Title: Under a Bad Sun (3/4)
Fandom: Resident Evil (movie-verse)
Pairing: Alice Abernathy/Claire Redfield
Rating: NC-17 for language, sex, and some situations with dub-con
Summary: It's hot, and all Claire wants is a cigarette. But when she goes searching for her fix, she finds something she never could have imagined.
Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, or Claire and Alice.
Notes: Claire's inner monologue mentions Americanas, Kimuras, and Gogoplatas in this chapter. Americanas and Kimuras are types of shoulder locks, and a Gogoplata is a type of choke. Also, there's a little bit of a Rizzoli & Isles reference in here. If you can spot it, then you get a cookie. Oh, and last-thank you to my fabulous friend Elisa (jovovarter on Tumblr) for helping me out with this chapter!
XXX
It was quiet when they arrived back at the convoy. The only light was that of a single campfire, flickering in the middle of the ring of vehicles. Claire had Alice turn off just a foot or two outside of the perimeter. She hopped off the bike, squinted in the darkness, and spotted a blinking red light. It belonged to one of the perimeter cameras. She walked up to it, grabbed the top, turned it so it was pointed at her, and grinned and waved.
The noise that the motion-sensor made probably scared Mikey out of his skin in the vehicle (and Claire bit back a smirk at the mental image of the young Australian jolting awake and slamming his head into the top of the news van before realizing it was only her). But at least he would know not to sound the alarm. Claire would repay him somehow. Perhaps she would turn the other cheek the next time he sat a little too close to K-Mart during convoy meetings. Usually she would death glare him until he moved away from the girl, but she could let it pass this next time. It was only fair.
Claire pushed back her musings and motioned for Alice to come all the way into the camp. She knew the woman would be able to see her in the darkness. Claire waited for the sound of Alice turning the motorcycle back on to hit her, and walked the rest of the way through the vehicles. She stopped about a few feet from the fire, and Alice pulled up next to her and cut the engine once more. With grace, she swung herself off of the bike, landing neatly next to Claire.
"Look who decided to rejoin the party," Came a voice. Claire grinned as LJ stood up and walked around the fire to greet her. He had the same droopy smile on his face as always, "Took your motherfucking time, didn't you?"
She slugged his arm with enough force to make him grunt, "Shut up, asshole." He laughed, and Claire absently wondered why she had been so stupid. She could have never been able to see LJ, or anyone else in her convoy for that matter, again. Besides maybe Carlos and K-Mart, the older man was her best friend in the entire dystopian world.
"Whatever, bitch," LJ shot back. Usually, Claire would never put up with anyone calling her derogatory names like that (though 'bitch' was one she had gotten more than once in her lifetime). However, there was something endearing in the way LJ did it. He had a special tone he used when he was swearing at people he actually liked, and it was basically the equivalent of him calling her "honey" or "sweetheart."
Claire mock glared and LJ shoved her with his shoulder. It was hard enough she had to stagger backwards a step or two in order not to fall on her ass on the sand and earn a year's worth of mocking. LJ laughed again for a moment, then abruptly, the sound cut short. Claire stared at him, startled, and followed his line of sight.
Her backwards movement had placed an otherwise-silent-and-temporarily-forgotten Alice in his vision. He blinked at her, seemingly in shock, then took a step towards her, "Alice? Alice Badass Motherfucker Abernathy, is that you?"
"LJ, you son of a bitch, I thought I would never see you again," Alice replied, and her face broke out in a gigantic grin.
Immediately, LJ pulled her into a hug, and Alice hugged him back, resting her chin on his shoulder. Claire watched in confusion, no longer sure what the fuck was going on, "Waitwaitwait, you two know each other?"
Alice broke the hug and shrugged a nonchalant shoulder, "It's a small world."
"Vanilla and I here kicked some zombie ass in Raccoon City a while back," LJ clarified, and Alice looked at him in annoyance. Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. LJ looked understandably nervous and started to back away.
She elbowed him in the ribs before he could, "I told you never to call me that again!" LJ winced and stumbled a few steps away from the woman, smartly avoiding the immediate reach of any of her limbs.
"Sorry, Vanilla," LJ replied, voice full of both snark and pain as he cradled the probably-bruised ribs. Before the blonde could launch herself at him and rip him into pieces, he redirected the subject, "Just wait until Carlos sees you!"
Alice froze, anger forgotten, and a whole ocean of emotions crashed through her eyes in an instant, vivid in the flickering firelight. Claire was taken aback by the sudden openness and understood none of the feelings in the woman's face. Alice's voice was quieter, "Carlos? He's here?"
"Yes. He's going to be so happy you're here. And he might also want to beat your ass for leaving too, just a warning. Not that he stands a chance. You're fucking Wonder Woman or some shit," LJ told her, and Alice simply shook her head around as if she was trying to forcibly clear it. Suddenly, she was the shocked one.
Claire watched the back-and-forth conversation as though it was a tennis match. Apparently, everyone knew Alice except her.
What had she gotten herself into?
XXX
Claire swallowed down the sounds of her breathing. Her feet moved across the hardwood floor with only the barest scraping noises. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, her hands cradling her Glock. She swung around corners gun-first, prepared to fire at anything that might want to devour her flesh. She could hear nothing. There was no smell of rotting body parts, only the slight stench of mold and years of non-existent upkeep that clung to the walls of the motel. Claire peered into the next to last room in the wing of the building she had taken. Nothing. The emptiness unnerved her more than it comforted her.
The final door loomed off to her right, closed and ominous, the numbers 237 glaring back at her. In the back of her mind, Claire remembered the numbers from The Shining, belonging to the hotel room where a dead woman lay in a bathtub. The thought sent a shudder down her spine, and she shook it off like it was a cobweb she had accidentally walked through.
Claire kept one hand on her gun, and tried the door handle with the other. Locked. Her muscles tightened, and she separated her feet in a fighting stance to gain balance. Then, with all the force she could muster, she brought her leg up and threw a side-kick at the door. The lock shattered under the blow from her boot heel. The door flew open and banged against the wall behind it with a noise like a gunshot. Despite herself, Claire jumped a little at the sound. Places like this always set her on edge, pulling her body tight enough that she was worried she might snap.
The room was empty, and Claire filled her lungs with a slow breath, forcing her body to relax. See? Didn't need to worry after all. Nothing in her area. She would head back to the lobby, meet up with Chase and Carlos, check to make sure they had found the same emptiness, and then begin searching the motel for supplies. Claire was about to turn and head out of the room when something gripped her shoulder.
A sharp cry escaped her, bubbling up past her lips against her control. She whipped around, sending the hand flying from her shoulder. She brought her gun around and stumbled backwards, pointing the weapon at her attacker.
Alice's blue eyes stared back at her, simultaneously surprised and...amused? Yes, she found this hilarious. Claire could see the smirk tugging at her lips. Fury filled her, hot and sticky, "I almost shot you!" The redhead hated how high her voice sounded. It was slightly panicky. She cleared her throat roughly, trying to ignore the warmth rising to paint her cheeks.
"I thought you heard me coming," Alice replied, shrugging as though this wasn't a big deal. Claire wanted to strangle her or hit her with the butt of her gun. She wasn't quite sure which one.
Claire's voice was no longer high, but it wasn't pleased, "I'm not a superhuman freak like you! I don't have weird owl hearing or something."
For an instant, something passed across Alice's face. It came after the words superhuman freak, and Claire was a little regretful of her wording. The amusement faded from Alice's tan face. The edges of her lips tugged down, wrinkles joining hands around the corners. Claire winced, but she was too proud at the moment to take the statement back, still shaken up by Alice's unexpected entrance. The older woman looked past Claire's shoulder for a moment, "Sorry. I've forgotten what it's like to be normal. Human senses and abilities."
The sentences were bitter, tinged with a clear amount of self-loathing. Claire swallowed her pride then, and it went down her throat like a rock. Her vocal chords felt flayed as she spoke, "No, I'm sorry. That was bad of me to say. You just scared me."
"It's nothing that isn't true," Alice responded.
Claire sighed, "Alice-"
"Claire, it's fine. I've just accepted it. Come on. Let's go find Chase and Carlos. We might find some supplies here," Alice interrupted her. She gave the convoy leader a smile that only looked somewhat forced, and turned to walk out the door. She threw a glance over her shoulder after a few steps, and Claire quickly fell in next to her.
They walked through the quiet hall, and before they reached the lobby, Claire stopped. Alice noticed the lack of softly thudding footsteps and stopped as well. She looked at Claire, and the younger woman made sure to capture those crystalline blue eyes, "I don't think you're a freak." She pushed as much honesty into her voice as possible, and she hoped desperately that Alice could find it in the curves of the letters.
"Thank you," Alice responded. She didn't smile, but Claire could hear something in the words, a sort of deep gratefulness. She dipped her head towards Claire, and the gesture held far more than it seemed.
Something told Claire that the reassurance was one Alice didn't receive very often.
XXX
Every month, Claire checked under the hoods of the vehicles in the convoy, performing basic maintenance and repairing things that could potentially cause them to break down in a convenient desert place 50 miles from the nearest auto parts store. Currently, she was working on her Hummer, her baseball cap backwards on her head, hair pulled in a ponytail. Her fingers were painted with oil and grease, and her face was streaked with sticky lines of sweat. It was probably in the upper 90s, and it wasn't even noon. It was fixing to be a miserable day.
"Need some help?"
The voice startled a very focused Claire, and she jumped. Her head slammed into the underside of the hood, and she groaned as she turned around. Alice was standing there, her expression apologetic. But Claire could see the slight tugging at the corners of her lips as she fought back laughter. Not this again. Claire resisted the urge to grab her aching head and smear grease in her hair.
"Why the fuck do you find it necessary to do that?" Claire snapped. This was Alice's fifth day with the convoy, and she had already startled Claire at least once every day. Claire had stopped feeling bad for getting angry by now. She walked so silently and never made her presence known. Two days earlier, she had walked in on Claire changing because she hadn't bothered to knock or make noise before barging into the back of the hummer. Claire had let out an unceremonious squeak, clapped her hands over her exposed breasts, and chewed Alice out for ten minutes (still topless) while the woman tried and only partially succeeded not to laugh at her. Claire thought there might have been a little unnecessary staring too, but she played that part off as her imagination.
Alice's facade crumbled, and a large smirk spread across her lips. She was so frustrating. Claire was regretting her decision to invite this woman to come with her, even though the rest of the convoy adored her. She was good with the children, she didn't talk much which pleased K-Mart (who could ramble on for ages if you let her), she had some sort of history with Carlos (one that was not completely happy or contained some sort of scandal, judging by the way he avoided half of Claire's questions when she asked him about it), and she was generally just really helpful around camp. Apparently Claire was the only one who was aggravated by her. And honestly, Claire didn't know why she was. She couldn't understand why, but something within her just really couldn't stand Alice. She never did anything particularly bad. Claire just was at her wit's end, all the time.
"Why are you always so jumpy?" Alice responded. Claire scowled at her, and angrily, she took her gross fingers and rubbed them down either one of Alice's cheeks. Five long smears of brownish-black covered both sides of the woman's face. Alice's jaw dropped, and Claire felt an insane amount of victory for catching her off guard. Revenge was oh, so sweet, she decided. Alice shook her head, eyes narrowing, "Well, that was totally mature of you."
Oh, hell no.
People didn't insult Claire's maturity, even as a joke. She had always been very grown up for her age, especially after her parents had died. She was self sufficient and strong, and to suggest she wasn't, even teasingly, was offensive. Chris had done it countless times once he realized how quickly it pissed her off, and she had used countless Americanas, Kimuras, and Gogoplatas on him in return. But if she tried any of that on Alice, she would probably end up with a broken neck. Sometimes, Claire would also abuse Chris with his full name (Christopher Robin Redfield, not even kidding). But Alice Abernathy was a normal name and there was nothing funny she could do with that.
"You're infuriating," Claire settled for that instead, frowning deeply. She turned to return to her work, signaling that this conversation was over. However, Alice had other plans. She gripped Claire's shoulder and pulled her back around, "I didn't mean to offend you."
"Okay. You never do," Claire replied, curtly. Then she sighed, shaking her head around. The heat and the thoughts of her probably-deceased brother Alice had brought up were turning her into a total bitch. More so than usual, at least. Gingerly, she offered an apologetic smile in response to her previous statement. Okay, so maybe she hadn't stopped feeling bad after all, "Sorry. I'm just in a bad mood today. I would like your help, if you don't mind."
Peace offerings were hard, but Claire forced herself into one. Maybe she was just overreacting about everything. Actually, there was no maybe about it. Every little thing Alice did got to her, and Claire couldn't figure out why. But the woman had saved her life, and Claire knew she needed to work on getting over herself. Maybe this would help.
Or maybe she would come out of it hating Alice even more. Only time would tell.
They spent the rest of the afternoon working on the convoy's vehicles, with Claire having Alice hand her various tools and pointing out important parts of the machinery and how to recognize what was good or bad. The blonde picked up on things quickly (no surprise there). They worked fairly well together, and the job was finished an entire two hours before Claire expected it to be previously. The general success startled her, and she found herself joking with Alice by the end. So it had worked in a positive way. Great ingenuity, Redfield, she praised herself silently as she checked over the inside of the tanker one final time.
"So, maybe you're only slightly infuriating," Claire found herself admitting later, as she closed the hood of the tanker. It shut with a satisfying thud, and Claire flashed Alice her best shit-eating grin.
A solid punch landed on her arm, "And you're only slightly bitchy." Claire's smile fell and in response, she pulled her lips back from her teeth and gave a joking growl. The blonde raised her eyebrows, grinning at the convoy leader.
"At least my face is clean," Claire shot back, motioning with her hands towards Alice's oil-stained cheeks. The blonde narrowed her eyes, and Claire realized what she had just done. Before she could turn and run away, Alice took her fingers and ran them over Claire's forehead and down her nose. She grinned wickedly, eyes glowing in the sun.
Claire couldn't even bring herself to be mad.
XXX
There was something fascinating about watching Alice practice with her blades (Kukris-Claire knew now, because the woman had gotten irritated with her once for calling them machetes). She moved with such fluidity, and it was almost like dancing. Her hands and feet and hips and shoulders all moved in tandem. Deft fingers and wrists sent the blades spinning and slicing. They created soft whistling noises when Alice drew them particularly brutally through the air. She could throw one, spin, and catch it before it hit the ground, while simultaneously striking with the one still in her grasp. She could hand spin the blades and whip them around them in a tornado-like whirl.
But it was her face that really intrigued Claire. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth opened, lips parted slightly, teeth showing in a constant, primal snarl. And her eyes. God, those eyes. They grew bluer and bluer, until the color was almost electric. And there was something wild about them. Something animalistic flickered through them, something raging and vengeful.
It was terrifying, but Claire couldn't help but stop and watch occasionally. Now was one of those times. The redhead had cleaned herself up after maintaining the convoy's trucks, and now she was watching, leaning against the side of the building behind her. Alice hadn't seemed to have noticed her yet, soft grunting noises escaping her as she stabbed both blades forward, then kicked off her back leg, throwing her body into a twist in midair, blades whipping around with the motion. She landed hard, sand exploding up in small clouds around her combat boots. Her chest was heaving, blades clenched tightly in her fists.
"Did you enjoy the show?" Alice asked as she spun her kukris and slid them back into their holsters, finally acknowledging Claire's presence. Her voice was ragged and breathy, sweat shiny on her forehead and her neck. Since they had worked on the cars together, their relationship had shifted to something more casual and joking. The woman was still frustrating, but now Claire was comfortable enough to get over it and occasionally even frustrate Alice right back.
Claire shrugged, "Eh, it was okay." She smirked at the flash of irritation that crossed Alice's face, then added, "I'm kidding. That was fucking badass. Especially that twirly thing at the end there."
"Butterfly twist. More flashy than useful. I added that one in there just for you," The woman said. She gave an exaggerated wink, and Claire had to fight back a laugh. Alice continued as she slid her blades back into their sheaths, "Now, I'm gonna go give myself a nice sponge bath, because it's my turn today. Sorry to disappoint you, Claire, but I have to cut off your little adventure into voyeurism here."
"Voyeurism? A little self-centered, don't you think?" Claire shot back, crossing her arms indignantly as Alice moved to walk away, "I wasn't planning on watching you anymore, anyway!"
Alice turned and threw a few words over her shoulder, "Whatever you say!"
With that, she laughed loudly and hurried off before Claire could retort.
XXX
Claire had been given first watch, and for once she was grateful for it. Usually, she hated first watch, because there was something inherently soothing about K-Mart's before-bed rambling to her about her day or a book she'd read, or her humming or the way she always leaned against Claire's shoulder for a little while before she curled up in the passenger seat and dozed off. There was something special about K-Mart. She was like Claire's younger sister, an exception to many of the rules the redhead made herself follow-especially the one about not being touchy-feely. K-Mart could get away with being close to her far more than anyone else could. Tonight, however, Claire just wanted a little bit of alone time.
Her relative good mood from the past few days had died. She had started her morning by waking from a horrible nightmare, one she could only remember bare, horrid details of now. The images still in her mind involved blood and screaming and boiling desert heat. And death. Lots of death. Then, to add on to that, one of the younger girls had fallen ill. Betty had her in the ambulance, and her fever had come down to just above 100 degrees. She was apparently stable and would be fine in a few days, but there was always the chance it was something far worse than they could see, and Claire would have to hold a funeral for yet another member of her convoy. And the girl was so young, too. No more than 11 or 12. It was terrible.
The sun was almost completely set. Only a few slivers of light remained. Pinkish-orange streaks swam through murky purple, and Claire gave it all of ten minutes before darkness fell completely. She was sitting on the sand near the fire, her eyes constantly scanning the perimeter that Carlos had set up a while before. The temperature had dropped significantly, 98 degrees becoming 68, and Claire regretted not grabbing her jacket from the Hummer.
The maintenance she and Alice had done a few days before had instilled her with confidence that the vehicles were all in good shape to keep moving. However, while they were in good shape, the trucks couldn't run without fuel. And the two weeks' worth they had found earlier in the week was good, but not if it was all they found. It was only going to last them a week or so longer, and that wasn't much time at all in retrospect.
The thoughts made her stomach ache, and Claire fumbled around in her pocket until she found her box of cigarettes. With deft fingers, she pulled one out and lit it. She pushed the stick past her lips and inhaled, relishing the feeling of the smoke filling her up. She wanted to close her eyes while she savored the feeling, but she knew she couldn't. Slowly, she released the gray cloud through her nostrils, her body protesting at the loss. She sated it by inhaling again. She needed to kick her addiction, because it had almost gotten her killed last time. But she had twelve packs of cigarettes, and she didn't want them to go to waste. Sure, she could have divvied them out among the convoy. But Claire was not much for sharing. She would stop after she ran out this time, she decided. It couldn't be that hard to quit.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around her from behind and interrupted her inner monologue. Claire nearly inhaled her entire cigarette in surprise, and automatically moved to struggle free of the grip. The arms pinned her tighter, however, and lips brushed against her ear, "You seemed cold."
"Alice?" Claire asked, her voice coming out in a surprised hiss. She recognized that gruff, low voice, and the way there seemed to be a smirk lying under any of the words spoken by it.
The lips rested a little too long on her earlobe this time, "You have goosebumps." One arm kept Claire pinned, while the other ran up her arm, rough fingertips trailing from her wrist to the soft crook of her elbow, and up along the muscles in her biceps. Yes, there were goosebumps prickling along Claire's skin, and she had to force her body not to shudder at the strangely gentle touch.
"What the hell?" Claire managed after a few seconds, hating herself for how high her voice was. With a hard breath, she regulated it on her next words, managing to sound firm and not like a horny high school girl, "Get off of me!"
A sigh fell against Claire's ear, but Alice pulled away. Claire expected her to leave then. She wanted her to leave then. But instead, Alice came and sat next to her on the ground. It was impossible to read her face in the dim, flickering orange light, "I'm sorry."
"You can't do shit like that, Alice!" Claire told her, voice sharp but not loud enough to disturb the rest of the convoy and alert them to their topic of conversation. The joking relationship that had started forming earlier was gone now, destroyed in an instant, replaced by Claire's hysterical confusion, "You can't just come up and grab people and try to fucking come on to them. I don't know if all of your genetic mutation stuff screwed with your human interaction skills or what, but you just...you don't do that. It's inappropriate on so many levels."
Alice's voice cut through the air around them, and Claire was surprised at the sincerity housed in it, "Claire, I'm sorry." She couldn't tell if the redness on Alice's cheeks was from the firelight or a blush, "I thought you were interested. After working on the trucks. And you watching me train."
"Are you crazy?" Claire responded, then berated herself a little at the rudeness of her own words. She softened them in her next sentence, "No, Alice, I'm not interested. I guess I did kind of flirt with you, but it was nothing more than that. I'm sorry."
There was a long pause, in which Alice picked at her fingernails and looked anywhere but at Claire. Awkwardness was thick around them and Claire took another drag of her cigarette to calm her confused thoughts. Finally, Alice looked up at her, "Is it because I'm a woman?"
"No!" Claire said immediately, startled by the question. Well, that was part of it. Claire was straight. She had always been with guys. She had never looked at a girl like that...since sophomore year, and her lab partner in biology was this gorgeous blonde cheerleader named Taylor. But that had just been envy, hadn't it? A desire to be like her? It was a girl crush, not feelings. Claire shook her head both to clear her thoughts and emphasis her point, "Not really that. I just don't have feelings for you."
Alice's embarrassment had faded, because in response she looked at Claire with complete focus and her voice held some sort of confidence, "Then why do you smell so nervous?"
Oh great. So she could smell her now? How cute. Claire took another drag of her cigarette. She spoke with the smoke that she exhaled, "I don't know. Oh! Maybe because you decided to jump me?"
"That's not why," Alice said, and she moved closer. Claire wanted to move away, but the woman's blue eyes had frozen her in place. After no more than a few seconds, Alice's lips were on Claire's ear again, "It's not that kind of nervousness." Her tongue darted out, tracing the shell of Claire's ear. A sound escaped Claire before she could stop it, a low groaning sound that vibrated in her throat, "You're nervous because you don't want to push me away right now."
Claire moved to do just that, but Alice caught her chin and held her in place. She pressed her nose into the underside of Claire's jaw, and her lips parted against the convoy leader's skin. Her tongue slid out, brushing so lightly against Claire's pulse point that she could barely feel it. This time, she couldn't fight a shudder. Her vocal chords trembled and strained, and they barely managed to push out a whisper, "I want you to stop."
Either Alice didn't hear her or was ignoring her. Her teeth grazed Claire's skin, and she trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of the redhead's throat. Claire tried to reach up and push Alice away, but instead her head tilted to the side, giving Alice more room to move her mouth. It was like her body and her mind were at war. Her head told her to stop, her body tried to press itself more into the touches. Absently, she wondered if Alice was controlling her. But the woman didn't seem to be getting weaker, or risking passing out. She seemed perfectly fine. It was all in Claire's own head. Her own body was against her.
Alice's grip on Claire's jaw tightened, and she dragged her tongue along the hollow made by her collarbone. The moan that escaped was something Claire had never heard herself make before, and she blushed in embarrassment. Claire's eyes had closed at some point, and when she opened them again, it was dark. The fire was out, and Claire was slightly thankful that no one would be able to see her current position.
"I'm supposed to be on watch. Stop."
The words sounded so distant that Claire wasn't sure if she had actually managed to speak them. Then Alice's voice vibrated against her neck, causing Claire to shudder again, "I'll sense if anything comes close. You know you want this. I've been able to tell since the way you looked at me the day we first met."
Alice pulled away from Claire's neck, then reached for the cigarette that the redhead still managed to keep caught between her lips. She plucked it free, pressed it to her own lips, and inhaled deeply. Then suddenly, her lips were on Claire's. They were cool and dry, and smoke tumbled from between them and was blown into Claire's own mouth. Claire accepted the smoke greedily and held it as Alice's lips dominated her own. After a moment, Claire breathed the smoke back, and she felt it filter out of Alice's nose and expand around them.
With the smoke gone, Alice kissed her harder. Her lips were firm and bruising, and her tongue slid into Claire's mouth. It carressed her cheeks and the roof of her mouth, and Claire moaned into the kiss as the words ohmyfuckinggod rolled through her head over and over. Alice sighed against her lips, and the sound was far more feminine than any other sound Claire had heard the woman make. Then it registered that this was Alice who was kissing her like this. Alice, a woman, one who had saved her life but infuriated her like no other. A woman who she could be joking with one moment, and wanting to punch in the face the next.
Alice, whose fingers trailed over her tense stomach muscles, whose palm moved to curl around her right breast. When the woman's fingertips rolled over her nipple beneath her shirt and above her bra, Claire's mind simultaneously short circuited and decided to finally force her body to cooperate. She broke the kiss and shoved Alice backwards, heels of her palms against her shoulders.
"Alice. Stop. I don't want this." Finally, her voice sounded like she meant it. There was a pause, then she felt her cigarette being fumbled past her lips again. Clothing rustled, and she realized Alice was standing up.
The blonde's voice sounded disappointed and maybe a little confused, "Right. As you wish." Claire heard the subtle scrape of boots in sand as Alice turned and walked away. After a few steps, the fire flickered back to life, and Claire knew for sure that its original demise was due to Alice. She watched the woman walk away, disappearing after a moment because the range of the firelight faded into blackness.
Claire sighed, not sure what to think. She felt disgusted. But she wasn't disgusted with Alice, even though the woman had continued to touch her even after she'd asked her to stop. She was disgusted with herself, with the way that she had only half-heartedly protested. She was disgusted with her body, and the way her nipples were currently painfully hard against the material of her bra, and the way her panties felt hot and considerably wet as they clung to her. She didn't understand. Her body's primal urges desired Alice, but she didn't know if the rest of her did. Something in her suggested that maybe her feelings were why she always got so annoyed with Alice yet her stomach dropped every time she met the woman's eyes, but another part of her fought that to the death. There was no way...was there? There was nothing but confusion laid out in front of her. No easy answer, now how-to-for-dummies book. Alice was an enigma, and so was how Claire felt about her.
There was no way she was going to be able to focus for the rest of her watch.
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