dangle it on the edge of the canyon, always one step away from letting it fall to the abyss.
His phone rings as he's getting in bed, ready to let everything that haunts him consume him. Chris opens the message, inhaling deeply as he reads it.
Ethan, 2:10 A.M.
See you on Monday, Redfield. :)
Chris smiles sadly as his fingers hover over the screen.
Chris, 2:11 A.M.
See ya, blondie.