Here's to you the last part of this long playlist, this time brought to you by Gianna Nannini and Lady GaGa. It is dedicated to all the fellow fangirls and fanboys out there. I wrote it thinking of you all.

Have you noticed I have a passion for quoting the games' lines? No? How come?!

Chapter 20 – Showdown (4 of 4)

Part 10 – Bello e impossibile

"C'mon Leon, let's go." Claire exhorted, leaving the small entryway and gesturing to follow her into the adjacent living room. "Let's leave the girls some privacy." She joked, mostly to shake herself from her own thoughts of sisterly concern.

Exhaling a long sigh – as she'd just come home from a wearing, lengthy workday – Claire slumped her exhausted frame onto the first couch she came across and resisted the temptation to toe her shoes away, cross her feet upon the coffee table and finally blow out the relief breath that hellish day only kept delaying. Hadn't she got guests nor Lily in the whereabouts, she wouldn't have given it any second thoughts.

What a day!

If earlier in the morning, anyone had told her she'd have to face such an emotionally challenging, high-paced series of events she'd have rather dug her face in the pillow, stayed in bed and skipped the whole day – especially if that would've spared her Wesker's bony claws. The quality of the day had certainly improved after lunchtime, though. Something inside her told her that afternoon would've turned out even more useful than the temporary pleasure the necking with Chris could cause. Claire had to admit that, under the thick layer of tiredness, she had been kind of regenerated, like a device after a long upgrading session or that receives a shot of electricity after too many hours of dead battery.

With a deft and fast twirl of her wrist she threw her ponytail beyond the backrest's top and reclined her head onto it. A smile bloomed on her mouth, both for such silly tech similitudes her brain profusely ejected and for the hilarious thought that Jill and Rebecca could be considered her human power-banks! The smiling crease on her face softened incredibly as she thought that then Chris was to be considered her personal charging cable! The malice that had been hiding into her brain right behind the corner, took advantage of that spotlight to jump on stage and chant the gest of Chris's lovely cable and the wonders it did any time it plugged her to charge her up.

After some dawdling in absently observing the pictures Lily's furnishing good taste had neatly collected and arranged in years, Leon eventually sat down next to Claire, while she was still pondering whether to throw her shoes away or to be a well-mannered host.

Leon didn't immediately put himself at ease upon that comfortable couch. He faltered. He was stuck at the centre of a tornado of feelings: everything spun fast around him but he stood immobile. He felt like having another cigarette, he also wanted to go home and run from Claire but he desired to hug her too, to watch her and ignore her, to kiss Rebecca, to ask Claire what damn sortilege she'd casted upon him and to please never break it and to set him free at the same time. But more than anything, he wanted to punch Chris. The young boy had no doubts about that. Chris had hurt him. And who gives a fuck if he was hurt too! A part of him wanted to justify his best friend's demeanour and understand his confusing instability, but all the rest of him simply refused. Chris was over eighteen years old and, honestly, Leon expected a more mature attitude by him by then, certainly not that childish, dickish, unnecessary bullshitting of a few minutes before.

Leon shakily blew his frustration out along with a sough and heavily rubbed his face into his palms.

The silence in the living room was so dense it could be cut with a knife. But there was just that bothering, inopportune, tiny voice in his head warning him to beware the conversation going on in the kitchen. Such a hella instable Chris could effortlessly tell Rebecca she was wasting her time to a boy who was still lost for his sister, and Leon was so confused he couldn't even get to deny it convincingly if confronted.

Pretending to be counting the remaining cigarettes in his tin holder, Leon tried to convince himself that Chris was still Chris despite all the rotten shit beneath his scalp. He'd never discredit a friend in the eyes of a girl. In hindsight – and more persuasively – Chris was too motherfucking sly and possessive to miss out such a precious occasion to have a suitor of his sister to neutralize himself that easily.

All things considered, he could rely on the odds being in his favour.

With a long, self-encouraging sigh, Leon tilted his head back as well and rested it alike Claire did. He raked his fingers through the blond short strands that usually covered his forehead and combed them backwards, leaving his handsome visage fully exposed.

"Your brother's a bastard." Leon uttered. "Sometimes."

Not receiving answers, he turned to eye her.

Claire laid eyes closed, seemingly doing some breathing exercises, by inflating and emptying her lungs rhythmically under the hands she had crossed upon her belly. That short glance brought him back to when Claire's breathing was frenetic, erratic, her chest was heaving and twitching, and her face – at least her expression – was light years away from the quiet calm now spurting out that non-sleeping Beauty next to him.

That afternoon must've not been a piece of cake for her either. Who knows how many squabbles and misunderstandings she'd been through with her friends for the bullshit done by her brother in that hellish month he'd spent in her shoes. Leon preferred to not question and leave her alone for a little, after all he could bet his head Rebecca would've buried him under tons of her reports as soon as they'd have left.

"Don't call him bastard." Claire groaned and, opening only one beautiful eye, she side-glanced back at him. "You have no idea."

Leon gulped down hard at the huge amount of feelings that sole ocean blue iris conveyed and aroused in him – as if there weren't enough already! He looked down and away and regretted he had combed his hair back as now he had no curtains to give him shelter from her one-eyed look. "Sorry."

"Don't be." She continued with the same tone of slight condescension. "I have no idea either."

They locked gazes for a moment before giggling in unison.

"Well, I can't believe you haven't but… thanks." Leon smiled warmly.

"Did you two had a fight?" she asked.

"Not really. But he was heating up, you know." He mumbled and scoffed.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Leon. But please, don't judge him if he..." Claire shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "It only hurts him more. Especially if it comes by a best friend like you."

"Never judged him a single moment. But he was really testing me out there." He said, reminiscing Chris's annoying control issues and delusions of omnipotence. "And I was heating up too. Thankfully, Jill came first."

"…And cooled him down for good, right?" She jokingly taunted, failing to imagine a pissed Leon.

"Well, Chris can use a couple of slaps every now and then. Just to remind him to stay grounded." Leon mumbled. "And only girls can hope to survive such a thing!"

A hearty laugh and a nod were all she added to that conversation. She wanted to close her eyes again and pretend to be on a beach with flocks of flamingos partying all around, definitely no shoes on and – why not – a fresh drink in her hand but she feared it was unpolite to space out when you have guests.

Leon kept staring at her whilst another voice in his mind, more judicious this time, urged him to talk.

"How are you?" He asked with a bare whisper.

"You know… just… surviving…" She lamely replied in a babyish voice, stretching an indecisive smile.

"I mean now. Are you feeling alright?"

The concern in his voice was all she needed to hear to understand what he was talking about. Claire tiredly sighed and stretched her neck backwards even more, as she didn't entertain the idea of another demanding conversation, and the one Leon was looming was possibly the hardest. But Leon deserved an answer.

"I'm fine, thank you." Claire turned her head to him and returned the smile blooming on his face.

"Chris said you're striving a little to… heal."

They had talked about her. The thing didn't surprise her much.

"A little, yes. But Chris knows how to make me feel good." Claire soothed, giggling inwardly. Oh, yeah. Chris knows how to.

"I never doubted it. I was sure you'd have looked after each other, even if I didn't know what was messing with your lives."

Claire was brought back in memories too. It seemed to her to be back on Ryman's balcony, with the pale golden light of the sunset swiftly fading, and Leon who, with his being an exquisite person, proved her he was an excellent friend and not only of Chris but of her as well. She'd have never forgotten how heartfelt his worrying for her was even if she wasn't officially present.

Not getting – nor willing either – to curb a smile, Claire placed her hand on his and squeezed it emotionally. "Thank you, Leon. You have no idea how precious you've been to me and how fucking grateful I'm for you being there when I needed it the most."

Leon lost no time in turning his hand turtle below hers and entwined their fingers together. She'd needed him. That thought alone was worth all the fights with a pissed Chris. Her cool fingers laced around his hand elicited a warmth to ignite within his soul. It was a first time for both and both couldn't help but inwardly awe for how easy the touch had been and how perfectly their hands joined, as if their fingers already knew the way to nestle into each other by heart.

"I wish I could've done more." He said, staring at their tight connection.

"What more could you ever do?"

"Dunno." He replied, gingerly thumbing the back of her hand, just a little, just to savour the smooth of her skin. "Anything to help you… two."

"You simply couldn't." She spoke softly, in raw sincerity. "Only Dad barely did and fixed the shit but he couldn't help us any different anyway." She clutched his hand a little tighter. He always made her feel so comfortable with his imperturbable calm and the certainty of an unassuming, wholehearted gaze and soul. She felt she had to comfort him.

He appreciated it more than she suspected. "My only consolation was to know that your brother was by your side. I mean, he may be a douche sometimes but he'd rather die for you."

Claire nodded. "Chris has never stopped being close for a single moment, not even when we were parted." She said, a little smile growing on her as long as she thought of her brother. "Not even now."

A dark blond eyebrow jumped up on its own, betraying its owner's inner reaction.

Not even now that he'd better cut you some slack, Claire!

Translating his thought into words, Leon addressed her a pointed look. "Don't you think he's uh… being a little too close?"

Claire looked at him bewildered. The fuck he was saying?! Oh God, what did he know?! "What do you mean…?" She asked with more alarm in her voice than she wished.

Another criticizing eyebrow joined its partner on Leon's forehead and together furrowed in a slight frown as he tried to muster the right words to tell Claire, in the politest way possible, that her brother was a motherfucking hell of a pain in the ass for all the boys in the world. "Don't you think he's a bit too extra with all his jealousy? Jesus Christ, Claire! He made a scene for… well… I mean, he treats you as you fucking belonged to him!"

Claire let out the relief breath she'd been holding all along. "This may be the impression he gives but, trust me, he's anything but treating me bad or hurting me."

"Oh, so keeping every damn guy in the school away from you is not treating you bad?"

"Every?! You're the one exaggerating here, Leon!" Claire giggled. "I'm not that popular or attractive!"

"You kidding me?!" Leon scoffed, incredulous of what he heard. "You're fucking gor…geous…" He bashfully trailed off, looking away and gulping down all the adjectives that had popped up in his head like daisies in springtime.

Claire felt flattered but said nothing. Not even a thank you. Both kids knew what was coming next and none of them truly entertained the idea of speaking about it. Honestly, Claire only wanted to quit talking and enjoy the silence whereas Leon slowly grew determined not to let anything unspoken. They simply couldn't keep beating around the bush.

"Chris told you about the kiss…"…We never shared. Leon said. Not a supposition but a plain affirmation. Chris had left no room for doubts when he'd made fun of him back on Friday night in the kitchen.

"Oh, you should've seen him! He was so upset!" She hysterically chuckled and tucked a rebel tendril behind her ear.

"Trust me, I saw him!" Leon exclaimed and palmed his sternum with his free hand. "And so did my ribcage!"

"I'm sorry things went this way, Leon." Claire said softly. "I'm sorry this shit made it awkward between you two."

"I'm in one piece." He minimized, stretching a faint smile.

The two fell in an uncomfortable silence made of fleeting gazes and deep breaths. That shit hadn't made it awkward only between Chris and Leon. Claire and the boy next to her could've spent a whole afternoon bantering about that time "Chris got kissed by his best friend", but it wouldn't have erased the embarrassing awareness that he had wanted to kiss her because he freaking liked her.

"You know…" Leon said and cleared his throat clumsily and noisily. "For weeks I felt so guilty for having… assaulted you?"

Meh…

He wasn't sure it was the best choice of words, it made him feel a little bit of a pig. Assaulted. More like kissed without consent, maybe? Kissed by blunder? Awkwardly exposed my feelings?

Ew.

Leon cringed even more. Any way he tried to put it, it'd still feel displeasing and shameful. He eventually gave up in trying to properly define what had happened – after all, it wouldn't have changed the outcome. "But now I'm relieved to know it wasn't you."

Yes.

No.

No. No. No. No! NO!

"I m-mean… errr… not that I didn't… but, you know, ugh! You're so… and I… I wish it was yo- no, wait." He stuttered and came to a halt, clenching his jaw and puckering his eyelids shut at his own awkwardness. The more he tried, the more he'd get stuck. Claire's amused gaze was locked on him and all but fucking up his brain. His embarrassment was so tangible that he just might as well dig his own grave, lay into it and wait for starvation to take him.

This, this never happened when it was about Rebecca. He'd never lose it up when she was around. She made him feel so easy, so cool. Who knows? Maybe it was because she was even more awkward and shy than him. But Leon was not a shy guy, nor a particularly awkward person. He only became when it was about Claire. She'd always make him feel uncomfortable by her mere presence. Maybe it was still the "trauma" from "her" bad reaction at his kiss but he couldn't help feeling nervous beside her. And he couldn't deny he loved the feeling of having her beside him.

"Steady now, Leon." Claire said, determined to get him out of his own rut. "I get what you mean and it's so sweet of you."

Leon shook his head and chuckled. That was the first time he was finally spending some one-on-one time with Claire – for real – and he had managed to look like a total bonehead in less than five minutes. That's a record, Kennedy! And to make things even worse, the irony of life was giving him this chance only when he'd found another girl! Life's a bitch sometimes.

"You're really a nice guy Leon." Claire continued. "I know how bad it must've made you feel such a thought. You know, I knew. Chris blurted it all out as soon as you left. I wished I…"

Leon turned his head towards her, expectantly.

"…I wished to tell you not to worry about it but I couldn't. The fake Chris couldn't talk like a Claire. He wasn't supposed to know. And I didn't feel like having to break your bones just for the sake of… my shitty secret!" The girl whispered melancholically as their looks repeatedly met to finally lock. "You were so caring, always by my side even if you didn't know it was me and I… I wished I could tell you everything throughout."

A handful of words, barely susurrated but louder than a thunderstorm, unrestrained, heartfelt, simply slipped out of his lips. "I wish it was you that day."

Claire moved her mouth wordlessly at such a wince-worthy confession, like a fish out of water. His words bolted like an arrow through her and they'd have surely hit her in the core of her teen heart if only the clashing thought of Rebecca didn't interpose itself.

He was dating Rebecca. He shouldn't, he oughtn't to talk like that! This wasn't supposed to happen. NO! He oughtn't to look at her like that, with his impossibly limpid eyes, shining under those slightly furrowed eyebrows, half-hidden by the blond locks… that dangled to graze his adorable manly cheekbones and framed the bony structure of his gorgeous face…

Claire had to avert her eyes but failed to do it. The light blue of his was like a magnet made for attracting people. She hoped he averted first but apparently he got magnetized by hers in return.

He was so close she could almost feel the heat radiating from his limbs. Not that he was getting closer or so, but suddenly, to be only sitting on the same couch became too intimate, therefore inappropriate. Their shoulders grazed each other and electricity rushed through them from the tangled hands up to the toes of their feet.

His tone, his eyes, the perfect shape of his moist lips it all was so enticing that Claire had a hard time gulping down her rapture. She'd never been that close to him, never had his eyes pierced into hers for so long and so intensely. She'd never seen him nibble his lower lip and lick it to moist it even more, and she was sure she'd never been… OH!

He raised his free hand – as for absolutely no fucking reason he'd unlace his right one from hers – peeled his shoulders off the comfy backrest and slightly turned to her to graze her round, quickly flushing cheek with the back of his fingers and stealing her breath. No, Leon Kennedy was no shy guy. Now his face was just a few inches away from her burning one. Her blush had warmed up her soft skin but the touch burnt him like an ardent ember. He oughtn't to. Not with Rebecca next room. Not with Chris next room. But none was enough to prevent him from saying, as his look dropped onto her voiceless lips, "maybe, you'd have been gentler…"

Claire couldn't tell whether in that moment Leon was playing the role of the cunning ladies man or if it was simply his innate courtesy, kindness, honesty that had compelled him to be so explicit and outspoken and daring. But he had to stop. Or to be stopped.

"I wouldn't bet on it." Claire spelled – or better, gasped. The girl got a grip on herself and, meanwhile she unlaced her left hand from his, she gently peeled his away from her cheek with the other, careful to make it as sweetest as possible – if possible. Last thing she wanted was to hurt him. "I'd never do anything like that to Rebecca. She's like a sister to me." She said, disguising her concealed, subtle warning as a confession.

Now, definitively, the real last piece of the puzzle found its place in the wider picture. And he understood, everything. He understood any implicit smile, any holler, any hint she had addressed him during the drinking game… He finally figured out why Claire seemed so happy when… oh.

Leon smiled in admiration, sadness, joy and brought his hands back onto his own thigh, but not into her grab – he didn't dare to figure out if she'd take him back in it.

Even if in the veranda there had been the real Claire, soul and body together joined, she'd have turned him down just the same. For her best friend's sake. For loyalty. And who better than Leon Scott Kennedy can appreciate the loyalty in a person?

"Is that why you preferred to drink over kissing me?" he asked in a honeyed voice.

"Totally." Claire nodded, trying to convey as much determination as possible with her look. "And I'd do it all over again. I mean, you and Becky are dating and I'm sincerely happy for her."

"Well, I can't say I'm not happy to have met her too!" Leon smiled.

Claire was relieved to hear that and she wanted to resolve the matter once and for all before Rebecca would reappear from the kitchen and fucking read her mind. Or his. Rebecca had to never read anything was written on Leon's face by then. Ever! She had to keep her best friend free from any tormenting suspicion! It had to be clear that there was no rivalry there.

He's yours Becky.

"Do you like her?" she wondered, holding her breath and staring at him with expectant eyes.

He blushed a little under the second insistent questioning about his feelings from the second Redfield in a row but he was determined not to look like a total loser. Although she'd done it for friendship's sake, Claire had ultimately friendzoned him. He had to save face somehow. "I do." He replied, and to underline that he wasn't lying, he added "a lot."

Claire beamed and suddenly the room brightened of an evening dawn. Getting over every last shred of embarrassment, she hugged him like she was used to hugging Leon: like Chris would, like a boy. Like a real bro. She looped an arm around his shoulders and heavily patted his back. Leon returned the hug and smiled too. Despite she'd just turned him down, he couldn't stop feeling good, happy to be close to her. The foreigner pleasure of her closeness numbed any sadness. Claire was so nice, lovely, loyal… he saw in her everything he evaluated the most in a person and he knew he wanted her to be a part of his life, anyhow. As a friend maybe? He'd never considered it before but why not? It felt too good to have her near to reject the idea of a friendship with her. Especially when it appeared as the last option available. If it was okay for Becky…

Speaking of Rebecca, when Claire parted his hug, she addressed him a naughty grin. "Break her heart and I'll pulverize your legs, amputate your dick and curl your bangs."

"Chris…?! Is that you?" He giggled tousling her ponytail, surprised not surprised by how much in that moment she was reminding him of her brother. Redfields! "Just leave your sister's body alone!"

"Ha! You wished it were him! You'd have less to fear, trust me!"

Part 11 – Plastic Doll

Claire had intuited that night's sex was going to be different since he'd asked her to come downstairs barefoot.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting for any sex that night. Certainly not after seeing him stand up from the dinner table with the same agility of who bears the burdensome vault of heaven on his shoulders. At his mother's question if he wanted some dessert before going to bed, he had replied with a "gotta study" in the shape of a yawn.

In point of fact, the Maths book was still splayed across his desk, untouched since a triple human coup de théâtre had rolled into his house to perturb the serenity he had inherited from the not yet worn off endorphins of the previous night's fuck. Neither had it received any attention after both Rebecca's crystalline laughter and Leon's maniacally accurate hairstyle no more stirred in the house, when he had stomped into his closet, hurled his duffel bag onto the mattress, zipped up sweatpants, tank top, towel and worries into it and stalked to his car to work his ass off at the gym.

Claire, instead, didn't mind a generous slice of the yummy cake and, between a forkful of cream and one of sponge, she discussed the daily events – Wesker excluded - with her parents. Or better: with Robert.

Lily only pretended to take part in the conversation with a few nods and hums, quietly lavished every now and then. With her pointy elbows exceptionally rested onto the tabletop, she fiddled with her pearl earrings, pivoting the gold needle in the tight hole and massaging her earlobe right after as she usually did any time she was getting lost in her motherly thoughts.

Chris's perennial weariness fretted her as much as her daughter's persisting (yet softening) panic attacks did. The hardly concealed terrified look on her son's face during dinner – as if the peas were some terrorist plotting along with the steak - hadn't done anything to appease her, and nothing came of her questions as she only received a smile that pretended to be heartening and a sweet "no worries, Mom". Sometimes she had the impression that her son trudged through the days, crawling on his elbows through the daytime hours only to burrow into his bed at night.

To make things worse, Robert didn't seem to notice. "He's too busy running after chicks." He'd always dismiss it any time she'd bring it up, not without a pinch of male pride, remindful of his son's very words of a few days before when he'd admitted he was banging a girl somewhere. "He's got a whole month of missed necking to recover!"

Lily almost ripped her earring off in irritation. Men can be so obtuse sometimes, she thought as she absently answered her husband's blabber with a most endearing smile, that he answered with a suggestive wink.

It was very late when, in the rosy light of Girly Room, Claire rested on the nightstand that mind-blowing page-turner that Sheva had lent her and curled below the blankets. Before turning off the flamingo lamp and finally wave bye-bye to that never ending day, her heart glanced one last time through the closet, where presumably Chris was sitting down by his desk, in the hope that he had already finished his homework and finally gotten to climb into bed too. Even though she snorted at the thought that he probably had fallen asleep on his copybook to directly wake up the following morning with the pen still caught in his hand, a stain of saliva on the sheet, a wicked stiff neck and a nice Ada Wong-signed F coming at him. She preferred to not disturb him to figure it out. Maths was the subject she had damaged the most and he couldn't afford to fail it. And she was sure that if she showed up in his room, he'd have rather done her than his homework. Regarding her, the heartfelt chattering with her friends, albeit difficult and arousing mixed feelings, had left her relieved. To pour her heart out had done her undoubtedly good. She could afford to skip a dose of her medicine.

"Goodnight, Chris." She smiled to the silence in her room and turned the light off.

Beep.

Chris: See you in the basement. No slippers.

Against any prediction, he was still up and… already downstairs, apparently.

Claire: On my way, Captain! Don't get started without me eheheheh (heart)

It felt strange to descend the stairs in pitch darkness and without his warm hand clutched around hers, the sole guide to always lead her in the dormant house. The tepid coolness of the wooden floor easily trespassed the thin cotton barrier of her socks, but she couldn't hurry up, risking a clangourous tumble down the staircase. Nor did she question his specific request.

She didn't need to. She perceived her brother's jitters and presumed that his bizarre behaviour simply meant that he was on utmost alert.

And she was plain right.

His whole demeanour since their friends had broken into their house – and afternoon – manifested how distressed he was. She knew him too well not to guess that those recent investigations done at their backs were more than enough to induce him not only to don't let down his guard, but also to increase it.

To leave the slippers on Girly Room's fluffy rug was just a precaution to reduce the noise to the minimum and, accordingly, the risk of waking their parents.

As she appeared, he welcomed her in his arms, hastily closed the door in total silence and pricked up his ears to ascertain if anybody else was sneaking in the dark. Claire found him already hard and geared up for the intercourse. Her joking about his jerking off all alone down there when he had her available for all the hand-jobs he needed, it was answered by a forefinger rested against her pursed lips to shush her. He took off his shirt and replaced his finger with his clashing lips – not giving her even the time to sigh at the sight of his chiselled pectorals.

He parted her legs, parted her labia but the sole thing he wouldn't part was their kiss. His obsessive plugging her mouth with his was just another precaution, to prevent her from moaning out loud, and dumb her natural tendency to vocalize her arousal. Although it was hard, Claire yielded to this silent – literally – request of him.

Now, if there ever was a sacred thing for Chris, then it was definitely foreplay.

It always started in their chat when, before meeting up by his door, they usually did a little flirting just to spice it all up and put them in the mood for sex. That night, instead, Chris had gone straight to the point – he hadn't even asked her if she was feeling like it!

Yeah, sex was definitely gonna be totally different.

The way he was screwing her only confirmed her theory. Every thrust of him was restrained yet fiery. Chris was both leaden and turned on, aroused and wary, heated up and bone-tired.

She sensed him aflutter, tense, chary as they made love. While she was mother-naked – as her one-piece pyjamas didn't allow any different option – he had only pulled his shirt off and lowered the waistband of his pyjamas' pants just that little enough to free his member in order to penetrate her.

Chris kept her pinned against the wall, holding her tilted by the thighs she had looped around his waist and, in his oppressive kissing, he let only a few breathy sighs to accompany the rhythmic melody of their union. It was lights years away from the red-hot, rough grunts he'd usually bath her ears with.

Ultimately, that night Claire had to settle for a quickie.

Although his touch left goosebumps on her skin, the immediacy and haste in which he'd started to penetrate her, compelled her to grit her teeth and wait for her wetness to raise and ease his doing inside her walls. It took him a while to take her at his same level of arousal.

Diligently gulping down a moan that nearly escaped the inflexible barrier of her brother's lips, Claire also downed a totally inopportune feeling that rose within her. Insomuch as the pleasure was pervading, a small portion of her brain resisted the anesthetizing effect of Chris's expert (yet dull) ministrations, and it continued to overthink, ruminate the taste of all that dynamic. She felt kind of... reduced… to… a mere hole… into which to friction the penis and nothing more. A simple sexual pleasure dispenser. A stunning doll to mindlessly plough.

Being the only one completely naked, Claire felt just a tiny-bit-a-little-eensy-weensy-pinch of a prostitute. Alright, alright, she suppressed that word even before it was wholly formed in her brain, but the concept wouldn't change. You need to empty your balls? You call the girl who always lets you get her laid, she comes, you come. Simple and effective. But… was it the case? If asked, Claire would've answered "no, but…"…but it feels like it.

Not that Chris was minding only his own pleasure – then again, he was very attentive to hit the right spots inside her, ready to fight back and screen all the blissful moans he'd elicit in her, he was really in control of everything, although he was falling under the fear of being utterly fucked by uncontrollable events – but that total lack of context and foreplay, the way his penis was barely unclothed as if it was in a hurry, it all made her feel a little objectified.

She was his gloryhole.

NO! NO! NO!

Claire needed to shake her head in order to shake those thoughts off her mind but Chris didn't let her.

He's just prudent and nervous!

The approaching of her orgasm contributed to deaden those little shreds of bitterness. There was nothing Claire wouldn't have done in order to grant Chris even the littlest crumb of that relief she'd so luckily got on that extraordinary day. She was ready to do anything alike he had always done anything and more to make her feel good, safe, loved, desired.

If he asked her to do it from the rear she'd have simply turned, held back her pained tears, and let him take whatever last virginity he wanted from her. If that was a way to make him feel safer, she'd have toed the line. Chris comes before anything else.

Her orgasm was swallowed by him. One moan at a time until her body stopped trembling, caged between the cool tiled wall and his frame.

She smiled against his lips.

Even though he had deprived her of the insane sight of his body, of the foreplay, of his gruff voice, even if he was screwing her at the minimum of his skills, it had been a big fucking orgasm anyway!

Now she could focus only on him.

She caressed him in every way that tilted position allowed her and kept kissing him until she felt him stiffen and tighten the grip on her butt-cheeks, as he gave the last few ponderous thrusts while his release rolled his eyes back and tilted his nose to the ceiling.

Numbed by the orgasm, his big head collapsed onto the curve of her neck and there it'd have stayed until the fumes of pleasure dissipated. Fortunately, the fuck had annihilated the fatigue of his muscles, thus he could keep her tilted even though he leaned against her and the wall for support lest they collapse to the floor for his sagging legs. Claire peered over his colossal shoulder and glanced at the sink's mirror in front of them, to admire the inverted triangle his broad shoulders and waist ideally traced. She bit her lip as she spotted all the long, subtle nail scratches she'd marked his beautiful back with. Well… her arousal had to vent somewhere!

Claire nuzzled his ear and drizzled it with a rain of tiny pecks but, as soon as he was able again to raise his head, she tilted hers back and looked at him straight in the eyes, fondly smiling.

"Was I a good girl?" she asked, raking her fingers through the sweaty short hair on his nape.

"You were wonderful, honey." Chris panted, returning the same soft smile, his chest still heaving for the strain.

"This is the least I'd do for you." She cooed and rested a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Thank you." He hoarsely whispered.

Claire inhaled that short blow of hot breath like it was an elixir of life. Yeah, maybe she was slowly managing to ease his worried mind. She'd have calmed him and convinced him that they had nothing to worry about. Nothing more than usual at least. Even at the risk of going to bed at dawn (or don't go at all), Claire would've fulfilled her volition.

Chris gently placed her down on her feet and turned to the sink to take care of the condom. She followed him on his heels and slid her bare arms around his bust to hug him from behind, throughout kissing the signs of her wild passion on his skin. "Chris, would you like taking a bath with me?"

"It's late as fuck, Claire." He gruffly muttered.

"It's not later than other nights!" She replied. "C'mon, let's relax a little together, shall we? Just you and me."

Her tone was too endearing for him to stand a chance to resist her. But then… what sense would've made all those precautions he had imposed themselves if now he undressed and took a bath with her, nude skin against nude skin? It was too risky. "Claire, if they come downstai-"

"Honey. They never did. And we're already past the noisiest part of the night! And Daddy just fixed the boiler, now you can't hear it start not even if you're in the same room!" Claire smiled as he turned towards her. She leered at him from head to toe, or at least… from head to the satiny tip of his penis, still jutting out of his pants, and she sighed in need. "Please… I missed you so much today!"

The kiss that accompanied that last begging sealed his capitulation. Chris was too pooped to offer resistance and, moreover, he couldn't deny he'd often fantasized about having her naked and wet in a bathtub with him. "Alright, but don't get your hair wet. No hairdryer by night."

Part 12 – Heal Me

Claire knotted her ponytail into a high bun and sat on the bathtub edge.

She observed Chris's ripped frame standing up beside her as they waited for the flowing water to reach the ideal temperature. He was so painfully handsome. His muscles were still buffed by the hard workout and stretched his skin to shape the unreal titan he was. Chris noticed the adoration drenching her stare and exceptionally smiled. It was so good to be watched in the same way he always watched her.

The two nude siblings stepped into the bathtub and let the faucet fill the remaining space with hot water, enveloping them in a warm caress. Chris had to fold his legs to fit in, whereas Claire squatted and knelt on his lap, straddled it, and squished her butt against his tilted thighs. She leaned onwards and stuck her flat belly against his muscular one. She kinda regretted they had just finished having sex as now she was curious to try that hot position, even hotter than the boiling water that surrounded them.

Being above him, she framed his big head in her arms and bowed to tenderly kiss him, without smacking her lips. The silence reassured him? Fine, she'd have kissed him with the stealth of a ninja then! No matter how superfluous it seemed to her.

Chris totally appreciated her cuddles and let her smother him with kisses, giving her the chance to return the favour received earlier in the afternoon.

That's what they were for each other. A reciprocal lending of a helping hand to save each other when one was sinking. Their heads danced together, their mouths breathlessly chased each other, each one fighting to nest into the other for shelter.

Throughout Chris raked his wide-open palms up and down the expanse of her curved back, the crystalline tingling of water accompanying his hands any time they re-emerged. He massaged her skin alike he was massaging her tongue and lips with his. He stroked her this way for a while before idly resting his hands on her butt underwater.

After a long, passionate reverence paid to his lips, Claire raised her head anew and watched him while, despite his closed eyes, he kept the expression of ecstatic rapture he put on every time they necked.

Claire's kisses began trailing down his crispy jawline, as to ideally heal the burn those poisonous slithering fingers of Wesker left indelibly on his mind a long time ago. She couldn't help the memory of her pervy teacher to replay in her mind every now and then. It was beyond her control. He'd just keep resurrecting and disgust her. And what aggravated it all, was that she knew that Chris had felt that same way, because of her body. She felt obliged to heal him.

She let him recline his head on her hands as, exhausted, he couldn't keep it up anymore. Although she couldn't get him to relax his neck's muscles, at least she got his Adam's apple more exposed to her loving attention.

She quietly chuckled as it seemed to her to hear a gentle snoring.

The tiredness, the water warmth, the post-coital torpor and her cuddles were a fatal mix. Notwithstanding, Claire kept going in her purposeful necking, determined to let him enjoy as much as possible that wholesomeness. She'd have cuddled him until her fingertips wrinkled for the water, then she'd have woken him up sweetly, with her lovey-dovey kisses and they'd have gone back to their rooms for a deserved rest. Maybe she could propose to him to sleep together so she'd keep taking care of him even if only with her proximity. So the following morning he'd have gotten up as fresh as a daisy and content – and most importantly, she'd have been the first thing he saw, that alone would've put a smile on his face.

Oh, Chris would've adored such an idea, she was certain! After all, they had often shared a bed in the past and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. Their parents wouldn't have even slightly questioned. Oh, yes, yes, that was a great idea! Hadn't he been so tired she'd have already woken him up to discuss it with him!

His stubble was prickling and flushing her lips but she didn't care. Aside from his heavy breathing, there wasn't any other sound in the tiny underground room if not the tender, light smacking of her kisses' suction on his skin.

Once her lips went above the jugular, Claire felt through her touch his heart beating calm and slow. Yeah, maybe she'd succeeded to appease him in the end.

The girl pressed her mouth on his skin, rejoicing for each gush of blood that, rushing underneath, transmitted her the beat through her crimson lips. To feel the movement was like feeling the sound of it, and Claire didn't want to stop listening to the sweetest and most reassuring symphony existing. Therefore, without ever peeling off her lips, she began softly suckling his neck, right there, right above that artery so vital and alive, syncing with the rhythm of his heart.

Not even in their deepest and heartiest penetrations Claire had ever felt more fused to him. Like when they'd make love, Chris set the rhythm while Claire would amplify the melody and enrich it with her passional notes.

It was so good! She couldn't have ever hoed for a better way to end that d-.

"What have I told you about hickeys?" Chris grumbled all of a sudden, crashing the magic of the moment with his hoarse susurration.

"But you love them!" Claire protested, remorsefully stopping their union and music.

Chris had never allowed her to leave a love-bite on him, albeit she knew how much he adored them. It had occurred many times in the past that she'd seen him coming home from a date marked as if an octopus had attempted to strangle him. Hiding behind the fact that he owned no turtleneck sweaters, Chris had always flaunted his hickeys with male pride and a pinch of hauteur.

"I can't go around with a scarf on for the whole day, Claire." Chris replied, irremovable.

"Well, you cou-" she tried to insist.

"I'm not gonna wear a concealer. Never."

Claire shifted upwards again and brought her head back on top of his and framed his tired big face in her thin white arms anew, grazing the tip of his nose with her smile. "Ok, just tell me where you want it then…" she cooed, in a mellow voice. "…and I'll give you as many as you want!"

"I don't want any, thanks."

Her smile flickered. A bare fistful of words and it became extremely difficult for her to keep the exquisite expression of attentiveness that sweetened her visage. Heck, that answer was pretty hard.

In spite of his shut eyes, Chris's face expressed harshness and reproach. As if his inclement gaze was scolding her through eyelids made heavy by the late hour and by a day harder and more demanding than expected.

"I just want you to feel good." Claire murmured.

"I'm good." He lamely articulated.

Conscious of the contrary, Claire didn't lose heart and advanced a new offer. "What about under your nipple? Even your tank tops would cove-"

Chris's hazel eyes flew open, casting fiery lightnings all around. With a loud lapping, his hands emerged and gripped onto her shoulders.

"We must not leave traces, Claire!" Chris exclaimed through gritted teeth, digging the pads of his thumbs in the thin, tender flesh that enveloped the delicate clavicles of the girl and lightly rocked her as to awaken her from the sleep of the reason. Obviously Claire wasn't reasoning in that moment! Oh no no no, she was playing up again! The little girl!

Claire was left speechless by such an unexpected reaction. Only her big blue eyes tried to convey the bewilderment and the rising pain his tightening grip caused her.

"They already sussed the switch, how fucking many other secrets you want to go public, uh?" He continued. "Claire this is not a game!" he said, letting go of her shoulders to cage her head in his big hands, each one covering a half of her face.

He moved too swiftly, too angrily and Claire could only gasp and wince in pain as his forearm battered her sensitive nipple and badly squashed her tit.

For each second she stayed with her eyelids wringed not to hiss in pain, Chris died a little more inside. His touch on her immediately relented and his hands now held her as though she was made of finest crystal. Chris knew even too well how painful female breasts can be when hurt and he made haste to palpate them with delicacy, susurrating his apologies like a broken record.

He had hurt her. He fucking had got to hurt her! Damn him, his muscles, his force and his fears!

He couldn't stand it.

He had to be her almighty titan, a young Atlas able to lift the whole world for the woman who lifted him with her cherry lips, sapphire eyes, blinding smile, lovely voice. But he was only a boy. He couldn't get to accomplish such mythological deeds, he couldn't lift the vault of heaven on his shoulders for real. But he could lift her with the only strength nature had bestowed upon him: his brawns. So he did.

With a loud clangour of sloshing water – fuck the silence, fuck the noise, fuck his parents – he stood up on his knees and pinned her against the wall of the bathtub again, holding her tight. He dove his face into her bosom and kissed both her meaty breasts to erase her pain and to placate his alert and guilt. He almost curled into her cleavage like a child to his mother, seeking protection, comfort. Forgiveness. And she allowed him anything of what he needed and more.

"I didn't mean to…" He dejectedly murmured. "Forgive me."

"No worries, baby." She soothed. "You didn't do it on purpose. It's fine."

"I'm scared, Claire." He muttered inside the soft, wet deep cleft between her boobs, as he gyrated his face into it to graze her skin with his stubbled cheeks.

"Tell me."

"I don't want them to find out about us." He whimpered.

He raised his head from her bosom and kissed her on the lips with desperation as to fuse with her again, until both ran out of air. With their eyes closed, she grabbed his head and gently pulled it down until their foreheads joined.

"I know baby. I can read your mind just as you can read inside mine." She whispered. "I know today scared you but, trust me, no one will ever discover unless we make them."

Claire was never meant to be the good-with-words sibling. She couldn't placate the mind of the older, more experienced brother with her mere words – as it had always been the other way round. But her body… her body could. By diving into her, his mind had always re-emerged purified, relented, numbed, calm. Every time. She was his reliever. His safe harbour.

Claire was there. In his arms, under his palms, in his mouth.

No one was bringing her away from him. Then why this time did he fail to relegate in the back of his brain the memory of a day that still had the taste of an alarming close call? He had just had sex! It had always worked, why wasn't it working now? Why was the relief so feeble? Why did he felt he hadn't had enough of her? Was it because of the missing foreplay? Hadn't the intercourse lasted long enough?

Claire caged his lower lip in her teeth and he wanted her to fucking bite him and suck all his grief away, like a vampire. He wanted to feel pain and encourage her to hit and bite him more. He needed it, so he could roar his frustration out until he was utterly empty. He wanted smash some more fists onto the punching bag till his muscles begged for mercy, but he was stuck in the middle of the night and he had to make no damn noise.

"Sleep with me tonight, baby." Claire whispered, as though she'd read his mind for real.

His faint smile couldn't thank her enough. So he kissed her again and nodded. He was quivering. For the cold on his wet skin, the weariness in his brain, the strain of his muscles, the terror in his heart. Before placing her down, he mouthed his condemnation against her lips, silently, unseen by her, unexpected by Fate.

I love you.

That's all the mattered at the end of the day.

I tried to keep it short. And I failed.

P.S. In this AU Christopher Redfield starts wearing turtleneck shirts only in his forties u.u. As it should be. If it HAS TO be.