On the desk
On her nightstand, there was a picture of the Redfield family; their parents, Chris and herself. It was the last picture of their parents, made only a couple weeks before their passing. The first weeks; no, months; after their tragic accident, Claire hadn't been able to look at the photograph without bursting into tears. Once the sharp pain had faded, though, it had always given her hope. Her parents, especially her mother, seemed to guide her from the afterlife, or wherever they were. Sometimes, when she didn't want to bother Chris or when he was away, Claire looked at the picture and felt stronger. Thanks to the warm glance of her mother, she had known that she was strong enough to withstand the temptation to touch Chris and Claire had known that her mother would be proud of her.
But her mother wasn't proud of her now; she was angry and serious and she was giving her the most hateful judging glance from behind the glass. As if she had seen all the bare skin and heard the screams and moans in the gardens, she looked at her daughter displeased and disappointed. Had she a voice, she'd surely have called her a whore; a whore who'd let a stranger touch her.
After her encounter with her brother's captain in the gardens, the party had continued pretty normally, even though Wesker's presence at their same table had put her at unease. Chris and Jill had played the friendly coworkers for the rest of the night, laughing at Barry's jokes and clapping proudly when both S.T.A.R.S. teams had been praised by Wesker and the captain of Bravo team, Enrico Marini. The blond hadn't spoken a word to her again. It wasn't as if he'd said anything extraordinary before anyway; but it felt to her like he'd laugh at her loudly if he dared open his mouth to even greet her. He had just stared at her from time to time.
Creepily, as if he knew her darkest secrets and was daring her to make him spill them.
Of course, he had indeed known her darkest of secrets after he'd caught her fingering herself watching her brother fuck Jill Valentine.
Chris had taken the two following days off to spend some time home with his sister. Claire usually enjoyed those free weekends with her brother, even if they just hang out home together, watching old movies or cartoons, and having too much junk food. However, that weekend was different. After all she had witnessed and, more important, what she had done, chatting with her brother about random stuff felt simply awkward.
"You alright?" Chris asked her chewing his slice of pepperoni pizza and pointing to her half-full plate. "Isn't it good?"
Claire looked up and nodded, "Yes, sure," she licked her lips and brought the pizza to her mouth.
The cheese was dripping off the slice, just how the Redfields usually liked it. Chris smiled in relief as he watched her enjoy the pizza.
"I thought you weren't feeling well," he said and took a sip from his beer. "You've been so lost in thought all morning. Are you sure you're up to snuff?"
Claire nodded eagerly.
"Yes, I'm just sleepy. We got home quite late last night." She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at her brother. Chris lifted his eyebrows
"Yes, we did," he said smirking. "I didn't mean to keep you up until that late, I'm sorry Claire. I hope you had fun, at least."
Fun? Shouldn't be such a weird word for what she'd had, but it still felt wrong. Claire didn't know how to hide her discomfort anymore. Stuffing the slice of pizza back into her mouth, she simply nodded.
"And you impressed Wesker a lot." Chris smiled proudly and Claire almost choked on her food as she heard the name.
"Really? Did he say anything?" Shallow breathing filled her lungs after she'd coughed up.
"No! Oh, no!" Chris laughed out loud. "He wouldn't admit how much the speech of an eighteen-year-old baffled him, but as he didn't mention my idiocy again, I think you calmed him down nicely."
Claire swallowed, "I see."
"So," Chris cleared his throat as he grabbed another piece of pizza and pulled it onto his plate, fighting with the cheese that just won't let go. "Jill found you really nice, too."
"Yeah, she's cool," Claire replied as her stomach turned at the mention of the brunette. "You two look like you get along well." The older Redfield eyed her and bit his lip.
"Well," he said. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about."
And there was that look. Claire was almost shocked by the dumb smile that had sneakily crawled up his face as he spoke of Valentine. Chris had put his half-eaten slice of pizza down again. What was that? Once a piece of pizza has been bitten into, it never returned to the plate of a Redfield. Claire's eyes jumped from the food back to his eyes. He had to be really nervous, she noticed and knew immediately what he was going to tell her.
"You like her, don't you?" It hadn't been just sex, had it? Chris and Jill were more than just fuckbuddies who did it in their free time. Claire put her elbow onto the table, propping up her chin, as she gave her brother a sincere smile, still hoping she was wrong about him and the brunette.
She wasn't. Chris' look dropped to the table as he licked over his lips.
"What do you think?" He looked back at his sister, giving her a somewhat bratty smirk. Claire huffed out a shy laugh, resisting the need to run away and lick her wounds in the safety of her bedroom.
"I think she likes you too," she replied. Wesker's words about Valentine being a slut still rang through her ears, but she deeply believed that the brunette had seen something in Chris that no other man could give her. Claire herself couldn't be the only girl on Earth who'd understood what a wonderful guy Chris Redfield was. "Why don't you ask her out?"
Her brother shrugged his shoulders.
"Actually," he said. "I already have."
"Really?" Claire forced a laugh and took a sip from her water. "I suppose she said yes."
Please, let her have said no.
"She did. I wanted to ask you if you mind if I take her out tomorrow night for dinner." He winked at her and she hid how much she craved him to think about her as he does Valentine.
"Of course not," she said. "You go out with her. I am old enough to make myself something to eat. Where are you taking her?"
Chris was about to answer her question when the phone rang; he answered the call instead of her question.
"Captain Wesker!" He yelled into the device and made Claire freeze right where she sat. "I see. No problem, sir. I will be there!"
"What did he want?" Claire asked curiously when Chris sat back at the table, but the man just shook his head.
"He says he wants to see me Monday morning to speak about something." He lifted his eyebrows amusedly. "Maybe he wants to know where people with style buy their suits for occasions with a dress code."
Claire tried to laugh; she tried so hard, but the only sound emerging from her mouth were small gasps. That couldn't mean anything good. She got up and started removing the dishes from the table.
"I thought it was something urgent," she said as she walked away. "Doesn't he know it's your day off?"
"Oh, he does! Of course, he does. But as he kinda lives in the RPD, I'd say he must have forgotten that other people have lives." Chris smiled at her as he folded the pizza box like it was some sort of paper plane. "Hey, Claire, don't worry. I know you think it might be because of what happened at the party, but trust me, Wesker can tolerate a little humor without causing heads to roll."
He didn't know; he had no idea what else went on at that party. He had tried to comfort her, but he nearly made her cry. She took a deep breath before she turned to him and smiled again.
"I'm just worried about you, Chris."
"I know, Claire." He embraced her tightly. "I know."
Another night without sleep. While Chris was snoring loudly in his bed, Claire was lying awake again, afraid of what horrible things she'd see in her dreams once she closed her eyes. Wesker wanted to speak to Chris on Monday morning. She sobbed a little as she thought how that would ruin her life.
He would tell him.
"Chris, you should send your little sister to see a shrink, because she's sick." She whispered to herself, imitating Wesker's dark voice as good as best she could. "I know that because I am a sicko myself."
She should have laughed at her own comment, but, instead, she cried. Wesker would tell Chris everything and her brother would never trust her again. He would leave her behind; or put her into a madhouse; and move in with Jill Valentine instead. They would fuck every night and have a hundred little brunette children while she'd rot alone in some place where nobody would care for her studies, nor her happiness.
In an attempt to ease her nerves, she turned to the picture on the nightstand and froze. She had forgotten how mad her mother was about what she had done and the dark, disappointed glance still lingered on her face in the frame. It broke her heart. Hands tightly pressed onto her face, Claire let the tears flow wildly. She cried so hard that she feared she would drown in her own palms, or worse, wake Chris. She cried until she had no more tears; until her voice faded; until she was ready to close her eyes and face the nightmares again. A Redfield never faced nightmares without hope.
"I will fix this, mom. I promise."
"Alright, don't forget to have dinner," Chris said as he grabbed his keys and pushed them into his back pocket. "And remember, in bed at ten!" He laughed at Claire, who put on her most serious face and gave him the finger.
The day had gone as smooth as possible. The siblings had spent most of the afternoon watching sports on TV before Chris had begun to get ready for his date with Jill.
"So, where are you taking her?" Claire asked, not entirely selflessly. "You didn't tell me."
"We meet at that new Italian restaurant in the next town," Chris said. "They say it's good."
Claire sighed a little. Chris was so excited about his meeting with his coworker, and the redhead wished she could stop being so jealous about it. She wanted him to be happy; wanted him to find someone. Chris was such a good man; a little hot-headed sometimes, but all love and justice. If she could only be as happy for him as she was broken.
"I suppose that you're not coming home tonight." She leaned against the door and lifted a brow. Chris stopped doing whatever it was he was doing and slowly turned to her, a shy smirk on his face. They locked eyes and shared silence for not more than a second, before the older Redfield burst into laughter and patted her head; like a dog's. No wonder; she had to stay home like a dog, too.
"Just don't fall asleep on the couch. You're too young to destroy your back with such torture devices," he commanded, laughing, as he opened the door. "I'll be home soon."
Once Chris was out of the house, Claire ran to her wardrobe and pulled out the first random clothing she could grab. Dark pants, a tank top, and her red leather jacket would be enough, even for the ride on her bike. It was a very hot spring, and the temperatures hadn't stopped rising the previous few days. She freed her shiny Harley Davidson from its prison in their garage and let it roar loudly on her way to Raccoon City.
She needed to speak to Wesker before he spoke to Chris the next morning. Had Chris seen how anxiously she was driving, he would have sold her bike immediately. Luckily, Chris didn't know — anything — yet. In little less than half an hour, the grunting machine of hers arrived in Raccoon City. She had to ask some locals for the way to the police station, but soon afterwards, she could park outside the building, next to other bikes. Even if Chris and Jill stopped by the station, in the dark, they wouldn't notice that one was hers. Now she only needed to make sure that they wouldn't see her. Claire secured the bike and ran into the building. Wesker had to be in there; Chris had said he practically lived in the RPD.
The main hall was an impressive place, Claire thought as she looked around and saw the huge statue of a woman at the end of the room. The hall was held in dim lights, probably because it was night, but the reception desk was illuminated. There were two men sitting at the desk; young police officers. One of them almost shot her when she cleared her throat next to them.
"Oh, sorry!" she excused herself as she lifted a hand. The man blew out a breath of relief.
"Girl, I hadn't heard you come in," he said smiling. Claire wondered how he hadn't noticed her presence, as the entry door had squeaked like a dying animal when she'd opened it. "How can I help you, miss?"
Claire smirked at him. He was just a few years older than herself and had short, black hair and green eyes. He looked handsome, yet not very awake. His name sign said Pratchett.
"I am looking for Captain Wesker."
Pratchett blinked at her twice and rolled his jaw.
"Wesker…" He looked to his colleague ad received a headshake from him. His look then dropped to a huge book in front of him. He slid his fingers over the lines. "Wesker, Wesker. Oh! S.T.A.R.S. I see." He looked back at Claire. "Name?"
"Claire Redf…" She stopped speaking as she saw the man note her name into some sort of guest book. Alright, now it was sure that Chris would find out she was here.
"Claire Red. Okay!" Luckily, the young man seemed very, very sleepy as he wrote down the name. Claire sighed in relief. It wasn't the least suspicious option she could have given, but even if Chris saw the entry, he would probably just take it for a huge, funny coincidence. The man then picked up a phone and dialed a number. As he waited for someone to respond at the other end, he smiled at Claire. "Just one second, please."
Claire nodded as she watched the officer. Neither Pratchett nor his colleague knew who Wesker was. She wondered if the S.T.A.R.S. captain wasn't as famous in Raccoon City as Chris had always told her, or if these two were just new in the R.P.D. The man in front of her sighed.
"Sorry, no one's picking up." He checked another of the books on the desk. "But here it says he hasn't left the building yet." The man looked up and into Claire's eyes. "Are you family?"
The redhead opened her eyes widely and smirked.
"What?" Family? Oh, if she was a relative of that grave keeper. As if there was no other reason to come to a police department in the middle of the night. "Oh, yes. Well, almost. He is very close to my father. I need to speak to him about… personal issues."
Pratchett got up, swung a bundle of keys around his finger and gave his colleague a sign.
"I'll lead you to the S.T.A.R.S. office, lady," he said smiling, showing a row of white teeth. "Won't take us long, and nothing's going on here anyway."
Claire smirked confusedly, but followed the officer through the halls and corridors of the huge RPD. By the time they reached the door with the S.T.A.R.S. sign on it, Claire had already discovered more about Pratchett than she knew about her best friend. His name was Cory, he was twenty-two, from Iowa, and he had come to Raccoon City just a couple of months before. He loved horse riding and American literature, and his mother was so afraid that his job would get him killed that she constantly called to try to make him come back to their farm.
"So, here we are," Cory said as they stood in front of the door. He knocked and opened right away. "Uhm, hello! Captain Wesker?"
Claire's heart beat hard against her ribcage as she waited for the person inside to respond. The hair on her neck stood up when Wesker's gravelly voice reached her ears.
"Did you leave your manners back home, Pratchett?" he asked. "Here in Raccoon City, we wait to be asked to come in before we open the door."
Cory's face; the little she could see of it; turned gray when he heard Wesker's complaint. He excused himself, stuttering out an apology before he communicated to the Captain the reason for the interruption.
"Miss Claire Red wants to speak to you, Captain."
"Who?" That was the moment. Claire took a deep breath and pushed past Cory into the S.T.A.R.S. office. Wesker's face relaxed as he saw her. "Oh, you."
He was sitting at his desk in a tiny separated office inside the large room, holding some papers in his hands and staring coldly at her through the open door. Other workspaces and tables were placed in rows next to the opposite wall. Claire imagined this was where they all worked together. Chris, Jill, Barry. She silently wondered which of the desks belonged to Chris, as all of them seemed messy enough in the darkness to be her brother's. The only light came from the lamp in on the edge of Wesker's desk.
"Hello," Claire whispered as she slowly walked through the open door towards him. She was shaking from nervousness and rubbed her neck as she spoke, but her eyes bravely stood on his sunglasses.
Wesker grunted a bit and looked back at Cory, who smiled embarrassedly and turned to the door. He gave Claire one last, short nod before he left the room. The redhead turned back to Wesker.
"I'm sorry to disturb," she muttered timidly, rubbing her palms together. "But there is something I'd like to talk to you about."
The blond turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. However, he showed her how aware he was of all she said and did.
"I am all ears, Miss Redfield."
Claire nodded and swallowed hard.
"I heard you want to see my brother tomorrow morning," she said in a shaky voice. "I don't want to seem rude or impolite, sir, but if it has anything to do with what happened Friday night, I must plead you not to do it."
She saw his eyebrow jump up above the line of his sunglasses. Wesker huffed out a confused laugh.
"It's almost heartbreaking how eagerly you try to fix all of your brother's mistakes." He chuckled and licked his lips. "Miss Redfield, I am not the kind of man who meddles in other people's private businesses," he proceeded explaining. "But I can't turn a blind eye to the proof that one of my subordinates is living in an incestuous relationship with his underage sister."
Her jaw dropped. Incestuous relationship? Was he suggesting…?
"No! Wesker, no! Please, listen." Claire jumped forward and put her both hands onto the table in front of him. "This is not Chris' fault. He has nothing to do with it, and he certainly never…" She paused as Wesker turned his face to her. The dim glow of the lamp on his desk managed to shine onto him in a way she could almost see his eyes behind the sunglasses. "There is no relationship. Chris would never touch me." She cleared her throat. "Also, I'm not underage."
They bravely held the other's gaze, each of them keeping their own thoughts to themselves as the clock on the wall started ticking louder and louder. She didn't like his look on her. Not that she could actually see how he looked at her, but she didn't like how it felt. He was judging her; the girl who hadn't met real love in her life, and yet had found the most intense and strongest feeling anyone could ever dream of. Maybe he even envied her, she thought. Not everyone is that lucky to find a love so pure as the one she felt for Chris. However, he was most probably just pitying her. Wesker turned back to the papers and kept silent. Was he waiting for her to do something or did he want her to leave him alone? A S.T.A.R.S. Captain had probably more important stuff to do than listening to the whining of a young lady, but there was no way she would leave before he'd promise her that Chris would not be punished for her mistake.
"Please, Captain Wesker." She called out for him anew, but got no reaction. He kept flicking through the papers, stone cold. "Don't pull Chris into this. This is my own fault." She swallowed, forcing down the knot in her throat, before she carefully inspected how she could get out of that situation with Chris unharmed. "Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind?"
"Miss Redfield, don't you see that you're wasting my time? Or do you think I am here this late in the evening because I enjoy sitting in an office as big as a wardrobe?" He finally looked back at her. "I would suggest you go now."
"But there must be something!" She yelled in despair. That bag of shit and hair gel would fire Chris and accuse him of something he hadn't done; something he didn't even know about. Claire scratched over the desk surface.
"Miss Redfield! Keep your voice low!" Wesker sighed in boredom and lifted an eyebrow as he turned back to work on the documents on the table. "Also, what do you think I could possibly want from an unripe something like you?"
Eyes wide open, she stopped breathing. Her heart raced in her chest and she believed she'd faint any time. The air in the room turned thin and dense, hot and cold at once. She shivered; gasped for air. What could he possibly want from her? Claire licked her lips as the thought sunk in.
He wanted sex, didn't he?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep a cool head. Maybe she was getting it all wrong. He was the Captain of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team and a recognized person in Raccoon City, after all. He couldn't be seriously blackmailing her into…
"What? Are you saying…?" she asked carefully. Wesker didn't lift his look again.
"I'm saying that you talk too much." He spoke slowly, stretching the last three words into an endless torture.
She talked too much, and he didn't want her to talk. He wanted her to do something. She imagined him taking pictures of her and touching himself when he was alone. Burning tears threatened with escaping her eyes, but there was nothing she could do about it. She needed to protect Chris from the evil of this man; because she was sure that Chris would do anything to protect her, too. Claire swallowed and looked around shyly. The office was empty; there was just the two of them. Maybe, if she took her shirt off, Wesker would be satisfied.
Determinedly, she reached for the zipper of her jacket. If this was what he wanted for his silence, she would give it to him.
"Just to be clear," she mumbled as she slowly unzipped the clothing. "I am doing this for Chris."
Inch by inch, the zipper made its particular high-pitched crackling sound as it opened. She couldn't quite believe what she was doing, stripping in front of Chris' Captain, only a few steps away from his desk. Once undone, Claire removed the jacket from her left shoulder, timidly pulling her left arm out of the sleeve. Then, she did the same with the right one. She watched Wesker the whole time; and he watched her. Although he hadn't turned his face back to her, still pretending to be reading one of the articles or reports in his hands, he hadn't moved one muscle since she had started undressing. What a huge coward he was, she thought; hiding behind those sunglasses of his to give young ladies indecent looks from the safety of the dark.
Claire ripped the tank top out of the pants and pulled it up, over her stomach, her breasts, and over her head. She tossed it onto the ground as she stood in front of Wesker's desk in her black bra. He still didn't move. So cold; so unlike the boys in her class, who had growled like wild animals as they'd once spied on the girls in the locker room, yelling all kinds of horrible names for lady parts through the corridors as they'd run away. However, the boys in her class had all been childish virgin teenagers, and Wesker had probably seen enough women naked not to freak out because he was seeing one wearing just a bra. Claire swallowed. She could feel the goosebumps on her entire body as she reached for the hooks on her back. They clicked open so loudly that it almost startled her. Wesker was still pretending to be working when she let the loose bra fall off her shoulders. It slipped to the floor next to the top.
And there she stood, half-naked, and there was still no reaction from the blond man at the desk. She sighed. Maybe she was boring him.
"Do you want me to stop? Is this enough?"
And Wesker began to move. Putting his palms onto the desk, he pushed himself off the chair and got onto his feet. He didn't care to look at her as he walked around his desk and towards the door of the S.T.A.R.S. office. Claire stopped breathing. Where was he going? She shifted a little and her eyes followed the Captain...
Wesker turned the key in the door and locked it. Oh god. She had taken her shirt off in an unlocked room, knowing that impertinent people like Cory Pratchett could come in unasked. Wesker must have thought she was incredibly stupid. She swallowed as he turned back to her.
"Do you believe this is enough, Miss Redfield?" he asked and stole her breath. Of course, it wasn't enough. How could she believe that Wesker would be satisfied with what he had seen so far if it wasn't even what he had gotten Friday night from her? Friday night, she had let him touch her. He would want to touch her again, wouldn't he? Claire shivered slightly as she wondered if he had been thinking of her since then. She turned completely to the door, where he stood; knowing that she needed to give him more this time.
She reached for the button on her pants and pushed it through the hole; so nervous, that it took her three attempts. Wesker still stood next to the door, now unable to hide that he was watching her. However, he still didn't give her any reaction, and just kept staring as she peeled off her clothes for him. Claire bent over to push her pants down her thighs, her full breasts dangling joyfully as she did. When the cloth had been lowered to her ankles, she noticed that she should have taken off her boots first. Trying to kick them off elegantly, she stumbled. Holding on to the desk behind her kept her from falling, though. Wesker seemed to laugh a little. Embarrassed, she booted the footwear away from her along with her pants.
When she hooked her thumbs into her panties to push them off her hips, Wesker began to move. He strolled back to her with the excitement of a funeral procession, but at least he was moving. Claire held her breath as he stopped next to her and put both of his hands onto hers, stopping her from pulling them down. Her breasts nearly brushed his vest as she held gazes with a pair of sunglasses.
"Shall I help you with these?" he asked in a gruff voice and it killed her. Claire grimaced in pain as Wesker knelt down in front of her, carefully moving her grey cotton panties down her thighs. "We wouldn't want you to harm yourself, would we?"
She nearly cried out. He was embarrassing her with every word he said and he obviously enjoyed it. Even the way he removed her underwear seemed to be a mere method to shame her. Once the panties had reached her ankles, Claire stepped out of them, and Wesker put them into his pocket as he got up again. He seemed taller now; or maybe she was shorter. She felt tiny and ashamed as she stood there, watching his face and waiting for him to do something. She was cold and the way her hard nipples pointed at him would have made it obvious even to the blind. In an attempt to make her feel warmer, she moved her right hand over her chest and up to her collarbone, as the left slid to her hips.
"Why are you covering yourself after exposing your body so bravely, Miss Redfield?" The S.T.A.R.S. captain asked in a hoarse tone. Claire swallowed, shaking.
"I…" she stuttered.
"Don't you feel beautiful?" He breathed the last word into her face and made her shiver. "I bet Chris never tells you he finds you beautiful, does he?"
Claire's eyes snapped up to his face and she put her hands back down, letting her arms dangle freely on both sides of her body as she let Wesker inspect her. He didn't touch her. He just kept staring and she was as relieved about it as she was disappointed. A part of her had expected him to be rude and wild; to command her to open her thighs to him, but it seemed his intentions were others.
"So uneasy, Claire," he grunted. "Please, stop looking at me as if I was going to rape you on that desk behind you. May I remind you that you came by yourself?"
She gasped. It was true. She herself had come to ask him a favor, knowing perfectly who she was dealing with.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked breathily as her look dropped to his lips. He was so close again.
"You can be as creative as you wish, Claire." His confusing response made her shiver. "Surprise me."
Surprise him? Her eyes jumped from his chin and lips back to the dark sunglasses, trying to see anything behind the dark shield. Blinking nervously, she blew a breath against his throat as her hand reached timidly for his groin. His parts were in perfect height for her hand to cup the bulge and rub it. Surprisingly, it fit perfectly into her palm. She had expected him to be… harder, but he wasn't. Maybe he wasn't liking what he saw. Claire watched his face; still so calm. She chewed on her lower lip as she began to squeeze him a little harder through his pants until he let out an impatient growl.
"Miss Redfield," he hissed against her forehead. "Maybe you should start with something you can handle."
Ouch. Claire swallowed in offense as she let go of him and jerked back a little. Her thighs hit the desk and she pushed herself onto it, spreading her legs to Wesker. She would show him what she could handle. Her breasts went up and down under her deep, quick breathing as her right hand reached for her spot. The touch surprised her; she was soaking wet.
"Do you want to see how I finger myself again?" she hissed as she pushed two digits into herself with ease. "Do you enjoy watching young girls? Does it turn you on?"
She could almost hear him roll his eyes as he took a step towards her and pushed her right knee up. Her whole wetness was now rubbing over his pants. Claire sucked in a breath, startled. Wesker's free hand reached for her left breast.
"And this, Miss Redfield? Does this turn you on?" She squeaked a bit as he groped her ungently. "Don't you want to move your fingers, Claire? It's much more effective if you want to stimulate yourself properly."
She nearly cried after the shock. In just a fraction of a moment he had taken hold of her, playing with her body like two nights prior. She tried to keep moving her fingers and please herself as he had suggested, closing her eyes as Wesker tugged on her breast. His groin pressed her hand tighter against her clit and ripped a moan from her lips. And he chuckled. Wesker finally gave a somewhat human response.
"Do you enjoy that, Miss Redfield?" He laughed darkly as he pushed her onto the desk and stroked over her upper body with one hand and up to her mouth. He slid a finger over her lips, playing with them, until she opened her mouth and sucked on his finger. She cried out a little when she heard the distinctive sound of a zipper. Her eyes flew open; she quaked and sucked in a breath.
"Aren't you feeling well, Miss Redfield?" His dark voice shattered over her. "Isn't this what you came for?"
The pressure on her chest increased as her look dropped from Wesker's face to his groin. She watched as he pulled out his manhood right in front of her. Teeth chattering, she gathered some courage and nodded eagerly.
"Alright," she whispered, breathing heavily, as her body tensed on the desk. She wanted to cry. She wanted to push that ass away, run off into the next empty room and cry her heart out, but that wouldn't do Chris any good. She watched Wesker one-eyed as he stroked himself right next to her. "Wait. Aren't you going to use… something?"
He smirked. Wesker was smirking at her. It was so rare, it was almost frightening. Claire watched him as he walked around the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a string of condoms and ripping one off. He was so close to her head. Curling a little, she could perfectly see his shaft stick out. It looked huge and thick, from where she was lying, crowned with a hint of soft blond hair at the bottom, and he was hard now. It disgusted her. Was she really going to do this?
'For Chris,' she thought and dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that it drew blood.
Wesker walked back to the other side of the desk where she was offering herself so lustfully to him. He smirked again, patting her red-haired mound as he rolled the condom over his whole length. Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was for Chris, she thought. She would die for him if it would save him. Wesker pushed a finger into her creamy little hole before he pushed his tip against her. She cried out.
"Please, could you try to be gentle?" Eyes opening slightly and in fear, she shook her head. "I haven't… I haven't done this before."
The man wasn't smirking anymore.
"Interesting," his voice said as he nodded shortly and put both hands onto her hips. They were warm and strong and pulled her bottom further to the edge of the table, closer to his groin. Claire closed her eyes again as she saw how he was putting the tip of his erection against her lips again. She breathed in deeply as he pushed into her.
Her hands grabbed his and tried to push him away from her, but his grip on her was powerful. Inch by inch, he drove his thick member into her inners and stretched her wide; wider. It hurt; it ached; and she wanted to scream, but she only allowed a silent tear to roll down her cheeks and onto the desk as he made his way into her depth. Yet, he wasn't harsh nor merciless. He was advancing slowly, his thumbs caressing her hips softly as he held her, until he hit something inside her. She had never experienced a pain so strong in her abdomen and the shock over it searched for a way out. Wesker bent over and covered Claire's mouth before the redhead could scream in pain. She cried into his palm instead.
"It will get better from now on," he whispered. He had stopped moving and waited patiently for her to relax. But how could she relax under this man? He was like a hundred years older than her, he wore sunglasses at night and he was blackmailing her into having sex with him on a desk. She kept breathing heavily into his palm, keeping him waiting until he seemed to lose patience. "Miss Redfield, it is in mutual interest that you stop being so tense. Your body will adapt better to the situation if you relax, and to your partner it will always be more pleasant to know that he's not having intercourse with a stiff doll."
Claire's eyes opened abruptly and darted at him. She shifted a bit and Wesker let go of her mouth.
"Fuck you!" she hissed into his face and caused him to chuckle.
"I fear that's your job, Claire." He stood upright and took grip of her thighs again. "Maybe thinking of your brother helps you focus on the task." He laughed darkly. "Won't you imagine it's Chris who is touching you? I promise I won't take it personally."
Chris.
His name worked like a spell on her. It was almost like she could smell him, there with her. She was so close to his desk, where he sat every day; after working out in the gym; after cleaning himself in the showers. It was where he thought, where he wrote reports, where he attempted to do some research or case study. Claire closed her eyes again as she pictured Chris standing in the office, handsome and wild-spirited, watching how she was lying there, with her legs spread wide. Anyway, she was doing it for Chris; and giving her virginity for him was almost as good as giving it to him.
She pictured Chris watching her. How beautiful he was; so lovely. She made a sound of need and arched her back as Chris touched her, slowly replacing the image of the blond man who was actually doing so. His hands on her hips, and his dick pushing into her. Claire moaned as she reached out for his hands, scratched smoothly over the hairy skin of his forearms, and led them to her breasts.
"Touch me," she whined and almost overheard the dark chuckle. The grip on her was firm as he thumbed over her breasts and made her gasp for air. It still hurt; it burnt, but it felt good now as the pain had become part of her pleasure. "You can go faster, if you want."
And the pace rushed up as the hands on her breasts held her tighter and tugged harder. She pressed two of her fingers into her mouth and wetted them before she reached down to her clit, rubbing the nub urgently.
"Oh, God," she whined as she felt the heat in herself rise. The thrusts became harder and she felt how her breasts jumped even under the solid grip on them. She had never felt anything similar before. Claire quivered, shook, and came, crying softly as she bit her tongue. Her free hand grabbed the hand on one of her breasts and dug her fingernails into it. She clung onto the man in front of her until she relaxed, giving in to heavy, deep breaths.
Claire collapsed on the desk. Satisfied and sweaty, she opened her eyes and watched Wesker keep thrusting into her. Once, twice more; and he breathed heavily. Her eyes locked on him, she observed his face as he came inside her.
Alright, inside the condom.
She shifted, a little disgusted, as Wesker pulled out and kept staring at her. His face was as dead as it had been during the whole act. Did that guy ever show any emotion? About to complain, Claire swallowed her own words as the blond began to speak.
"Looks like you were a virgin, indeed."
She sat up, frowning at the thin line of blood on the condom and jumped off the desk, offended. Had he had any doubts about that? Had he even really believed Chris could have…? She raged silently, bending down to grab her clothes and dress in a hurry as Wesker removed the condom and pulled up the zipper of his pants again. Claire strapped her bra back on and threw the tank top over her head as her look dropped to the ground.
"Where are my panties?" she hissed and turned to Wesker, who had already turned his attention back to the report on the sweaty desk. Without looking up, he cleared his throat.
"In my pocket."
Fuck! She swallowed, closing her eyes and wondering if it would be of any use to ask him to give them back. A sigh left her lips as she saw her whole plan shattered. Now he couldn't only tell Chris about her dark feelings; now he could also prove him that she was a slut who had fucked his Captain.
"What are you going to do with them?" She asked a little fearfully, standing in front of his desk and waiting for a response. And Wesker took his sunglasses off for the first time that night; maybe even for the first time ever.
"Your secret is safe with me, Miss Redfield."
Claire nodded her head, huffing out a laugh. This wasn't the end. She had done what she had needed to do in order to save Chris. She had saved him, but it wasn't over yet. Wesker still knew what he knew, and there was no reason for her to trust that man, no matter how often he took his sunglasses off to make a promise. She would have to expect him to reach her anytime and repeat what had just happened.
But, for that night, she'd had enough. She stepped into her pants, not worrying about elegance anymore. Claire stumbled again as she tried to step into her boots, but this time Wesker didn't see it; or, at least, he didn't react.
Once dressed, she turned on her heels and stormed to the door, closing it on her way out with a loud slam. She even ignored the nice words of Cory on her way out. All she wanted was to go home and have a shower and get rid of the smell of that psychopath that was all over her. She swung her leg over her Harley and nearly cried out. With her parts still sore, the ride was a torture. When she arrived home, she ran into her bedroom and threw off all her clothes. Standing in the darkness of her room, only lit by a shy ray moonlight, she started crying.
Her mother was still looking displeased.