(Yes, the title is freely inspired by "Friday I'm in love" by The Cure. "Freely" so don't faint in shock if the lyrics have been… paraphrased. It's Saturday. Not Friday. The title is actually older than the content - see ending notes.)
Happy New Year everyone! My gift for you is a (maybe too long) chapter that, instead of a golden ribbon, has Xaori's Seal of Approval on it! Please, enjoy.
I just couldn't let Chris drive an automatic car. No.
CHAPTER 16 – Saturday never hesitate
Part 1 – If you wanna be my lover
It was almost lunchtime and the Redfields decided it was right to let the newly formed family a moment of domestic privacy. Leaving the hospital, they couldn't stop talking about how gorgeous that new-born baby was. Riley would've been the main topic for the rest of the morning for sure! Well, at least for three of them, as Chris didn't spell a single word. Not. A. Single. One. He gently held the door open for his mother and sister to pass, he pushed the elevator's button for his family to take it, politely gave way to an old man and took the stairs instead but didn't breathe a single syllable.
The ride back to Raccoon City was as much glacial. Chris drove his car mechanically, his expression was plain and neutral but his silence was deafening and heavy. Where was the Chris who always hummed and thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel along with the radio songs? Where was the Chris shouting at other drivers to get a fucking driving licence before buying a car? Where… where was the Chris who that same morning had kissed Claire during a red traffic light?
She would've noticed that her brother was simply missing if only she wasn't that busy in texting with the girls about Sheva's new "not so secret" date – in fact, the beautiful girl tried to hide it, but the gossip of her dating Carlos since his birthday party, soon spread around.
"Hey, Mom just texted!" Claire said at some point, looking away from her overheated phone screen to glance at their parents' car, running right before them. "So… uhm… She wrote that Dad wants to stop at a restaurant for lunch… she's typiiinnng… To celebrate the bird! AHAHAHA!" She laughed and sneered at her mother's poor attempts in dealing with autocorrect.
"Fine. Which one?" he murmured, shifting the gear.
Claire fast tapped on the screen and waited for the eternity it took her mother to reply a simple "Jacksons. Two hours to type and she forgot the apostrophe!" She heartedly laughed, rolling her eyes "Do you need me to search it on the map?"
"No, thanks. I know where it is."
"You've been there? How's it? Good? I never heard of it."
"I just know where it is."
Jackson's was a restaurant right outside Arklay City, only a couple of miles from the three-lane highway exit. The façade had nothing that special, just white wooden walls, big windows, some flowerbeds around the door and a minimalist signboard. Though it had gained a reputation of somewhere to have very good meals. And it deserved it all! Robert had had a brilliant idea. The food was incomparable. The finest and downiest beef fillet they had ever eaten.
"Don't you like it, Chris?" Lily softly asked, noticing how lazily her son was picking food.
"Mh? Oh, yeah… I like it. It's good." He replied.
"It's special!" Robert intervened, correcting him with an accusing fork "it melts on the palate like butter. Medium cooking, perfect. Balanced saltiness. And that crispy crust?... It's special!"
"Woah! We got a food critic over here!" Claire joked, beaming an endearing smile to her father just to prevent him from even think of retorting.
"Are you tired, darling?" Lily asked her son, ignoring her husband's enamoured praise.
A breathy nod and an eye rub with his palms were his answers.
"Christopher… the elbows on the table…" Lily softly suggested, words slipping out her clutched-teeth grin.
He just removed his arms and yawned quite loudly, making haste to cover his mouth with a hand before Lily would glare him another of her gentle motherly reminders. He was tired. After all, even if he had slept a bit after the sex, he had had less than five hours of rest anyway.
When the waiter came to remove the soiled dishes, placidly undergoing Robert's insistent curiosity about everything concerning that fillet, Claire took advantage of the opportunity to slide her hand over Chris' thigh.
A caress.
A gentle, caring, absentminded touch. Nevertheless, it made him almost gasp.
He swiftly side-glanced her. She wasn't even looking at him. She was actually enjoying their father's bothering yet amusing interrogation of the poor waiter who only wished to rush back into the kitchen and put down those heavy ceramic plates.
Claire's touch was just an affectionate stroke. Maybe she wasn't even aware of it, maybe it was just automatic. Chris looked down on his leg, her hand gently fondling his solid flesh. He could feel the coldness of her fingers radiate through his jeans. When had her touch become that enticing? Stupid, wrong question. When had her touch become that terrific? When had her touch become so… wicked?
Claire swiftly glanced at him and beamed him an enchanting smile, bright just like sunlight on a snowy field. He couldn't not smile back at her. He just couldn't. Her hand squeezed his thigh a little just like her eyes squeezed in account of her widened beam. A smile that kept complimenting her countenance even when she turned, unlike Chris' one who faded away from his plump lips.
Pretending to focus on the explanation of where about Chef Rudolph had purchased the beef meat, Chris hesitantly took his hand under the tabletop and grazed the back of hers with his fingertips, but his hand didn't have quite the time to clutch around hers that Claire just snatched it away to grab the water carafe and fill her mother's glass.
He was quite relieved of that. For he was going to move her hand away from his leg.
Later on, whilst their parents were by the cash desk, Claire approached him. She playfully slanted onwards, standing on her toes and resting her chin on his chest for support, hands crossed behind her own back.
"Hey Chris" she said, looking up to meet his questioning gaze "Do you want me to ride us back home?"
"No thanks, Claire." He replied, glancing down at the immaculate white of her upcasted eyes.
"You look tired…"
"I'm sleepy but I can drive, don't worry."
"As you wish..." she and her quirked eyebrows shrugged.
"I'll take a nap once home." He reassured.
"Well... if I'll let you..." Claire winked, flashing a malicious grin up to his puzzled downcast look. "There's something much better you could take inside your bed when home." She added with a warm, slightly gruff, sexy whisper.
Me.
Chris said nothing and looked away and she noticed. Oh, God if she noticed! Her smirk slowly faded and turned into a confused, slight pout. Her female intuition began to storm. Had she said something wrong? Had she told something he didn't like? Or approve? Maybe Chris doesn't like girls acting that cocky, she thought, maybe he doesn't like girls explicitly asking for sex. No, no, wait. He loved that. All their chats were the proof of it. Maybe he was just done with sex with her.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked.
"No."
"Then why you don't look at me?"
He sighed, his chest deflating a little under her pointy chin, and drew his gaze back into hers.
"What's wrong, Chris?" she uttered. "You don't want to take me?"
"Hush!" he spelled, wide open eyes looking around in alert "they could hear you!"
Oh… so he was just worried about being within earshot, she thought. Yeah, she had definitely been too hazardous and childlike! She had just spoken too loudly. Maybe he really just wished to take some rest and didn't want to openly turn her down and make her feel bad… Yeah, that was something Chris would've done. Her lips curved into a lovely grin again.
He's so caring.
With a little jump she closed the distance and threw her arms around his neck, smiling widely.
It was a little flinch, nothing more than that. A little backlash, maybe? Claire felt it clearly. Why wasn't he hugging her back? She tightened her grip and her closeness. He rose a hand and… pushed her back while drawing back. Just a little. Just that much to separate her breasts from his abdomen. Dammit, this time she had no more doubts: he didn't want her to hug him. Claire frowned. No, Chris didn't want to make her feel bad but... he was turning her down! And worse… he hadn't the balls to watch her in the eyes while doing so. She slowly slid her arms off him and glared her chagrin away from his face.
Hadn't their parents approached right in that moment, she'd have either loved or despised his apologizing hand grazing her forearm. But they approached. And his hand stopped mid-air. Move unseen, touch unsuccessful.
"Chris" Robert called "the cashier told me there's a garden store in the shopping mall near here. Hear me out, if Claire goes with Lily, will you go there with me? It's time to buy a new leaf blower, son. Autumn has come and our garden is a mess."
"Sure, Dad." Chris replied, quickly side-glancing at his sister in the unfulfilled hope to accomplish his apologize "I'll drive."
"Well, seems like our boys here want some quality father-and-son time!" Lily commented, smirking at her daughter and, offering her the arm, added "let's go, Claire. Mother-and-daughter time awaits!"
And so the Redfield family split: Lily and Claire in one car, Chris and Robert in another.
It was mid-afternoon when the men got home. Claire was absently binge watching some total rubbish on tv when her Dad, breaking in from the garage door, rolled into the living room and showed her his new purchase, praising its qualities and powerful performances.
"Are you trying to sell me a leaf blower, Dad?" She sniggered.
"I'll have to anticipate you a whole year of pocket money then!" He exaggerated. "This precious here is pretty expensive... but the clerk assured it blows like a tornado!"
Claire quirked her eyebrows in mocking astonishment at her Dad, then she eyed her brother step in from the same door, car keys tangling in his fist. That was one of those moments where Time seemed to expand and a mere instant lasted a whole century. Their gazes met for less than a second, yet she didn't like the dark, pensive, apologizing look on his face, nor did he like the chagrined, bothered, hurt one of her. He crossed the room, walking behind the two-seater sofa, suddenly his keys becoming a most interesting thing to observe. She kept her eyes stuck on the leaf blower, nodding at whatever her father might have just said. Basically, they ignored each other, even though the corner of their eyes followed the other until it disappeared from eyesight.
As Chris left the living room, the awareness that he was utterly fucking up assaulted him from behind and clung tightly to his back like the burden it was. He gave one last glance at her before he'd disappear in the staircase. He'd better talk with her as sooner as possible. But first he had to figure out what to tell her.
She heard his heavy steps walk off and she wanted to run upstairs too and finally ask him what was wrong but she couldn't easily get rid of her father's enthusiastic talk. Or maybe she wouldn't. Not that she tried anyway. She simply vacillated inside: one moment she wanted to talk everything out with Chris, an instant later she wanted to avoid him. Internally, she was trembling with the fear of having done something wrong to her brother, having gotten him mad at her. She feared he hated her for having caused him to lose control that morning. What if he had made love to her only to content her and not because he wanted it too? Had she made him feel compelled to have sex with her? After all, the previous night he had seemed to refuse the idea of making a move on her...
Her complicated, adolescent mind was obstructed by those and many other questions that she just didn't think about the simplest, most obvious thing, the only one that would have placated all her fears: Chris had made love to her, spontaneously. She had only ignited his already raging lust.
If she only recalled in her mind how that morning Chris had touched her, kissed her, licked her or looked in her eyes when pervaded by the wildest of pleasures, she'd have surely realised how bad he had wanted that carnal conjunction.
Robert eventually left to go repeating to his wife his celebrative eulogy of the best-spent-two-Benjamins of his life. Claire just pretended to stare at the TV with the same "focused" look of a daydreamer, still undecided whether get to her brother or let the afternoon slip away on that sofa.
That inner oscillation would've stuck her forever in incertitude if, after a while, Chris didn't appear again in the living room to go downstairs in the basement. He had changed clothes to grey sweatpants and a white tank top. She gritted her teeth thinking how he could just want to work out and how dared him looking so fucking hot! The sight of his wide shoulders made her hottest spot shiver abruptly, so violently that she had to clasp her thighs together not to let another flash of pleasure rise up. Not now, Claire. She heard the clanging of handlebars being settled and she finally stood up from the sofa, more attracted by the wish to see again his shoulders than the determination to speak with him. As she got up to follow him, her mother called her for some help with the kitchen. With an annoyed eye roll, she wondered if the whole universe was plotting against her.
Thankfully baking muffins didn't take too long. Lily had kinda an obsession with her children's snacks. They had to be homemade. Period. No hydrogenated fats nor chemical food colouring allowed for breakfast, hence she'd bake almost daily some healthy snack for the whole family. Claire carelessly disposed the blueberry muffins into the cake stand and covered the crooked pyramid of sweet sponge with the sheer, bell-shaped plastic top, leaving just two of them on the countertop.
"Do you need anything else?" Claire asked.
"Oh no, thank you Claire. I'll just wash these pots."
"Ok, then. I'm going to have these with Chris." She said grasping the two sweets.
"Where is he by the way?" Lily asked by the sink, eagerly rubbing the sponge on a wooden spoon.
"Basement." She bluntly sputtered.
"If he's working out then I guess you'll have both of them." Lily giggled, well aware of the fact that Chris wouldn't stop his training for a dose of unrequested carbs.
"I'll make him fucking stop." Claire grunted under her breath while leaving the room.
Claire stomped down the staircase and peered into the basement. Chris was working out hard on the bench in the far end of the room. He had settled the barbell with over eighty pounds weight and he was dripping sweat. He kept pushing it above his head fast and resolutely, puffing rhythmically, his biceps contracted, his six-pack peeking out of the edge of his tank top. That sight was more than enough to ignite her lust again. She gulped down and shook her head. Enough is enough.
She leaned against the wall of the entrance and uttered "Time for a break?"
Only his ragged panting filled the air.
"Hey… I made muffins!" she said a bit louder, hoping that word would rock him out of his fitness trance.
No answers came out of his mouth.
Grunting, she crossed the empty room, a muffin in each fist and, when she was just few feet away from his bench, she spotted little white bars popping out of his ears. Damned ear-pods. She should've known Chris liked to train with something like power metal songs playing. Of course he hadn't heard her! With a bothered shrug, she went on and sat astride on his lap.
His reaction was immediate.
He hooked the barbell and raised so quickly that Claire winced back and almost lost balance. He was fast in grabbing her by her waist with one of his arms and easing her back on the bench seat, between his spread thighs. He pulled out one of the wireless earphones and stopped the music by simply tapping on it.
"Want one?" she asked, waving one of those warm, fragrant cakes before his nose.
"No, thanks." He replied. "I'm busy right now."
"Chris are you ok?" Claire eventually asked, determined to know what was going on in his mind, and she leaned forward to leave the two little cakes on the free seat behind him, but he just pulled slightly back, like he had done at the restaurant. If it pissed her off then, now it hurt her. "Do I smell bad?" she hissed, trying to deceive hurt with some sarcasm.
"You're avoiding me…" she murmured at his coy chuckle.
After a little hesitation, he rose his downcast gaze and stared at her dead in the eyes, and that alone made her even more confused... and uncomfortable. He was silent, observing and hot.
"Chris, baby..." and she raised one of her busy hands to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers but he stopped her mid-air. She looked confused.
"Claire. Please. No." he muttered.
"No what, Chris?"
"Don't do this. Don't touch me." He said, but it sounded desperate like a supplication for mercy.
"What?!" She squealed, incredulous of what she heard. Once she recovered her cool, she asked "why? Why shouldn't I touch you?"
"Someone could see us." He susurrated, eyeing the entrance, his voice so low, she could barely hear him despite being almost sitting on him.
"So what? I've touched you all my life." She scoffed.
Chris looked down. His insane worry was nonsensical. There was nothing bad in his sister caressing his face - or his leg like at Jackson's. No, that was plain alright. Maybe her sitting on his lap would've made more than one eyebrow raise but, still, it was nothing scandalous. But his guilty conscience was showing him danger where it wasn't. That's why his hands weren't even slightly grazing her.
"Yeah… but this time it's different. Your touch is different."
"I ain't groping you, Chris! It's a caress! Only a caress!" she retorted, her fingertips gingerly grazing his stubble. Thankfully, this time he didn't flinch. She wasn't sure she'd have survived another one of his flinches. She looked down lest he'd have noticed the tears shooting in her eyes. "Can't I touch my brother?"
Chris let out a surrender sigh. He seemed to be struggling really hard to find the words, but he couldn't have succeeded in his search if he kept holding her that close. Nevertheless he couldn't ask her to get her thighs off his and move away, not after the downhearted tone she'd spoken to him.
He sighed again and rested his sweaty forehead on hers. A mere inch of his warm and slippery skin touched her, yet his touch gave her a little relief, soothing her mind a bit. Claire waited, patiently, for him to find the words to speak his mind. Unlike him, she kept her eyes open not to miss his beautiful face, again so close, and also because she felt that if she closed them copious tears would've run down her cheeks. She inhaled his breath, the strong smell of his sweat, looked at his pectorals so tight under the tank top she could almost sense them under her fingertips, but she dared to caress them only when she felt his hands rest on her hips. It was alright to touch each other, then. Good, because she had missed it so bad.
"Of course you can… but not this way." he mumbled "it's wrong."
Wrong. Then he was really regretting everything, regretting having laid her, having possessed her, having loved her. She didn't know what to say, her heart was tearing apart for being considered a mistake.
Chris, on the other hand, seemed to have got over his hesitation. "We committed incest." He said, breaking the silence but not the foreheads contact. That word, barely whispered in his usual straight to the point manner, rumbled like the much-needed bitch slap that Sanity had waited too long to smash on their faces. And it hurt.
He felt her suck air in as to speak but she didn't. In that moment, all her fears were coming true to her eyes. Chris was regretting what they had done. What she had compelled him to do. Her heart was breaking so bad its shards would've pierced her lungs. If Sanity slapped them, then Guilt eviscerated her.
Sorrow was swelling inside her, inflating like a hot-air balloon, from the core of her stomach up to her throat until she almost choked on her own sob. Chris eyed her. Her watery eyes were all his sight, so close, so blue. Blue. He knew that if those little tears that shot in her eyes dared to escape, he'd have succumbed to his sorrow. And when the tiniest bead rolled down Claire's cheek, he pulled her head even closer and pressed his lips on hers.
Bittersweet.
Both were concerned about the other, both were sorry for the other, both hearts were torn for the words that had been spelled. Yet both felt a shock of pure bliss transfix their chests. To them, nothing on this world would compare to their kiss.
"No, baby, no!" he whimpered, wiping her tears away. "Don't cry!"
"Why shouldn't I?" she blubbered with a cry-broken voice "when my brother considers me a mistake!" Her words were as hard as her gaze and pierced him like icy blades.
Chris pout dropped even more. Despite he made great effort to find the right words, he just couldn't. Whatever he said could've hurt her. This wasn't like him. The old Chris, the good older brother Chris, would've always had the right words to spell to comfort his sister. But not this time. The old Chris was long gone. Truth is, he wasn't convinced of his own words himself!
Wrong. He was sure that having sex with a sister was damn wrong but he couldn't feel it like that though. He didn't feel inside him all the deprecation the old Chris would've felt even by only thinking of seeing Claire naked. And that was what had been troubling him since that morning: he was suspended between Reason and Sentiment, brain and heart. His brain told him they had made a huge mistake but at the same time that traitorous asshole buddied up with his lost heart anytime she was around, anytime he'd think of her – which means, every time.
"Chris… I'm sorry…" she murmured, holding back her tears and gulping down a huge, stinging lump in her throat. "If you regret... what we did…"
"I don't regret it." He replied, his breathy whispers turned into whimpers by his concern.
"Then why do you avoid me?" she managed to mutter, her heart in her throat at such unexpected admission. That conversation was a stab, then a caress, then a stab, then a kiss. All those ups and downs were starting to make her feel sick, as all her inner organs were swirling like a capoeira dancers crew.
He looked at her, her sorrowful gaze tearing his heart apart. He reached upwards and palmed her cheek, his thumb lovingly grazing her cheekbone. "I don't want you to think that."
"Then what should I think? When you just flinch when I come around!" she scornfully snickered, the subtle tears in her eyes gleaming flickeringly.
"It's that… I just can't resist you, Claire! And I don't regret you." he defencelessly avowed, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Even if it's wrong, I want you."
The girl's heart – wherever it had ended up in, whether her belly or still the ribcage – lost several years of life all of a sudden for the happy beats that overlapped. "I want you, too." She smiled. "And I don't care if others think it's wrong. I don't care about anything anymore. You are the only exception."
"But I can't expose you to the risk of being caught!" he murmured.
"We can be careful and no one will ever know!" she suggested, with a voice that had recovered all her joyful vivacity and hope even if still a bit gruff and shaky.
"You can't be my girl and I can't be your man."
"I know that." She lamely replied, a coy smirk ad an eye roll brightening her face. Letting a hand glide down his tank top, sensing his hard and pumped muscles below, she looked down on his manly cleavage. Words chained into a one, long, hot whisper, she asked "but what's wrong if we allow us some pleasure every now and then?"
Her question maybe was more effective than intended. She expected him to reply with some sort of wise common sense, a sane retort, another good reason to refuse that despicable perdition. But he didn't. He didn't speak at all. And not because no good reasons came to his mind, but because the temptation was stronger than any reason. He wanted to allow himself some pleasure. He wanted to allow himself some more of her. He wasn't ready to let his secret sex-toy go. After all, they had already crossed the final line… crying over spilled milk was totally useless and stupid.
Why ever caring if it was wrong? Or wicked? Siblings are not supposed to have sex they say? Well then, siblings are neither supposed to fucking switch lives! Or genitals! Yet they did it! Why ever worry about touching that body? They had undergone a whole fucking month of pure tragedy and sorrow, they… they deserved to feel good now!
Yeah, why not? Why deny himself such a thing? Just some good shags when they felt like it, maybe some blow jobs when bored, a cunnilingus after a long school day… After all, if they'd be careful, nobody would've ever known! They had been so good at hiding a whole month of switched bodies… this was a child's play in comparison!
Claire seemed to be so right with it! Maybe he was exaggerating the whole situation.
Every now and then. The traitor inside his skull began rewinding a whole month of the hottest body on Earth and how good it made him feel. Yeah, stop now was stupid. After all, he had already done everything and more to her from the inside and that was ok. Why stop now that he could have a fulfilling experience of her womanhood?
Fuck siblinghood! Fuck blood kinship! Fuck social mores! It had been too good that morning to refuse more doses of such addicting drug. Claire.
All those considerations stormed in his mind like racing cars, her name printed on it like sculpted letters on a stone. Indelible. Claire.
My baby Claire.
As his baby's hand caressed his cheek, Chris' one bucked to her head just as the other grasped her butt and he jolted upright, pinning her to the nearby wall and clashed his lips on her, fingers curled into her hair, kissing her with the same rage he had used her in the morning. She felt all his lust ravage her mouth and press hard on her hottest spot. His movements were fierce, her grab was tight. Her heart cheered and exulted at his renewed abandon. It was a long kiss, long enough for Claire to know that his answer was an unconditional "yes". It gave her life back, it muffled every pain, every sorrow. Her morphine. It repositioned all her organs at the right place.
Sanity's slap had just failed to hit their faces.
"I think we can do it." He murmured on her skin.
"Yes, baby! It'll be our secret." She mewled, hotly suckling on his neck.
"We must be really careful." He whispered, locking his eyes onto hers.
"We will." She assured, her tears long gone.
The Redfield siblings had just unconsciously accepted they'd live their lives from that moment on in deceit and secrecy, pretending to be the same old brother and sister they always had been and making love at the same time. A kiss to seal the deal.
None of them was sane enough to understand what was plain clear: they were still suffering the trauma's consequences. And their way to cope was still the same one they had grown accustomed to during the switched time: drown pain in pleasure. Only difference: the body they may take pleasure from was now gone back to its original owner. And apparently this wasn't an enough good reason to inhibit them.
"Where are you going?" Claire wondered as he pulled her down on her feet.
"I was working out, remember?" he shrugged.
"We were kissing, remember?" she mocked, placing her fists on the hips in protest.
He pecked her lips and, with his typical bratty smirk back on his face, he simply grabbed the little earphone he had shoved into his pocket and put it into her ear, tapping on it.
"What?! The Spice Girls?!" she squealed, incredulous her brother would work out to such pop music.
Part 2 – Usual, unusual and thievery
It was late at night when Claire got home from downtown, accompanied by Jill and her father, who offered himself as a taxi driver for her daughter's friends. On that Saturday night, they had planned nothing special: just the usual hamburger and chips by the usual diner and the usual stroll by the main boulevard, where the Raccoon City's movida would cluster on weekend nights. But to Claire that simple, "usual" night had been the most amusing. It was like hanging out with friends for the first time in years. That day had been just so close to perfection it seemed to her the best day of her life: making love with Chris, Riley in her arms, having talked everything out with Chris and fixed it, double cheeseburger, the girls. Bam, perfection!
And like any time someone has a good time, Time had flown away fast. So fast that now she found herself rushing through the front driveway of her house, preparing for a certain-as-death reproach by her parents, whom she could've bet her head were still up, waiting for her to sheepishly smile at them for her mischief. She hoped they made an exception to the usual rule for the exceptionality of her first girls' night after so many weekends at home.
She gingerly closed the front door behind herself, the darkness of the quiet house brightened only by a courtesy lamp left on by the entrance hall. There were no signs of her parents. Good. As she left her keys on the narrow cabinet by the wall, she read a note left on it: the last one coming home closes the door. A better look at the countertop and she spotted her brother's Mr Raccoon keychain laying on it.
Dammit. It was so damn late that even Chris had returned home before her!
She locked the door and, as usual, left the keys into the lock, trying to make absolutely no sound. She even pulled out her shoes lest she'd wake someone up and get that reproach she had so luckily eluded.
She was so exhausted she simply slid out of her clothes, lazily wore her pyjamas and climbed on bed, yawning loudly.
That had been an intense day, full of emotions and… tiring yet pleasant activities. With her eyes dozing off, she sent a hand to turn off the flamingo lamp. In the very moment the pink light went down, a bright light illuminated her whole bedroom, casting grey shadows all over the wall for few seconds.
Claire didn't even bother to look who had had the inconsiderate idea to text her that late at night and simply turned away from her nightstand to have a good, deserved sleep.
As her phone undauntedly continued to light up every two fucking seconds she angrily grabbed it, determined to bark her fuck-off-and-die at whoever was importuning her.
Becky if it's you… you're a dead girl.
Squinting her eyes for the bothering brightness, she mentally awed in surprise as she read Chris' name on the notifications.
Chris: Hey baby
Chris: About that thing you said
Chris: I want you.
Chris: like… NOW.
Claire: honey… I'm pooped! Sorry (cry face)
Chris: We'll do it fast! Just a screw! You won't even notice. I promise (smile)
Claire: I utterly doubt it! (laughter)
Chris: please I'm already so hard! Wouldn't you get me some blue balls, would you?
Claire: why don't you make up the old way? A hand, a tissue and lots of fantasy? A nice porn will do, trust me!
Chris: but I want YOU under my eyes, not a whatever fucking porn star!
Claire: then you can use those pics you took of "me" in the closet! (smirk)
Chris' cheeks blazed up in an embarrassed blush. He swallowed hard at her - apparently so innocent - admission.
The night that their father told them the machinery was ready and that the switch back was just few days away, Chris had had the unashamed idea to immortalise her nude gracefulness as he wasn't ready to let go of such comfortable, secret, attainable source of pure heterosexual relief. Hence, that night's usual masturbation had been seasoned with a profuse dose of flashes and zooms. The first shoot and he felt uncomfortable. For some reason, groping at her body every single night felt still more legit than stealing her image to use it… for personal purposes. He felt he had taken something of her that was utterly forbidden, unfair and really such a petty thing to do to a sister. His own Talking Cricket was bellowing him to erase that nefarious photo, take his hands off that body and cover her nudities. But, honestly, has the Cricket ever been listened to?
It's just for fun.
Oh, yeah, Chris… "for fun" … of course! You're just another narcissistic girl posing before a mirror to boost her own confidence! You're just taking a souvenir, a postcard of your vacation days! Please, go on and put yourself at ease as if it's not your sister vagina and her forefinger the ones in that close-up!
Nobody will ever know about it! It's ok! Claire will never know!
At the tenth pic he was both aroused and feeling dirty like a mischievous thief, a criminal. A smooth one as he deftly stored the photos into a folder on his phone's cloud storage and protected them with a password – it seemed to ease his conscience a little. It'd have remained a secret between him, the closet and his phone. Truth be told, he hadn't watched them for days, not until the missing of her had become so oppressive that his thumb acted almost on its own will when it scrolled through them on his first loneliness crisis back on Wednesday evening.
Apparently though, using his birthday as passcode hadn't turned out being a smart idea. That nosy girl of his sister must've flushed them out during school time, when their phones changed owner and dived back into their usual pockets.
How long has she been knowing it?
When the initial embarrassment for having his perversion been caught began to wear off, Chris found himself surprisingly wondering about how Claire had reacted to those images of her… naked, naughty and explicitly hot. Oh, and wet.
Chris: so… you saw them…
Claire: Yup.
Claire: You're such a creative guy and I'm such a photogenic girl! (smirk)
Claire: You definitely know how to do justice to a cunt!
Chris: Do you want me to erase them?
Claire: No… you can keep'em. So you can use them when I'm pooped and you're horny… LIKE NOW.
Chris: No way! Those pics should be for emergencies u.u
Chris: this is no emergency. You're home, you're next door, you're awake and I'm fucking hard!
Claire: are you?
As a reply, he sent her a pic of... his stretched boxers that spoke for itself and a close-up selfie of his face, with his eyes squinted for the flash and the little square package of a condom caught between his lips.
Claire bit her lip at such saucy, daring pictures. If she wasn't that tired she'd have already slipped out of her clothes and dashed to Man's Cave to get some of him.
Claire: you should send me these pics more often
Chris: Oh you should see me live.
Maybe the blueish light of the screen had somehow awakened her brain or maybe the sight of his face had awakened other things in her, anyway Claire wasn't feeling that sleepy anymore.
Claire: well then... I'll be waiting for you with open legs (heart)
Chris went immediately offline and Claire barely had the time to turn the flamingo lamp on again, that she saw him roll into Girly Room, pivot on his feet and, with a hand grabbing the doorknob and the other carefully pressed on the door, he cautiously and incredibly slowly closed it right before rushing to the bed and slide underneath the big padded blanket. She was actually waiting with her legs spread open thus he quite automatically nestled between them.
With his fists firmly planted on the pillow he leveraged himself over her, the condom still caught in his lips, the aluminium layer glimmering in the rosy light.
Smirking, she pinched the condom and drew it away from him, taking it in her hand, before raising up and imprint a fiery kiss on his still parted lips.
Lips that didn't leave hers for a single moment as she reclined back on the mattress. In spite of the late hour - so late it had been already Sunday for a while now - every grain of sleep had forsaken their weary bodies.
Chris lowered on her, slowly, savouring the rising contact with her sultry frame. He didn't mind the thick fleece pyjamas hiding her shape from his eyes, as long as he could feel her under his touch. The concreteness of her was way better than any bunch of pixels on a screen, no matter how explicit. He framed her head in his forearms and kissed her with devotion, his tongue massaging her hot mouth.
The same hand that held the condom between two fingers, mildly fondled his cheek, an appreciative caress for his considerate delicacy. She crossed her wrists upon his neck whilst their heads danced a tango of passion.
Even though he was excitedly desirous to mate with her for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he was aware of her lassitude and he'd have never induced her to do anything she wasn't feeling like. If she settled for just smooching under the blankets, then he'd have settled for it as well.
But his kisses would've always pushed Claire to the most tempestuous arousals and soon her hands, her silent moans, her shivering thighs began asking for more.
Exactly the kind of request Chris was waiting for.
Shifting all his weight on one arm, he slid a hand over her abdomen, his stroking palm left behind a quiver of pure pleasure that rippled her skin and swelled her nipples. Not even the thickest fleece could mitigate the ecstasy of his touch. Claire couldn't curb a gasp when she felt his fingertips press and trace little circles on her clitoris. This was Chris: capable of the softest pecks under her jawline whilst ravaging her with strong, virile, decisive strokes under her panties. She wondered if he was like that with other girls too or if he touched that way only her. One thing for sure, he must've done lots of experience as he was so damn skilled. Every move effective, every touch precise and resolute. Sherry and all the girls after her had been so lucky! Now it was Claire's turn for a crazy ride on him. She inwardly sneered at herself for having lost so much time without knowing how much of a divine fucker her brother was.
Claire turned her head, offering her neck even more to his lavish kisses, blue eyes shutting in the throes of the sinful pleasures his yearning fingers summoned in her.
Once he got rid of the unwieldy presence of the pyjamas bottom and her panties - foretasting the pleasure of penetrating her by introducing all his haughty virility inside her inners - he kneaded the meaty lips of her entrance with two fingers and, with a slow movement he glided them inside, sinking them into her humid womanhood. Yes, manicure was definitely a blessing.
The strong moan it ripped off her was brusquely suffocated by his lips who swooped on hers to shut her up.
"Hush, baby." he susurrated without really separating their mouths.
"It's too good." She mewled, again reclining her head back while deepening the contact with his hand by thrusting her hips upwards.
"I know baby" he whispered.
He perfectly knew. He remembered too well the pleasure that had seemed to flow like liquid gold through his veins when, weeks before, fake Chris had done the same to him inside Carlos' bathtub. He knew the kind of fulfilment his thick fingers were able to procure with an adequate friction of her inner walls. Chris would've surely finger fucked her properly hadn't she moaned that loud at the slightest move of him inside her.
"Be quieter!"
"I'm trying to!" she whined, tightly grasping his shoulder, as her other hand reached down to grab his member, fondling it sweetly. "But it's not easy with you!"
Chris smirked maliciously at her shivering compliment and resumed his doing down on her, while giving little, involuntary pushes with his hips, pressing his full erection against her hand and the thigh he was straddling. The more she stroked him, the more his thrusts would get mightier and deep, their breaths growing heavier and heavier.
But none of them felt safe.
Maybe it was the fear to be caught, maybe the awareness of doing something absolutely transgressive and criminal, surely it was the certainty that the walls of their rooms had the sound insulation of an egg shell but, especially for Chris, each of Claire's moans – no matter how they struggled to muffle them – and, even worse, the lightest clanging of the mattress' springs – stressed under their weight – seemed to resonate like bombs in the solemn quietude of the night. He had slept in that bed for a month yet he was only then noticing how damn noisy it was. Now that the only thing they needed was the complicity of silence.
Even if Claire was by then so much over-aroused that she had almost completely lost her inhibitions and recklessly kept thrusting her hips upwards against his hand, Chris instead tried to remain more vigilant and, no matter how much he kept an ear out, he couldn't get to relax enough to really make love to her. Even if he managed to keep her from screaming out her climax, that damned bed would still be a pain in the ass.
"Fuck" he grumbled at some point when a spring decided to squeak loudly after a little too ponderous push.
"Yeah, fuck me." Claire urged, mewling like a cat in heat.
"No." Chris susurrated, gliding his fingers out of her snug hole, gaining a disapproving lament. "We can't do it here. They could hear us."
"What do you suggest we do?" Claire asked, the sudden interruption of his teasing giving her a little of lucidity.
Chris went pensive a little and, lastly, proposed "We can go downstairs."
"You mean in the living room?"
"No that would be worse! I mean down in the basement." he whispered "if we lock inside the bathroom, we might get off a little more freely."
"Do you think they can't hear us from down there?"
"I think so." He replied and, alternating words with wet, tender kisses, he explained. "The bathroom has concrete ceiling and the bedrooms are two floors upstairs… we couldn't scream like yesterday as well but…"
"Mmmh… we better go then." Claire hummed, nipping at his lower lip "now it's me who wants it… like now."
Chris climbed off bed and peered through the door to check if their parents were, for whatever reason, rambling about. Not that they'd have thought there was anything wrong with their firstborn exiting his sister's room, but his incredible, most obvious erection would've been nearly impossible to justify.
"All clear!" he reported, gesturing her to get up and follow him as he hadn't heard her climb out of bed. She was sitting upright, dazed by the sight of the bulge between his thighs. He looked down on himself, on what he knew had caught all of her attention. The largeness of his boxers left him enough room to just hang, hard and horizontal, pointing towards the dark hallway behind the door like a hound "Claire. Let's go." he spelled.
Only then Claire seemed to shake from the utter daydream she had fallen into.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm coming!" she replied, biting her lips as she got closer.
If there was anything about her that he was discovering and left him breathless was her piquant, spontaneous, a bit pervert and surely cocky way to not restrain at all her ardent craving for him. His body had a devastating effect on her and she did absolutely nothing to hide it. He'd have never imagined that such a composed and fine girl like his sister would be so voluptuary, blatant and cheeky under the sheets. "He's waiting only for you, you know?" he simpered as he welcomed her in his arms, his mouth, his groin again.
"Claire…" he murmured, pulling away from her lips.
"Mh?"
"If we go downstairs… you better put your panties on." he amusedly chuckled.
Trying to be the most careful and without turning on a single light, they descended down the stairs and then in the dark of their living room, brightened only by a bit of moonlight that a merciful cloud had revealed. They moved cautiously, like barefoot burglars in the night, holding hands like the sweet lovers they were. Chris leading, Claire following right behind, her mind stuck on his big, hard member waiting only for her. She pictured it bobbing up and down with each step like a drumstick ready to bang. Bang her.
Once on top of the basement staircase, Chris dared to turn on some of the light points on the ceiling, just to light up the pitch black engulfing the steep stairs before them.
The basement was pretty cold that late at night when the heaters had been turned off for a while, but the temperature didn't bother them at all as they knew that room would soon get burning hot.
"C'mon" Chris said, entering in the small bathroom "We can do it in the bathtub, like at Carlos'… but better." He suggested, turning to grab her in his usual boisterous but gentle manner and widened his eyes as… he didn't see her where he expected her to be - beside him - but far in the bottom of the big room, seated on the weight-lifting bench, staring at him with an arch smirk, waving to come closer with her hooked forefinger.
"Claire! Wouldn't you do it here, would you?" Chris exclaimed, pacing towards her.
"Why not?" she taunted.
"Because this fucking room has no fucking doors!" he pointed out, matter-of-factly, his palms underlining his statement.
"C'mon, who would ever come down here?" she sassed, a hand stroking him through the stretched cotton. "Elders sleep… young fuck." her hand gliding beneath the cloth to uncover his bouncing dick and stroke him faster.
Chris licked his lips and sighed, certain that another one of her impudent touches and he'd have lost even the last shred of prudence he had left. "In the bathroom… we can… get off… better." He uttered, slightly tilting his head back with a long sigh.
Claire stood up, pulling her shirt off and letting it carelessly fall on the ground with a theatrical move, without breaking eye contact with him, standing up only in her skimpy underwear. By then Claire had figured out which mechanism clicked in her brother's head before her body, and she knew how to make it click at her own will.
"It's since last afternoon that I imagine you taking me here." she murmured, pulling off her bra and launching it in the same trajectory as her shirt. "Take me here, Chris." she mewled, hooking her fingers around the subtle lace wire of her thong to pull it down, but Chris' hands were faster and stopped hers. He looked down on her, silent and calm as the good, morigerous, tamed lion he had apparently become.
Chris was aware of how his sister was leading him to do whatever she wanted, no matter how perilous it might be. She wanted him to take her on that bench? He'd have taken her there. Notwithstanding utterly dominated by his penis, Chris would've never been a docile puppy though. He rose his gaze, slowly and solemnly, it was dark and his eyes gleamed of a pitiless flame.
"I'll take care of this." he roared.
"Don't rip it though" she giggled, glad to see that her blandishments were working out.
An unforgiving rage flashed in his eyes and, for a moment, a shock of adrenaline rushed through Claire's body until it fibrillated her clitoris. She realized that night's fuck would've been much different from the tender, loving shag of the previous morning, as with an offhanded move he ripped the second thong. She retorted with a pointed look but loved watching him kneel and go down on her.
This time it was his lips to take care of her tender flesh, alternating his usual taps with delicate, innocuous bites. If that was a way to apologise for his outrage at her undergarments then she loved it. She loved his head between her legs, his tongue between her fleshy lips, his hand working fast on his dick.
But that moment of oral consideration didn't last long and the lion in him took over anew. He firmly grabbed her and eased her on the bench, knelt face towards the stairs and the bathroom. He undressed and positioned behind her, standing up with his open legs straddling both the seat and her feet.
"If you scream, we're screwed." he murmured against her ear, his hands stroking her belly, not sure if his warning would've been effective.
"I won't. I promise." she breathed out, reclining her head back and onto his shoulder. She fondled his cheek and pulled him in her kiss.
No matter how the lion would strive to assert its supremacy but Chris, the tender pup he was, would always melt and tumble down on her lips. Her kisses were something more than any all-nude, more than whatever striptease, more than any enticing sigh. Claire's kisses were life. They were truth. They were pure like fresh spring water, able to give life and take it away at the same. They were his death sentence.
No, Chris wasn't her puppy - not that Claire wanted him like that - but the blissful warmness he felt anytime their lips touched sealed his slavery to her. In the very moment their lips had touched for the first time ever, just a bunch of hours before, Chris was doomed to fall for her. He'd never be the same. Not the same guy, nor the same brother.
As she broke the kiss to breathe, a lost Chris mouthed a silent and desperate I love you against her lips. Unsaid words that faded unseen into the yellowish darkness.
His touch so firm and arrogant until that moment, had softened to an amatory, mild embrace. His muscled arms crossed on her chest and drew her to him.
"Sorry. I'll buy you new ones." he muttered.
"No worries. I got plenty of that." Claire giggled. "A whole drawer!"
"Kiss me again, baby." he said, caressing her nape.
He could've spent the rest of the night in that position with her in his arms, her nude back against his abdomen, her breasts under his palms, enfolding her like a blanket to keep her warm and lively like the wildfire she was. And he'd have done it, hadn't she reminded him they were down there for much more animated purposes by grasping his member and stroking it to harden it even more. Yeah, it was about time for some action!
"Give it to me." She uttered. "Put it in my pussy!"
"Where's the condom?" he asked, drawn back from his enamoured thoughts.
"Shit!" she gasped. "I must have left it on the pillow!"
As none of them wanted to get dressed to go back into Girly Room to pick up the missing gears and, as long as her doing down on him emptied his brain to fill his penis, Chris' lucidity was long gone. "I'll pull out, baby." We'll save it for the next time.
So it was - reminding her to be quiet - that they began making love. Claire on her knees, her shoulders nestling on the seat, Chris standing up and banging her from behind, smirking in approval at her sweet, muffled hums of pleasure. Everything on that bench was risky, of course, but it only spiced it up.
That was their first complete contact, skin against skin, and to them it was like doing it for the first time once again. Even if both were soon in the throes of their arousals, Chris kept an eye on the staircase, fearing the sudden apparition of their parents even though, he had to admit it, Claire had had a wonderful idea: the height and angle in which he was fucking her were simply perfect and comfortable. His swinging back and forth was smooth and flawless, even if every now and then he'd stop moving to enjoy her eagerness push against his hips in need.
Claire, instead, kept touching herself whilst watching her brother dark reflection in the wall-wide huge mirror, the warm light coming from the bathroom outlining all his sculpted abs out of the darkness, his dick going in and out of her at ever increasing pace. She pictured herself still inside that body and penetrating the dainty girl with the hair the colour of autumn. That would've been something fun.
She curbed a jolt of pleasure as Chris absently slapped her butt-cheek, immediately regretting it as it rumbled like a thunder and echoed on the walls. No fucking slaps, you dumbass. The stairs were still desert, thankfully. Despite all his warnings, when their climaxes were just few thrusts away, both went way louder than quiet hums. As Claire's body stopped trembling for her orgasm, Chris grunted loudly as he pulled out of her to spill all his semen over her back smashing his butt on the barbell cool steel. Useless was gritting his teeth. It was loud.
He collapsed over her back and laid down, his sweat mixing up with his sperm. His exhausted arm slid under her belly and hugged her.
"That was loud!" she giggled.
"It's your fault, honey. I told you I can't resist you." His growling laugh stirring her hair. "Did you like it?"
"What do you think?" she laughed, relishing in the warmth of his body stretched over hers.
"I think you're the best girl I've ever laid."
"And you're the best man I've ever had." she simpered. "I think Imma let you fuck me again."
"Sure as hell you are."
"You wore me out. I swear, I'm dozing off right here." she mewled "Will my boy take me to my room bride-style?"
"Absolutely."
Little confession: from this chapter on, every single thing that happens is different from the original draft (or script) I did. Originally this was meant to be closer to the end of ACT 2. But ACT 3 was too... plain in my opinion. I was too good and mild towards my characters.
So I re-imagined it, adding all the drama I liked to. Unfortunately, this means that my weekly updates are long gone as I'll have to write it from zero. But don't worry! I'll serve you all at least one chapter per month (or maybe shorter chapters but more often - let me know your preferences).
Relatively good news (depending on your affection to the story, One Month In Your Shoes is far from being close to an end.
They're still too sane.
Thank you all my beloved readers, from all over the world, may my silly fantasy bring a little amusement into your lives and coffee breaks (or rides home)!
Love,
a Fangirl