Chapter 5

I put my hand shakily in his; his fingers closed around mine, the contact sending shock waves through my whole frame. In one deft movement, I was wrapped securely against Wesker's chest; his arms holding me gently.

'What am I doing? Why am I letting him touch me?' My inner voice screamed indignantly. 'What was it earlier that clicked in my head? I can't think...his smell...his smell!' I'd watched something on the Discovery Channel once, about animal breeding; how their glands worked to attract a mate, and how much a factor smell was to them when choosing the right mate. There was only one thing wrong with that assumption; Wesker was not right for me, or anyone.

I wrapped my arms up around him, returning the embrace and turning my cheek against his chest. I could hear his heart racing inside his chest. The thumping seemed to increase impossibly as I lightly ran my nails down his shoulders. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted me.

Wesker had always been forward when dealing with me; never mincing words.

"You smell amazing." He stated, breathing deeply against the top of my head. Wesker's fingers caught my chin, and pulled my face up gently to meet his eyes. "Please."

His thumb traced along my bottom lip, and he leaned his face towards my own. My breath caught in my throat, and suddenly, I blurted, "Why do I get dizzy whenever I smell you?"

Wesker pulled back, frowning in thought. "I don't know. Interesting reaction. What else does my scent do to you?" We turned in slow, easy circles in time with the music, his hands roving down my mostly exposed back. I swallowed, and bit my tongue to suppress a moan.

"Well, sometimes I forget to breathe."

"Like now?"

"Yeah, like now." His face was inches from my own, and I sucked in air hungrily, reeling from his proximity.

"What else?" He whispered, pulling his face beside my own. Wesker's breath tickled past my ear, sending a chill rushing down my spine.

"Hot, cold, shaky. All at once."

This was better than he had expected. He smiled, an evil and predatory twist of his lips that bespoke of victory, sweet-on-your-tongue victory. Better that his face was beside hers; she wouldn't have liked that smile much. His tongue snaked out, catching her earlobe, and he followed it quickly with his teeth, nipping at her ear playfully. Claire's fingers curled over his back, clenching against his flesh beneath the thin fabric of his undershirt. Her breathing came in short, fast gulps, and it seemed that she went limp against him for a moment, before pulling her spine to ram-rod attention. Wesker's fingers traced over her hour glass figure lightly, seeking to ease the line that her body seemed intent on carrying.

"Don't fight it. I need you safe, here, willing. It's not safe for you outside of these walls." Wesker said, his eyes suddenly boring into hers. He watched her shudder at the harshness of his words, saw the confusion etched on her face.

"Not safe? What are you talking about? I'm not safe here, with you." Claire struck out, pulling back, trying to break free of his hold. He was unyielding.

"There are forces lining up right now, people who wish to have you dead. They have the resources, the money and connections. I need you alive, dear heart. You were made for me." Wesker's fingers pulled her hair loose deftly, the thick mass falling around her shoulders and cascading down her back. He groaned, running his digits through her silky sable strands.

Claire looked confused. "Who wants me dead?"

"I was hired to kill you." She balked outwardly at that. "Which I have no intention of doing."

"Why not?" The question was simple; but he didn't have a simple answer for her.

"Dear heart. I tire of these questions. Can't we leave well enough alone?" His brow came down in a scowl as he kissed the tip of her nose.

The music came to a graceful close, and Wesker grabbed Claire's hand in his own, bringing his other to rest at the small of her back, and dipped her low. Their noses were touching, lips seconds away.

Her lips touched his; and he felt his eyes widen in surprise. Claire had kissed him first. Hungrily, he slammed his mouth down on hers, invading, conquering. His fingers stumbled over the stays on her dress, finally sliding them apart. Wesker growled, kissing her neckline, pulling her spaghetti straps down off her shoulders. Her scent was intoxicating; clean and floral.

Claire's hands roved over his back, her nails digging into his flesh lightly, and he moaned aloud at the lightning bolts of pleasure snaking through his tall frame. He couldn't stand the suspense any longer; the bulge in his pants was becoming unbearably tight.

In one quick, deft movement, he picked Claire up off her feet, bride style, and strode to his huge four-poster bed, never breaking eye contact with her. Her eyes were becoming that electric shade of violet-gray that he was beginning to adore; huh....adore. What exactly were these feelings? Wesker had never been in love, didn't believe in love, and yet here he was, noticing a gorgeous woman's eyes of all things when she was half naked and in his arms. Maybe he really had died; although the way his heart was racing in his chest, he highly doubted it.

He could like her, there were no rules on that. Love her? That could get complicated. He shoved those thoughts aside, for his later perusal. There were more important tasks at hand.

Gingerly, he laid her down on his black comforter, following her body with his own; covering her in gently nips and kisses. As his tongue traced the curve of her collar bone, his hands busied themselves with removing her dress; a task that seemed nigh impossible to his suddenly clumsy fingers. With an impatient grunt, he ripped the silk fabric down the front, making Claire gasp. His mouth found her little pink nipple, and he gave it a playful nip before moving downward, his tongue roving down her ribcage, across the flat plains of her stomach, ever lower. One more tear, and the dress that he had bought her earlier in the day was in total shambles.

She was moaning, panting, making cute little squealing noises that sent his heart hammering ever faster. He licked her hairless slit, and she bucked unexpectedly beneath him. His tongue and fingers delved deeper into her sweet warmth, his other free hand massaging her breast, his thumb grazing over her hard nipple. Claire groaned shrilly; her fingers now running along his scalp, her ankles resting over his shoulders.

When I came, it was hard, gut-wrenching. I cried out, nearly screaming his name. Wesker didn't wait, he hurriedly fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing his erection in such a rush. Slamming his hips forward, he buried his hardness home; to the hilt. My pelvis felt bruised; I did scream this time, but not his name; no this time all I managed to get out was, "Fuuuuchk!" He felt enormous inside of me, I felt as if I might fall apart at the seams from the shock waves of each powerful thrust.

"Like that?! Hmm?" His breathless words came close to my ear, and my head lolled back on the pillow helplessly, the strangled moan that escaped my lips his only answer; the only answer I could articulate. Our bodies rocked together wildly; seemingly without rhythm. My breathing became so labored, that I began to feel faint; and I felt another wave of euphoria hit me like a mack truck. I clung to him, my climax making me arch my back and dig my nails into Wesker's back. Two more thrusts into my quivering sex sent him teetering over the edge, and I felt his hot seed spilling into me.

When our breathing had calmed, Wesker pulled himself onto his elbows to look down into my eyes. Our bodies were still intimately cradling each other's, and he smiled contentedly before kissing my lips hungrily. The look in his red-tinted amber eyes told me that this night was just beginning; and my theory was proved right when I felt him hardening again inside of me.

Magnificent. Utterly magnificent. Wesker moved a stray lock of her hair off of Claire's sleeping visage, her breath fanning across his arm. Her back was lined up against his chest, knees slightly bent forward, and her hand rested lightly on his forearm. He guessed the time to be somewhere around three am, and while he had work to do, he couldn't bring himself to disturb her by moving. Besides that, she felt good there. Closing his eyes, he decided to let himself sleep; it wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let his body heal from the torrid, bruising sex that he and Claire had just had. Not once, but four times he had taken her, hungrily, roughly. She had finally put a stop to it when he had made her bleed. The memory of the blood-smell came rushing back to him, making him hard again.

He hadn't wanted to stop, but knew that if he didn't, he could have seriously hurt her, and his chances of procreating. Wesker's hand rubbed her flat stomach, hoping feverently that his seed had taken inside of her. The timing was crucial; and he'd hate to have to resort to creating a child from a test tube. That had never seemed right to him; the idea of his progeny not being born as he had. Call it sentimentalism.

Wesker drifted in a half-sleep; never really going under, but not staying fully aware. This was the most he had ever let his guard down in...well, years. It felt good. It felt right.