Unrequited: The Story of her Life

A short story starring

Claire Redfield

and

Leon Kennedy

The soap felt amazing against her skin. Claire wondered if there'd ever been anything invented that could compare to soap. She wished she could wash the horror away with the filth.

It was seldom ever like that with what they did. There was little chance to just...let go. She lingered in the tub until her skin pruned and then slid out with a level of regret that was palpable.

She was just slipping on a robe when there was a knock at the door.

Tugging her wet hair free from the collar, she walked to the door and opened it.

Kevin stood watching her, quietly. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, a pair of gray sweat pants. His hair, dark and damp and clean. He hadn't shaved, the stubble only adding to the power of his face.

She leaned on the door jamb, looking at him.

"Can I come in?"

With a nod, she stepped back.

The door clicked closed as she leaned against it.

Alone together.

The t.v. was on. She'd turned the sound off but left it on. Stupidly, it made her feel not so alone.

He turned, faced her.

"How're doing?"

She combed her fingers through her hair. "Okay actually. Better with a little soap."

Kevin smiled. "Yeah. Nothin as good as Dove."

Claire thought she'd never wanted to be touched as badly as she did right that minute.

He said, "I wanted to…see how you were."

She smiled. "I'm alright. And what about you?" She ran her hand along the terry cloth sleeve of her robe. "How are you doing?"

Kevin shrugged, looked toward the window.

"Okay. Great. Shitty." He smiled, crookedly. It didn't reach his eyes. "All of the above."

Claire stepped toward him, hesitated, took another step.

She felt the muscles in his back clench as she laid her hand against it.

"Kevin?" She thought her throat might close up.

"Yeah…" His voice, harsh, gruff.

"Touch me."

He turned, her arm sliding over him, resting on his hip.

He looked down into her face, a drowning man.

"Claire…"

"Don't. It can't be about anything else right now. Just touch me. Because you want to. Because I need you to."

He lifted his hands, slid them over her shoulders, down her arms.

She took his face in her hands. "Don't think. Just touch me."

Kevin stared into her face and she saw the moment he gave it all up.

His hands slid down her chest, over the knot in her robe. He watched her eyes while he untied it, parted it, brushed his fingers over the dampness of her belly.

Her eyes fluttered, her breath caught.

He saw what he wanted in her face and slid his hands around her back, over her buttocks and pulled her against him.

She could feel the press of him, hard and hot against her stomach. The sweatpants were soft, the cloth hiding nothing.

He slid himself against her, the friction of the clothes over flesh agonizing, wonderful. With a groan, he closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against hers.

Claire slid her hands into his hair, pushed against him.

There was a knock on the door.

They parted slowly, her fingers trailing over him through the soft cotton.

Kevin shuddered, pressed his mouth against hers, slowly, softly.

Claire tied her robe.

She went to the door, opened it.

She thought her body would explode.

Leon stood there, red hair soft and dry and ruffled, just hanging over his forehead. There was such softness in his eyes, such pain. Without words, she could see the apology, could feel it. And just like that, she forgave him. She would always forgive him.

She took his hand, tugged him into the room.

She knew the moment they saw each other.

There was silence, complete and pregnant; full of things unsaid.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid.

Leon wore a white under shirt and a pair black of sweat pants similar to Kevin's.

She turned, slid her hands under Leon's shirt, and brushed her fingers over his nipples.

He hissed, tore his gaze from Kevin, and looked into her face.

He needed her. Leon tilted his head down and kissed her.

Their mouths pressed, tongues twining. He bent, slid his arms under her butt and lifted, until she was even with him.

There was the sound of heavy breathing.

Claire moved back, her heart racing. She took his hand and led him with her.

For the first time in his life, Leon didn't want to walk away.

With one hand in Leon's, she opened her other.

Kevin looked at her, at Leon. He knew an offer when he saw one. Even Kennedy was watching him, waiting.

Kevin took her hand.

Claire smiled, softly, seductively and Kevin knew he was sunk.

She turned into Kevin, slid her hands under his shirt and he lifted his arms as she slid it off of him.

Am I doing this? Do I want to?

He looked into her eyes and knew he'd never wanted anything more.

She pressed her mouth to his chest, slid her tongue over the dip in his collarbone. Kevin shivered, slid a hand into her hair as his eyes closed.

Her hands found the tie on his sweat pants, slid them down over his hips.

He watched her, lifted his eyes.

Leon was watching him, the laser blue of his eyes alight. Kevin didn't see any jealousy there, any hatred. There was passion, curiosity.

Claire stood slowly, trailing a hand up his thigh, over the heaviness of his sac. Kevin jerked against her hand, gasping.

With a siren's smile, she trailed her nails over his stomach and turned.

Leon met her mouth hungrily, one hand already skimming down her chest, unknotting the robe so he could reach inside and he could cup her.

She moaned, her thighs quivering. She was already damp, already hot.

Her hands grappled with his clothing, worked the under shirt over his head while she sucked at his throat, bit lightly along his left nipple.

With something close to a groan, Leon cupped her breast, shaped it in his palm, his fingers plucking at tight peak of her nipple.

Claire murmured, slid her mouth down his stomach and his body jerked, his head falling back as her deft hands had his pants falling around his ankles.

The heat of her mouth around him had him crying out, softly, one had fisting in her hair.

Hands skimmed over her back, slid along her sides as she drew on him, her tongue slipping along the head of his cock and farther down until he was buried completely in her mouth.

Kevin pressed himself against her, sliding against the softness of her back, as his hand found her, caressed the silky damp of her body.

Claire moaned, the hum of pleasure causing Leon to groan, and push himself against the clever sweetness of her mouth.

She pulled away, rising as Kevin's fingers found the aching point of her desire. She clenched, a cry falling from her lips as she pressed her body back against him, one arm looping around his neck.

Leon stepped into her, his mouth capturing hers, one hand in her hair as they tongues twined, slid together even as Kevin's fingers slid into her body, over the tiny hardened nub of her agony.

Leon pushed the robe down her shoulders, dipped his head and took one of her nipples into the silken prison of his mouth. She gripped his hair with one hand, felt Kevin move back long enough to let the robe drop to the floor before he surged himself against her back again, his hand already caressing her, fingers sliding over, through.

Claire felt her body heating, felt the rapid wave of desire that crashed sharply through her blood.

Leon pressed her breasts together, slid his mouth rapidly between her nipples, took her mouth again.

Kevin's fingers tortured her, so skillful, so maddening.

She panted, writhed, turned her head to take Kevin's mouth as his hand slid upward, and cupped her breast. Leon was on his knees, his hands on her thighs, parting her.

His tongue sliding in her, over her, against the pulsing apex of her body. She shuddered, felt him gripping her thighs, supporting the trembling, liquid weight of her body.

The hard, hot length of Kevin as he rubbed himself along her back, along the soft cleft of her butt cheeks as his hands tortured her breasts, pinched, molded. His mouth slid over her throat and he was kissing her again, tongues dueling.

Claire screamed, her body bowing, caught on the rise of a shining wave. She tumbled, shuddering, screaming into the mouth of the man who drank from her lips as the other drank from the heat of her body.

For a moment, her body quaked as she made the slow, lethargic rise back to sanity. Never in her life had she felt something that amazing, that mind blowing.

She felt gloriously, hopelessly, desperately alive.

Leon was rising, the glisten of her still on his lips. She lay half cradled in Kevin's arms.

She slid her hand over Leon's hip, tugged him forward as she stepped to the side.

Leon shifted his body, slid an arm under her hips, and lifted her, carrying her to the bed.

She grabbed a handful of the muscle of his back; saw the sparks of white hot desire in his eyes. Leon didn't mind a little pain. It was startling and so totally arousing.

She laid him back against the mattress, scored her nails down his chest, over the delicate bruising on his ribs, the pinking wound near his arm pit. Leon jerked, a startled cry of desire falling from his lips.

Claire crawled onto all fours, gripped the head board as Leon slid against her back, running his lips over her spine, his hands on her hips, lifting her.

She whispered, "Yes."

And he shoved himself into her.

She whimpered, screamed. Kevin lay beside them, one hand tracing over the curve of her stomach, the side of her breast. She met his mouth, slid her tongue over his and felt her body spiraling. She groaned.

His hand slid down her slick belly to play with her clit while Leon plunged into her body. It built like a tidal wave inside of her. She jerked. She gasped. She grunted.

And she came, screaming.

Claire jerked as the hard knock on the door ripped her from the dream she'd been having.

She wasn't trapped between two beautiful men about to be pleasured until she exploed. Nope. Not even close. She wasn't meant, ever, to be a Claire Sandwich.

She sitting at her desk with a hand in her pants using her eighteen minute lunch break to fantasize, again, about Leon Kennedy. Sometimes he had a companion (usually Kevin Ryman...and his relentless five o'clock shadow that tickled her...everywhere). Sometimes he was alone.

However, he was always eagerly throwing her down to fill her out like an application.

She wouldn't be fantasizing about him so much if she, ever, took the time to get laid. But she hadn't bothered to even pay for it in months. TerraSave was a full time fuck on its own. It often left no time but to lament the loss of her personal life in the wake of bioterror.

Annoyed, Claire tugged her hand from her pants and called, "Yes?"

"Ms. Redfield, I'm sorry to bother you, but you have a phone call."

Of course she did. Because she couldn't get five minutes to herself to masturbate. Nope. Not in the cards for her.

She picked up the phone with a grouch and fussed, "What?"

The amusement in his tone made her wish his face was between her legs, but it hadn't ever been. It wouldn't ever be. Only in her dreams. Damn him.

"You need to get out of that office, kiddo. You sound like shit."

Claire rolled her eyes, watching the skyline. They called it the city of angels. But if their were angels out there, they were flying blind. The smog in LA alone was frightening. If ever there was a city that needed a green initiative, this was it.

"Leon...you need something?" Me. Say me. Just say me. Please?

"Yup. I need you to try to get me clearance into Taiwan. There's a bad guy over there making bombs full of viruses."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You want me to grease some palms?" Put your hand in my pants and I'll grease yours, Kennedy. No lie.

"If you would, kiddo. I'd owe ya. Big time." I can think of a way for you to pay me back. Bring a friend.

Claire laughed, sighing, "Consider it done. You can add it to the long list of favors you already owe me." Pay up, Kennedy. Put your money where your mouth is...put your mouth on my money shot.

Lord she was a mess.

"I'll buy ya dinner when I'm in town in a few days."

"It better be surf and turf." Or me. Just eat me instead.

"Whatever you want, kid. Thanks, Claire Bear. I mean it."

The line clicked. Claire sighed and stared at the dirty skyline. She had about four minutes until her next meeting. She should get ready for all the bullshit politics.

Instead, she stuck her hand in her pants to finish herself off and thought about Leon Kennedy.

The story of her life.

Maybe when she saw him in a few days, she'd finally have the nerve to open her mouth about how she felt and get him out of her heart and right where he belonged...between her desperate thighs.