Yes, this is the chapter we've all been waiting for. We were hesitant about the needed tagging. Is it dubcon or noncon? The line is very thin for such a delicate subject. We hope you will forgive us if we chose the wrong tag for it, but just so you know what you're about to read, we added the non-con tag to the story.
Please don't hate us. We still hope you enjoy.
We love you.
TRS
Like Brother and Sister
You know what comes next, don't you? Oh, please, don't look at me like you haven't been waiting for this part, when I know perfectly that it has been itching along your spine since the beginning of this story. It's the reason why we're here; my personal climax of shame. I'm still not sure how it all happened and why I didn't take better care. Only two days after the scandal, Neil was officially declared Director of Terra Save and I became the Chief of Operations. We had so much work to do that I, dunno… Forgot about the pictures? No, of course not. I couldn't have forgotten about them, but I found it too risky to tear and cut them and throw them away. The fear that someone could find them and take the time to piece them back together didn't let me go. I know it's irrational, that nobody would do that, but I wouldn't feel safe until they were dipped in acid and burnt afterwards.
I believed I would find the right time to do it later that week, so I left the envelope in my handbag, always carrying the heavy evidence with me.
That's how it ended up on the floor of Chris' car that fateful Friday morning.
"Take your foot off the brake you idiot, some people have a job to do!"
Claire's head dropped against the side window of the passenger seat, slightly annoyed. Chris had spent the previous thirty minutes honking and shouting all kinds of insults at the other drivers, as though it would magically resolve the stop-and-go traffic congestion, and he still didn't stop. "My granny drives faster than you!"
Admittedly, that was probably true. Their grandmother wasn't driving anything anywhere anymore, but she'd indeed once held the local record for speeding tickets in her neighborhood. Claire wouldn't tell him, but Chris had a lot in common with their granny when he sat behind a steering wheel.
"It's okay, Chris," she said and turned to her brother, whose agitated fuming made her fear he'd explode.
"It's not okay, Claire. You're late! Someone in your position shouldn't be late for work."
She laughed.
"I was late before we left," she replied and scratched her lifted eyebrow. "And I agree that I shouldn't be late, but people in my position need to sleep, too. Also, better late than dead."
Her brother's jaw rolled into a soft pout. Reluctantly, he fulfilled her wish and stopped rambling in the unpromising situation.
"Thanks for the ride, by the way," Claire said for the twentieth time that morning and made her brother chuckle.
"It's okay," he shrugged. "You've been doing the cooking, the cleaning and the laundry. I can take you to work."
Yes, it was almost like in her teenage days again, when Chris had used to bring home the paycheck while she took care of the household, with the difference that she was now making her own humble money and that the household she had to take care of now had shrunk to a meaningless apartment with only one real bed to make in the morning.
"Speaking of cooking, I'm not sure when I'll be home tonight," she said with a disappointed twitch of her lip. "Neil wants to introduce me to all the details of the department and I'm not sure how long it'll take us. I allow you to order pizza."
Chris grunted, swiftly pulling the wheel into the right direction.
"I don't like that guy for you, Claire."
Satisfaction drew a grin onto her mouth. A part of her loved to hear her brother complain about the possibilities of another man in her life, but his educated guess about whom he was supposed to hate wasn't correct. She laughed.
"He's just my boss, Chris," she exclaimed, eyebrows arched into a chiding expression. "There's nothing about him you have to like for me."
He shrugged again, smiling as the traffic seemed to decongest.
"I just find it hard to believe that someone wants to spend his Friday night with you if his intentions are strictly professional." He accelerated, turning their ride into a dangerous adventure when he turned his head to his sister. "Just saying. Be careful, okay?"
He wasn't wrong, and Claire was aware that Neil's intention went beyond mere professionalism, but there was no point in filling her brother with concern, especially if she wasn't interested in ever giving in to her boss's not-so-subtle flirting attempts. She turned to Chris' beautiful face, easily drowning in the blue of his eyes, and so absorbed by his attention that she barely saw the imminent crash coming.
"Chris! Watch out!"
The tires squealed when Chris hit the brakes. Claire grabbed the handle of the door and the seatbelt for support while her brother held on to the wheel, both successfully stopped from being smashed into the windshield, but Chris momentarily lost control over the car, letting it draw half a snakeline before coming to stop only inches from the vehicle in front of them. Claire's handbag landed on the floor with a loud clunk, keys and phone jumping across the floor, and she was happy she had discarded the idea of grabbing takeaway coffee. As they drowned in the sound of the honking cars around them, Chris began to scratch the back of his head shyly.
"Sorry," he muttered, his ashamed eyes turning to his sister, at which Claire just shrugged amusedly.
"As I said," she laughed, relaxing in the seat again. "Alive is more important than on time."
Neil hadn't given up easily. Even though she had tried to make him understand, in all possible ways, that she wasn't interested in a romantic and/or physical relationship with a coworker, he had kept making his exaggerated compliments about her, her work, her hair and the way she held her pen. He'd even brought a bottle of wine to their meeting, which had led them to pair the reading of reports and budgets with a dangerous amount of alcohol, without having dinner first. It made it hard for Claire to dodge some of Neil's persistent flirting attempts and to cut his extensive staring. She blamed herself for agreeing to his Friday night plan, and she was relieved that she got home unkissed.
All the lights were out when she pushed the door open and walked into the apartment Chris and she were sharing, perplexed to find it in darkness. Her brother didn't have a better place to be on a Friday night and she assumed he had dozed off on the couch, although the already common sensation that something was wrong increased with every step she walked.
"Chris?" She called without receiving an answer. After tossing the keys onto the shelf next to the door, she dashed hastily into the living room. "Chris?"
The small lamp in the opposite corner of the room was turned on and startled her. When she turned, she found her brother sitting in the armchair next to the couch, the light throwing sinister shadows onto his figure. The expression on his face was loaded with negativity and caused her to shake in fear as her hand curled tightly around the strap of her handbag.
"Chris, goddamnit, you startled me. What are you doing there?" she asked, voice shaken with anxiety and eyes firmly set on her brother's face. Chris didn't respond. He kept staring at her as though she was the devil himself, and it impaired her in a way she had never believed to be possible. Her eyes found the glass in his hand, where the last drops of liquor were waiting for him to gulp them down. "How much of this did you have?"
To be honest, she was in no position to judge anyone for drinking too much, tumbling from one foot to the other, and searching the support of the wall too often. Chris huffed out a laugh, his face distorted by anger and desperation.
"Don't act like you worry about me," he slurred in careless utterance, the words leaving his mouth in slow and wet mumbles as he hefted his weight to his feet. Once on his trembling legs, he walked over to her with the slow moves of a predator and the grunt of an animal.
"What are you talking about?" Her question, meant to sound firm and unwavering, came out as a mere whining. He was scaring her; he had to know it; but the liquid arrogance he had poured into himself seemed to feast on every hint of fear in her, growing bigger as she turned tiny and unimportant. Claire kept steady, though, even when her knees weakened and her breath was shaky, and she didn't flinch until Chris grabbed her neck, forcing her to look down onto the table. There, next to a couple of empty bottles and buried under an overflowing ashtray, lay the proof of her unworthiness, in the shape of the envelope that contained her worst sin, with all the copies of the pictures of the motel parking lot, the black car, Albert Wesker and herself. It was, doubtlessly, the envelope she had received from Richardson, and only one question spun in her head.
"How did you...?"
Chris huffed out a laugh as his fingers around her neck tightened, enforced by the hatefulness of the betrayed.
"Does it matter?" There was so much anger in his voice, the tone distorted by the burning sting of sorrow in the throat. Claire whimpered softly, watching him through the hazy curtain of tears. This was what she had tried to avoid when she'd sold her dignity to that goddamn journalist, to save Chris the disappointment and the feeling of abandonment. She'd done it for nothing, obviously, and now her brother was so full of doubt and questions, so broken and confused. A tear rolled down her cheek, brushing the corner of her shaking lips as she tried to gasp out an apology.
"Chris, I…"
"Were you fucking my captain, Claire?" Chris blew his whiskey-loaded breath into her face as he stabbed her with the question. Her eyes turned to meet his in a gaze full of hatred from his side. "Were you fucking the man who betrayed us and killed our friends? The man who ruined our entire lives?" His voice grew louder with every word until Claire couldn't stand it anymore and just turned her head away, but Chris slammed his palm against the wall next to her and made her look jump back to his face. "The man who took Jill from me?"
He sounded broken, like a man who had lost his trust in the world and humanity, a man who had found out that his sister had shared a bed with the enemy. There was no point in denying it, was there? What other explanation did she have for a meeting with Wesker in a motel, and for keeping it a secret from her brother for ten years?
"It's not what you think," Claire whispered and tried to catch his hand with her fingers, but he pulled it back.
"So?" He laughed, his voice filled with pure malice as his hands grabbed the envelope and the pictures. "Then tell me, Claire, what am I thinking? Because I can't come up with a good explanation for this." He tossed the papers back onto the table and began to stomp through the area, kicking a couple of chairs on his way before he turned back to her. "I know I was not a good substitute for our parents, Claire but I thought I had taught you enough decency."
Her glance jumped up to him in scarring urgency.
"No, Chris! No!" She yelled, taking a step towards him. "It's definitely not what..."
"How long did that go, Claire?" He shouted into the night, unwilling to let her solace him. "Did you continue after Raccoon City?"
"What? No!" she yelled the ache out, searching hopelessly for a hint of understanding in him.
"Was he the one who brought you to France?" Chris kept raging, his face flushed red with anger.
"Chris! Stop!"
But he didn't stop. He ranted and spun around and threw the glass against the lamp, sending it shattering to the floor. In darkness again, he turned back to her.
"Did you sell Jill to him?"
A loud clap rolled through the room as her fingers hit his cheek. It happened before she could think about it, as a reflex to the hardest words he'd ever given her. They stood still for a while, Claire staring incredulously at her shaking hand; Chris at the floor; both seemingly waiting for the other to react.
"I'm sorry, Chris." Claire was the one who broke the silence, whimpering as she pulled her numb hand down with the other one. "But you're wrong. I haven't seen him since Antarctica and that… thing we had..." Her words were covered by the sobs. "That was over before I went to college. And I would never do anything that would harm you, Chris." She shook her head and looked at him, shyly, begging him for understanding, for forgiveness, for love. "I'm sorry."
She watched his heavy chest rise and lower under his breath, the dim city lights that had entered the window to keep them company casting a thin glimmery outline around his form. He slowly began to move.
"Why, Claire?" He murmured, calm now, and facing her again. "Why him?"
Because he had been the only one capable enough to discover a secret she had kept for years, the one who had been casually around when she'd succumbed to her own longing in a public garden.
"Because…" She breathed, trying to find a better explanation for the absurd behavior of the naive teenager she had once been. "He… I thought he would harm you."
Chris shook his head, his attitude calm and peaceful now.
"Harm me? How? Why?" His trembling fingers crawled up her arms and to her shoulders. "What did he do to you, Claire? Why didn't you tell me?" She grasped his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back, gasped lovingly and asked again. "If you were in trouble, I could've helped you. Why, Claire?"
She believed she'd choke on her own sobs, drown in the running tears that covered her face and die right in front of him. The back of her hand was wet when she used it to wipe her cheeks.
"I couldn't let you know." She squeezed his hand harder as she spoke. "I didn't want you to find out about..."
Chris grunted, panic growing in his voice.
"About what?"
She looked up with caution, trying not to scare him with her innocent, fragile look and the words that were about to escape, because there was no way to stop them now. They were tied too tightly to the reality of her past with Albert Wesker, and even though she tried, the truth bubbled out automatically and harshly
"That I love you."
Chris blinked. Silence followed. Confusion was written all over his face and Claire wasn't sure if he didn't understand or if he didn't want to understand. He laughed incredulously.
"So what? I'm your brother." But her look told him that he was much more than that. As Claire locked eyes with him, he understood everything, but yet, he didn't believe. "But… I'm your brother."
Heavy with shame, her look dropped to the ground. "See why I couldn't tell you?"
Chris stepped back in shock, breathing flatly as he turned to the table to take a cigarette and light it, asking the nicotine to calm his unease. It didn't work, though, and after only two useless drags, he spun back to his sister, driven by a passionate fury.
"Claire, goddamnit, do you even understand what you're saying?" The cigarette gleamed brightly when he took another drag, and it drew glowing lines in the night as he began to gesture fervently. "That's crazy."
Chris danced across the room with all this disappointment and commotion, wrapped in so many unstable emotions that it seemed to shake him physically. The image of his suffering pushed Claire to speak.
"I know it is," she shouted and waited for Chris to stop moving. "I always knew it was crazy, Chris, that's why I never wanted anyone to find out. I never spoke about it."
Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, her brother clicked his tongue in a ridiculing manner.
"Then how did he find out?"
How had Wesker found out about her weakness? How had he discovered the key to break them both? How…? Claire began to stutter out nonsense, until she found the way to tell her story.
"You brought me to that RPD party in 1997. You disappeared with Jill onto some balcony," she muttered quietly and bit her lip, the pause involuntary adding suspense to their talk, as Chris' face of terror suggested that he remembered that particular night and his doing on the balcony. "I watched you from the darkness of the gardens below when Wesker found me." She made another pause and took a deep breath. "Touching myself."
"Claire!" Chris yelped grimacing and turned away, raising his hands to his head. "That's insane."
"It is!" The redhead screamed as she stepped after him. "But I'm not, Chris. I know perfectly that it was wrong, that I shouldn't be feeling what I am feeling and that it's not right. That was the only time I did… such a stupid thing."
It was evident that Chris was trying hard to fathom all the new information, avoiding her glance when he began to fidget from one foot to the other, choosing the frantic moves of an ecstasy of cocaine. He eventually shook his head at her.
"Did I…" He cleared his throat, his nervous look jumping across the room, still not turning back to her. "Did I ever say or do anything," he mumbled and finally looked up at her, "that made you think there were any chances…?"
"No!" Claire took another step forward, causing her ponytail to jump a little, but her brother pulled away quickly when a thought dawned on him.
"Oh my god," he whispered, a little disgustedly, wiping off an imaginary layer of sweat with the back of his hand. "I took you to your prom."
His reaction to the memory of her prom night felt like someone ripped her heart out. How could he regret something that had made her feel so happy once? Wiping away the tears of unrequited love, she took a breath and looked back at him.
"Chris, you never did anything wrong," she said in a broken voice and he slowly put his hands down. "Look, I know this sounds sick. I don't know exactly where these feelings come from, Chris, but I have always been aware that it was wrong." She pushed her fist into her palm, starting to knead it out of pure nervousness. "I never meant to make this go anywhere."
Claire tried hard to hold back the tears, but was rather unsuccessful. Hadn't she always done everything to avoid this situation? Had she known she would fail so miserably; she would have prepared her speech.
"I tried to forget you. God knows I tried." She sobbed. "I met other people, thinking that I would find the one that would cut me free from you, but every single one of them just made my longing more intense." She grabbed a cigarette and lit it before pushing the pack over the surface, sending it sliding back to Chris. "And I still had hope, you know? Hope that I would, someday, forget you." Claire closed her eyes momentarily as she hit her palm against her forehead and laughed. "Leon. Leon and I could have been something, but Leon is too screwed himself to help me get out of this. What a pity. He's such a good guy. Caring, funny, and oh." Her eyeballs seemed to want to roll back into her head as she spoke of her friend. "A rocket in bed."
Chris' face was still turned away, but she could clearly see the shimmer of disgust on his features, and the gesture made Claire laugh.
"It's weird, huh?" She hit her both hands onto the table to assure she had her brother's full attention. "To hear how much he enjoys fucking my ass? I know it, Chris, because while Jill was living with us, I heard you two. Every. Single. Night." She huffed out a laugh. "Jill was something. All boobs and legs and ass. And she was always horny, wasn't she? Must have been hard to know that you weren't the only one in the RPD who was giving it to her."
Chris shook his head, pressing his palms onto his ears to cut her voice.
"Stop!" he yelled, but she didn't stop.
"I mean, it was a little suspicious that she broke up with you as soon as her apartment was ready. If she didn't want anything serious with a coworker, why did she get involved with you in the first place, right?" Claire shook her head at the thought. "But who cares. She was Jill Valentine and she could do whatever she wanted and fuck whoever she wanted. Because Jill was perfect, right?"
Chris got up, his face a mask of anger and frustration, unwilling to keep listening to his sister's hidden thoughts about the woman he'd loved so much. Claire didn't know when she'd harvested all that evil inside of her, but she suddenly wanted to punish him for all the pain he had unconsciously sent her through.
"Shut the fuck up!"
She did. Not only because she believed she'd said enough, but because her heart was beating so fiercely that she was running out of breath. Their gazes met in the veiling hint of darkness that emerged from the corners of the room and, hidden from the outside, Claire found the strength to speak, leaving the regret and hatred aside.
"It hurt so much to see you with her, Chris, but I always supported you and never ever complained. I knew that you were meant to be with Jill and I wanted you two to be happy." She took a drag and exhaled the smoke afterwards. "Yes, I let Wesker manipulate me. I was young and stupid and I was afraid, Chris. I was afraid of your rejection. I was afraid you'd be disappointed, but I never let him hurt you or someone you loved. I would have confessed everything before letting that happen. There's nothing you can blame me for, Chris." She threw the cigarette into the ashtray, wiped away her tears and stared at her brother, caught between anger and fear. "Just the opposite, because I carried all those miserable feelings alone, and I had no one; no one, Chris; to talk to."
She saw something break inside of her brother, and it hurt her more than it hurt him. Chris suffered because of her feelings and it killed her to know what he was going through because of her. She saw the guilt on his face, blossoming beneath the question where everything had gone wrong. What he didn't know was there was no such point, that nothing had really gone wrong. It was simple; she was in love, the purest and deepest love ever felt, something so strong and devoted that every second of happiness was worth decades of suffering. All those years she had tried to hide her emotions, her jealousy; not to save herself, but him.
It was obvious that she had failed, because Chris started crying in front of her, drowning in his own failure.
"There's nothing I can do right," he muttered, stumbling to the side. He would have fallen, hadn't Claire been quick in her reaction, holding him on his feet. The move reminded her of the night when she'd picked him up beside the canyon in Hungary, and she felt her blood rush into her cheeks when the picture of his naked self came back to her, as though she was allowed to fantasize freely now that the truth was out. Her hand stretched over his chest as she held him, turning her face up slowly.
"This is not your fault, Chris," she whispered, a little too sensually, still captivated by the memory of his body in the moonlight. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing."
She had expected him to push her away, just like her darkest nightmares had always shown, but Chris was stronger than any nightmare, unpredictable in his goodness, and too drunk to really make a decent choice. His head dropped, bringing his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips and the weight of his guilt on her own shoulders. He was so lost, so broken and confused and so, so drunk, and Claire couldn't stand the fact that it was because of her, when all she wanted was to see him happy, to take all his suffering and to love him.
To love him.
"I love you," she heard the words stumble out and crash into his face, and Chris barely flinched at the sound of them. She put her hand onto his moist cheek and repeated, "I love you."
And she pressed a kiss to his mouth.
It held the innocent essence of her love, just a promise that she hadn't taken more damage than she could endure, and that she was grateful for everything he had done for her throughout the years. It wasn't meant to be more than that, with both of them holding their eyes wide open as their lips touched, so shyly it could hardly be called a kiss, but even the gentle brush of Chris' mouth on hers felt better than she had ever imagined. Enlightening and fresh; warm and gentle. She gasped shortly into his mouth and pulled back.
They hadn't moved, his gaze turning away when she sunk from her tiptoes back to her heels, but he didn't push her away, he didn't yell nor run. Claire's hand remained on his cheek, softly stroking the stubble that covered it. He had let her kiss him— on the lips— and just now she felt how loudly her heart was hammering in her chest.
He wasn't running. He had let her kiss him and he wasn't running. The pressure in her veins grew uncontrollable, and the question if he would let her do it again swelled inside her with hope and desire. Incurable eagerness rushed through her hands when she turned his face a little closer to hers and inspected his reaction. She felt him swallow, and after taking another deep breath, Claire brought her lips to his again. This time, though, Chris pulled back and squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head away.
"Claire?" he asked, shivering. "What are you doing? I'm your brother."
Her brother, yes. Her loving brother who had always wanted the best for her, who had always tried to protect her, to give her what she wanted. Why would he now deny her what she really wanted? Her lip shook into a smile as they followed his mouth like a shadow, until they were united again, melting, this time, into a real kiss, timid and nervous, underlined by Chris' heavy breathing. He could have stopped her, throwing her off, pushing her away; it would have been easy for a big guy like him; but he didn't. He didn't, but Claire did. Driven by a newborn lust, she shoved him down onto the closest chair and climbed onto his lap.
"Claire, please," he tried to rage but barely whispered. "Stop it. Don't."
She blew out a breath.
"I can't, Chris." She leaned in to kiss him again, cradling his head in her hands before they descended to explore his body, that unbreakable shell that protected the fragile soul below. "I want to show you." She placed another kiss onto his mouth. "Please."
That strong body began to shiver under her. Caught between aversion and the inability to act the drunkenness caused, he remained immobile when his sister slung her arms around his shoulders and let her mouth hover over his, from one corner to the other.
"Claire, you're my sister. My fucking baby sister," he cried, and he actually cried. Claire held his face as she felt the tears flood his cheeks again. "I can't let you do this."
His hands rested on her hips as she watched his face, thumbing his tears away. She wanted to ease his pain and just hold him, lull him to sleep and leave him resting, but something inside her knew that he didn't deserve any half-hearted love. He deserved it all.
"I love you." She kissed his tears away as her own rolled down her cheeks and melted into his. Chris struggled, the grip around her thighs tightening. He tried to push her away, a little too roughly, a little too aggressively, and yet, too gently to stop her. Claire pulled away and reached for the collar of her shirt. Her face wet with tears, she undid button after button as Chris tried to move his head away, but she briefly interrupted the stripping, put her fingers onto his chin and turned him back to face her. "Look at me," she pleaded. "Don't look away. I am a woman, too."
Chris clenched his teeth and blinked. His pupils were widened, eyes looking glassy and distant, and Claire wondered if it was due to drunkenness or to astonishment. Probably both. She smiled. After removing her shirt and throwing it to the floor, she began to pull down the straps of her bra, inch after inch. The shiver in Chris' hands electrified her whole body as she took the garment off and let him have a look at her bare breasts, challenging him to touch them. His tongue darted out and moistened his shaking lips. He was watching her, studying and memorizing her every motion, shyly trying not to stare directly at her exposed bosom. As strong as he was, as beautifully determined, now he was as malleable as warm wax in her hands and knowing that he wouldn't move, Claire took his hand and guided it to her left breast. Chris nearly cried out as his palm touched the round softness of her skin.
"Claire." His voice was low, his breath moist as he spoke her name, lifelessly. He was peeling his former self off, unconsciously offering everything that was underneath to her. "Don't."
She slung her naked arms around his neck and kissed him as he slowly began to massage her breast. He was still trying; silently making plans to get out of the situation unharmed, but he wasn't going to stop her. Oh, no. He just sat there and watched and didn't do anything when his sister reached down for his belt and zipper. With her eyes set on his, so tightly she could almost see the darkness inside of him, she pushed her hand into his pants. He flinched a little when her fingers curled around his dick; warm and soft; and began to stroke him.
What was he afraid of? At this point of the story he should already know that he wouldn't break her. Claire kept stroking, caressing him with skilled turns of her wrist as she lowered her mouth to his again.
"I can't, Claire," he cried against her lips, with anger lying underneath his words, before he gently kissed her back. "I can't do this."
No, he couldn't. Claire smiled, her face in tears. He couldn't do it. Her tongue licked freely over his lips until he opened his mouth to her and she savored him completely. He tasted so good underneath the layer of whiskey and cigarettes, like a forbidden fruit she didn't want to resist anymore. Her tongue dove into his cavity, ready to consume him entirely as her hand kept rubbing him, giving his dick one determined stroke after another. Their kiss was endless, it seemed; endless, wet and hot. Willingly or not, Chris responded to her attack, stroking her tongue with his and sucking on her mouth as if he could absorb her, and she cherished every moment of it. Agile fingers kept playing, working on him in hope he would react. The temperature between her thighs was boiling, but Chris' body responded only slowly to her fondling. She broke the kiss and smiled a little as he bent forth and opened his mouth, searching for hers in despair. One hand on his chest, she climbed off his lap and pulled her own pants down, peeling them off her milky thighs. And finally, finally, she saw something shift on his face — and in his pants. Only in her panties, Claire sat back on him again, straddling him, face to face, ready to let him know her a little better — and more deeply.
Chris yelped when Claire pushed his hand into her underwear, but he palpated her heat with need, digging two desirous fingers into her wetness, and his dick twitched playfully. Claire laughed a little when she felt his body work and she caressed him harder, pulling him out of the protection of his pants and boxer briefs. Chris dropped his head so he wouldn't have to stand her gaze as she wetted her hands with her juices and smeared them all over the tip of his dick. She kissed him again, cupping his jaw in her wet palms and turning his face to her.
"Please, Chris," she whined into his mouth. "Your body wants me." She stroked his growing erection as his hands slid carefully over the soft skin on her abdomen. He felt so good on her, so caring and loving. "I want you. I love you. Make me yours, please."
He was hard and he was crying, and she couldn't have loved him more. He shook his head at her.
"This is crazy, Claire. You have to stop."
Well, it looked like he would have to kill her first. She had him so close; so open to her; that she couldn't simply stop. She would go on until she died either of pleasure or of pain.
It seemed there was no way she would survive this.
Claire kissed his cheek and lips again and slowly, slowly pushed her panties aside. Chris hooked his fingers into her hips a little tighter, and as one hand pulled her closer, the other one seemed to shove her away. The redhead licked over his mouth and Chris caught her tongue between his teeth for one second. She grabbed his cock again and he moaned into her mouth, darkly and suffering, until he released her tongue and she thumbed over his lips with her left hand. Her right one, in the meantime, held him up as she slowly impaled herself on him.
Their moans merged into one as he stretched her inners, and the farther she went down, the deeper Chris' nails dug into her flesh. Claire cried out, but kept lowering herself, sinking onto him until there was no more room inside. He had always been a part of her; and now he actually was, merging with her in their weakest spot. She sobbed against his chest at the revelation and, as if he felt her pain, too, his face turned and kissed her temple. They stayed like that for a moment, with Chris' hands on her ass and his dick buried inside her; and the sensation was more fulfilling than she could have ever dreamt.
"Touch me, Chris," she whispered into his ear as she began to move on him. Her creamy breasts stroked over his chest and shoulder as she embraced him delicately while rolling her hips. "I love you. Let me love you. Please, touch me."
It was the same favor she had asked Wesker the first time he had fucked her on the desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office, when she'd been thinking of Chris only. Wesker had been her willing lover, touching her in spots she hadn't even known she had, but her brother wasn't ready to use her like that and, even when inside of her, he was too good and righteous to just let it go. His quivering hands searched reluctantly for another place to stay on her body, until Claire herself took his hands and placed them onto her butt.
"There." Her words were followed by a soft moan. She arched her back, her head falling backwards and her breasts standing up higher, pointing directly at Chris' face. Her hands pushed him down against her chest, where he gently sucked on her left breast and nipple. She moaned and raked her fingers through his hair. And Chris began to move.
He had closed his eyes, keeping her out of his sight and thought; but, even so, she finally felt welcomed in his arms, under his touch and around his length. She bowed back to let his hands guide her up and down his shaft as Chris twirled his tongue over the sensitive skin between her breasts.
"Tell me…" she squealed as she shut her eyes, frightened of the words she was about to give him and the response she would receive. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"
She was crying for a love she wasn't meant to taste; a wish she shouldn't have been granted, but it was too late for any good thoughts. Claire clung to Chris as she sat upright again, riding him on that chair in the bright shine of the moon. As her eyes opened again, they met his in a dark, hungry gaze.
"I do."
She leaned over and sobbed desperately into the spot between his neck and shoulder as she pulled her knees up, her feet searching for support on the chair they were seated on. Holding on to his neck, Claire began to swing forth and back, pushing his dick into the deepest spots inside her. She was his; she had always been his; and she could finally show him how much she loved him by coming screaming around him.
Chris made a face as he watched her squeak; caught somewhere between lust and sadness, he ran his fingers up her back as she embraced him. Her fingernails scratched loudly over his shoulders; she bit him; she screamed and she kept moving, feeling the fear in him.
"Come for me, Chris," she whispered into his ear, as she kept sliding up and down his dick. He didn't want to finish, but not because he wanted it to last.
"Claire." His voice was sharp as he hissed, "I can't just come in you."
Her arms slung around his neck and held him tightly against her chest. She kissed his hair and kept moving. Yes, he could. He could fulfill her humble wish, come inside her and make her feel complete. She grabbed his face violently and pushed her tongue into his mouth, kissing him so hard that he nearly choked on her passion, and his arms looped around her waist, pulling her closer, allowing him to thrust deeper into her wet hole. Claire didn't let go of him. She would hold her lips on his until he would explode inside of her; until he would scream her name in pleasure and desire; until he would feel all the love she had for him.
Until he loved her.
And just as that thought crossed her mind, Chris finished, exploding inside her, hard and deeply, and he bit her lip as he did. He didn't scream, didn't moan. He breathed loudly and filled his mouth with her flesh as he shot his load into her inners, grabbing her tiny waist to ram her into him one last time, maybe two.
Silence spread between them; awkward, uncomfortable silence. After leaving her mouth, Chris turned his head away and looked down, away from the wanting eyes of his sister, and Claire wanted to ask him if he was okay, but the response was just too obvious. She wanted to talk about it and make sure he was alright, as she could nearly feel him crackle under her touch. She sobbed a little and shifted her weight onto her feet, letting Chris' already soft penis glide out of her as she got up. She stood in front of him, so many words spinning through her head, challenging her to pick the right ones to give him. A targeted hook of her finger was used to put her panties back in place, and she felt his hot seed pour out of her. She swallowed.
"Chris." Her voice was weak as the back of her fingers slid over his jaw. He flinched, so unaware of how much he hurt her with the gesture, and caused her to shy back. Just inches. "Will you come to bed with me?"
Chris frowned; that much she could see in the dark. He turned his face to her and stared, as if he was searching for something on her face; a response to the question what to do next. Claire's hand was still close to his face, fingertips tenderly hovering over his skin, until Chris blew out a breath and nodded once.
"Yes."
He staggered as he got up and Claire had to hold him, and just like that night in Hungary, she was carrying her older brother to bed, with the difference that she was the one who was naked this time, only in her panties and with her thighs wet with their love. Step after step, they walked into the bedroom of the shared apartment. She helped him undress, and it felt sensual and arousing to make him lift his hands and grab his shirt by the hem to pull it over his head. His chest was perfect. Everything on him was perfect, even when he had that piano charm dangling from his neck. Claire knelt down and undid his bootlaces right before Chris sunk onto the bed. Eyes closed, it looked like he had fallen asleep already, and she removed his boots and jerked his pants off his body in the most careful way. There he lay, only in his boxer briefs, and had her craving him, setting free all kinds of impure thoughts in her head. After climbing into the bed next to him and covering them both with the loose sheets, she watched his face. Moonlight and shadows drew a beautiful shimmer onto his features and Claire couldn't resist the temptation to touch him. She put her right hand onto his cheek and thumbed over his bottom lip until Chris opened his eyes. Claire smiled.
"I love you."
He didn't respond. He took a deep breath and reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. They fell asleep facing each other.
Everything was quiet in the room when Claire woke up, early in the morning, only covered to the hips with the thin sheet. Still sleepy, she reached to the other side of the bed, unconsciously searching for the heat of the body next to her, and she was wide awake as soon as she only felt the cold mattress under her touch. Claire licked over her lips as her eyes scanned the bedroom for the presence of her brother.
She swung her feet out of the bed. Chris' shirt was still on the floor where she had left it, but his pants and boots were gone. No sign of Chris, either. She rolled to the edge of the bed, got up and walked out of the bedroom, glimpsing into the bathroom and finding that he wasn't showering nor shaving. Before she turned into the living room, she called his name, hoping to hear his voice or any sound that would suggest he was there. But there was none.
She found Chris sitting in the living room, sitting in the armchair he had turned to face the window. He was awake, blinking, alive, but so absent that he didn't respond to her calls. Claire slowly walked through the area, fearing the goal almost as much as she wished to reach it. Chris didn't turn to her; he kept staring through the window onto the street. What time was it? The sun had barely risen, suggesting that it was still too early for the day to start.
"Chris?" she called again, in a softer voice this time. Claire put her hand onto his shoulders and he took a breath. "Hey."
Without responding to her, he turned his head to the shelf in the corner of the room, rolling the little piano charm on the gold chain between his fingers as though it was the last thing that kept him grounded. Blinking twice, he huffed out a dark laugh.
"He's staring at me," he said and Claire's gaze turned dark as she saw what it was he was pointing at. The picture of their parents on the shelf. "Dad. He's staring at me. And he's so mad, he…" He shook his lowered head. "Claire?"
She shivered at the sound of his voice, knowing that she wasn't going to like what he would say.
"Yes?"
"Did we have sex last night?"
His words stole her voice. Did he really need a confirmation? Did he remember it had been her or had he just come to that conclusion after seeing who he had woken up next to? It didn't matter, probably, because the outcome was the same. They had fucked. They were siblings and they'd had sex and Chris was so terrified by it that it frightened her. Claire couldn't give him more than a short, stuttered sigh, which was confirmation enough for Chris to jump onto his feet.
"Oh my god, Oh my god. This is… this is sick." He shoved her away from him and began to dash through the room. "How the fuck did you…? Oh my god."
"Chris." Claire tried to calm him down. "It's not…"
"It's not what, Claire?" He turned to face her, but his bloodshot eyes kept jumping around, avoiding the form of her. "Not that bad? Not important? Do you even understand what this is? What we are? Do you understand that we have the same mother and father and that people who share the same blood don't fuck, Claire? This is against nature, for God's sake." He shifted again and his eyes met his reflection in the mirror. "You. Couldn't keep your hands off…. Shit!" Chris' fist hit the mirror, causing it to shatter and the tiny shards of glass stung into his knuckles. Claire, willing to move and help him, was stopped by a violent gesture of his hand before Chris shoved the shards off as though they were nothing but a layer of dust. When he turned back to his sister, he found her shaking, afraid of the storm he had become. She had seen a lot of mutations, but none of them had ever horrified her as much as Chris did when succumbing to the wrath he wore inside.
"And you," he said pointing at her, with his eyes still turned away. "Get the fuck dressed."
His words caused Claire to cover herself shyly with her arms.
"Chris, I…"
Dropping back into the armchair, he raked his fingers through his hair and began to cry loudly.
"I was supposed to protect you, Claire," he sobbed. "And what have I done? I didn't even know you were in trouble because of Wesker. I dragged you into this bioterrorism shit and I didn't even see it."
Claire felt a knot in her throat.
"This is not your fault, Chris."
"So?" he glanced back at her, laughing darkly. "Well at some point I failed and you turned into… Do you think what you're feeling is normal? That it's alright? Whose fault is this if not mine, Claire? I failed you." His head dropped between his knees as his fingers crossed behind his neck. "This wouldn't have happened if Mom and Dad were still alive."
Those words stung into her chest; sharper than a dagger, and almost as deadly. She pressed her hand onto her chest.
"Chris, please."
"And now I touched you," he whimpered. "I touched you and I… and I came inside of you." He glanced at her so coldly, his face flooded with tears. "Do you even understand what abomination could be born if I got you pregnant? We are siblings, Claire!"
He was so perturbed and bewildered that it broke her heart. Chris was blaming himself for her mistakes and it felt like her ribcage was breaking under the pressure. What had she done? She had once sworn to herself she would never touch him, and she had failed, not keeping the silent promise she had made to herself and their mother. Just as she stood there, Claire crashed onto the floor next to her brother with a loud yelp, crying in agony on his knee as she tried to embrace his leg.
"Oh my god, Chris. Oh my god. What did I do?" She cried until her tears drenched the fabric of his pants, leaving moist stains on his knee. "I'm so sorry, Chris. This is all my fault. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to feel you. Please, forgive me." She had failed, breaking every promise and crossing every line. Her head swirled; her fingers curled tightly into Chris' pants. "I love you Chris. Please, don't hate me. I'm sorry. This is not your fault, it's mine. I'm so sorry." Somewhere between her first and her last apology, Chris had stopped crying, leaving her weeping in solitude. "I raped you, Chris. Forgive me. Oh my god. I am so sorry."
It was time to call things by their name. She had touched him against his will, and there was no other word for it. She had raped him. She was trash, and it was still something too good for her to be called. People cared about trash; humanity gathered trash and recycled it and made something new out of it. She, though, didn't deserve to become something new. Claire winced, and Chris huffed out a laugh above her.
When she looked at him, there were still tears in his eyes, but he wasn't crying anymore. He wasn't laughing either. He was busy chewing on his lower lip as his hand caressed her hair.
"Claire," he mumbled. "You are aware that I'm much stronger than you, aren't you?"
He blinked at her, and she blinked back in bewilderment as his words sank in. He couldn't be blaming himself for this, when the only reason he hadn't beaten the shit out of her was that she was his sister and that he would never harm her.
"This is not your fault, Chris." Claire shrieked.
He sighed.
"I didn't stop you."
She pushed herself up, propped against his knee as she stared into his eyes.
"You didn't do this."
"I didn't stop you!" He hissed into her face and she kept quiet, scanning his face as he turned back to the picture on the shelf. It was the same picture she had on her nightstand; the photograph of their parents and the two of them as children. "And now our father is giving me that shameful look." He sobbed. "Because… because I touched my little sister."
She was drowning in love. Why did she want him the most now that he was so broken? Claire tenderly stroked his knee.
"You get used to it," she whispered, having Chris' immediate attention. He gave her a questioning gaze, pushing her to respond, "Mom has been staring at me like this for years. You get used to it." Sinking back to her knees, she rested her head in his lap. "I'm sorry Chris. I shouldn't have pushed you, but I wanted to show you how much I love you. I…" She looked up in hope. "Please, forgive me."
Hesitantly, Chris sniffed and ran his fingers through his hair again.
"Tell me…" he muttered out a weak breath of voice. "Please tell me you're on the pill."
Claire wiped away her tears and nodded as she took his hand.
"I am," she whispered and smiled, although she believed to see some fear on his face. "Don't worry, Chris. It's safe, I'm not in those days either and…" she shook the thought off. "I'm so sorry."
"Listen, Claire." His voice was so low. "This… that can't happen again."
Claire frowned. His statement offended her to the deepest. Did he see her as some little girl who didn't understand the magnitude of her doing? Did he believe she wouldn't be able to stay away? Teeth grinding, she swallowed. She had lived for so many years with her secret desire, she sure could stand his absence again.
"It won't," she replied in a grunt and got up. "And no one will ever know." His eyes shot to her face. "Last night will have never happened."
He nodded as she turned away.
"Maybe," he added. "Maybe it's better we don't see each other for a while."
The statement hit her hard. Claire closed her eyes and turned back to him, pursing her lips.
"I will go," she whispered, relieved she had kept her apartment. "You stay. I will go." She sobbed as she walked to the bedroom to get her clothes. Before turning into the corridor, she leaned against the wall and blinked at Chris, who had remained silent in his spot next to the window. "Will you be okay?"
The glances they exchanged when he turned flashed up in front of her eyes like lighting. They held each other's look for a second or two before Chris nodded.
"Yes."
And so, he let her walk away, dying of love for him.