Fresh air

She couldn't see anything.

A warm breeze blew around her head and whistled sweet words of tenderness into her ear as Claire tried to make out any other sound that would tell her where she was — or with whom. An unfamiliar sting ached and bled in her chest, on the back of her head and around her wrists and ankles. She was tied to a chair, with her eyes covered; that much she knew. But where she was and how she had gotten there remained unexplained.

Where was Chris?

"Chris?" Her voice scratched in her throat as she called for her dear brother — for an answer that was never given. Fear began to crawl up her body, leaving painful goosebumps on its way, and Claire knew she was naked. Exposed like a circus animal. "Chris?"

Defeated whimpers were everything she was able to send out for her brother, until her head fell forward, hanging unsolemnly over the rest of her bent body. The droplets of sweat that abandoned her forehead hit her thighs as if they wanted to drill into her flesh and torture her. What was happening? Who had done this to her and why? Would she ever find out or was she being tortured purposelessly?

"Claire?" Her head flew up again when the voice reached her. Chris. Chris was there with her. Claire tried to shake the blindfold off her head, but it just cut its tightening strings deeper into her skin with every move. The scream it ripped from her lips could have woken the dead and she prayed her brother wasn't as caught and pained as she was herself. She'd soon find out that he wasn't. "What have you done, Claire?"

Her eyes were freed from the blindfold that had shielded her from the surroundings. Quick and merciless, reality took her in and held her tight as she eventually found out where she had been kept. She was in a large room, with dark red lights shining onto her, highlighting the embarrassing pose she was in. It was even worse than she'd expected. She was naked, indeed, but it wasn't just that. Someone had painted the word whore over her chest and abdomen.

"Chris!" She began to cry. "Chris, please."

Her brother was standing across the room. Free and mad, he didn't show the slightest intention to untie his sister, as he was busy repeating his branding words.

"What have you done, Claire?"

The ropes slung harder around her wrists and ankles under her firm tries to free herself. What? What was he speaking about? Why wasn't he helping her?

"Please…"

"Please, what? Miss Redfield?"

Her head swung around and she saw that they weren't alone anymore. Above her, from behind the darkness of the protecting sunglasses, the eyes of Albert Wesker blamed her silently. "I heard you tried to kill Jill Valentine."

"What? No!" Claire began to shake her head in despair. Alright. Jill wasn't her favorite person in the whole world; she wouldn't deny it. The brunette was trying to take Chris away from her, after all, and Claire wanted her nowhere near her brother, but she would have never tried to do her harm. "I let her live with us."

Wesker sighed.

"Chris asked me for advice." His strong hand stroked over her shoulder, descending slowly. It burnt like acid where it touched her. Claire whimpered and turned back to Chris. Why wouldn't he help her? "Unfortunately, I had to inform him about your…" He paused. "Condition."

"No." Tears burst free and covered her face instantly. Grimacing in pain, her look jumped from Chris to Wesker and back. Her big brother, her guardian, was still staring, simply watching as his Captain assaulted her. Wesker's hand went farther down. Whatever it was he was searching for, he expected to find it between her thighs. Claire whined. "Chris, please… I…"

"I would have never believed it, Claire." Her brother's voice seemed close to break as he pulled out a tiny rag of cloth. "Until he showed me this." Her eyes widened in pain as Chris held up the tiny grey cotton panties — the ones she had let Albert Wesker take from her.

"No."

"You are sick, Claire. Sick! And you even fucked my Captain to hide it." Chris shook his head and kept watching his sister cry and beg, until Wesker suddenly grabbed her ponytail and jerked her off the chair. Claire dropped to her knees, whining. "I will let Captain Wesker take care of you, so you won't be a threat to Jill and our child."

What? Child? Her heart seemed to explode as she launched one last glance at Chris and caught sight of the huge womb of Jill Valentine instead. The brunette was lying on the floor with her legs spread wide and covered in sweat, about to give birth.

"It's a boy," she squealed happily and waved Claire goodbye, who was dragged over the floor by the professional, cold hands of Albert Wesker.

"Don't you worry, Miss Redfield," he told her in an almost comforting tone. "Once I am done with you, there won't be any room for your brother inside you. I will fill you up."

"No!" The shrill scream thundered through the room and swallowed everything as she jerked forward. It was easy, it was fast, and it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt anymore when she realized that it had all been a dream. Sweating and trembling, she looked around and recognized the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. It was silent around her, and a weak ray of moonlight shone through the window. The regular snoring in the next room told Claire that neither Jill nor Chris had heard the heartbreaking scream that had liberated her from the claws of her own subconscious.

"Thank god," she whispered to herself and raked her fingers through her sweaty hair before she crawled out of the bed and headed to the bathroom. A bit of cool water would help her relax.

The mirror returned the grotesque picture of a damaged soul. None of the previous nights had really been peaceful, as someone in the next room didn't know how to keep their hands in their own pants. However, this was the first time her sleep was reigned by a nightmare — a nightmare with Albert Wesker in the main role.

She knew all too well where it came from.

Once she'd understood that her efforts to keep Chris and Jill away from each other weren't doing herself any good, accepting the brunette in their home had become easier. So far, Claire had stopped sabotaging the little time Chris and Jill could spend together, not staying up until later than usual and not coming home when she was expected to be elsewhere. She had even spent the whole Saturday studying with her friend, Kelly, so the freshly-in-love couple could fondle and fuck freely all through the house.

Mom would have been so proud.

However, despite all the efforts, Claire still hated living with Jill, as she herself was reduced to be the third wheel in her own home. And Chris? Chris was too busy being happy to notice how ignored and left-aside his little sister really felt. Anyway, she could be patient. Claire would stay away from them, but always close enough to catch Chris when Valentine would drop him.

Because she would drop him someday— that was, if he didn't drop her first.

With Chris and his romances constantly on her mind, Claire had almost forgotten that there were things much worse than Jill Valentine's panties on her brother's bedroom floor and her collection of sex toys, lubes and condoms carelessly forgotten on his nightstand. Surprisingly. It hadn't been until Chris had come home on Tuesday night that she was bitterly reminded of her own sins.

"Wesker asked me if I was worried about you." That was his response to her question how his day had gone and she'd immediately felt her legs weaken — as if someone had blasted her knees away with a shotgun. The grimace on Chris' face had carved profound lines onto his beautiful forehead and the image had scared her to death. What had Wesker told him? Chris had come closer to her, serious and calm, until he'd blown out a breath. "Do you know what that means?" He'd begun to laugh sarcastically. "When Wesker asks about personal stuff, what he wants to say is that you haven't done your job well enough."

Claire had felt her eyeballs roll back into her head. Once Chris had passed her by after patting her shoulder, she'd noticed that she'd been holding her breath unconsciously. Jill had just come down the stairs, early enough to catch the last part of Chris' monologue about their captain.

"What have you done wrong today, Redfield?" She'd laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully, as if pissing off their Captain was a common task among S.T.A.R.S. members. "I remember the last time he did that to me. I had been late on Monday morning and he mentioned how happy my father had to be to receive my visit during the weekend. He's such an ass."

The shock had nearly killed her. Claire had checked her vital signs to make sure she was still alive. Wesker hadn't really asked about her, but about any distraction Chris could blame his low performance on. A pretty creepy thing to do for someone who kept her panties like a trophy. The couple had started joking, remembering all times they had been humiliated by their Captain, and Claire had tried to follow along, with the certainty that she wouldn't find rest that night.

She hadn't been wrong. The crazy nightmare was reminding her how deeply she was really stuck in crap currently. She'd let Wesker take advantage of the impure thoughts she had of her brother; trying to protect him from any evil that man could cause and offering her own innocence and sanity instead. And Chris would never find out how much she was sacrificing to keep him safe, because he could never know. Her struggle needed to remain a secret, or her nightmare would become painful reality — she herself the only victim.

Staring into the mirror, Claire rubbed over her shoulder and still felt the disgusting sensation of Albert Wesker's hand on her skin, right there where he'd touched her in her dream. All too real, as if her body had memorized the feeling of submission. It would be impossible to ever forget that. Fearing the nightmare would return, she would never sleep again — at least, not as long as Wesker was the Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. Once people found out what a psychopathic freak he was, he'd fall in disgrace and would get kicked out of the R.P.D., that was certain. It could take forever for that to happen, though, unless she investigated and found out what other crazy stuff the Captain was up to. Claire sighed; waiting seemed the only logical thing to do.

It was either that or kill him.

Wednesday went by as fast as a tortoise in winter. After the short night, Claire was barely able to stand and by lunchtime, she decided it was time to leave school earlier again as she didn't want to pass out in her biology class. Two more pills and she could have an afternoon nap, at least, and dinner was ready when Jill and Chris arrived home.

"That looks delicious! Thank you so much for taking care of us, Claire." Claire rewarded Jill's exaggerated gratefulness with the biggest portion of spaghetti, unconsciously hoping that the calories would get stuck somewhere on the perfect body of the brunette and that Chris would feel a little less attracted to her. Valentine, however, took the brimful plate as if she hadn't eaten a bit in a year. "Man, I'm starving."

Jill's apparent indifference regarding carbs and grease for dinner didn't particularly help ease her nerves that night. Claire stared down at her own plate with disgust until her unenthusiastic spaghetti-poking caught Chris' attention. Her bigger brother grabbed her nape a little harshly and made her look at him.

"What's wrong? Don't you feel well?" He asked her as he began to chew his spaghetti, but Claire managed to shake the subject off elegantly.

"I'm okay. Just tired," she lied. Shrugging, she started shoveling pasta into her mouth and forced a smile. "We have to hand in several projects this week."

Chris replied with another soft squeeze on her nape and a warm smirk, meaning that he was proud of her, but that he thought she was working too hard for a girl her age. He sent her to bed right after dinner, and Claire didn't even protest. Luckily, he and Jill were so tired from work that they went to sleep not long afterwards, too — not even caring about sex that time. It was Claire's chance to escape and go to Raccoon City to speak to Wesker again. Knowing Chris, he wouldn't wake up before the next morning, and Jill wouldn't just come into Claire's room if she got up at night, would she?

Once she heard the snoring in the other bedroom, Claire got up, showered quickly and dressed for another night out. A long-sleeved, black button up shirt and blue jeans tucked into her biker boots seemed inconspicuous enough for a ride to Raccoon. The reason why she slipped a short knife into her right boot was a mystery to herself. Anxious and unconvinced, Claire drove off into the night toward another unknown fate.

That night she learned that Albert Wesker did not live in the police station. Wesker was walking over the parking lot when she parked her bike. Claire's mouth went dry when she spotted the dark figure in the mist of the night. He was, as usual, in his S.T.A.R.S. uniform and sunglasses and he looked stressed out. Claire saw her chance to catch the Captain alone and sprinted after him.

Not knowing what exactly she was going to do or to say, she snuck through the darkness across the parking lot and reached the Captain next to a dark SUV. A newer model of a Jeep Grand Cherokee, she noticed perplexedly. She had rather pictured him driving a hearse.

"Captain Wesker," she called out and was immediately rewarded with one of his despising glances through the sunglasses on his nose.

"Miss Redfield." He sighed. "What is it this time? Am I not being nice enough to your brother?"

That statement took her a little by surprise. Nice? Did he even know what that meant?

"I... I thought…" she babbled and forced herself to stand his look. "How am I supposed to believe that you won't speak if you…?" The dramatic pause she used to catch her breath again seemed to annoy Wesker even more. As annoying him was probably the third most stupid thing after letting him catch her masturbating and after sleeping with him, she tried to proceed. "If you…"

"Miss Redfield," Wesker's deep voice interrupted her. "Can we make it quick, please?"

She blinked at him, right next to the car as his hand drew a circle, inviting her to keep speaking. Shivering, Claire cleared her throat.

"Can you please give me back what you took from me?"

A fresh breeze blew strands of her hair into her face and blinded her for a second. When Claire managed to see again, Wesker had moved to the other side of his vehicle and was now so dangerously close to her she could feel his breath condense on her forehead.

"Miss Redfield." The mocking way he spoke her name sent a shiver down her spine. "If I remember well, I gave you my word I would keep your secret safe. Have you come all the way to Raccoon City to call me a liar?"

So cold. How could he be so cold? Claire felt her heart pound harder as she bravely held his gaze. Lip shaking, she inhaled.

"No," she managed to respond in a voice that didn't sound like hers. Claire swallowed, forcing herself to stand still as Wesker seemed to run her over with his mere abeyant company. "But I think it would be better for both of us if no one could ever find the evidence in your possession." She cleared her throat, perceiving the slightest move of eyebrows on the blond's face. "People might… misunderstand."

What the hell was she doing? Claire nearly choked on the tension as she waited for Wesker to respond to the kind suggestion that sounded pretty much like a dangerous threat. The man chuckled.

"That would certainly be unfortunate."

The next second, Claire felt a sharp pain in her elbow. Without making a sound, Wesker had grabbed her forearm and swung her towards the vehicle. Her hands hit the glass first, in an attempt to stop her face from getting smashed against the frame, but it wasn't of much use as the blond effortlessly proceeded to pin her head against the cold window. Claire struggled. She tried to scream, but the shock sat so deep inside her that only small gasps left her lips. Caught between the cold vehicle and Wesker, there wasn't much she could do when the man began to slide his fingers down her thighs. He wouldn't…? There in the parking lot?

"So, have you come to threaten me, Miss Redfield?" the murmured darkly as he bent down and reached for the knife in her boot. "Or to attack me?"

Tears shot into her eyes under the hot breath of the S.T.A.R.S. Captain. What had she come for? Did she even know? Her voice trembled when she tried to reply.

"I…" She shook her head and made a tear roll down her cheek. Just a single one. She wouldn't grant him anything other than that. Swallowing hard, she continued. "That wasn't for you. It's self-defense, just in case. I… like to be prepared."

Wesker didn't move a muscle. In the dim shine of a crescent moon and from the corner of her eye, it was even harder to make out any emotion on his face. He grunted mistrustfully and Claire whimpered in fear. He would kill her. He would kill her and slice her to pieces and burn her. Maybe he would have sex with her corpse before that. Yeah, he looked like he was into necrophilia. She felt the pulsations of her heart in her whole body. Even when Wesker let go of her, she flinched under his move.

"Miss Redfield," he hissed and pushed her knife somewhere into his belt. "Go home." He started moving around the vehicle and to the driver's side again as Claire caught her breath. "You know? I don't approve of your brother's… how shall I call it?… Friendship… with Jill Valentine. It only distracts him from important things." He opened the door and glanced back at Claire, who was still hanging on the vehicle. "Imagine how carelessly he must be doing his job if he even neglects to take care of his own sister. I will have to share a serious word with him."

Claire watched as he got into the car. With a sound of despair and, before she knew where she was taking her courage from, she jumped towards the door and into the passenger's seat.

"Captain Wesker, please."

Wesker grunted, staring at her as if she'd reached the limit of irritating and released a sigh.

"Miss Redfield…"

She dared put a hand onto the steering wheel, almost caressing his fingers with hers. He didn't flinch nor move and Claire began to wonder if he could see anything through those sunglasses of his.

"Please, don't tell him. You know this isn't Chris' fault. I told you. Don't." She gasped for air and slowly removed her fingers from the wheel, crossing her hands on her lap. "Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything."

She'd expected him to make an offer or a request; or perhaps to tell her to leave him the fuck alone, it was obvious that he didn't particularly enjoy her company. Nothing like that happened. Instead, Wesker showed her again that he was anything but predictable, turning his head away as he turned the key and started the engine. There was barely time left to fasten the seatbelt before he left the parking lot and took the main road out of town, steering the vehicle towards the city limits.

The ride was silent and felt longer than it actually was, probably. Wesker drove the SUV steadily, without any rough moves or turns of the wheel. Claire kept waiting for him to say something, but the S.T.A.R.S. Captain used the silence as his particular way to torture her. Just when she was about to speak, Wesker drove out of the city and into the forest and Claire felt her stomach twitch. Was he going to kill her? Bury her somewhere under a tree? She swallowed as her heart began to hammer wildly in her chest. Why the fuck had she gotten into that car with him? As Wesker turned at a sign, leaving the road and driving right into the deepest wilderness, Claire began to shift in her seat.

"Easy, Miss Redfield," his husky voice rattled her awake. "You will be home safe, tonight."

She wasn't sure if she should believe him, but she allowed herself to relax a little. Gathering courage, she turned to him slowly and started to speak.

"You won't cut me into pieces just for fun?" she asked quietly and Wesker laughed.

"The fun is not worth the effort to hide it later," he replied, keeping his eyes on the forest in front. "Trust me."

Her eyes widened. A nervous smile crawled up her face as she turned away from him, looking through the window to her right. She wasn't sure if she would survive that night, as a tiny part of her had already died of fear.

Wesker parked his car next to a dark, large hole. Claire narrowed her eyes as she looked through the windshield onto it.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This is a lake, Miss Redfield. You city kids nowadays don't know anything about nature anymore, do you?" he replied as he unfastened his seatbelt. "You believe chicken and pork is born without a head and that vegetables grow on plastic trays."

Claire lifted a brow and tried to stab him with her angry glance.

"I just don't recognize what I have in front because it's pitch-dark out there and the headlights of this thing are weaker than candles and, just for your information, I know and love everything about nature."

Wesker watched her rage. When she'd finished, he smirked in silence and got out of the car. Before she followed him, Claire took a deep breath and cursed herself. That hadn't been very intelligent, had it?

The big, dark hole was indeed a lake. The water made soft sounds as it lapped the shore playfully and it was so wonderfully calm out there that she'd actually have enjoyed the visit hadn't it been with Wesker out of all people in the world.

"What are we doing here?" Claire asked, rubbing over her shoulder. She should have brought her jacket.

"I think we were talking about your brother and how you'd do anything to keep me from talking to him about his sloppy behavior regarding his job and family ties." Wesker asked as he leaned against the door and spread his arms, pointing at the surroundings. Claire watched him attentively. "I thought you'd rather talk about it somewhere more private."

Claire swallowed under the heavy pressure of his words. No, he certainly hadn't brought her into the wilderness to simply talk to her. What had she promised him? Anything? Her knees began to tremble and her heart raced. Shyly scanning the surroundings, Claire searched for the inexistent eyes of strangers that could serve her as excuse to stop what she had started. There were none. They were completely alone out there except for the wildlife. Wesker had a strange concept of a private place, that was sure. Claire tilted her head and forced a smirk, trying to make it look seductive and playful, as if she wasn't as nervous and afraid as a kid on their first day in school, and she walked around the car. Wesker wasn't moving.

"You know that Chris is the best man you can get for S.T.A.R.S.," she whispered into his face as she dared put a hand onto his chest and she felt his heart beat, slow and strong. Wesker kept watching her from behind those sunglasses of his. "But I'm sure we can make a deal, can't we?"

She could make it. If she tried, she could buy his silence and save Chris' ass again. Maybe she could even get him a pay rise. Or she could get Valentine fired. As she spoke, and driven by an unknown force, she increased the pressure on his chest until Wesker let her push him against the car. Yes, she could do whatever she wanted. As the thrill of power overcame her Claire surprised herself with a conviction she couldn't understand and she feared she'd lose control over her acts. That had to be the Redfield spirit — the emotional, conflictive side of their father Chris had always been known for which let her keep her eyes steady on Wesker's face as her hand travelled down his abdomen. She was grateful for that temper, because one step closer was enough to press her body against his threateningly — and she didn't know who it was she was threatening anymore, Wesker or herself. Her breasts touched his chest and she quietly turned her head up. Her lips were now so close to his, she could nearly taste his scent on the tip of her tongue and the thought how easily she could kiss him almost frightened her. There was no reaction on Wesker's face, not a blink of an eye. Inhumanly cold; that's what he was, and Claire began to wonder if he would even let her kiss him if she ever made an attempt.

He didn't. He didn't even let her try. He grabbed her wrist once more, flipped her around and pressed her against the car again, letting her face him, this time. Claire panted in shock, wondering how he moved that quickly. He turned her face to his. Not to kiss her, of course.

"What have you come for, Claire?" His voice was so low and dark, she could barely hear him. Gone was the feeling of control and power. She swallowed hard and shivered. There were no words to describe how the fear of losing Chris was torturing and numbing her. To do herself a favor, she would stop the begging. She had begged enough. Claire reached for Wesker's hand instead and resolutely pushed it against her breast. It fit so perfectly into his palm, one could have thought he'd shaped her with his own hands.

"I told you," she whispered, forcing herself to remain steady. "Anything."

"Anything," he repeated, and Claire had to bravely watch his face as Wesker hooked his index fingers between the buttons of her shirt and ripped the clothing open carelessly. Her black bra came to show and Claire's look dropped to her chest. She shivered; Wesker smirked. A dense layer of goosebumps spread over her skin as the man's expert finger travelled from her collarbone over her sternum, finding another point to anchor right between her breasts. With surgical skill, he pulled her bra up, exposing her completely. Claire squealed as the man palmed one of her white breasts, squeezing it forcefully until her eyes fell shut.

A dark chuckle was his only reaction to her quivering as he stopped torturing her breast and reached for the button on her jeans instead. Quickly, he worked his hands into her panties and patted her hidden spot with the straight palm, rubbing over it carelessly until he pushed a finger into her. Claire couldn't hold back a moan, sensing how easily it went inside. Wesker blew out a breath of boredom.

"Seems like you're enjoying this a little too much, Miss Redfield."

Her eyes fluttered open. Too much? The man pulled his finger out of her pants and ran them over her lips to show her how wet she really was. God, she hated when he did that. It was disgusting and shaming and… more arousing than she'd ever want to admit. Her hand intuitively reached for his pants. She chuckled as she eventually found that she was, obviously, not the only one enjoying it.

Wesker didn't seem to like her reaction, though. The man looped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his right, opening the car door and flipping her around until he threw her into the driver's seat, head first. She fell onto her hands as her feet were still on the ground outside the car. Before she knew what embarrassing pose she was in, with her butt reaching out of the car, Wesker had already pulled her jeans down and pushed his bulge against her from behind.

"Oh god," she gasped at the sound of a zipper. What had she expected? That he'd brought her out there to just finger her again? No. He had come to torture her, to rape her and leave her screaming — out there, where nobody would ever hear her scream. Claire licked over her lips as she waited for the abuse to start again. Luckily, this time she knew that she only had to think of Chris and wait for Wesker to be done with her.

The sound of a plastic wrapper left her relieved. At least, she hadn't to remind him of the condom, it seemed. Good. This would spare her some time. She didn't have all night long, after all. Apparently, Wesker had a similar thought, as he didn't wait any longer to shove himself into her again.

He wasn't careful nor slow this time. He was quick, hard and unforgiving and he didn't seem to give a shit that this was just her second time.

It hurt.

Perhaps it even hurt more than the first time, and Claire couldn't hold back a couple of tears, letting them fall onto the seat cushion of Wesker's car as she felt she was being cut open from behind. How uncomfortably her sex stretched over the shaft inside her. Her fingers searched for support as she felt she'd faint, right there in the front seat. The angle Wesker had chosen was the worst as his dick seemed to drill into her like a jackhammer. It was rough and she squealed, trying not to scream.

Wesker stroked over her back, holding her down and comforting her at once.

"You will get used to it, Miss Redfield."

And it just sounded like another threat.

Naturally, she'd get used to it. He would fuck her until she was stretched as wide and open as a duck pond. She cried a little. She wouldn't scream though, forcing herself to gulp down the need to howl into the world what was happening to her. She was in some hidden spot outside of Raccoon City, with her pants around her knees and her breasts dangling freely as Albert Wesker was urging his dick into her again.

Again.

She whimpered. How had she gotten that far, constantly dropping her underwear for that man — her brother's Captain? No wonder her mother was giving her that disgraceful look every time she saw her. Hadn't she wanted to raise a decent young lady instead of a shameless whore? A soft whimper left her lips to the rhythm of the deep thrusts. She didn't deserve any better. She herself had caused all this and she was the one who needed to be punished for her careless behavior at that party — for putting her brother in danger. It could cost Chris everything he had worked for.

"Miss Redfield, relax." Lost in thoughts and numbed by the pain, Claire hadn't noticed that Wesker had stopped moving. His warm hands stood on her thighs, caressing them almost caringly. "You're dry." Claire began to move and turned her head towards the Captain. "Don't you feel that?"

She didn't know what he meant. Dry? Could that even be?

Wesker clicked his tongue.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "And stop being so tense. Isn't this what you came for?" The last sentence was accompanied by a dark chuckle and she felt mocked and exposed. However, he was right. It was the best for both of them if she just did what he told her. Claire shifted her weight onto one arm and used the free hand to reach between her thighs, pressing her fingers onto the sensitive nub. It was swollen, and the touch wasn't entirely unpleasant. Picturing Chris was helping, too.

"Oh." Her loud moan was soon shushed by Wesker's evil laugh as he began to push into her again, a little slower this time. However, Claire didn't really care about it anymore. Eyes closed, she'd banned herself from the sickening reality as she imagined Chris was with her — there in the woods, where nobody would ever find them. There, where they could give in to their love and desire, far from every judgement.

Her thoughts seemed to be effective as Wesker slid into her with ease. The sound of his length gliding in and out was shamefully arousing and Claire felt the first sparks of intense pleasure run through her body. "Yes." She whined and rocked her hips back. The pain long forgotten, she eventually learned to find the pleasure in their doing and allowed herself to fully enjoy it. "Faster. Deeper. Please." Surprisingly, Wesker obeyed without any mocking reaction or a sarcastic comment. Hands holding her tight, he thrust so hard into her that it could have broken her, hadn't her inners long accepted and adapted to his grim assault. Claire moaned. "Oh god, yes!"

Wesker slid his hand up to her left breast and started tugging harshly, as she herself kept rubbing her clit. Chris. Chris was everything she thought of as she let those crazy spasms take control over her body. And before she even understood how, she was laughing. She was laughing to the rhythm of Albert Wesker's hips crashing into her from behind.

The thrusts went deeper and faster and Claire thought she'd lose her mind somewhere out there in the nothingness of the night. Wesker's gruff grunting told her he was close to the climax and she certainly didn't want him to finish without her coming first. Therefore, she started rubbing herself a little harder, soon reaching the orgasm she'd seek so desperately in the arms and groin of someone else. The man behind her needed just a second or two longer than herself.

Wesker was quick to pull his pants up and leave Claire hanging in the front seat as he walked around the vehicle and opened the door to the passenger's side. She gasped a second longer as she caught her breath.

"Get in the car, Miss Redfield," the blond murmured and pulled out a handkerchief from the glove compartment to clean himself. And Claire got up, stroking away the aching tension her back had been submitted to. "Now."

His nervous tone caught her off guard and Claire quickly pulled her pants and underwear back into place as she circled the car to climb into the passenger's seat. A little shocked, she found that some of the buttons on her shirt were missing.

"Damnit." Her curse was audible enough for Wesker to hear it, but he didn't react to her misery. He started the engine and proceeded to drive back to Raccoon City in a ride as silent as the one before. This time, Claire barely found time to think, as they reached the city after just some minutes. When they turned towards the station, Wesker began to grunt.

"How are you getting home?"

Claire looked at him a little surprised. Was he offering her a ride as if they'd been on some sort of date? Who did he think he was? What did he believe was giving him the right to play the caring lover? The thought somehow disgusted her more than anything she'd done that night and she quickly pointed into the direction where she'd parked her motorcycle before.

"I've come on my bike," she said coldly and her reply seemed to be enough to keep the man's conscience clean. He nodded in acceptance.

"You should get going, then. "Wesker pulled out her knife from his pocket and handed it to her. Claire sucked in a breath and grabbed for the weapon. "Trust me, you wouldn't want Brian Irons to find you half-dressed. If you know what I mean."

She didn't, but she knew she didn't want to find out either. Claire slipped her knife back into her boot and got out of the car. Before closing the door, she threw another shy glance back at Wesker. There were things they hadn't talked about yet.

"So…" she spoke in a whisper. "About my… you know?"

He had given her the knife back, why wouldn't he do the same with her panties? But what was the price she'd have to pay for it? What would he request from her from now on? The S.T.A.R.S. Captain sighed, obviously annoyed by her insistence. Patting his hand onto the steering wheel, he grunted.

"Next Wednesday night, 10 pm in the S.T.A.R.S. office. Don't be late. I will take care of your brother and…" The despising pause was underlined by an unaccepting turn of the head from the captain's side. "Valentine."

Claire gasped for air. So, Wesker wanted her to come back the following week — to do more of those horrid things, probably. Clenching her teeth in disgust, she nodded as he turned to her, inviting her to close the door.

"Alright."

"Now, go home, Claire." He started the car and turned the window down. "And don't ever follow me again. Understood?"

Claire nodded again and let him drive away, taking a deep breath once he was out of reach. She had hoped he'd give her underwear back, but the outcome of the night hadn't been that catastrophic. Wesker wouldn't tell Chris about her feelings as long as she did what he requested, would he? She had bought herself and her brother another chance. On weak knees, she stumbled back to her motorcycle as fast as she could. After all she'd heard about the Police Chief, she definitely didn't want to run into Brian Irons in the middle of the night.