tags & content: NSFW, sexual content, secret relationship, consensual sex, hooking up in secret, semi-public sex, chris redfield is your captain, unprotected sex, fear of pregnancy but it’s lwk lighthearted, RE8 chris, female reader
“Did you come inside?” you breathlessly stammer, a dazed sheen blurring your vision for a moment before you blink it away. Chris’ hand, which had been firmly pinching the back of your neck, loosens just an inch.
His damp forehead props itself on your shoulder, uneven breath puffing against your skin through the fabric, before your words penetrate his own hazy fog.
Behind the closed door, there’s the shuffling of the rest of the team, faint laughter as they mill about the place. Wedged under the door handle is a chair, shoved there in the heat of the moment to prevent anybody from walking in on you.
Chris presses a finger to your mouth, his eyes flickering to the door. Footsteps vibrate through the floorboards, getting fainter and fainter until they’re completely gone. Only then does he peel back from your trembling body, easing his cock out of your soaked folds.
“Shit,” he murmurs, a sharp, clear whisper as the situation settles in the air. “Yeah, yeah. I did.”
The clinking of his belt follows, and the zipping of his trousers. Your back hurts from being wedged awkwardly against the wall, bending down with a wince to pull your panties up from around your knees. You know you don’t have the time or facilities to clean yourself, the thought of his come leaking out of you all day bringing a stark flush to your cheeks.
His jaw is feathered in the dark, the cramped supply closet allowing you to feel the growing tension vibrating from his limbs. The same limbs, thick and muscly, which had just fucked you hard enough to see stars.
“Captain,” you begin, “I—”
“No.” His voice is firm, the type of tone he uses when you’re on a mission. “No titles in here.”
“It’s fine,” you try to say, feeling your breath quicken. Your fingers fumble as you try to work the buttons and zipper of your tactical trousers, your eyes squinting through the dark in frustration for a moment. Chris drops his chin, leaning to help, but thinks better of it. His hand twitches, then drops.
You swallow, tilting your head back to look at him with wide eyes.
“It’s fine,” you repeat. “We’ve been careful every other time, surely the chances are low. Come on, please.”
You know why you’re pleading, but it makes you feel pathetic. What you and Chris have isn’t a relationship, but being stolen away during high stakes missions for a fuck with your own captain was something you’d found deliciously indulgent. The consequences of this problematic secret being discovered was part of the intensity.
All the times his large, warm hand would clamp over your mouth, muffling your squeals of pleasure so nobody knew you were taking your captain’s cock in secret like a good girl.
It had been hedonistically exhilarating.
But you knew Chris, though driven by desire, was burdened the most. After all, if things got out, it would be his reputation on the line to be dragged far worse through the mud.
“This stops,” Chris orders, and you can tell from the hard lines around his eyes that he’s serious. “Now. Shit, are you on birth control at least?”
You swallow, keeping your voice low so nobody quietly passing could hear. Your eyes flicker to the door, tightening with a hint of annoyance.
“No, you know I’m not on birth control, Chris, that’s why we agreed that you would pull out—”
“Christ,” he interrupts, pinching the crease in his forehead. His chest, even as broad as it was, inflates with irritation. The silence that settles around you is heavy, allowing the gravity of the situation to truly start to crush you. Your eyes widen a fraction, glancing at your boots.
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