Ok, I'm totally out of my usual weekly update time. Sorry beautiful people! Hope this chapter makes up for the lateness!

LITTLE DISCLAIMER: the scene involving Piers was inspired by something I witnessed myself some time ago on a similar party. I just kinda changed the names and locations. And outcome. Eh eh.

Oh, and unfortunately I was sober.

And I wasn't a Redfield.

And the guy was definitely not Piers.

CHAPTER 11 - Spiralling Out, in Crescendo

It was Friday afternoon and the two siblings were gearing up for Carlos's birthday party. Getting dressed and dolled up turned out being an unexpectedly difficult feat. Especially for real Chris. His sister, in fact, after several attempts, had succeeded to make him wear a cute red dress and she was using her persuasiveness and ascendency on him to convince him to put on a pair of matching stiletto heels.

"Do you really want me to break both ankles, Claire?"

Real Claire caught her lower lip between her teeth and hinted a sly smile "Oh c'mon! It's less than two inches high… you won't break anything!"

"No way!" he retorted, folding his bare arms on his chest and sternly looking at her. He stomped out of the closet, underlining with firmness his zero intentions of giving in to her caprices, as for Chris, all that solicitude for compelling him to wear skimpy clothes, push-up bra, seamless lace thong, was just a useless, inopportune whim.

"At least try 'em!" Claire snorted, following him outside the closet into Girly Room.

"No!" he exclaimed, determined not to let her persuade him like it happened for the dress, so short that he had no idea how to sit down without uncover his butt-cheeks.

"Oh, please… do it for me!" real Claire said putting on a childish pout and batting her eyelashes in a very ridiculous way for that virile big face of hers.

For her?! Chris snorted exasperated. It wasn't her to have to stand up on high heels for a whole night and, albeit he had never… set foot in those things in his life, he didn't expect them to be comfy. Then again, the more he observed them the more they appeared being an infernal torture tool.

Chris sat down on the edge of the big pink bed, careless about that whilst doing it, his panties were showing. He let his back fall onto the mattress and sighed angrily.

Fake Chris was standing up before him, swinging a pair of black patent leather heels and staring at him expectantly. Real Claire knew that if she insisted just a little bit more, he'd have lastly given up. But she didn't know, or perhaps she refused to notice, that her brother was annoyed and running out of patience.

Chris was deeply uncomfortable. Now, that situation was weighing on him even more than usual and only because Claire was obstinated. If going to school wasn't problematic as it meant basically jeans and shirts, and that was fine, for that damned party it seemed essential to wear that dress, that made him feel… embarrassed. It was so adherent that it emphasized every curve of his body, to him it was like being naked. Not to mention that deep V neck! Hello no! He had no intention of spending the night slapping horny guys that stared at his tits.

Her tits.

He suddenly felt a pair of big hands grasping his ankle and he rose his head to meet the sight of fake Chris trying to put his tiny foot in that damned shoes.

"You're never giving up, uh?" he sighed and, resignated, he let her slip on both shoes.

He wasn't able to walk in heels at all. He tried but he would just stumble and wave clumsily, gaiting like a drunken chicken.

In the end, Claire was forced to take note of reality and handle her brother a pair of more comfortable shoes.

Real Chris had won the first battle, thus they were even, but to win the war he had to trump her attempts to put some makeup on his face.

"Just a little lipstick!" she said, uncapping the tiny black package.

"No way!" he bluntly replied.

"But it matches the dress!" She pointed out matter-of-factly.

"I couldn't care less!"

"Why you so picky? Don't you want to look hot?"

"I already look hot, Claire. You know that." Real Chris replied with an eye roll, fastly getting a bit too much pissed off.

"Uff... I just want to help you being ready for tonight!"

"I don't need your help, I can dress by myself!" he yelled.

"Ok! Ok! Sorry!" Real Claire replied rising both hands, as she was pissing off too and, feigning a bow, she added mocking a British accent "I won't bother Her Majesty anymore! Forgive a poor lad, my Queen!"

"Don't call me that. I'm a man!" He squealed, piercing her with a furious stare "I don't need your fucking beauty advice! I don't even need you! I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING SISTER!"

The echo of those screamed words dissolved in the sudden deathly silence fallen on the room. If Chris was fuming in ire, the atmosphere around him was rather glacial. It took a little, a simple discussion, to deflagrate the tension that had accumulated and had accompained them through the whole afternoon. In that very moment he had lashed out three whole weeks of repressed rage and he had done it in the worst of possible ways: rounding on his sister.

Real Claire hummed a quiet "ok" whilst slowly looking away from her words seemed to have mortified her and Chris felt an asshole of a brother because of it.

He didn't want to go out, to play the Claire Redfield role for the second time in a day, faking not to feel so unprotected in such a non-concealing dress, he was shattered and he couldn't go on anymore with that horrid life but he was sure Claire had not to pay the consequences of his frustration.

"I'm sorry" he murmured with a heartbroken tone, kneading at his neck, ready to put the makeup on as she wished. He reached with the hand to grab the lipstick from her but real Claire was faster in hiding it in her closed fist.

"No, Chris. You don't have to." she pensively replied, putting the cap on again and throwing it on the bed. "you're right, I guess. Maybe I'm treating you like a girl… but I don't mean it, believe me!" She approached him and intensely kissed his forehead. "Sorry, bro…"

"It's fine. Forget it, honey." he said, trying to hug her as much as he could but he only ended up feeling even more frustrated and inadequate as he couldn't get to hug her the way he wanted: fully and enfolding.

"I want you to feel good tonight." she whispered.

"Me too, sweetie. It's gonna be ugh… hard as fuck… but we can make it through."

Maybe it was because he was older than her and he had been to many more parties than her, or maybe it was because having been a boy he knew what awaited for him ahead now that he had to pretend being a girl, he knew what all the boys would've thought whilst putting their sights on him, the saucy comments, the horny glances and all, anyways, he was far more concerned than her.

"Just please… stay with me tonight, ok?" he implored, scowling at how damn weak he felt. Well, he wasn't her sister of course… nonetheless, he didn't feel being even her brother anymore. He hated that sudden need of protection, safety and reassurances. Maybe it was just because of the dress, or maybe just the stress, but he couldn't help it. Where had that lion of a boy of Chris Redfield gone?

They arrived at Carlos' at about nine, the party being already started. Their friend had invited almost half school! The house and the front garden were swarming with girls and boys and they could bet that the backyard was as well crowded. Was it a birthday or a damn wedding?

They parked the car afar as the nearby street sidewalks were already clogged with dozens of other cars and, as they approached the house, he gave his sister some little recommendations in the case they didn't manage to stay together for the whole party.

"Please, keep an eye on Piers for me" he said with sadness at the thought of not being able to spend the party with him and, in front of his sister's questioning gaze, he explained "he tends to get fucking wasted in these kind of parties… and if I weren't there to keep him at bay, he'd surely get himself in trouble."

In fact, he was the only person that Piers would listen to even if drunk as piss. Not that the guy would become violent or dangerous, at all. Instead, he became always… affectionate. Too affectionate. Towards anybody. As the ancient adage in vino veritas says, the alcohol would uncover the true nature of people, and Piers would turn out being just a cute, sweet, little puppy eager to express his friendliness to everyone.

But not anybody would appreciate a drunk boy's ravings who, messing aroung dispensing kisses and hugs would often result just troublesome. He'd basically end up importuning the wrong person, the wrong girlfriend, the wrong not-enough-drunk straight guy. More than once his guardian angel of a Chris had barely averted a fistfight because of it.

On that party though that task was on Claire.

"If anybody threatens to start a fight with him, don't be afraid of using my strength honey, ok?"

"Got it!" She nodded. How difficult that might ever be?

As they stepped in, they were welcomed by Sheva and Moira as the two girls were there too and, as soon as they spotted them, they caught fake Claire and took him away from fake Chris, literally crashing the sticking together plan. Sheva in particular looked pretty agog to storm the poor boy's mind with a bucket of gossip and OMG-you-won't-believe-who-I-met.

Neither fake Chris had a chance to escape his friends because soon she was kidnapped by Carlos' warm pats and dragged inside the house. Fake Chris had a busy time in waving at friends, some of which she had never seen before, and soon got a glass full of beer placed in his hand by a screaming Carlos.

"LET'S PAR-TAAAAAAAAAYYY! WHOOO HOOOO!" The party had just started and Carlos was already the worse for drink.

Both siblings got their drinks and soon the warmness induced by alcohol helped them relax and it even put a smile back on their faces.

But there was a little detail they weren't considering, or at least, that real Chris wasn't considering: he wasn't in his highly tolerant body anymore.

In fact, after only two glasses, real Chris was utterly drunk as he hadn't time to notice that the wine was making its way to his brain at the speed of light.

Real Claire, on the other hand, managed to tolerate beer much more, and got only a slight buzz. But she hadn't much time to focus on drinking, however, as she was too busy in politely getting rid of flirty girls that seemed to practice only the "let's harass Chris Redfield" sport.

She hoped her brother had been luckier.

Real Chris was sloshed.

He passed from crowded rooms to other as well crowded rooms, waving at people and drinking wine, unaware of all the perplexed looks or mockery giggles he aroused.

He had lost sight of Sheva but he didn't care much. She had totally overwhelmed his mind with things he couldn't care less about. Even though, he had to admit, that gossip-in-the-shower session with Jill and Rebecca had been advantageous as he had a bit of background notions to understand a part of that, otherwise irrelevant, talking of his friend.

Once inside the living room, he spotted Moira sitting on a big (useless to say) crowded sofa. Stumbling on his feet a little, he walked towards her.

"MOIRAAAA!" He yelled, beaming a smile at the girl and throwing his palms up in the air. "My second favourite tombooooyyy!" And he gracelessly threw himself on her.

"The second?!" Moira asked jokingly, cringing and raising a brow and faking a jealous tone "who's the bitch that stole my place? Who's the first?!"

"It's Claire, of course!" He giggled, convinced he was pointing out the obvious.

He sat astride on the girl and threw his arms around her neck.

Moira laughed at his face for her friend addressing at herself in third person. She's so blasted, the girl thought and started to move her legs up and down making him bounce like a toddler on his grandpa's lap. "You're my favourite tomboy too, Claire!" She replied.

"We have something in common then!" Fake Claire said while bouncing and laughing like the drunk girl he was, reclining his head back as it was suddenly too heavy and unstable for a neck that seemed turned into jelly.

"Nooo... why did you stop?" He protested.

"You're heavy." The girl shrugged.

"Pfffffff..." he scornfully sneered "I'm heavy my ass!"

"Yeah, your ass is heavy too!" Moira winked and slapped her butt.

"Fuckever." The fake girl replied and stole her drink, downing it in one single gulp.

"Hey! Hey! Claire! Easy! You're already too drunk!" Moira yelled, snatching the empty glass from her friend's hand and pushing her off of her legs and right with her ass onto the floor "if Chris sees you..."

Real Chris tried to sit up and shook his head laughing out spluttered words "Chrissss… he… fuck him. I do what I want!"

"Well, want something else than my drink then!" Moira snapped.

"Yeah, ssssooome-thing... else..." Fake Claire bluntly replied looking away.

Real Chris had managed to depart from Moira, after having offered an embarrassing show to all the attendants in the attempt to stand back on his feet from the carpet.

The fuck you looking at motherfuckers?

Maybe just you thong, Chris.

He headed to the kitchen to fill up his glass again. Nobody was there except for Leon who was picking up some food from the buffet.

"Hey... hi" Leon faintly said as he noticed the stumbling girl approaching.

"Heeeey buddyyy" he replied with a hazy voice.

"You got pretty damn drunk uh?"

"Yeah..." fake Claire sighed "but I've been worse..."

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yup, man... like that time at... uh... eheheh... Spencer's with the other guys..." fake Claire replied with a wave of the hand and his usual dumb drunken grin.

"You mean the rave party at Spencer Mansion on last June?"

"Yyyup! Worst hangover ever, man! They had to drag me home... pfffff!" fake Claire laughed.

Leon became a little pensive and mumbled out "I didn't know you were there too…" but he soon added with a shrug "hope Chris didn't make a scene when seeing you drunk! Even though… on second thought... uhm... he had to be dragged home too. By me and Kevin."

Shit.

Real Chris just realised he was talking to Leon as himself and not as Claire. Stupid cheap wine! "Chris... he... uh... don't tell him."

"Don't worry Claire. I'll keep my mouth shut. Just like I hope you'll keep yours too..." he said cringing at the outcome of his own sentence, that sounded kind of a threat, despite he tried to speak as gentle as possible.

"What you mean? I'll have to open it to drink aaaaaall this shit!" Real Chris said pointing at the several bottles.

Shaking his head and chuckling quietly at the drunkenness level of the girl he explained "I mean... about what happened last Saturday... I'm sorry about that. I hope you won't tell Chris about our… my kiss. He's my friend, I don't want to ruin our friendship because of a stupid mistake!"

Leon was again apologizing for his behaviour, concerned about the consequences of it and the fact that a drunk Claire was now dangerous. After all, if she had that easily told him that secret about the Spencer's Rave, she might let other secrets slip from her lips too.

Real Chris, softened by the fuddle and having overcome the upset that got him on the previous Saturday, looked at his friend and smiled for his loyalty. Leon was a good guy who truly cared about their friendship. The younger brother he never had.

"Don't worry, Chris will neeever know." He slobbered, swaying a bit on his feet and placing a hand on the boy's shoulder "you're a good friend. A good friend, man. Man! You're such a gooood friend! But don't call kissing my sis-... me, kissing me... yeah, yeah kissing me a missstake. Ok?"

"Ok Claire, sorry" Leon apologised again for having sounded rude "it wasn't a mistake. And I'd do it all over again if it wasn't for Chris."

Normally, such a sentence would have pissed off both Chris and his jealousy, but now, drunk as he was he was almost touched by those sweet words.

"Thanks, Leoooon" fake Claire said throwing his arms around the blond's neck and patting his back, making him flinch in surprise before looping a timid arm around the fake girl's back to keep her steady.

"Try not to drink too much, ok? Chris wouldn't like to see you like this. Try to sober up." Leon said, slowly and regrettingly pulling away from the embrace and, rubbing fake Claire's upper arm, he placed a soft kiss on the temple, And right before leaving, he whispered on the skin a soft and unnoticed "Lucky who'll have you.", bringing with himself the sad resignation of who has to stand aside from making any further move on her. Forever.

Right before disappearing in the doorway, he turned to glance at her and shook his head at himself as he felt that leaving her alone was the wrong thing. But after that terrible reaction on the veranda at Redfields', he couldn't stand by her like nothing happened. He couldn't.

Maybe I better drink away my... but he sighed as he didn't want to complete the sentence in his mind with the words "broken heart". Instead, he made up his mind to go find Chris and warn him that his sister might get in trouble if she kept drinking that much.

As he was alone again, real Chris had already forgot Leon's warnings and apologies and poured himself another glass. He made up his mind to empty the bottle he had grabbed.

"Uhm... pinto... pinot geerj... grigg... Pinot grigio. Sounds good." He mumbled and poured himself a whole cup of the golden wine.

Real Claire was meandering through the house struggling to slip away from her brother's friends and their noisy manners. With some polite stunts she got to take refuge in the kitchen for a moment of quietude and loneliness. She wondered why people seemed not to care about food at all, but only about drinks. She had already seen a couple of empty metal hogsheads fly over a balcony and dive into the pool, but the buffet was still abounding with a thousand delicacies.

That party was turning out even too challenging for her.

How the hell did Chris manage to enjoy those parties if he was always so busy in keeping up with Piers, getting rid of annoying girls and having fun all at the same time?!

Beyond all this, she had to fake, and do it convincingly, pretending to be the same old Chris in the same old kind of party. It was almost midnight by then and she almost couldn't handle the strain anymore.

To make matters worse, she had lost sight of Piers. As far as she knew, he might have been either somewhere outside barking at the Moon or shagging behind a bush.

Damn, the boy was a real party animal! For a good half an hour she had run after him for the whole house trying to prevent him from getting into trouble. Chris didn't overstate at all! That boy was a true kissing&hugging machine when he'd be as high as kite.

In that kitchen, Claire decided it was about time to grab a bite after having only drunk beer for hours. By then she was far more than just tipsy and she was hungry like a… a Chris.

She prepared herself a dish with some slices of pizza but, before she could pour herself a glass of pure, innocent water, here is that none less than Piers himself got into the room wobbling badly.

He was even more bombed than he was the last time she saw him.

Albeit she was pretty squiffy too, fake Chris soon noticed the reddish halo on her friend's cheek. It didn't take a stone-cold sober genius to understand he had got a slap by someone. The boy came in jabbering about people's prejudices or something like that, but in the attempt of inveighing against the windows before him he ended up falling on the big table in his preaching heat.

Fake Chris helped him getting up and tried to drag him towards some stools that had been placed by the wall, in the attempt to make him sit down, but unsuccessfully. The boy continued his fomented waggling and she didn't feel like using her strength to force him down, fearing she hadn't enough control over her movements.

In the end, it was fake Chris herself to sit down while holding Piers by his arms, trying to make him stop.

"They are all a bunch of bigots!" he huffed out "as if a fucking peck would mean anything!"

"Maybe you should've asked for a permission before!" fake Chris suggested.

"I don't need no permission." Piers grunted. "pecks are meaningless."

"Oh, boy. Listen to me, you do need it! And pecks mean a lot!" fake Chris giggled. "No wonder you got slapped!"

Piers snorted at his friend's laugh and he'd have surely started back his boring plastered preach if the room wasn't spinning around him that much. He got closer and grasped fake Chris' round shoulders to keep balance, as that portly body was the only still thing in his intoxicated, whirling vision. He was swaying on his feet. Dangerously swaying closer and closer to her, his talk becoming more and more stuttered as if he was on the edge of falling asleep. Unpredictable as only drunk people can be, Piers closed the distance with that bearded face of his friend and gently brushed his lips on fake Chris'.

"Meaningless." Piers hissed in a very low voice.

Yes, maybe a small peck would really be meaningless, and maybe it would've been like that for real Chris, as accustomed as he was to Piers' drunk attitudes, but for Claire that little insignificant kiss was as devastating as a hurricane.

She had never been kissed on the lips since she was in that body. And she had never been kissed by Piers too. Meaningless my ass. That might have been a small peck but it was enough to wake up some tempestuous feelings inside her.

All the booze she had downed suddenly seemed to fuel up a firing heat inside her chest making her heartbeats go mad, and clouding her reason with the smoke of her fuming passion. Piers had just grazed her lips with his, but she longed for more and she didn't waste time nor gave second thoughts about it, she just leaned forward and clashed her lips on his.

Fake Chris took advantage of the grab she already had on Piers and pulled him closer, while ravishing his mouth and taking his face in her big hands.

Piers didn't lose time in deepen the kiss and abandoned himself to his friend's sudden, inexpected lust. He was too drunk to question why the renowingly straight guy Chris was suddenly acting that unlikely way.

Piers' lips started to move, to respond to the compulsive wet movements of the big fake boy, and his tongue started to beg for access to fake Chris' ones.

After weeks spent in imagining, picturing boys (well, only one boy actually) in her mind, real Claire on that stool had lost every control on her moves, her hands, her mind, her tongue, her... libido.

It was so strange for her to kiss a boy in that body, it was strange to be the tallest, the widest. It felt strange the feeling of those lips being touched. She was experiencing Chris' kisses… but from the other side. This is what Chris feels then? She'd have surely wondered all these things if she wasn't that wasted or raptured.

Piers instinctively leaned closer, if not to kiss her better, leastways to keep better balance by leaning against that portly body and he culdn't curb a quiet moan as he felt her hard manhood under his palm. If he were sober he'd never dared to touch the penis of the big brother he never had, instead, on that stool, he started kneading it through the pants with strong, passionate, deft movements of the hand while letting no rest to her tongue.

It was damn good.

It was so good to be touched by someone else. It was her first time as a boy having such an intimate time with someone. That was better than days of just masturbation!

But nothing lasts forever, not even that little piece of unrequested Nirvana. She opened her eyes and, in a little sparkle of sobriety, she forced her mind to realise what the hell was going on. Dammit, she was kissing her brother's friend… Chris was kissing his friend!

Gasping, she made haste to part the kiss, and drew away from him almost battering her back against the wall. But the drunk guy, as he lost the support, collapsed on her wide chest, lips flushed and eyes closed.

Jesus, Piers! Get the fuck up!

She cursed under her breath and tried to pull him a little up just enough not to let him slip on the floor but a most frightening sight made her blood freeze in her veins.

Oh, holiest fuck of all fucks in the fucking world! Leon?!

The blond boy was staring at her with a confused, profoundly confused look on his face. And fake Chris was staring back with blushed, ashamed, terrified face. Real Claire wanted to die... to disappear from the whole universe in that moment.

A witness. A fucking witness! And not a common one, but Chris' very best friend! Piers was so devastated that he might have forgotten everything but… Leon was damn sober. She couldn't tell how long he had been staring and how much he had seen, but his expression left space for no doubts. He had seen Chris Redfield and Piers Nivans make out on a stool.

Her heart, Chris' heart, that just few seconds before was hammering hard in her chest, was now paralyzed. She tried to gulp down to make room for some words to spell, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

"W-what… what are you doing here?!" she screamed in panic, sounding too aggressive even in her opinion.

Leon nervously swifted on his feet a bit before shaking from his perplexity and giving that question a satisfying answer. He lamely cleared his throat and said "I uh… I was looking for you, Chris. I saw Claire… she's kinda drinking too much, I think you shou-"

Real Claire stood up and almost threw on him that poor, hammered Piers, who had happily passed out after that short but intense make out session.

"Look after him. I'll go seek Claire." She sputtered.

Leon barely had the time to catch Piers dead-like body before he'd fall onto the ground, unable to say anything to his friend before she'd storm out of the room, eager to get away from there and afar from Leon's eyes. She needed to find Chris. She needed his advice, he needed to know she had made a fucking mess! And she swore, if she found an open grave along the road she'd have buried herself alive.

She went straight upstairs for it seemed to be less crowded, thus concealing her arousal would have been easier, and it turned out being the right move as she found real Chris right in there, in one of the bedrooms, in... good company.

He was indeed making out with a girl.

Oh... fucking shit! You too?!

Apparently both Redfields had been unluckly lucky that night.

She was staring at her very body wildly clung to a barenaked girl, fiercely kissing her all over the breasts.

That was definitely not good. For some reason.

She had to do something!

If she'd break into the room and just took fake Claire away, the other girl would have told anyone that Claire Redfield was lesbian and that her brother had caught her in the making. And then she'd have to live with those rumors about her sexuality without being able to deny them. And she hated untrue gossip about herself.

By the way that girl was moving, or better, wasn't moving much, she understood that maybe she was drunk. Maybe she wouldn't remember anything on the following day.

But why was her brother taking advantage of a drunk girl? Real Chris would never do something like that. Chris had always taught her to respect people and he always respected women above everything. She suspected, she feared, the answer was that Chris might have been even drunker than the stranger girl.

Also, she didn't like what she was seeing for another reason... some strange feeling she couldn't manage to identify immediately.

Something was taking a hold of her stomach and hurting her. She wished it was jealousy, just like that male body would feel with the right inhabitant, but she feared it was just... guilt?

Bracing herself, she brought fake Chris' imponent body inside the bedroom and approached the bed. Taking fake Claire by an arm she separated the two girls.

With relief, she noticed that the other girl was surely drunk. Perhaps the drunkest person in the whole house, except for Piers ça va sans dire. Probably she wasn't even aware she was being kissed.

"Come on Claaaaire... it's time to go" fake Chris said, glared at her brother in disdain.

He stuttered something back but nothing more than an unintelligible slobber came out of his mouth. Remembering she was the strong one now, she picked up fake Claire, lifted her and brought her outside the room to the nearest bathroom.

I'll make you sober up, you fucker.

Fake Claire was kneeling on the ground in front of the toilet, the two fingers fake Chris had gracelessly pushed inside his throat had made him throw up instantly.

"Why did you get so fucking drunk, Chris?" Real Claire hissed, furious and raging, overhanging her brother with all her stateliness.

To make her feel even worse, the shame load of just a couple of minutes before hadn't worn off yet. But that wasn't the only thing that had gone upstairs with her from the kitchen affair: despite she tried to focus on her brother's dire straits, she couldn't help being still pretty hard.

Dammit, Piers really knew how to touch a boy like a pro! The guy was gifted!

"I... don't know... I didn't realize I was getting... wasted..." Real Chris mumbled, just a bit better now but still a lot, lot drunk.

"I thought we were ok about sticking together and staying out of any trouble! And now you just can barely stand up!" she harshly scolded him.

Real Chris said nothing.

His head was swaying like one of those Mr Raccoon toys their school was full of and he had a stupid, inebriated look printed on his gorgeous feminine face.

Before he might dip his swinging head inside the toilet, real Claire eased him up and made him sit on the bathtub edge.

"And why did you have to start making out with that girl? Tell me!" Real Claire roared with the power of her masculine gruff voice.

"I... Don't know..." Real Chris shrugged. Plastered as he was, he thought his head weighed a ton and he rested it on the other's shoulder. He sighed and bluntly muttered "I just wanted to have a good fuck... that's it."

"And why did you take advantage of her? Don't tell me you didn't notice she's drunk 'cause I won't believe you!"

"She started touching me... I just went for it. I'm drunk too after all." real Chris simply shrugged and laughed. Leave me be, babe.

Real Claire shook her head "I just hope she won't remember anything! People are surely start thinking I'm weird... I don't want to give them other kinky rumors about me!" and she frowned even more at the thought that she was scolding him for having done her same mistake… at least Chris is drunk as piss, she thought, what's my excuse again?

"... S-sorry honey... I just hadn't any intention to have sex with a boy just to suit the Claire Redfield's sexual orientation..." He said, awkwardly air-quoting his sister's name.

"You might have just not have done it at all! You're too drunk to have sex with anybody! You might just get a herpes or who knows what fucking other viral infection just 'cause you're too drunk to do it safely!"

"Put a sock in it, baby. I couldn't even fuck her like I'd have liked to... no dick no risk."

"Dumbass! Vaginas can transmit infections too, you asshole!"

"That's not what I meant... I just... ugh... I want my dick back!" He said sighing and, leaning forward, he pressed a hand on his long-lost groin and added, addressing to... well, the penis. "Come back to me! I want you back!"

He didn't expect to find a hard-on under his touch though.

Just like real Claire didn't expect that move either. It violently took her aback but nevertheless she didn't toss that hand away, despite being her brother's. Her whole pelvic area was still sensitive after Piers' "friendly massage", and her erection was pressing hard against her pants even after the disgusting vision of real Chris puking.

All the pleasure that still lingered in her was abruptly awaken now, and she was once more falling for it.

Even if completely wasted, real Chris began teasing his sister with little squeezes of the hand, almost involuntarily, somehow enjoying her increasing arousal. When a soft moan escaped real Claire's lips, everything precipitated. For the second time in a row.

It all happened in less than a second. Real Chris vehemently slapped his hand on the beside wall, right on the light switch and turned it off.

They were in complete darkness now, and real Chris sat on his sister's lap, straddling her, and started rubbing himself madly against her hard groin. Real Claire wasn't the only horny kid in there.

She lost control too.

She grasped that slim female body by the hips and with her big strong hands, she helped real Chris in his back and fro movements, relishing in the feeling of some other body touching her most intimate parts again.

In a nick of time, they were masturbating to each other through fabrics, together.

It wasn't like having sex at all, though, as they weren't kissing nor touching each other. Their hands were only on themselves. Only on whom they longed for.

Real Chris was ravaging fake Claire's breasts while bouncing madly, real Claire was pulling off fake Chris' shirt even if this time she couldn't see his abs in account of the dark. But except for their groins, no other parts of their bodies were touching. Their breaths soon grew heavy and the obscurity helped them let go and vocalize their pleasure at the other's presence. Not that they were ashamed of each other after all, but that was the very first time the two young Redfields heard with their own ears each other's arousals.

It was wild. And it escalated at the speed of light.

They were moving so furiously that they fell inside the empty bathtub and, unable to stop to get up, they adjusted in there instead. If anybody would've dared to enter the room (and turned on the lights) in that very moment, would've found Claire Redfield stroking herself against a shirtless Chris Redfield, both moaning desperately.

With a strong move, she rolled over and eased him on his back, while laying on top of him, covering his little body completely. As her sight was adjusting to the poor illumination that filtrated through the near window, her wild rubbing enriched with the sight of… what Chris would have seen when being on top of a girl. This is what Chris sees? This is what he does? This is how he moves?

That realisation alone was enough to ignite her lust even more, but seeing that it was hers the body below, overwhelmed her with desire. That was something Chris had never seen for sure. Not yet at least.

She kept picturing her brother's body in her mind as usual, but she soon began to envy that red-haired girl under her in that moment… unlike herself, that girl could see that body, she could she Chris' muscles flex and contract under the hot skin, she could read how pleasure would deform his features, she could feel him pounding on her, she could… be touched by him. Real Claire instead could only imagine despite being so damn close to his body, so... inside it.

They just kept dry-humping like mads: real Chris, laid down on the white ceramic bottom of the bathtub, was able only to moan, knead his breasts, delicately pinch his nipples, and straddle her waist with his slender thighs giving, every now and then, a weak, clumsy push-up to deepen the contact with her erection, while real Claire, leveraging on the buthtub edge with her hands, would press her hard-on on his clitoris with strong pushes of her hips, releasing low, growling huffs along with her movements.

Being not as drunk as her brother, real Claire should've been the most responsible one and she ought to, if not stop that madness, at least not do what she did next.

While her own arousal was fast reaching its peak, she just slid the same two fingers she used to make her brother throw up, inside him, sliding beneath his panties. The new teasing just drove him crazy and accelerated his climax, he began moaning louder, with few little pauses to listen better to the sticky wet sounds those fingers made while plowing into his inners.

The bathtub simply overflew with their sounds.

One sound in particular got her attention: among all the sighs and moans and heavy breaths filling the small room, she heard her brother whisper repeatedly his name. His very own name. "Chris". Even if abandoning herself to pleasure, she wondered why her brother was picturing himself while jerking off.

That's weird.

What real Claire couldn't just imagine was that her brother, relishing in his oblivion, needed to hear his name pronounced by his sister's voice. He was addicted to it.

When they both had finished with an explosive twirl of loud moans, they stayed in the bathtub, breaths coming out in husky pants and silent. When real Claire, regained a bit of consciousness, removed her hand from inside her brother's panties, it was just caught by him and led into his hot red cherry mouth.

"I told you I always lick my fingers." he breathed out, exhausted but satisfied.

After having thrown up another couple of times, fake Claire had finally sobered up and was now able to walk again. After a quick check of their clothes - thankfully no stains were soaking them - they decided to go back downstairs, not saying a single word.

"Chris! Jesus Christ! Where have you been, bitch?" Carlos shouted from the other side of the crowded room and approached them "I've been looking for ya man... got some hot chick to bang, uh? You motherfucker! Come on! Beer pong has just starteeeed!" And laughed loudly, beckoning at a wide table across the living room.

After glancing at each other, fake Claire sheepishly replied "No… he was helping me getting over my buzz."

"You were drunk too?" he beamed widening his black eyes in excitement "Whoo hooo! Time to get drunk again then! Come on let's play beer pong together CLAAAAIIIIRE!"

"I don't think is a good idea, Carlos" fake Chris intervened "actually, we're going home. My sister isn't feeling good."

They waved at all their friends and finally got in their car. Fake Chris driving this time.

When they arrived at home, about ten minutes later, they parked in the garage but didn't leave the car already. Real Claire was the first one to speak.

"About what happened befor-"

"We needed that."

Claire thought about it a bit and sighed "Yeah... we did."

"Do you regret it?"

"Oh no, Chris."

"Good. Me neither. I'd do it all over again, Claire." He said, rubbing at his eyes.

She smiled. She would too.

Before getting off the car she asked "Why were you sayin' your name by the way? That was funny!"

Without looking at her, he simply shrugged "Dunno. I was just drunk."

Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he didn't want to tell.

Some useless info: we're already on the 12th of October, namely, it's the eighteenth day since the lab accident (24th of September).

UNLOCKED CONTENT: cheers! You can now safely read the seventh chaptedfr in Behind the Scenes Chronicles, titled "Love Game". Are you readiew?y to witness this party from other points of view?