It was close to eleven when Piers crawled into the comfort of his bed, exhausted to the limit of not being able to stand anymore. It had been one of those endless and nerve-wrecking days that turned simple, boring office workers into murder machines by switching on their last-minute-work alarm, and the fantastic roastbeef in the cafeteria wasn't making up for anything either.
He shifted and turned wearily to his back, rolling the pillow into a sandwich before pushing it under his head along with his left arm. The day had been long, yes, but Claire's visit to headquarters had brightened it up considerably, and the thought of the redhead made him laugh, considering that they had once nearly ripped each other's heads off fighting over Chris' recovery process. Funny thing about that? Now he couldn't care less where his captain was spending his Friday, especially if he himself was getting to have lunch with the beautiful sister instead.
"Claire," he whispered, liking the airy sound of her name when spoken with a low voice, the kind used only for very intimate moments, and it made him chuckle.
What would he give to spend another night with her?
It was actually scary to see how easily the image of her had pushed into his laziest thoughts whenever his mind wasn't busy with work, replaying vividly every view and sound of her he had been granted that night in Jill's apartment. Whoever believed he was in love, though, like that rookie soldier maybe, was wrong. He liked Claire. Damn, he couldn't not like Claire. She was funny, clever, gorgeous and kind-hearted—whenever she wasn't just defending her brother's happiness against you, that is—she was fluent in five languages and she knew a lot of captivating stories. Yes, he loved spending time with her, but Piers was sure that what was keeping her constantly on his mind was mere physical attraction. A very intense physical attraction, admittedly, but who could blame him after all the glorious things she had done to his dick?
Resolute like an explorer, his right hand moved from its position on his stomach and wandered downwards. He wasn't particularly proud of masturbating to the thought of his captain's little sister in the protection of his bedroom, but having witnessed most of the late Alpha team soldiers brag about what they would gladly do to her, it was hard to imagine that he was the first or even the only one who did so. Releasing a breath, he started stroking, opening his mind to his favorite arousing imagination.
The sound of the doorbell made him jump up, firstly launching a glare of despise towards the door of his apartment and toying with the thought of simply ignoring it. The nightly visitor was persistent, though, and kept ringing with energetic resolution. Piers grunted and got up, tapping barefootedly to the door while he was picturing himself telling the stranger to fuck off in an ungentle way if they didn't come up with a damn good reason for the interruption of his private doings.
The identity of said stranger took his breath away, though.
"Claire?"
She was in a knee-long, black raincoat, an excessively thin garment for those months of the year, which showed only her brown leather boots. Maybe that was the reason why she was shivering. She was wearing her hair down, and the tiny snowflakes that had settled in her short strands were shining like diamonds.
"I'm sorry." The awkwardness in her laughter was boosted by the shudder. "I know it's late but..."
Piers, still a little speechless, shook off his bewilderment.
"No," he said with a head shake and pushed the door wider open. "Come in."
She nodded thankfully and walked on echoing heels into his apartment, glaring around cautiously but evidently pleased. Piers closed the door behind her and launched her a questioning expression.
"What's wrong? Did something happen to Chris?"
She snickered, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.
"No, Chris is fine, I suppose." She inhaled, a light blush spreading over her cheekbones that somehow made his heart flutter. "I just… I can't sleep."
He relaxed immediately once he was informed about the reason for her visit, laughing slightly as his head dropped to the side.
"And you've come all the way to borrow my dictionary?"
How did she even know where he lived? Claire shook her head no and fidgeted, her look dropping to the ground.
"Well, I…"
She was still shivering. He wasn't sure what had brought her to his place in the middle of the night, but it had to be something urgent.
"Maybe a hot drink to warm you up? You're shaking, Claire."
She kept giving him that intense stare of hers, and he didn't quite know what it meant until she started to speak again.
"That's very kind of you, but I know another way to warm up," she cocked her head and reached for the belt that snaked around her waist.
He deadpanned momentarily, watching how she pushed the raincoat off her shoulders and revealed the reason why she was shivering.
"Holy, shit," he cursed, enjoying the view of Claire's body tucked into nothing more than a minuscule set of black bra and panties that left little to imagination. Shortly able to swallow the enormous knot that was trying to build up in his throat before his mouth went completely dry, he turned his head away, trying not to stare indiscreetly at her. It was hard, admittedly. Claire took a step forward and, with two fingers on his chin, she turned his head back to face her.
"I can't stop thinking about you, Piers," she confessed bluntly and now he was the one who was shaking. "About that night at Jill's."
His heart began to hammer wildly and he felt the blood drain from his face, but he managed to play cool.
"Claire, I…"
"I think about you all the time. At home, at work. Day and night." The innocent shrug that burst through her shoulders was delightful to watch and it made his heart jump. "It's not just altering my sleep pattern. I'm not performing well at my job anymore."
He tried to speak, to counter, yet incredulous to the fact that Claire Redfield was standing half-naked in his living room and to the belief that she would let him absorb so much of her thoughts that it bombed all her routines and wouldn't let her go on with her everyday life. He raked his fingers through his short hair towards the back of his head and began to rub.
"And what do you expect me to do about it?" He asked with forthrightness, trying not to let his nervousness shine through excessively. Claire gave him a smug look.
"Isn't it obvious?" She purred and pressed her cold body against him with voracious intensity. "I thought that, perhaps, if we did it again, I could find out that it wasn't really as fantastic as my mind insists on remembering," she explained warmly, with a light shrug before pointing at her temple. "So I could get that idea out of my head once and for all."
His eyebrows jumped into an anxiously amused expression as he started to nod in understanding.
"Oh, I see!" He chuckled, nervousness tickling on the corners of his mouth. His eyes could barely stay on the redhead as he said, "I would love to help you, Claire, but..."
She pressed a finger to his mouth and breathed into his face.
"Don't turn me down, Piers, I beg you. I know you want me." The tip of her finger moved over his lips daring him to suck on it. A temptation he hardly withstood. "I've seen how your eyes undress me every time we meet."
The statement ripped a chuckle of arousal from him. He was too excited to feel busted, and Claire's body pressing against his caused a shot of heat to rush into his groin. He swallowed and hesitantly looped his arms around her shoulders. Claire traced a line from his mouth to his Adam's apple and hovered her lips over his.
"You're cold," he whispered, one fraction of a heartbeat away from her mouth. Her hands felt like icicles when she slid them over his shoulders.
"Only on the outside."
And she was right. Her tongue slipped like a wave of fire into his mouth and put his senses off the edge. In a matter of split seconds, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, absorbing the freezing shiver of her body and turning it into a different sort of tremble. Claire mewled, raking her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, and let out a cry of surprise when Piers spun around and pushed her against the wall. His mouth busy with the exploration of hers, he pinned her arms above her head before descending them slowly. Wrists, elbows, armpits, they all received merely sufficient caring attention before he cupped her breasts in his palms and squeezed.
"Oh, god," she winced against his lips as a playful knee jumped up, her leg hooking around his waist until her ankle pushed against his butt. "Yes."
Piers' hands abandoned the soft flesh of her breasts and eagerly traced along the line of her bra, right towards the hooks on her back. Claire lowered her arms and slung them around his neck as he pushed the straps down her shoulders with greedy desire. When Claire began to tug on his shirt, only needing two attempts to free him from the garment, he ran his hands down her body to reach for her thighs, pulling her into his firm grip. Her core felt hot and moist against his lower belly, and he felt his dick twitch in anticipation.
He couldn't wait to be inside her again.
With Claire and her hot breasts pressed against him, he turned around and stumbled into the bedroom, incited by the heat the friction of two bodies caused. Like a bag of potatoes, the woman was dropped too ferociously onto the mattress, with her mane covering the sheets in rivers of red. Her only response, though, was a deep-throated, encouraging moan and another rake of crashing nails on his skin when he climbed onto her. Piers groaned, but didn't waste time to dwell in the resulting pain. Too convincing was the rush of lust that spread through his limbs, tickling through his fingers as he descended, making Claire's toes curl on his way down her body.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered before placing a humid kiss onto her belly button, and the redhead laughed.
"So are you," she exhaled and looked down at Piers, the bright smile plastered onto her face grew wider the farther he descended.
He laughed, hooked his fingers into her panties and pushed them down, covering her spot with his mouth even before the underwear met the floor. Claire began to breathe agitatedly, making sounds of need as her fingers raked through his hair, more careful this time.
His erection ached more with every time he dipped his tongue into her, every time she moaned or cried his name, and the expectation left moist stains on his underwear. She tasted like more, and he would have loved to make her come with his mouth again, but he couldn't hold back a grunt of alleviation when Claire pulled his hair and gave him an inviting sign.
He smirked, licked his lips once more and began to move, climbing out of his pants and boxer briefs as he crawled onto her. When their faces were on one level, he rubbed the tip of his nose over hers and tilted his head to kiss her. She was warm now, and the only reason she quivered now was her libido, hopefully. They kept kissing, a little roughly, with much tongue and a little bit of teeth, and the way Claire angled her legs up pushed him to grab his dick and prepare to plunge into her. Claire had other plans, though, and she used the position of her thighs to flip Piers onto his back. He blew out a surprised and impressed gasp as Claire straddled him and ran her fingers over his chest. He touched her thighs, hips and waist as he admired her in all her glory. The creamy skin that stretched over her flat belly and heavy breasts, the perfection of her smile on full, pink lips, and the red locks that brushed her shoulders drew the picture of a goddess, and Piers couldn't help but worship her with every single one of his breaths.
He grabbed for her hand and pulled, causing Claire to drop onto his chest.
"I have a question, Miss Redfield," he whispered as he removed some hair strands from her face. "What will you do when you find out that it actually was as good as you remember it, or even better?"
Her eyebrow jumped, doubt spreading over her face before her lip twitched playfully.
"In that case," she replied in an equally low voice. "I will have to find a way to keep you, Piers Nivans."
As she pressed her lips onto his, she reached for his dick, ready to impale herself on him, and Piers' eyes fell shut.
The shrill sound had been made for waking up the dead.
His eyes fluttered back open when the phone on his nightstand began to scream for attention and he pulled his hand out of his pants before rolling to his side. He already cursed the caller without knowing their identity, but the name on the display made it all worse.
"Nivans," he answered, inhaling deeply to prepare himself for the noisy voice of- "No problem, Director Johnson."
Yeah, no problem, but he better had a good explanation for interrupting the fantasy of Claire in his bed. Unlike last time when he had only wanted to know the location of a file in their server.
"Yes, Sir, of course the team will be ready."
Seriously? Had that idiot just called and interrupted his fantasies to confirm he hadn't forgotten about the mission in South America? Johnson better be hanging up soon before Piers got the crazy idea of ripping his… "Anytime, Sir."
He hung up with the promise to silence his phone the next time he'd need a moment for himself, and his view swept across the bedroom. The ghost of Claire had long vanished, and Johnson had killed his mood for starting over again. Hand tightly clenched around the phone, unbothered by its previous location, Piers glanced absentmindedly back at the screen, swiping several apps of his interest open. Curiosity filled his chest when he landed in the texting app and saw who was among the connections who were, like him, online at inhuman hours of the night.
She was going to kill him someday. Not that he deserved any better than getting every single stupid hair on his head ripped out slowly and one by one. After spending literally months trying to reach Leon, calling him at every possible time in hope she would catch him available enough to take her call, Claire had decided to text him.
You in Tall Oaks this weekend?
It was harmless. It was inoffensive. Depending on how you read it, it sounded even cheerful and happy, like one of the casual conversations normal people shared, although both of them knew that there was goddamn nothing happy about it and that she would start bombing him with more phone calls if he ever dared respond. Or maybe she was the only one who remembered, because Leon didn't hesitate to type back an answer.
Yup. Adam speaks.
Damn, she hated him. A second after the message had come in, she had already been dialing his number again, drowning in the certainty that he wouldn't take her call this time either. Unsurprised by his lack of reaction, she sent another couple of messages, which remained just as unanswered as the call. It seemed she had caught him off guard, within one moment of dull blurriness that had made him forget that he was afraid of her like a wild animal feared the hunter that lurks in the forest.
Just when she decided that she'd had enough of everything for the rest of her night, the rest of the night seemed to wave back at her with one of those foam fingers people wore at sports events. Most if not all of her remaining anger was instantly blown away by the incoming message from Piers.
Can't sleep?
Wasn't he cute? Claire cheered silently at the screen, where more inviting words popped up.
Or are you partying?
That made her laugh. More than one of her coworkers her age would use the Friday night to visit a couple of bars and nightclubs, but she had stopped hardcore partying when she had realized that it didn't upset Chris half as much as it used to. She began to type back to the soldier.
Hahaha No partying for me, but still haven't found the needed rest either
She would omit the fact that the reason was her unbreakable faith in an obviously one-sided friendship. Before the thought let her go, Piers was already typing again.
That's bad. How about a Friday night escape? I'm sure that'll make you sleep.
Claire found herself blinking dumbfounded at her phone. Was he asking her out? Shaking the stupid idea off, she quickly decided that it was better not to give an answer.
Is that as effective as dictionary reading?
Curious. Her heart was beating funnily in her chest, waiting with excitement for Piers to finally send the next message.
No. But it's more fun. You in?
Her cheeks were starting to hurt. It wasn't until she ran her fingers along her lips that she realized that she was smiling widely. The offer was tempting.
Where are you taking me this late at night? Remember I'm an old lady.
And she could nearly hear him laugh, but a part of her was indeed worried he'd take her to some dark nightclub where she was as likely to stab someone as she was to get stabbed herself.
Nothing you can't handle. It's a place called Room X. I'll send you the location.
Now, that was a surprise. Room X? Claire couldn't get rid of the thought that it wasn't the type of place where you took a nice girl on your first date. Okay, she wasn't really a nice girl, nor was this a date.
Or was it?
Anyway. She was curious and bored and convinced Piers was too afraid of her brother's wrath to take her to a sex dungeon. With the both soothing and disappointing thought on her mind, Claire got up and grabbed her coat as soon as Piers had sent her the address.
"Are you sure this is the hole you want?"
"Damnit, just put it in. It's not the hole I want, it's the right one."
"Fine, but don't tell me later I didn't warn you."
"Just put it inside already! We've wasted enough time!"
Piers pushed the key into the keyhole Claire pointed at. He was just as convinced as the redhead that the third lock was the one that still kept the door shut and that unlocking it would grant them their way to freedom, but arguing with her had become his favorite task during the whole escape game. They had lost some precious time, but Claire was so wonderfully competitive and snapped so quickly that provoking her was not only easy, but also tremendously fun.
Turning the key, the lock clicked open and the heavy door squeaked loudly as it began to move.
"Yes!" Claire exclaimed as the two of them pushed through the exit door, greeted by the friendly, sleepy face of the owner.
"Congratulations you two!" he laughed, pointing at the clock that said that they had solved the puzzles and escaped the room three minutes and twenty-four seconds before the time was up. "You did really well!"
Afterwards, he let out a wide yawn reminding them that he had only let them play that late at night because he owed Piers a favor, which the young soldier took as an invitation to get the hell out of that place as soon as possible. He turned to Claire with an apologetic shrug as he placed the fifty dollar note onto the counter.
"Oh, please, let me pay for this," Claire announced excitedly as she began to dig in her handbag. "At least half of it."
Piers declined with a headshake.
"No need to. This round's on me," he replied and laughed. "You can pay next time. I mean, if you enjoyed it and want to repeat the are many different escape games in the city."
"I enjoyed it!" the redhead commented with a wide smile. "Solving puzzles is actually fun when you're not chased by zombies."
Good mood embraced them as the pair walked out of the apartment where the game had been set up, recalling the surprising moments they had just spent.
"Yeah, but when we entered the nursery with all the little cribs in there, it was kind of scary. I expected something to leap and attack me any moment."
Claire laughed a little louder.
"Agreed! Lucky they didn't let you bring your rifle. Your friend did a fantastic job setting this all up," she said as she gently nudged Piers' arm with her shoulder. "And you had a really good idea. Thank you."
He was so tempted to lay his arm around her shoulder, press her into him and walk her home with their bodies snuggled against each other to keep safe from the cold of the New Yorker late winter's night. Claire had proven to be the only reason why he hadn't killed himself or someone else that chaotic Friday, and now that he was with her, he didn't even want the day to end anymore.
"How about a drink?"
Claire turned and blinked at him.
"What, now?" she asked and glimpsed at a watchless wrist before rolling her eyes and pulling out her mobile phone to check the time instead. "It's past midnight."
He laughed, enchanted by the authenticism the redhead moved around the world, unbothered by possible missteps.
"It's also freezing out there," he said as he held the door open. "A drink will warm you up and help you sleep. I know a place nearby."
She looked like she didn't quite trust his intentions, or her own reaction to alcohol, but when he cocked his head to the side and winked suggestively, Claire began to laugh and nodded.
"Okay, fine," she exclaimed and walked out of the door. "But only one drink."
"You keep surprising me, Lieutenant Nivans," Claire confessed as she shoveled the creamy chocolate into her mouth with the provided plastic spoon. "That's not the kind of drink I expected."
Those words stole a chuckle from the young man. "I won't say that a glass of Scotch wouldn't have the same effect," he exclaimed, scratching with the plastic spoon along the walls of the paper cup to catch all the remaining sweetness. "But I thought it was about time I made up for accidentally leaving you longing for chocolate the first time we spoke at night."
They were walking down the street, side by side. The gentle layer of frost was glistening majestically on the stone ground, threatening everyone who dared pass it by too quickly, without contemplating its beauty. It was a surprisingly cold night for this time of the year, when spring usually started to unfold its wings and cover the city in its flowery robes, and the low temperatures were surely still the main concern of too many people on and around the streets.
"I can't believe you remember that."
To Piers, however, the cold was just a mere scratch on the surface of a profound and consuming feeling of rapture that hadn't let him go since Claire had accepted to meet him. No matter how often he repeated to himself that this was not a date but just a meeting between friends—if they were to be called friends anyway—he found it hard not to let his mind drift away. The further they walked into the night and towards the dawning of a new day, the less convinced he was that his nightly fantasy would not come true eventually.
Which was probably a mistake.
"You only said that five or six times that night," he laughed.
Sure, they weren't entirely strangers to each other, neither inside nor outside the bedroom, but the memory of the morning after their first disastrous night and the fact that Chris wouldn't be amused about a possible affair between his sister and his second in command made him cautious. On the other hand, he and Claire were grown ups and they could goddamn sleep with whoever they wanted, especially if there was no alcohol involved like the first time.
Piers grinned innerly at the thought. So what if Claire and he decided to have sex every now and then? Sex was a healthy activity. It raised your mood and made your skin shine, and orgasms prevented cancer—or so he had heard somewhere. And if Claire didn't have any alternatives, it was his obligation to offer her the needed relief, wasn't it? Even Chris would agree. They could meet once or twice a month, which was enough to begin with. His place was perfect for their encounters, all comfy bed and huge bathtub, an ideal playground for games like theirs. Of course, they could still continue their midnight chats, maybe just adding a bit of sexting, and little by little, they would fall into a new, intense routine that would leave them both satisfied. Maybe it would even lead to more someday, who knew, and Moira Burton would give them a pair name like Valenfield.
Which would that be?
"Piers?"
Claire's voice ripped him from his daydream at nighttime. When he paid attention again, the redhead had stopped in front of a building, and was pointing her thumb at the reddish door that stood guard at the entrance.
"I live here," she mumbled, smiling as though she had read his mind.
Piers' eyes swept to the right in half-hearted interest as he nodded.
"I see. Then I can consider the mission to take you home safely almost completed."
The redhead gave him a sly smirk, showing a charming row of teeth
"Almost?"
"I'll stay here until you're inside. I can't leave a lady standing alone on the street at night." He smiled expectantly, proud of having passed on the choice whether to end the night or not to her. The redhead, raking her fingers through her hair, laughed half-heartedly.
"Oh, of course," Claire laughed. "God forbid I get assaulted four feet away from my front door!"
A gentle shrug hugged his right shoulder as he thought of a reply.
"This is New York City. You can get assaulted anywhere," he mouthed and drew a big circle towards the ground, pointing at the space between them and Claire's door. "Also, I once read an article that said that these are the ten most dangerous square feet of the city."
He spoke with such dry seriousity that Claire couldn't hold back a shrill laugh of joy. She couldn't remember when she had last had that much fun, but she truly liked Piers Nivans' funny side, which she assumed to be a rarity not many people had ever learned about. Once the laughter had ceased, she cleared her throat.
"Oh, yes! That article!" A somehow flirtatious expression was turned to the young man as she took a step forward and gave him a sign to approach her, so she could share her secret with him. "No need to worry. I am what makes this area so dangerous."
That comment made him laugh again.
"So, you don't have to worry about me." Claire shrugged in her most innocent way, which didn't particularly make things easier for Piers.
"Okay," he said in defeat, his look briefly dropping to the ground before jumping back to her eyes with an expectant intensity he knew Claire wasn't able to ignore. "You think you can sleep now?"
The redhead watched him in silence, her lower lip shaking funnily as her eyebrows rose.
"I will have to make a confession," she whispered and Piers realized just now how close she really was. "I never had trouble sleeping."
"So?" He breathed in, trying to seem offended, but the wide curve his mouth drew made it hard to pretend he wasn't genuinely happy about the fact that Claire Redfield had met with him in the middle of the night only because she had wanted to. He shook his head in feigned disappointment. "I don't know what to say."
Claire sighed.
"You don't have to say anything."
They kept staring at each other for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, until the frosty night had robbed the sensitivity in their earlobes and tips of their noses, until they didn't even hear the noise of the city streets anymore. The moment stretched so much that the man began to regret not having had a real drink before, as the alcohol would have loosened the stiffness.
Right before Piers believed they would stand there until the morning, he saw Claire breathe in deeply.
"Oh, fuck it!" she hissed and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him down into her.
It looked like a movie kiss. At least, it felt as though it looked like a movie kiss. Piers had barely time to close his eyes when Claire's mouth collided with his, and just a second later the fingers of his right hand were tangled in her hair and his left arm slung around her shoulders. Claire's right hand still fisted the jacket with fury, her mouth pressing against his as though she tried to break his teeth, as though she tried to eat him. Even so, her lips were still as soft as he'd remembered, only colder, and he savored her kiss just like the first time. Wasn't it an amazing feeling to have Claire Redfield's mouth on his? This is what heaven tastes like, despite the underlying flavor of smokes, and nothing could convince him otherwise.
Piaire. His mind drifted off. Piaire could be a fitting pair name for Claire and himself, although it didn't sound as amazing as Valenfield.
"Get yourself a room!"
Their lips parted and he opened his eyes, meeting Claire's stare in a brief moment of complicity before he turned after the stranger who'd just invited them to continue their doing in a private place.
"Sir?" he asked, voice filled with euphoria and disbelief over the recent scolding for a harmless—okay, maybe not so harmless but still legal— kiss. Before he could keep complaining, though, Claire was already pulling him to the front door of her building, both bodies crashing into the wall.
"Good idea," she panted and pulled him back into her kiss as her left hand worked the key into the lock.
Damn! This was really happening, wasn't it? They were going to do it again. Piers' heart began to beat in excitement and his hands barely found a place to stay. Too many were the spots on her he wanted to run them along. The door swung open and the two of them stumbled into the building, lips still united. They crashed into the next best wall and Claire slung both arms around his neck and raked her fingers through his hair. When they broke the intense kiss, her hungry lips drew a smile and she grabbed his arm to pull him after her up the staircase.
They didn't get far.
Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, Piers pulled on her arm, causing her to spin back into his hold, and pushed her into the wall. His lips were instantly on hers again, nibbling and sucking, as his fingertips danced along her jawline.
Fuck, he wanted her.
"We gonna do this on each landing?" she whispered between kisses. "Because I live on the tenth floor."
He chuckled. Ten floors in a building without an elevator? No wonder she had the most delicious ass he'd ever seen.
"That's a long way up," he said and gently bit her bottom lip. "Just one for the road."
He trailed the tip of his tongue down her neck and Claire released a sound of need, her fingers hooking violently into his jacket. The soft skin on her neck was easy to torture, to suckle it between his teeth and nibble on it, causing her to cry out. Yes, goddamnit, he wanted her, he wanted to carry her to her home and give her a taste of him from all angles before falling asleep next to her.
Paire. That sounded almost perfect, didn't it? Was there a rule to create pair names? Should the lady go first?
He couldn't withstand the temptation to zip open her winter coat, quickly finding the hem of her shirt below and pushing his hand underneath it. Her body was feverish, the touch of his ice cold hands clearly surprising her when he brushed the swell of her left breast.
"Piers?" she asked in a husky voice, all mewls and lust.
"Yeah?" he could barely reply with her earlobe between his teeth.
"You gonna fuck me?"
Jesus. That soft tone dipped in feigned innocence drove him crazy.
Her nails were like hot iron blades on his scalp when he replied, "Oh, yes," and she instinctively pulled his hair. His eyes fluttered open to meet her hungry gaze from behind glassy eyes on a face flushed with a bloody red.
"Tell me," she demanded roughly, fingers fondling his nape.
What a surprise! Was Claire after all really the kind of woman who enjoyed some good old dirty talk in the bedroom? The smirk was hard to keep away from his mouth as it dropped to hers, stealing a short peck from her before he started counting all the nasty things he was planning on doing to her.
"I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked before. You're gonna scream so loud your neighbors might call 911," he promised, a little shyly due to the lack of alcohol, but the way she mewled and laughed encouraged him to go on. "I'll spread your legs and eat you out until you forget your name."
"God, yes," she moaned and angled his face to hers to kiss him again. He was kneading her breast with need, the playful little nipple turning hard between his fingers. That, and her crying need for attention were making him so hard he feared he wouldn't make it to the third floor even. His hand guided hers to the bulge in his pants, where she started massaging him without shame nor hesitation.
"See what you're doing to me?" he mumbled, hoarsely.
He would have to take her right there, in the staircase on the first and a half floor of her building. Fuck, what a goddamn arousing idea.
Claire pulled back, breathless and beautiful, and made his heart jump and his dick twitch when she mewled, "Want to watch me suck your cock?"
"I can't wait." Hell, yes! He wanted her in any possible way, on her knees, bent over the table top, on top of him with swinging breasts, lying next to him in the aftermath. He laughed darkly, pressing his mouth to the skin on her neck again, both hands now groping her recklessly as Claire's fingers found the buckle of his belt. Dear lord, she was heaven sent.
Cliers. Hah! Yeah, that was better, although it sounded a bit clumsy, didn't it? He had to stop himself from whispering the words in order to make a decision.
He gasped in surprise when Claire spun him around and pushed him into the wall, slowly sinking down into a squat, her handbag still slung around her shoulder as though it had always belonged there. She was really doing it, wasn't she? She was going to suck him right there, where they could be caught by one of her neighbors, maybe someone who really had trouble sleeping. "Oh, baby!"
One funny thing he had learned about Claire was that she liked playing games, teasing the shit out of you and making you beg for her to give you what you craved. Just as she was doing now, running the tip of her nose and tongue along the bulge in his pants, with just the right amount of pressure and breath to kill him with expectation. Another funny thing about Claire was that she had set her ringtone to play Bicycle Race by Queen whenever she wasn't in her working hours.
"Claire, baby," he wheezed when the usually so pleasant but now just plain annoying voice of Freddie Mercury sang something about riding things. "Your phone is ringing."
The redhead grunted, not as displeased as himself.
"Let it ring," she howled and started ripping on his belt as the music kept screaming for attention.
"Maybe it's work." Deep breathing whistled through his windpipe as he cupped Claire's face in his hands and gently angled it up, her sparkling blue eyes trying to seduce him all over again. He would happily let the damn thing ring and leave the caller waiting, but Claire was probably one of the people who were first reached out to when the world was on fire, and he wouldn't want her to neglect her obligations and other urgencies only because of him. Not to mention the threat that one of the neighbors could hear them and complain about the noise after midnight. "Or maybe it's Chris."
She rolled her eyes, her face bathing in a sarcastic expression.
"We both know it's not Chris."
That moment the music stopped, and Claire's eyebrows rose as the smile on her face grew wider.
"Problem solved," she cooed and yanked his pants open. "Where were we?"
A moan or two escaped his lips when Claire stuck her hand into his boxer briefs and started stroking him. Not that he wanted to complain, but…
"What if it was important?"
She laughed.
"They can surely wait until I'm done with you," she explained, pretty convincingly for someone who was holding a dick in her right hand. She pulled him out of his briefs. "Oh, damn, I love your smell. Also, if it was really important, they'll call again."
As though the caller had heard her speak, the phone began to ring once more. Piers couldn't hold back a chuckle, even though an irritated one. Claire didn't laugh. Claire was obviously pissed.
"Fine," she hissed and, without letting go of him, she grabbed her phone, determined to tell the caller to fuck off.
The world stopped spinning when the caller ID flashed up on her phone screen, pulling her directly back to the hard, dirty and asphalted ground of reality. How long had she been waiting for that call now, huh? Weeks had passed since she'd left the first threatening message in his mailbox, and he had chosen the worst possible moment to call back—as inopportune as someone who drives to Raccoon City to find their missing brother right when the city gets infected.
The moment her eyes met the phone screen, Claire's expression shifted from fierly seductive to thoughtful, and her hand slowly released his member. Piers sighed silently. So much for the wild night. It wasn't until Claire climbed back to her feet and gave him an apologetic glance that he risked peeking onto the device in her hand, his blood freezing when he read the name of the caller.
Leon.
She was almost shivering, looking so beautiful when she tried to explain.
"This… this is important indeed," she whispered, eyes glistening with guilt. "Could take me a while."
And if his flaccid dick hadn't been sign enough that the night was over, this was definitely it. Reality's cold hand slipped down his back, causing him to shudder. He had always sensed it, but now he had the confirmation: Claire Redfield belonged to someone else, if only partially. As he pulled his pants in place, he wondered what Chris would think about the evidence.
"It's okay." He forced an encouraging laugh. Head gesturing to the still ringing phone, he added, "Take it. I'll get going."
It broke her heart to send him away, and a part of her wanted to run after him, toss the phone into the next trashcan and keep kissing and fondling him. But she needed to speak to Leon about Ada and Neo Umbrella.
"Piers," she called after the man when he pushed past her. Fidgeting like a little kid when he turned back to her. "I'm so sorry."
Back to his usual professional attitude, he let his head sink into another nod.
"It's okay, Claire. I understand."
He understood that she couldn't just consciously cheat on Leon Kennedy, even when it was widely known that he didn't give much about faithfulness on his side. As soon as he crossed the threshold to the outside, he exhaled deeply, releasing the breath he seemed to have been holding for the previous hour. The night was officially over. He'd soon enough reach his apartment and drop back into bed—where he should have stayed in the first place anyway— and jerk off to the imagination of what could have been. Or maybe not.
"Paire. Piaire. Cliers," he mumbled, just for fun, only to remind himself that it sounded stupid, and it hurt, because just as he spoke the words, Piers realized that he hadn't just missed his chance to spend another night with Claire.
He also wouldn't wake up next to her the following morning.
The moon eventually pushed itself through the darkness of the clouds and began to pour its glow into the room. Jill had watched the play of light and shadows for over an hour now, knowing that sleep had become an impossible achievement for her that night. Too many were the recent happenings that were spinning through her mind and robbing her the needed rest. Boris was in Tall Oaks, most probably meeting with someone who could tell him more about Simmons' dark affairs. A sigh escaped her tired lips and she turned to the man who had his arm slung so tightly around her waist as though he feared she could be gone in the morning. Chris was snoring next to her, smiling in his sleep, and Jill felt genuinely happy that one of them got some rest that night.
But the night was one evil bitch. Dreadful thoughts that seemed so tiny and unimportant at daylight grew immense wherever the sun didn't shine, and a sleep-deprived mind like hers was much more likely to fall victim to them. Would Chris ever get his memory back? And if so, what would the consequences be? How would the mission in South-America go? Was he prepared for the terrors that awaited him there?
The man shifted to his back, the loud breathing from before turning into a heartfelt snore, and Jill chuckled.
"That your way to shut up the voices in my head, my hero?" When she stroked his forehead with two fingertips, Chris grabbed for her and caught her wrist, jerking on her arm until she lay on his chest, his arm covering her body as he pressed her against him.
Every single version of me loves you madly.
She let her head sink to his chest and curled against him, the rhythmic beating of his heart working like a mantra to calm her down.
We always did.
Jill closed her eyes, willing to give sleep another opportunity that night.
Never doubt that.
And just as the destructive thoughts vanished completely and peace started to reign again, the phone on the nightstand decided to ring loudly.
"Fuck," she hissed, eyes wide open, and spun out of Chris grasp. He began to shift instantly.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, don't worry. It's just the phone," Jill replied hastily, perfectly aware that a phone call at four in the morning most definitely meant that something was wrong indeed. "Valentine!"
"Agent Valentine, this is Lieutenant Nivans." The tone in Piers' voice said more than the words he could possibly speak. Something had happened. Something terrifying, for sure. "I'm sorry to call you so-"
"Cut the shit Nivans, what's happening?"
Oh, that was harsh. Jill looked over her shoulder at Chris, who was, luckily, still too sleepy to scold her for being mean to one of his men.
"Sorry," Piers replied steadily, his ice-cold correctness kicking in. "There has been an outbreak in China. Neo-Umbrella is suspected to be behind the attack. The Far East branch is requesting backup. We're leaving tomorrow morning!"
Jill felt her heart beat faster as the words and their cruel meaning sank in.
"He's not ready," she mouthed, inaudibly to the men in her reach. It wasn't necessary anyway, as Piers seemed to know her thoughts and concerns, but he was willing to ignore all of them.
"We need the Captain, Agent Valentine."
Chris had sat upright on the bed and was waiting for her to hang up and report. His serious stare met her greyish blue eyes when she turned.
"Where are we going?" he asked, as calm as he'd always been, which only intensified her worries.
"China. Tomorrow."
He nodded once, and huffed out a laugh.
"Okay. Then this is how it goes."
A/N: I can't believe it's been four months already T_T
I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long. I have been thinking a lot about those good people who are looking forward to updates and, believe me, I won't leave this unfinished. It's going to go slowly, yes, but you will get to read the ending. Mostly because I know exactly how to continue this and I just haven't found time or physical power to sit down and write. But I still appreciate all the support this baby gets. A third chance is a very special fic to me.
Anyway, this is the Piers/Claire chapter I promised you. I hope you like it steamy hahaha. I know that Piare is like the official ship name for those two, but I find it truly awful. So, forgive me, but I'll stick to the other Nivanfield until someone convinces me otherwise. You can try your luck in the review section :D
Now, let me quickly thank those people I couldn't thank in a PM:
Guest: there it is! I'm really sorry it took me so long, but here's the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for reading :D
Manu: Jajajaja bueno, Ada siempre ha sido una pieza clave en las historias de Leon. Y es una pena porque parece que ella sea un personaje que solo brilla cuando está Leon, cuando Ada es fascinante por sí sola. No tendrían que haber cambiado sus planes de ponerla en Village (ni los de incluir a Billy Coen jajaja) porque se merece ser más que solo la chica que le salva el culo a Leon. A mí ID me encantó, la verdad. Si bien es cierto que tiene una estructura muy parecida a Degeneration, tiene mucha acción muy buena y considero que los personajes están bien hechos. Todos menos Claire T_T Creeme, esto me duele. Pero la pobre Claire ha sido muy superflua en la historia. Solo le faltaba ser rescatada por Leon y caer encima de él solo para contentar al fandom de Cleon. Mujer objeto 100% y Claire se merece mucho más. En fin, gracias por el comentario. Espero que estés bien.
Of course, a thousand thank yous and kisses and hugs to MiyagusukuMui and MasterofFangirlingArt as well. I hope you're safe :D
I hope you're all fine and healthy, especially now that the Covid cases are rising again. Stay safe!
And as I'm afraid I won't be back before 2022, let me wish you all a wonderful holiday season and a very happy new year lol
Xaori loves you!