Chapter 21 Propositions
Claire stroked her fingers through his hair absently, staring out the open balcony door at the ocean, the sun just rising. Wesker's head was pillowed on her stomach, his arms wrapped around her waist, one hand tangled with hers in the sheets. Smiling down at him gently, she slid one smooth calf up the back of his thigh, tangling their legs.
Her thoughts swirled through her head in the morning light. She knew, against all odds, that she was undoubtedly in love with Wesker. Beneath his icy exterior and behind his burning eyes, was a man. A bitter, resentful, angry man, but a man nonetheless. She had noticed that since he had brought her into his life all those months ago, there were far fewer bioweapon attacks in the world and fewer casualties because of it. She wasn't naïve enough to think it was entirely because of her, but she like to think she had been a part of it. Something to tame part of his angry soul, a distraction from the continuous streams of data and boring conference calls and the murdering for world secrets. She knew without a doubt that he still did all those things, but she felt as if the burning drive, the undeniable need to wreak havoc on the world had dimmed just a little.
Wesker sighed in his sleep, his arms tightening around her, nuzzling into her stomach possessively, a low growl issuing from his lips. Combing her hair from her face with her nails, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. He calmed then, a slight smile twitching the corners of his lips. Her hand went back to stroking his shining blonde hair, and she watched the sunlight creep imperceptibly across the floor.
This was a side of Wesker she rarely got to see. He was no longer the same red eyed tyrant who slammed her against the wall for her impertinence, his hand clenching on her throat as she struggled to free herself. His words were rarely bitter or harsh towards her unless she deserved it. This part of Wesker was almost human in a way he could never again be physically. This man had feelings and emotions. Granted, they were still hard to pick up on, but after having spent so long with him, sometimes she swore he could be skipping down the halls with glee.
They had conversations, shared their infrequent meals together, and slept in the same bed. Claire soon found out that Wesker preferred to spend the night cuddled with her if they went to bed. A few times, she had fallen asleep on one side of the bed only to wake up to find him draped across her body protectively, his face buried in her hair. The only thing their relationship, if that's what it even was, was missing, was a name. He wasn't her boyfriend and she was most certainly not his girlfriend. Claire wasn't fond of titles, but she was curious what he would call this. A partnership, consort, lovers perhaps…
She blinked when the sunlight finally leveled directly into her eyes, shaking her head slightly. Blinking a few times, she leaned down to once more press a kiss to his forehead, then slipped from beneath his heavy, hot weight. He frowned slightly then pulled her pillow under his face and didn't stir again. A small smile on her face, she stood and stretched, making her back crack pleasantly, then she slipped into the shower. As she stood beneath the hot spray of water, she let the water pound down on her skull, savoring the warmth against her sticky skin.
Feeling slightly disgusting, she realized that it had been over a week since she had showered last. And she had cuddled with Wesker in bed. Suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed, she slathered soap onto a loofa and scrubbed her skin till it had a healthy blush. She washed her hair twice to get it clean once again. Finally, she felt like herself again.
Claire was just rinsing the last of the conditioner from her hair when she felt herself pulled back against a hard chest, burning lips dropping seductive kisses the length of her neck. She shivered when he nipped the tendon in her neck and shoulder, her arms reaching back to close around his neck. One hand slid to her waist, pressing her hips back against his hard length, the other to softly cup her breast. He gently pinched her rosy nipple between his thumb and index finger, rolling it gently.
"Albert," she whispered, tipping her head to the side to give him greater access to her skin.
"Good morning, my lady," he purred, his voice slightly rough from sleep. "I must thank you for your assistance this past week. It was unnecessary but appreciated."
She shivered. "I wasn't going to just leave you there," she whispered, her heart racing, her fingernails digging into his scalp.
She turned around in the circle of his arms to face him as he pressed her against the slick wall of the shower, slipping his leg between hers. He was busy pressing kisses to her collar bones as her fingers grasped his hair, pulling him closer. His hands were filled with her magnificent breasts, cupping, shaping, caressing.
With a groan, he leaned back to look down at her, his eyes a gentle golden glow. "As delightful as it sounds to ravish you in the shower this morning, I do, however, need to return to the lab." He stroked the side of her face with his fingertips. Her eyes fluttered at the contact, her breathing still ragged from his earlier teasing.
Frowning up at him, she shook her head to clear her brain from the fogginess he had caused. Damn him. Feeling achy and warm from the building pleasure, she slipped from the shower when he reached for the unmarked bottle of soap and the ever ebony washcloth.
The man and his work. Sighing, she shook her head, perusing the closet for something to put on. Even having been unconscious and half dead for seven days did nothing to stop his scheming. Settling on a dark purple sundress and slipping it on, she heard the water turn off and him step from the shower.
What a tease.
The day passed uneventfully for Claire. She plaited flowers together and hung them within the house to scent the air with their heady fragrances. Soon the house was festooned with garlands and the majority of the flat surfaces had vases and bowls with more flower arrangements. Eventually, she ended up plaiting purple and white hibiscus into her hair, sitting cross legged in the sand on the beach. She stared absently out over the ocean before her.
Her sharp senses made it that much more enjoyable. The thundering crash of the surf before her, the salty tang of the air, the stench of seaweed that lay tangled and half dried on the beach from the high tide, and the raucous calls of the seagulls as they scoured the beach in search of food. The sun against her skin, hot and comforting, cooled pleasantly by the misting breeze.
Her eyes focused down into the dark depths where the cave resided. It had been a while since she had been down there. Making up her mind, she strode back into the house, brushing sand from her bare legs on the way. She put a tank top and bikini bottom on, strapping her knife to her thigh. Digging around in the kitchen, she came up with a waterproof flashlight. Setting her cargo on the hall table, she looked over her shoulder at the barren steel lab door. Unfortunately, it was shut completely.
Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and rapped on the cold metal. Her sharp ears heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and then the light, steady footprints of Wesker coming to answer it. A split second later, she was greeted with flashing sunglasses and a sense of unease.
"Miss Redfield," he greeted her in a flat voice.
Claire swallowed. She still got nervous when he talked like that. It used to mean that she was moments from being hurt. Now, while less likely to inflict pain, it meant that he was irritated. "Uh, I'm gonna go explore that underwater cave you showed me," she trailed off, staring intently at his chest.
His fingers slid lightly down the flowers braided into her hair, a small smirk on his face. "Indeed," he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist and pressing her closer. One hand slipped up to caress the side of her cheek. He gently pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then whispered, his lips brushing hers. "Until later then. " Then he disappeared down the hall once again, the door pulled firmly shut behind him.
Now feeling rather irritated herself, she huffed a piece of hair out of her face and marched back down to the beach, snatching the flashlight off the table on her way past. Plucking the flowers from her hair, she dropped them to float in the surf as she stood in the water. She turned and dove beneath the crystalline waves, her sharp eyes watching shoals of small fish dart away from her passage. At the sharp drop off, she dove deeper, feeling the slight push of pressure on her ears. The archway loomed before her as she angled herself towards the darkness.
Slapping the flashlight against her hand when it flickered, the underwater world around her was suddenly thrown into sharp relief. She hadn't noticed last time, but there were statues made of a strange black stone. Gliding closer to one, Claire touched a fingertip to the cheek of a merman. The stone was almost unnervingly warm to the touch for having been underwater for what looked like centuries. Tendrils of lichen trailed from his elbows and ears, waving gently in the current, his chest stained green with more. As she inspected the statue further, she noted the look on his face and was disturbed. He seemed to be staring at her, instead of the normal, vacant stare of a statue. His mouth was stretched in an angry scream, a small nest of crustaceans within. Shivering slightly, she swam past him to a new figure.
This one was the octopus-looking one, but it was most definitely not an octopus. It had tentacles coming from his chin, waving menacingly around its face. The sculptor had it crouched down, its arms and legs ending with vicious looking claws, its eyes slits of hate. It too, was made of the same black stone, slathered with green lichen ribbons.
Frowning slightly at her slight breathlessness, she sped past the rest of the shadowy statues towards the opening above. As she gripped the side of the pool, she slid easily from the water and crouched at the edge. Wringing the excess water from her hair and shirt, she stepped towards an earthen shelf. It held the other colored stones like the blue one she had upstairs in the living room. She was glad she had a sharp memory as she began mentally cataloguing the murals and carvings on the walls.
A few days later, Claire was seething. Wesker had yet to come out of the lab, having locked the door so she couldn't enter. She had gone from concerned to hysterical to suspicious to irate when he still hadn't opened the door. If she could get her hands on him, she'd wring his demon-eyed ass. She was in the middle of insulting his masculinity when he stepped smoothly from the door, his eyes flashing.
"You and I both know that I do not have pansies on my ass, dear heart," he said smoothly, folding his arms and frowning at her.
Claire gaped at him. She was standing with her hands on her hips, screaming through the door at him. "It's about damn time!" she yelled, poking him roughly in the chest with her finger.
He stared down at her through his sunglasses, his eyes blazing. "I wouldn't recommend doing that again," he growled, snatching her wrist in his hand and stopping her mid-motion.
"What the hell were you doing in there? Why didn't you answer the fucking door?" she shouted, wrenching her hand from his grasp.
"Watch your tone with me, Miss Redfield," he hissed, gripping her chin tightly.
Then suddenly, he was viciously shoved back a few feet. He could feel the imprint of her hand on his chest, even before his eyes flashed to her. She was standing, feet braced, flat hand outstretched from where she punched him in the chest, ripping his hand from her face. Her dress was rippling around her from the force of her push.
Wesker snarled, his eyes flaring angrily as he intercepted another punch, this one aimed at his face. As her leg swept towards his head, he grasped her ankle and yanked her down to the floor. He knelt down on her twisting form, pressing his knee into the middle of her back.
"Let me go!" she demanded, trying to buck him off, her hands and feet scrabbling to gain purchase beneath her. Reaching up behind her, she yanked him off balance and surged to her feet again. Once more, she attacked him, fists and feet flashing. Never had Wesker worked so hard to defend himself. He almost felt human for a moment. He blocked every single blow, but they were harder and heavier than even Chris's had been last time they had battled.
Maybe he should finalize her fighting skills, hone her to be his match. Then, blocking another kick to his side and a blow to his temple, he gripped her wrist. He spun her around and yanking her arm up behind her back, slammed her into the wall.
"Let me go!" she howled, making his ears ring faintly.
"Explain your temper tantrum," he demanded, shoving her against the wall again when she tried to wriggle free.
Claire growled at him, trying to wrench herself free again.
"Answer me!" He said, his voice hard and unyielding to the almost certain pain he was causing her.
Claire whimpered slightly when her forehead hit the wall, more in annoyance than pain. "Why didn't you come home? It's been five days! I thought something happened to you again and then you locked the fucking door! How the hell was I supposed to know what was going on?" she yelled, trying to wiggle loose again. "For all I know, you relapsed and died on the lab floor and how was I supposed to know! I was worried sick and then I thought you were doing it to spite me. Then you just walk through the door like there's nothing fucking wrong!" She bucked against him again, trying loosen his grip on her shoulder.
Wesker pressed her against the wall with his body again, sandwiching her between him and the wall. Somewhere in his memory the phrase "Jill sandwich" rang faintly. "I said watch your tone, Miss Redfield," he growled, pinning her wrists against the wall with his hands, his lips against her ear. He smirked when he felt her shiver involuntarily. When she quieted, he let go of her wrists and stepped away from her, straightening his black dress shirt and black suit coat. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and fixed her with a piercing glare.
"I was taking care of business that needed attending. I was," he paused. "Unavailable for the last week and I am an important man in the world, dear heart. Some want me alive, some want me dead." She was still glaring at him, rubbing her wrists, her face burning. "Which brings me to another point," he said, sitting in his comfortable leather chair in the corner, swinging his booted feet up on the ottoman. "During your little tantrum just now, I noticed you've gotten stronger. Perhaps we should skip the beginner courses and teach you the finer points, shall we?" He cocked his head at her, steepling his gloved fingers.
Claire still wasn't satisfied with his answer. She glared at him again. "You still could have come to tell me that you were going to be gone so long. How was I supposed to know you were still breathing?" she muttered, crossing her arms and looking away.
Wesker chuckled. "I apologize."
Claire sighed. "So what were you doing? Are you really okay?" she asked, stepping closer to him, looking into his face. He saw her eyes flick over his face and down his body before meeting his.
He held his hand out to her, taking his glasses off and setting them aside. "I'm fine, dear heart, and you know better than to ask about my work. But, I can tell you that we may be gaining a new living space in the near future. That is, if things continue to go smoothly."
Claire took his and sat down on his lap, leaning against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. She just nodded when she heard his news. She didn't know how she felt about moving, honestly. This was the house where she had died and been reborn. This was the house that she and Wesker had shared, without another living soul. All of those things and more made it a conflicted emotion. As much as she enjoyed the tropics, it had lost its novelty after so long.
They were silent for a time, then Claire felt a buzz beneath her bum from his pocket. Rolling her eyes, she slid to her feet as he pulled the phone free.
"Speak," he snapped into the device, slipping his sunglasses back onto his face. Claire hesitated for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and slid from the room. Idly, she wandered down the hall to the enormous, floor to ceiling bay window that looked out over the ocean.
The skies were dark and angry looking. Fat, black clouds dripped large drops to splatter against the window in front of her. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of lightening, almost instantly followed by the bass rumble of thunder. The hairs on the back of Claire's neck stood up as she grinned slightly. She had always loved thunderstorms. Opening the windows to the oncoming storm, she let the wild winds whip through the house, billowing curtains and tearing at her hair and dress wildly.
With another silver flash of lightening, the rain came down in torrents, splattering on the floor in front of the open windows. Instead of shutting them, she opened them wider, standing in the spray. The wind whipped her hair around her face as she giggled and danced in the rain. Soon, her dress and fiery hair were plastered to her body like a second skin. More lightening split the sky, momentarily blinding her, the thunder making her ears ring. Grinning madly, she spun in the rain, her arms outstretched, head thrown back to the heavens.
As she spun, she caught a flash of red in the darkness and jumped. She whipped around to inspect and slowly focused on Wesker who was leaning against the door frame like a panther lounged watching its prey. His arms were crossed over his chest and his sunglasses were missing. He had discarded his suit jacket and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt much like he used to when he was still captain of the S.T.A.R.S. team.
And the look on his face was positively lustful.
Claire shivered as his golden scarlet eyes bored into hers, giving her such an intense look, she gulped. There was no tenderness in that stare, only pure lust. Staring at him warily, she turned to face him completely, her hands clenched at her sides. Lightening outlined his dark form for a moment. Rain trickled between her breasts and down her back, tickling her skin. Strands of her hair were stuck to her cheeks and plastered over her shoulders.
For a moment, neither one of them moved. Wesker's eyes swept up and down Claire's body in a way that made her skin feel scorched and tingly. Not having donned a bra that day in favor of a halter top dress, her nipples hardened beneath the wet fabric, her arousal suddenly very obvious.
Instantly, his head was pressed to her breast, his teeth gently nipping the hardened nub through her dress. "I approve," he growled against her skin, still nipping at her skin. His hands splayed over her bum, pressing her against him when her knees threatened to give out. She gasped, her fingers clenched in his hair. She gasped again when he switched his attentions to the other nipple, pushing her back against the window.
Claire was in pleasurable agony. Between Wesker's hot mouth and the cold rain, she felt confused as to whether she was burning up or freezing solid. Lightening blinded her as thunder made the glass shake against her. She shivered as his bare hand brushed the back of her neck, tugging at the ties of her dress. Then suddenly, her bare breasts were pressed against the wet fabric of his shirt as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth. A breathy moan escaped her lips as his hands slid beneath her wet skirt and hiked one of her legs around his waist, forcing her to stand on tiptoe.
He pressed his burning lips to hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. As she readily complied, he pressed his hips against hers, grinding into that sweet, sweet spot. She groaned again, her fingers yanking on the buttons of his shirt in her haste. She needed him naked and she was going to do her damnedest to get him that way.
But he had other ideas. "I don't think so," he murmured, his breath hot on her ear once more. He caught her hands and held them against the wall above her head. Leaning back, he stared down at Claire, his eyes blazing goldenly, tinged darker with red. Her dress was pooled around her hips, her hair slipping down across her breasts alluringly in the rain. "Perfection," he whispered and crushed his mouth to hers once again. The breeze was almost unbearably cold where she wasn't pressed against his hot skin.
Claire tugged feebly at her arms, wishing desperately to touch his skin, to tease him as he had teased her. Wesker just smirked and leaned against her arms harder. His lips traveled across her cheek and down her neck, nibbling and sucking on all the places that made her moan and cry out. Sliding his hands down her arms to pin her elbows against the glass, he covered one nipple with his mouth and sucked. Claire cried out, trying to press against him to put pressure where she so desperately needed it. His tongue swirled around her nipple, then he watched it pucker as the cold wind swept across her wet skin.
"Quit teasing," she gasped as he did it again and again, driving her insane with pleasure.
Wesker chuckled darkly. "Are you tired of my attentions, dear heart?" he murmured, biting down on a nipple with just the perfect amount of pleasure and pain combined. She writhed against him, still seeking some sort of relief from the onslaught of pleasure. He trailed a finger between her breasts, then hooked her dress with a finger and ripped it away from her skin. It fell with a wet splat on the floor behind them.
Then, without warning, Wesker spun her around and pressed her against the glass. Her nipples burned against the cold, sending sharp bolts of pleasure to her core. He swept her hair to the side and bit down on her neck, feeling her thrash against him. Lightening flash as soon as his teeth met her skin. Her hands still pinned above her head, she could do nothing to stop him or encourage him. Reaching down, he divested himself of his trousers and slid his hot, hard length between her thighs, coating them both with her hot slickness.
"Albert!" she wailed, her knees trembling again. He was so close to where she needed him to be. Why wouldn't he just quit teasing? He slid between her thighs again, making her shudder against him. One hand slid between her body and the cold window, his fingertips gently brushing against her clit. Thunder rumbled deeply around them.
"You're so wet, aren't you, Claire?" he whispered into her ear, swiping his fingers through her heat again as he pumped against her. "You like it when I'm rough, don't you?" He bit down on her neck again, his fingers pressing into her heat. All she could do was moan loudly, her hand scrabbling anxiously against the glass.
Reaching down, he readjusted his angle and then slowly pushed inside her, a hiss of pleasure issuing from between his clenched teeth. She was so hot and tight around him. He pulled out and slammed back into her, making her barely refrain from screaming. She was momentarily blinded by another flash of lightening.
"Albert!" she gasped, her hands clenching and unclenching above her head. She was so close to the edge, her knees felt like jello. A few more good thrusts like that and if his hand kept flicking her clit the way it had been, she'd go screaming happily over the edge. "Can't… stand…" she bit out, feeling the waves growing higher and higher within her.
"Fuck, Claire, I wanted this to last!" he growled as she collapsed. She knelt on hands and knees in front of him and looked at him over her shoulder, her green eyes flashing with golden fire, waving her derriere at him enticingly.
Instantly, he was behind her, slipping into her hot depths once again. His hips slammed into hers, making her scream out in pleasure. She threw her head back and Wesker wrapped a hand in her hair, forcing her to keep her head up. He could see her eyes gleaming like a cats' in the reflection in the window. Liquid emerald fire stared defiantly back. She pushed back against him, their hips meeting a few more times before an involuntary scream burst from her lips, her muscles clenching around him tightly, her eyes dark with the intensity of her orgasm.
"Good girl," he murmured, then slammed against her once more, a long groan echoing her scream as he poured himself inside her. Gently, he trailed kisses down her spine as she lay shuddering on the floor in front of him, gasping for air. Cold rain washed over their heated skin as he slipped from her skin to sit against the window and gather her into his arms.
Claire looked up at him blearily, a small smile on her face. She yawned and snuggled closer to him, uncaring that they were still being soaked. Wesker held her close, brushing her sodden hair from her face.
"How does Austria sound, dear heart?"