So, little recap. On Tuesday they switched back. On Wednesday they went back to school and tried to fix everything (and Leon was so aaaaaw in the RPD).
Now for the following days.
A huge huge thank you to Xaori for her great help with revising this chapter and for her inspiring support and art!
P.S. About that corny "christening" joke… well that's what you get when an Italian mind deals with English writing. In Italian that would've been a hilarious word pun (you know, christening, blessing in general, is done by spraying holy water… just like fake Chris sprayed… other fluids over her shirts…).
CHAPTER 14 - Not allowed
It was Friday night, the first one after the switch back.
Only few days had passed since then and they were already living their days at light-speed pace, desirous to catch up on lost time. In fact, besides school and friends, both had resumed their hobbies.
On Thursday, Chris had returned to gym for the first time and worked out hard, eager to feel his muscles and tendons burn and stretch under the massive weight of handlebars, sweat drenching his loose tank tops. Meanwhile, Claire went to her ballet school and told her teacher that her muscle tear had healed way before than expected thus she could start dancing again, hoping it wasn't too late for that Christmas recital. When she danced for the first time she almost cried. Dancing made her feel good, Luigi Einaudi's piano pieces made her feel light.
Yeah, Thursday had been a busy day that kept them parted.
Unfortunately, Thursday's night hadn't been any different as, when Chris gleefully knocked at her door after dinner, chips and DVD in hand, he found her by the desk, nose deep in her science book. And that was enough to turn his enthusiastic gaze into a disappointed frown. He observed her for a while from the doorframe, unseen by her.
"Guess you're out to pull an all-nighter." He had forlornly muttered, his low voice vibrating through the silent bedroom.
"Yeah… science test tomorrow." She replied yawning, without turning towards the door, fast scribbling some notes on her copybook. "You signed it in my agenda yourself, remember?"
"I do." He replied, foreseeing his plans for the evening crash down once more. He lowered his useless load, downcast look dropping onto the carpet, and lastly asked with a shrug "Do you need help?"
"Oh no thanks…" she answered "you know, it's my homework again… it's easy."
"You sure? Together we can make it faster."
"No worries, sweetie. I'm actually kinda happy to study this shit again." She assured, still without raising her eyes from the pages, and sneered "Can you believe I said that?"
Chris silently closed the door and went downstairs, angrily hurling chips and movie back in their places. He deliberately ignored his mother's surprised and investigative gaze at his unmotivated tantrum, and simply went outside in the veranda for a lonesome cigarette in the cool October air. He smoked with irritation and just tossed the cigarette in the dark before it was even over, huffing out the last blow of smoke along with a scornful grunt. Nicotine just failed to fill any void. Not that anything could fill the emptiness in his heart anyway. Only Claire could.
Second lonely night in a row.
But on that Friday night, alone in Man's Cave, Chris had no intention to spend it away from her. If she seemed pleased by all that lively bustle that had returned into their lives, he was growing annoyed instead. Being parted that much was something he couldn't bear. After all that time being almost as one, albeit a hybrid of their own selves, being again just Chris wasn't easy. Wasn't pleasant. Wasn't normal. It seemed to him that now that he was back into his real body it was too big for him, like a loose jumper that had been stretched too much and now it wasn't fitting anymore. He felt lonely inside, he longed for someone to help him fill all the blank space left. That's why he texted her.
Chris: honey, you awake?
Claire: yeah... I was actually reading to get me to sleep
Chris: wanna talk a bit?
Claire: Ok. Is everything alright?
Chris: yes don't worry. I just missed my girl (heart)
Claire: I missed you too (heart shaped eyes)
Chris: why don't you come on over here? So we can catch up on our day. I barely saw you.
Claire: already there, honey (heart)
Chris: just one thing
Claire: what?
Chris: are you wearing one of those ridiculous anti-sex one-piece sacs you call pyjamas?
Claire: you OBVIOUSLY mean the FabRainbowcorn Suit. Yyyyyyup.
Chris: take it off.
Claire: why? It's beautiful!
Chris: no it isn't. Beautiful is what's underneath it. NOT the sac itself.
Claire: if you don't like it... I'm not coming u.u
Chris: hey I just complimented! Don't ignore that... c'mon! Come here. I'm so lonely (broken heart)
Claire: Is my Suit invited too?
Chris: if you bring it I'll rip it off your body.
Claire: and leave me barenaked? In late October?! You are despicable!
Chris: I'll lend you one of my shirts.
Claire: no way man. It's all or nothing. FabRainbowcorn or no Claire.
Chris: just come here. Even bring along your pyjamas. But you won't wear it much long here anyway
Claire: is that a threat or are you trying to seduce me? (Smirk)
Chris: does my girl need to be seduced?
Claire: maybe... who knows?
Chris: then just come here and we'll figure it out
There they went. Again that sick role play. They had never really stopped.
Apparently, they hadn't any more pain to alleviate, no more daily torments to forget, hence no more reasons to misbehave. Nevertheless, they kept spiralling down as their lives started going up again, like they couldn't reset the direction anymore. Truth is, their relationship was screwed - forever.
In that bunch of days since they had regained their true genders, they had kept flirting all the time, or at least in all the few moments they had met, utterly unconscious of the aberrancy of it. Blind to the dangerous signals their bodies were sending. For example, on Wednesday morning, when he had kissed her neck, she had felt shivers of purest pleasure run down her spine and reverberate through all her body below the bathrobe, turning on an alarming heat down the pit of her belly. She felt it, she enjoyed it, yet she didn't question. She didn't care. Moreover, Chris didn't mind that, every time he'd masturbate, he kept picturing his sister's body, even now that it wasn't handy anymore. He didn't mind his languid stare on her curves when she'd walk by him, nor his desire to glue his palms on her flesh.
Were they losing their morals? They already had. It was too late now. They were playing that damned role game, faking to be an unreal couple, and they were beginning to confuse fiction with reality. Can words change people's minds, attitudes and beliefs?
Chris heard Girly Room door close quietly. He also saw his doorknob gyrate slowly and silently. He sat up, holding breath in expectation, oblivious of how hard his heart began to pound. Claire poked her head in, loose ponytail swinging, multicolour fabric peaking along with her, the tip of her tongue jokingly stuck out. He gestured her to come in and so she did, shutting the door closed as silently as possible. That scene seemed a bit too much imbued of secrecy to be considered just a night encounter of two siblings.
As she approached the bed, Chris tossed the blanket away and got up, went to his closet, grabbed a random t-shirt and handed it to his sister.
"No unicorns allowed in the Man's Cave." He stated, an unforgiven stare embroidered to his eyes "And don't you dare leaving. I miss you too much." He spelled those last words with such a defenceless tone that Claire could only grab the shirt and nod, gulping down every defiant protest that had come to her mind.
"I'll get a cold in this."
"I'll keep you warm." He promised.
She stretched a smile and, tilting the shirt before her, she mumbled "Iron Maiden… well, at least you picked one I haven't chris-tened yet!"
Chris blinked her back and even giggled despite the awkward corny joke.
By his desk, she began unbuttoning her pyjamas, smoothly pulling it off her barenaked body, one shoulder at a time, rolling the upper side down her torso and sliding it over her hips, bending a bit forward, unaware of her brother's piercing stare at her bare-naked, pale buttocks. He observed her every move in religious silence, nourishing himself with the sight of her flawless skin with the same ecstasy of a disciple worshipping before its idol, an ecstasy concealed behind a tranquil face. His eyes, so tender and mild in their shape, were hard and grave in their staring. If Claire wasn't turning away from him, she'd have noticed something wasn't alright with his gaze.
She put on the oversized shirt, sleeking it on her flat stomach and tugging the hem down to cover her hips. Once her loose ponytail had been pulled out the collar and adjusted, she hopped on bed and crawled by his left side. His eyes attentively escorting her movements.
Finally, some time together, face to face, close, alone. She snuggled under the thick blanket and quivered a bit for the chill sheets, getting his hand to buck down and considerately rub her nude thigh to warm her up, as promised.
"Brrrr… Thank you Brrrrro…" she flickeringly susurrated and placed a hand on his forearm, as he undauntedly kept stroking her leg with loving vigour. Her cold fingers graciously climbed upwards, rolling onto his elbow, until they rested on his thick bicep, sensing the muscle repeatedly contract under his skin for the quick movements. "How is the gym going?" she asked with a softest voice, fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.
"Great!" he replied. "Never been happier to do crunches in all my life!" He lowered his head a bit, enough to watch her better and asked "how about your ballet school?"
"Oh, it goes pretty good! You kept my body pretty well toned. Thank you, Chris. I haven't lost any elasticity!" she spoke, while he caringly inserted his other hand between her round cheek and the fluffy pillow.
"My pleasure. You kept mine well trained too. It seems I've been working out every day."
"Your workout plan is pretty tough, Chris! Man... I had to spit blood to keep the pace. But it helped me release lots of tension!"
"Glad it did. It helps me too… What about school?" He absently replied as he slowly slipped into an unmentionable daydream.
As his sister continued telling him about her day, he began to stroke her lower lip with the pad of his thumb every now and then. Absentmindedly at first, then more and more purposefully. His finger brushed her moist, full lips slowly, kindly pressing the soft red flesh and getting humid with her breath. It was strange to feel that lips move under his touch without his command. It was strange to be outside.
He was hypnotized.
She was just talking, enthusiastically jabbering about whatever funny piffles she did with her friends but still, she was something. Lost in his hypnosis, he wondered how damn enchanting she looked. It was the same body he had been living in for weeks, but still, the way she moved it, the way her lips pursed when she talked, the way her tongue tip cutely peaked outside, the little, involuntary, coy smile she did every time she named Rebecca, the composure who impregnated her mild voice and with which she spelled every word, the gleam in her eyes… that was Claire. That was something he didn't get before any mirror. He then realised how much he had missed of her during all that last month. He could make her do the nastiest moves, spell the hottest prayers, but he'd never get to recreate her being Claire, no matter how he faked.
The mirror was gone and gone for good. But the desire the sight of that body could elicit within him was still the same, still there and it was infuriating. No glass needed to see Claire this time, no feeling of cold, smooth, inhuman surface when reaching out to touch her, as in all his past desperate attempts to grasp her immaterial reflection when his eagerness of possession would turn over him. Now it was just the warmth and softness of her flesh. And his fingers were longing for it.
He rested the pad of his thumb before her mouth and warmly smiled when she instinctively and swiftly pecked it between a word and another. No, the Claire in the mirror could've never done something that human.
He had touched those lips, nevertheless he hadn't felt the touch back... yes, Claire was something else from him. She had returned being someone else, and it was delicious and heart breaking at the same time. He could finally wholly take delight of her again, but he couldn't help suffering the lack. It seemed to him he was standing before a masterpiece, one of those you can see once in a lifetime and who leaves you overwhelmed with unsatisfied rapture right after. His daydreaming mind flew above oceans and he found himself comparing his beautiful sister to the Mona Lisa. The effect her smile had on him was maybe even more keen, but otherwise than the Louvre, there were no more glasses separating him from such priceless beauty.
"You hear me, Chris?" she asked, her gentle voice ripped into the depths of his far-away daydream, drawing him back from la-la-land.
"I do…" he whispered, an ecstatic grin still glued to his face, brutally drawn back to America from his mental travel.
"You seem pretty tired, honey…" she observed.
"Nah…" he shrugged. You raptured me.
"You can barely keep your eyes open… Let's just sleep… it's late after all." she softly suggested, caressing the side of his face. "We can talk tomorrow."
"No way. I want it now!" he growled. He quickly apologized glancing at her a sheepish smile under heavy lidded eyes. "Tell me about the science test. Did it go well?"
Claire's eyebrows jumped up in surprise at the mention of that disastrous test, and she put on a derisive eye roll "Ugh... Wesker. He promised us it'd be only about cells, and you know what? He mingled in even all the fourth chapter! That sexy evil bitch!"
"So typical of him!" he snorted, ignoring her last statement.
She nodded in agreement but eventually shrugged "at least, he told me he won't be too rigorous about my grades. You know, he knows about... well, the cancer story... he even offered for some private lessons at his place, to help me recuperate!"
Chris gave a jolt of panic as he heard that and paralyzed completely, downright stopping his rubbing. What had his sister just told? Was Wesker trying to lure her? Hadn't he understood he better stay away from her? Oh, shit. Maybe now that it was again Claire the girl before him in the classroom, Wesker somehow had sensed her more relaxed, he had noticed something was different. Yeah, he had surely spotted that the hateful, contemptuous stare had gone. Maybe he thought she had forgotten about his harassing touch. Or worse… maybe he thought she wanted more of that. Those fearful hypotheses threw him into a state of utter fright.
"Stay away from him!" he roared between his gritted teeth, tightening the grip on her thigh.
"Chris... what...?" she whispered, confused by his sudden upset.
"Stay away from Wesker!" he repeated, gasping in air, almost shocked "he's a fucking monster! Don't be alone with him! Don't even talk with him!"
"Honey... hey..." she kept whispering as she began fondling his blushed cheeks. Her brother's abrupt reaction was worrying her, especially because she had no idea why he was so upset. He was shaking under the burst of his temper and something she'd never seen on his eyes ever before shaded his gaze.
Claire had never seen Chris like that ever before. He slid his arms around her and tugged her whole body into his embrace, digging his head in her neck. Even his thick bare leg hooked around hers. The way he was grinding her, wrapping around her dainty body like a mighty armour, suggested Claire that Chris was… he was… scared?
He was scared for her.
His grip around her was firm and enfolding. His whole body was stiff. His fear was as much tangible.
"Chris, wh-… I don't… please, help me understand…" she implored softly.
Chris breathed in deeply.
Claire had the right to ask, she had to know what had happened, because all of that gruesome man did, it was done to her. No matter how his stomach would twitch at the remembrance of his slithery fingers.
Almost choking on his own grudge, Chris heatedly told her what had occurred when, many days before, Albert Wesker had asked him to stay after the lesson was over. Claire listened carefully and, as he tilted his head back to underline his telling with a dead serious gaze, she looked at him with incredulous eyes, shuddering in revulsion.
"Just stay the fuck away from that pig, please!" he supplicated, a mixture of rage and terror causing his teeth to chatter. He fondled her face, bathing her skin with his hot, humid breath, pained eyes wishing they could save her from every monster lurking out there in the wild world. How beautiful she was! How precious! His Claire had to remain pure from the filthy hands of that individual. That reptile disguised as a science teacher. Despite Wesker had already laid his sickening fingers on her body, and that alone could make Chris shudder in wrath, he couldn't stand the idea of her…
"I… I don't want you… I don't want you to know how it feels to be touched by that swine." He avowed, spitting out that last word as if it was a mouthful of deathly poison.
"Honey…" she susurrated, nothing more than a breathy invocation. She tried to muster some cheering word for him but got his lips pressed on her forehead instead.
Wordlessly, Chris stared intensely at her eyes and she could only guess what kind of horrible memories were flowing before his. More than once he beckoned to speak but, instead, he seemed to just gulp down many bitter pills, speechless as he was. She felt tiny tears shoot into her eyes as he despondently pressed his forehead on hers, definitively giving up on every attempt to say anything. He could just sigh on her skin while his open palms kept her tightly caught in his loving grip. He held her that tight a little bit more but somehow, in the end, he managed to unwind his fluster and, lastly, relaxed his muscles, welcoming her in a more tender hug. She rested her head on his bicep and let him undo her ponytail and massage her scalp.
"You won't go to his house." He commanded, maybe more roughly than intended.
"Ok. I won't. Don't you worry, ok?" she made haste to promise, to appease his shock as soon as possible. After all the idea to be alone with someone in his forties who, admittedly, had already tried to lay his hands on her body was the least entertaining of ideas. Ever. "I don't want you to."
What Chris had told her was horrible and she felt terribly sorry for him having experienced such a thing: in his boyish body he'd have never run the risk of being harassed by Wesker. Or, even if it were so, he'd have surely reacted in a disruptive way. She knew, she had the absolute certainty that he hadn't beaten the shit out of Wesker only to avoid putting her in a bad situation later on.
She felt her heart ache for him.
Just like Chris felt guilty for having caused his sister to worry with his reaction. As minutes passed by, and his jitters relented, a sense of regret dawned in him. If he felt her so stiff under his touch, it was his fault.
Maybe I over reacted.
That had to be their "special night", the first one they'd spent together after the switch, their chance to feel good and finally leave behind all the shit and pretend to be as one anew. It was going so perfectly until she had brought Wesker in. They were cuddling, they were fondling, they were so intimately talking! And he had ruined everything! He cursed himself for not having postponed that fucking warning to the next morning. Now she wasn't in the mood for cuddles anymore and she was surely shocked by his revelation!
He felt an idiot.
"Forget that, Claire." He said after a longest moment of silence.
"You forget." She stated, rising her pained look to his eyes "Forget about what he tried to do to you and… don't worry about me. Just let go."
"I will. I know you're not stupid." He replied, trying to be rational "I know you won't do anything that might put you in danger. But I can't help… Oh, Claire I can't help fearing his touch on you. If he harms you in any way I… I don't know what I'd do."
She felt something shatter in her chest at his shaky words. She knew he had always put her above anything else, and he had done it even more during their recent mishap, but his quite explicit threat sounded like the most caring vow she had ever gotten from him. He was the best human being on Earth, she thought. No matter he had just confessed he'd have killed someone if necessary, because he'd have done it for her.
"Oh, come here…" she mildly smiled, looping her arm around his neck and tugging him down in her grip. "Just hold me. I feel so safe when you're around, you know?" she whispered.
He wrapped her in his embrace again and spelled some more cheesy words to ease her down and resumed rubbing her thigh, lest she'd thrill anew. He had a promise to keep, after all.
"I feel so safe in your arms." She murmured, unwinding completely under his touch.
He got how she was trying to defuse the sudden tension fallen above their bed, and he grinned warmly at her reassurance that he was more than enough to keep her safe and protected. Having her embed in his totalizing hug, so small compared to his hefty frame, kind of reminded him that he could now play his natural role of heroic, protective brother again. He could stand everything. For her.
The inward void just shrank a bit with such comforting thought.
Chris had definitely pushed every thought of harassing teachers away and focused on the exquisite body in his arms. Not that he had to struggle though, her body was therapeutic. The simplest touch of her and he felt immediately better. The faintest smile and every pain in his mind would relent.
They both closed their eyes and said nothing for a while.
They were sinking into each other's presence: Claire savouring her brother's body warmness, his heartbeats cradling her, his slow quiet breathing filling her mind; Chris was relishing in the touch of that body, the softness of the skin, the strawberry smell of the hair, the delicacy of the curve of her back.
"I feel so good when you're in my arms. I feel so myself." He murmured, smiling at how easily she could turn his worries into hope, strength, wholesomeness. "Let's not let that creep ruin our day anymore, ok?"
"Yeah, honey! Fuck off Wesker, his sunglasses and all!" she giggled, exaggerating her anew serene smile. She made up her mind she'd make him soon forget all the crap the memory of that blond jerk had aroused. She had had plenty of drama in her days. And Chris deserved only the best.
"Uhm… what were we saying? You know, before…" he asked quirking a pensive eyebrow and resuming his fond grazing on her lips with his thumb.
"I asked you about your day." She said.
"Ugh… mine? Uh… it was nothing special, honey." He shrugged and, squeezing her thigh, he murmured "until tonight."
She loved that lovely bratty smirk that had popped onto his face. She wanted more smirks and less of his concerned looks. "Oh, is it a special night then?" she asked, purposefully faking an innocent tone.
"Yeah…" he replied.
"Why is it so special?" she whispered, leaving another little peck on his thumb, remindful of how he had appreciated it before.
"Because I'm with my girl, sweetie." He replied with a growled whisper, eyes stuck on her mouth, finger still kneading and pushing on her tender, flushed skin.
Her smile widened, flattered by his fond avowal. Just as he was mirroring her smile, as if it was him to be reflected this time, him the one executing commands, she pursed her lips into a smugly, naughty grin and cockily licked his thumb, not breaking eye contact for a single moment. He hardly curbed a gasp at such a tempting move but didn't withdraw his finger.
That look.
That look again. It lasted a split of a second but he could swear he had seen it clearly. It was the same look he saw after the first shower, the same she addressed at him inside the closet every night, but with something else. She was something else.
It had that piquant note that only real Claire could give, admittedly. With another unrestrained gasp, he realised it was actually something he had never seen, it was the first time he had seen Claire… Oh God, what was she doing? Chris sucked in a shaky breath as he saw her head buck a little forward and catch his thumb with her mouth again, nestling his fingertip between her lips as she licked it slowly and seductively, applying even a little suckling. She was giving him more of what he wanted and she left him helplessly wondering how good it'd feel to have... something else sucked in her mouth. He could only guess the hopeless arousal showing on his own face. Not that he did care about it to be concealed.
She freed his finger only when she felt his other hand climb up on her thigh and grasping her butt-cheek fully, pulling her hips a bit towards himself. She was delighted by how easily she could elicit his hottest reactions. Easy like striking a match. And Chris Redfield was fastest in firing up.
If, until that moment, Chris had naively thought he was only provoking her to give him some of that human touch he had been missing, Claire then was playing with him like a cat would to an oblivious mouse, unaware that she'd get caught in the same trap. For her it was just the prolongation of their usual smutty nightly chatting, but she seemed not to consider how fucking dangerous was playing that game without the shield of their phones' screens. No, she was downright unconscious of that! And, if her sick attitude was blinding her, then her teasing was numbing him... and his reason.
"Oooh… my man wants some late-night cuddles…" she giggled, with a voice warmer than usual, hooking a finger around the collar of his shirt and tugging it down while her hips would involuntary push forwards "I thought he wanted just some pillow talk."
"I do want to talk and I do want your cuddles!" He stuttered, still rapt by her bold move, whilst his dilated pupils would shuttle between her eyes and her mouth as she adjusted in his chest even more, victoriously giggling under his chin.
She had completely abandoned to his cuddles and looked simply perfect with her auburn hair down, her rosy mouth pursed into a mild smile, her hands flush against his chest. He guessed her shape under his touch, the thin black shirt leaving everything and nothing to his imagination. She let him touch her just like he let her trail her fingertips down his chiselled abdomen before resting on his waist. He streamed his hand down her back, on her buttocks, then her thighs, then he streamed upwards again just to restart his descend all over, and recalled in his mind how beautifully her skin glowed under the suffused light of the closet, or how smooth it was under his fingers during steamy showers.
His touches were growing heavier and his fingers dug deeper into her flesh, just like he was pulling her closer to his hot skin, burning under his shirt and boxers. None of them was really conscious of the tremendous effect that teasing was having on Chris.
The game was going to slip out of their control.
After an eternal moment of just breathing and rubbing, he groaned to her head "I missed you. So bad."
"Yeah, I missed you too, Chris." She whispered back.
"I miss your body."
"Already regretting not being a woman anymore?" She chuckled, happy to ear him talk about something that had nothing to do with displeasing memories. She felt on top of the world for having been able to make him forget his fluster. She was so proud of herself! So little yet so useful. I can care about you too, honeybee.
"I miss your body."
Claire fell silent, her victorious smile died on her face leaving space to a wide-eyed frown. The flickering in her brother's voice alarmed her. She looked up, as much as the position she was in allowed her, and saw Chris breathing in her hair, eyelids wrinkled in an expression of pure strain, his bare thick legs grinding hers. His breathing was now growing hard and frantic. The quiet, laid-back Chris had gone.
It reminded her of the times she had had panic attacks. The erratic twitches of his chest were the same. She trailed her hand upon his chest and sensed his heartbeats hammering crazily. Shit.
Had she given him back a body now suffering of panicking? If he had a crisis how could she help him? She wasn't physically strong enough to keep him from wiggle too hard... worry was killing her. Her spicy game long forgotten, she let concern take hold of her heart, for the second time in few minutes.
"Chris, you alright?"
She had to settle for a ragged breathing as a reply. Damn, she recognized it. It was a panic attack, for sure. It must have been!
"Please, honey... you're scaring me..." she whispered, voice reduced to a shallow breath in account of a swelling guilty knot in her throat.
"I miss your body." He managed to wheeze.
His voice was hoarse, trembling and low. And sounded desperate.
His right hand suddenly slid beneath her shirt and continued her ascension grazing on her bare skin, reaching higher and higher, his breathing now wild, his shaking out of control. He ripped a gasp from her lips as he vehemently pushed his hand below the underwire of her bra and cupped her tit with a lusty grasp.
"I want you" he roared gruffly.
She felt his body retreat a little bit and with an abrupt move he climbed on top of her, grunting with uncharacteristic savagery. He was overhanging her, her petite body almost invisible under him and the lowered blanket.
He beastly palmed her fully, kneading her bosom with slow circles, and with a tug of the arm he got her shirt to raise leaving her chest and abdomen uncovered, right before stopping moving any further. His hand was squeezing her boob. Pressed as it was on her sensitive skin and under his heavy torso, he could feel her nipple hardening under his palm. She could feel his arousal pressing hard on her. Everything of him was pressing on her and she strained to catch some air in. Chris' body was even heavier than she'd imagined.
She sensed his hot breath now on her neck. He was motionless as, except for the shaking, he wasn't moving any muscle.
"Chris…?" and her last breath was gone along with his name.
He breathed out a helpless, desperate, loud whimper.
He was struggling. He was trying desperately to prevent himself from doing what he wanted to do to that body. He was struggling against his will, his libido, his boiling blood, striving to curb his feral instincts. It was most painful for him. And his sister softly uttering his name was just dragging him closer to the edge of giving up. He was obviously going to lose his fight against his desire and, had Claire done the even slightest move on him, then he'd have fucked off his sanity and scruples and succumbed to his raw lust.
"I want you Claire" he whispered biting the soft skin of her neck with urge "madly."
Madly. For he was surely going mad. He wanted to have sex with his sister. His little sister.
Claire.
That name was storming in his raging mind. His arousal using it against his sanity like a sharp steel sword, cutting it into thin shreds.
Chris Redfield, in that painful struggle, was by then paying the bill for more than three weeks of reckless feasting on that hot body. He was used to get aroused by it, as too many times he had misbehaved with it in front of that shameful mirror.
He was addicted to his sister gasping his name, touching herself in front of him in every position he commanded, looking at him with desperate eyes, begging for him to take her, whispering dirty words when an orgasm would make her roll the eyes back. And he was now suffering from forced abstinence.
He had been irresponsible and now he was miserable. Which brother would ever do something like that to its sister? Which brother would want to fuck its own younger sister? Him. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to suck pleasure from that body once again, swallowing her essence and getting lost in her. He had wondered too many times about how good it would feel to be inside it not to want to do it now that his dick was back and was howling for Chris to just let go and make it do its fucking job.
"Chris" she hardly panted, when she felt his humid ragged breath graze her red lips. She was paralyzed as if his firm touch had stolen away her willpower. Not that she could really move though, squashed as she was under his heft.
He had tilted his head over hers, his semi-open, trembling mouth almost touching her skin. The point of his nose stroked the side of her nostril. He was on the verge of kissing her. Just few millimetres separating him from his desired goal.
He looked straight in her eyes. She looked back at him, her ocean blue irises round like full moons floating on a sheer white sky.
He had no idea where the strength he found came from, but suddenly he threw himself aside, laying back down, releasing every grab he had on his sister and slumping back onto the mattress. He was wheezing hard, eyes closed and jaw clenched.
He covered his face with both palms and wept his frustration loud in his palms. What had he done? Had he really touched her that brutally?
In the darkness of his hands, he saw her eyes, the look she had addressed at him. He had read on her face that she wasn't feeling his same arousal, his same transport. He had been a monster, he felt a rapist, he renamed himself a violent brute unable to contain his eagerness. God, maybe he had even hurt her with his heavy hands! How the fuck could he have just ignored her little whine of pain when he had squeezed her tit?! He had pledged to protect her from every swine who'd ever set his sights on her... and he had just turned into the worst of them.
His heart shattered in deepest shame as he feared she'd just looked at him the same way she had once looked at...
He uncovered his face slowly, raking his fingers through his short hair and lacing them together on top of his head, heartsore and inconsolable. He kept weeping quietly, guilt stabbing him, shame flailing his soul mercilessly. His sombre gaze was a dark mixture of desperation, sorrow, self-loathing.
Claire felt air fill her lungs again and her ribcage seemed to expand like a balloon in the void. Chill besieged her skin now that his warmth had dashed away with him.
She glanced at him. He was laying on his back, completely uncovered, with his hands crossed over the head and an explicit bulge jutting out of his hefty thighs, decently clothed by his stretched boxers, such a contrast with the distress printed on his beautiful features.
Not that she was laying down in a more decorous condition. She was all stretched out on the mattress, her shirt pulled up, the cup of her bra misplaced leaving her nipple exposed and her panties showing en plein air, between the creamy skin of her slightly bent, scattered legs. She demurely pulled her garments back in their places and rested her hands on her belly, trying to ignore the chilly goose-bumps blooming all over her exposed body.
She didn't know how many minutes had passed but neither him nor she had moved. They stood there, exposed to the cool air of the room, noses pointing at the white ceiling. Shamefully observed by all the judgemental eyes in the posters. They could almost hear Robert Plant shook his curly head and click his tongue in disdain.
She wanted to say something but she feared that it would've made him lose control, as her previous speaking had just exasperated him. She had noticed that when she had pronounced his name he had lost a bit of the little restraint he showed.
She dared address another glance at him. Chris was now breathing more regularly, eyes closed, but still a heavy frown overlaid his features. The hard-on seemed vanished too. Claire thought that maybe he had fallen asleep, thus she reached out to the edge of the scattered blanket and pulled it up to cover him, gasping when he suddenly shifted while doing that. He wasn't sleeping. Not at all.
He looked at her, indecipherable expression on his reddish eyes. She finished adjusting the blanket and leaned back, laying down on her side, face towards him, hand under her cheek like a pillow. They locked gazes. Without changing his position, he raised his left hand, praying with all his soul that she wouldn't flinch nor reject his touch, and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, sighing deeply before start talking.
"Forgive me, Claire." And she had never heard him speak that broken hearted ever before.
"It's fine." She sighed, forcing a sweet but unconvincing smile.
She could've lied to him a thousand times but he could have always read her face like an open book. He read hurt, he read chagrin, he read hatred, and that truth his blaming, irrational mind claimed to read, hit him like a ton heavy wrecking ball.
"Fuck! I hurt you!" he whimpered, tugging his hair with both hands in a depressed, exasperated, self-blaming manner.
"You didn't hurt me, Chris…" she said "I just… uh… I don't know… I wasn't expecting th-… you… uh… you took me aback and…" she was clearly trying to sort things in her mind, but to Chris it seemed she was just failing to invent a good lie to appease him.
"Forgive me. I... I'm a mess."
"Guess we both are." She sighed, laying back down in surrender. She resumed her stare at the ceiling, pensively sucking her lower lip.
"Claire…"
"What?"
"You see me as a monster now, don't you?" he muttered.
"I don't."
"Oh, please, Claire! You don't have to lie to me!" he grunted. "I am a monster! I'm even worse tha-"
"Don't you dare!" she interrupted and glared him a threatening look "Don't you dare compare yourself to... Wesker."
"But what I did was even wors-"
"It was what it was. Don't overthink." She commanded. "We cannot afford any overthinking right now."
"It was wrong, Claire." Again shifting under the pressure of his load of unbearable shame.
"I don't give a shit about what's wrong." Claire snapped. She decided it was about time to speak with disarming honesty, not caring about what's correct to say or not. "Our life's been a shit lately, and we won't forget it in a day." She said and rose, sitting upright, crossing her legs. "You still feel the need of my body after a whole damn month in it!"
She let out a little scornful chuckle along with a headshake. "Do you think I don't miss your body as well? You're not the only one suffering here. Watcha think? That I am indifferent to yours?! Fuck, Chris! I know every fucking spot of your whole body! I know how you look beneath your clothes and I think of you nude when you walk by me!" she animatedly spoke. "I know your cock by heart and I've played a hundred times with it! I even know how you climax! And I'm not even slightly ashamed of it! I'm not ashamed of how fucking much I like being touched by you!" She leaned onwards a bit and reached out a warm hand on his shoulder, almost motherly caressing it "You were right back then... when you told me not to be ashamed when you caught me jerking off. You said we had to change. So we did. Are we monsters? I don't give a single fuck about that. I love who we are."
Chris closed his eyes. Hearing that he wasn't the only one to feel such a disturbing attraction was strangely comforting. But he couldn't help feeling scared by his own actions. Touching girls that roughly wasn't what he had been raised like.
"I love who we are, too." He lastly sighed, his face still sprinkled with concern and sense of guilt, making his forehead corrugate in consternation. "But I can't forgive myself for having harmed you. My touch wasn't delicate."
Claire couldn't restrain a mysterious grin from dawning on her face, while laying back down again "Well… yeah, you were pretty weighing on me but… your touch wasn't displeasing. At all."
He looked tenderly at his little sister, his Claire, his home. She seemed sincere. He hadn't hurt her.
"I just don't want to lose you." He said and, caressing her face again, he added "and I don't want to lose this. This intimacy we've gotten."
"Nothing on this world will ever change how fucking much I love you, Chris."
"I love you too, Claire."
Maybe they were just too tired, or maybe they needed to say and hear those words. Anyway what they couldn't imagine was that, actually, many things were going to change.
Their foolish dashing towards the bottom of that spiral of sin was unstoppable and the (un)natural ending of their madness would run over them in the turn of less than a bunch of hours. And they just ignored how close to the final cliff they were. No, they thought that what had just happened was a sporadic episode, a single back down, that it hadn't to be considered in its true meaning: it was a warning. The final sign before the road would jump into the abyss. And they ignored it, deliberately.
He had better tell his sister to go back to her room and rest, that he was sorry and that he would never try again to make a move on her, he should've told her to don't let him get too close to her, to scold him when she'd have sensed his aroused stare on her, even slap him in the face if doing any unwanted touch on her, but those thoughts didn't even cross his mind.
For them it was alright to have hot feelings aroused within them by the other. It was just a consequence of their switch like another. And it was so pleasant and permeating and fulfilling that they would not accept to let it go.
"It's all my fault, you know?" he sneered, trying to alleviate the situation and put an end to that depressed moment "If only I let you walk in wearing that anti-sex thingy this wouldn't have happened for sure."
"Yeah... that's why unicorns should never be banned!" she laughed, flashing one of her most endearing smiles.
"Can you sleep with me tonight? I won't lose control again, I swear. I won't touch you." He assured.
"You don't even have to ask." She exclaimed, snuggling under the cosy blanket. "I already made up my mind when I left my room! And you can touch me every time you like, Chris."
"Goodnight, Claire."
"Night, Chris."
Chris turned off the light and laid down on his side, giving his back to his sister with much of her disappointment. He only wanted to take some rest, hoping the morning wouldn't wake all that grief that still lingered inside. Despite all the reassuring words both had spent, he still felt deeply uncomfortable. He was shocked by his own reaction and truly feared he might succumb to it again. He needed her close, yet he was scared to get close again, as if the monster was still lurking within him in expectation. It needed to cool down. But how could a hopelessly turned-on boy cool down if the object of his desire slid her arms around his torso, sticking her whole body to his from behind?
Claire made her whole self adhere to his back, hugging his big frame as more as she could, and she laced her hand on his as to say that she really wasn't scared or disgusted by him but, instead, that she just loved him to death, that he was still her super-hero, whom she blindly trusted.
After a brief moment of slight unease, Chris lastly gave in and even beamed a smile in the darkness. He could've slept sound with her by his side. She had been through his same nightmare: her body had kept him alive, her soul had kept him sane - as long as he could still be considered like that. She had the same wounds to heal. She'd bear the same scars.
He felt so lucky.
He eventually dozed off, victim of the late hour, unaware of the fact that his sister was still plainly awake, mind raging about his touch and how she wanted him to touch her again and more intimately.
She could still sense the shadow of his palm on her breast. She closed her eyes and recalled the stingy rush of pleasure that grip had caused her, the shivers his bite sent from her neck down her spine, the wet heat that rose from between her legs when his erection pressed on her and that menaced to rise again if she kept thinking of him the way she was going to do.
She longed for the mild smell of his breath to fill her lungs and keep her alive. The exciting touch of his lips nipping and grazing the tender flesh under her jaw line made her wonder how good they'd feel on her lips. She recalled his raw growling that he wanted her and she knew she had never heard anything more seductive. Feeling Chris hovering her and showing his arousal, fighting against it and trying desperately to keep control over his instincts had had a tremendous effect on her.
That night, Claire Redfield, realized she actually wanted to fuck her older brother.
Madly.