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The Penalty Game	By : Death's_Essence Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 3694 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Resident Evil or Capcom nor am I making any profit of my fanfiction. I retain all rights of any original characters and the plot as they are my intellectual property.

Chapter List
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The Penalty Game – Chapter 3
A/N – This chapter is the real starting point of Wesker and Claire's sexual play. I have no idea how well this chapter will be received overall... We're starting to get into the BDSM-esque territory now, but it's mainly just sexy fun between Claire and Wesker. There is a reason I have written Wesker and Claire the way they are, trust me, it will become apparent later on and make sense why I did it this way.
WARNING: The REAL naughty fun between Wesker and Claire begins now, so if a 37 year old dominant Wesker doing dirty things with an 18 year old virgin Claire bothers you, I recommend you stop reading. If you don't, please don't take it out on me in a review. It only gets naughtier from here. I'm all for constructive criticism, but please don't write a whole review just insulting me and the story. It's okay if you don't like what I write, it's not for everyone. I will gladly take feedback meant to improve the story, other authors have given me great feedback that I try to incorporate, but bashing me or my work doesn't help me improve it. Please remember that if you choose to review.
WARNING: Because someone may not like this, there is underage drinking in this chapter, (I swear I'm not shouting this) LET ME BE CLEAR: CLAIRE IS HAPPY AND CONSENTING TO ALL ACTIVITIES, SHE ISN'T DRUNK WHEN THEY HAPPEN (she's just a little tipsy). WESKER DID NOT PROVIDE ALCOHOL TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HER. I don't want anyone worrying, I promise it's all good.
***Story location: There's some debate on where Raccoon City is in the U.S., we only know it's in the Midwest. As a reference point for me, Raccoon City will be near Springfield, MO, since the Ozark Mountains are nearby.***
I need to establish more of Wesker's character in this chapter, so you'll see a lot of his thoughts this time.
(Side note: I saw a picture on DeviantArt of a book excerpt where Wesker hits on Claire to Chris. It's the Code Veronica book. I thought it was photoshopped, so I got the book and, I shit you not, Wesker really says to Chris: "...tell me, is your sister good-looking? Do you think she might be interested in getting some action, because I've got a hard-on like you wouldn't believe..." He likely said it to piss Chris off, but I laughed so hard I died and came back to life. I'm pretending its canon evidence of his interest in Claire, if you consider the books as canon. I haven't read it all, so I don't know if Wesker hits Claire up with that offer later.)
Enjoy chapter 3, please review afterwards! Your reviews inspire me and keep the creative fire burning!
Obligatory "I don't own anything related to Resident Evil or Capcom" statement.
Claire rode the elevator back upstairs, still trying to shake the fog permeating her brain. She felt drugged almost. But it felt nice, like slowly waking from a wet dream, where you're conscious but still partly in the dream. Maybe Wesker really was intoxicating for her.
What was that in there? Had he really...and she hadn't even... Claire groaned. So much had just happened in such a tiny space of time, she still couldn't process it. But she wasn't afraid, although she was more than a little confounded by the experience. There had been fear in her when he'd circled and stalked her from behind, but the fear had added to her enjoyment, everything had felt heightened to her senses. Claire decided to head home rather than wait a couple hours for Chris to finish work and she waved halfheartedly at the receptionist as she walked outside to wait for the bus, still deep in thought.
For a brief moment, when he'd been walking around her, like a cat playing with its food before it ate the mouse, she had considered running, just so he'd be forced to come after her. But her rational mind had reminded her that she was in a police station and that what she was imagining would not end like she hoped. Then Wesker had spanked her ass and even bit her shoulder, god she couldn't even begin to think about why that had felt so wonderful, and he'd been as domineering as she imagined he was with his unit, taking control of her body with his own and bossing her around. And where had her fire been?! The infamous Redfield temper?
Normally she balked and furiously fought against being told what to do, but with Wesker...it had felt natural and reassuring to submit to his strength, to bow to his will at that moment. Rather than disturbing her, it had triggered a sense of peace, as if she had nothing to fear, except him, because he would protect her as long as she behaved. That thought alone should have sent her screaming for her brother. If Claire ignored what she thought she should have done, she could admit that it had been kind of sexy...and it made her feel somewhat better that she'd still felt her mischievous streak tempting her to disobey him, just to see what he'd do. It might feel natural to submit to his dominance, but that didn't mean she always would.
The bus approached her stop and she moved like she was on auto-pilot, boarding it and paying the fare from the coins in her pocket before taking the closest empty seat. There was a warm breeze from the open window, it wouldn't get really cold for another two months. Autumns in Missouri were colder than the ones she'd experienced when they'd lived in Florida two years ago, but the humidity seemed to be about the same in both places. A gross, muggy heat even when it was only 70 degrees outside. Claire was glad she'd be getting her motorcycle on Monday, but was not looking forward to wearing her biker jacket during the months when the heat stuck to her skin as she rode it.
When he'd threatened her with punishment, which begged yet another question on why that had turned her on instead of pissing her off, her immediate desire was to test him at the next opportunity, to purposefully make a mistake in her stance and force him to follow through with his warning and punish her. It was wrong, or was it? She should have been upset at the direction of her thoughts, but she wasn't. But that didn't mean she had to admit to herself and accept that she wanted him to punish her. Nope, she was going to keep denying it. That was not a road she was ready to go down yet.
She was a normal girl...wasn't she? But the spanking had made her feel so hot...that was pretty normal, right? She was somewhat sure no one would think it was weird if they found out she had liked it when he spanked her. Yeah, lots of people liked that, it was fine if she enjoyed it, it didn't mean anything. As for the other stuff...she'd think about that later. She needed to go home and shower now if she was going to have time for her hair to dry before 7. And she still needed to figure out how she was going to get out of the house without Chris getting suspicious.
Fuck...why did she have to have a paranoid cop for a big brother?
It turned out she didn't need to worry about getting past her brother. He wouldn't be home to discover she'd left to spend the evening alone with his boss, because he was going out bar hopping with his teammates. He wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.
"You sure you'll be alright here by yourself?" Chris asked for the fifth time as he got ready to go.
"For the last time, yes! Go out, have fun! You worry about me too much." Claire was lounging on the couch, watching the clock as her brother took his sweet time leaving. But it wasn't like he was doing it on purpose, he didn't know that she also needed to get ready for her own evening of fun.
"It's my job to worry about you, Claire," he reminded her as he glanced up at the clock and realized he was running behind, "Shit, it's almost 6, I need to go. Call me if you need anything, you know the drill, and I will see you in the morning. Love you!"
Then he was finally out the door and driving away. Claire waved from the window as he passed, then darted for her bedroom. She ripped open her closet to go through her new clothes, agonizing over her decision of what to wear. It occurred to her as she looked through her closet that she should probably text Wesker to let him know that her brother wouldn't be home and he could pick her up at the house.
'Thank god he decided to go out tonight, now I won't have to sneak out or make up a lie just to leave for a few hours', Claire thought to herself as she sent her message and turned back to her closet. Since she knew they'd be doing her penalty tonight, she felt comfortable showing off a little skin and choosing a more daring outfit to wear while alone with the gorgeous police captain. Since her penalty was a mild one, Claire would tease him this way, by allowing him to look, but not touch. It gave her a sense of dark satisfaction to have control tonight. For it to be her turn to leave him frustrated and wanting as she stoked the flames of his arousal. The circumstances made her feel powerful and aggressive and she wanted her clothes to reflect that. Her clothes would be her costume if her confidence deserted her later, so she could at least pretend to play the part of the femme fatale.
Claire slipped on the crimson blouse over one of the black pushup bras she'd bought earlier, along with the black ripped skinny jeans. 'Jill was right about the pushup bra, Wesker's not going to be able to look away. They look so...bouncy,' she thought with a giggle, poking the tops of her breasts to watch them jiggle. Yup, she was glad she'd trusted Jill.
A pair of black leather knee-high Frye boots that folded over at the knee helped complete her new look. They reminded her a little bit of pirate boots, but she loved wearing them, they were super comfortable to walk in even with the two inch heel, and she'd noticed her stride naturally took on that womanly sway when she was in them.
Although she didn't normally use makeup, she did own some for special occasions, or for when her skin wasn't cooperating with her. She didn't put on much for tonight. Just enough mascara on her lashes to give them some volume and curl and a touch of eyeliner to fill in her lash line without giving herself a defined line along her eyelid. Adding a hint of blush to her cheek bones and a swipe of rose-tinted chapstick on her lips, she pronounced her makeup done. She wanted to look put together, but she didn't want it to be obvious she was wearing anything on her face.
As a side thought, she grabbed the bottle of Tresor Midnight Rose perfume that Jill had given her for her 18th birthday, because every woman should have a signature scent she'd said, and spritzed a little on the insides of her wrists, rubbing them along the crest of her cleavage and behind her ears to spread the fragrance. It wasn't something she would have bought for herself, she didn't really care about that super girly stuff, but when she'd first sprayed some in the air to test the perfume, she found that she loved the fragrance enough to want to wear it. The scent of raspberry and black currant, with hints of cedar, musk, and vanilla, made her think of silky decadent desserts enjoyed in a dark candlelit room where the shadows of its occupants flickered and danced along the stone walls. She equated the scent with wicked and sensual desires, and wore the perfume often, especially on the days she might see her brother's handsome boss.
Staring into her bathroom mirror now, Claire worried about what to do with her hair. Which was really weird for her. Claire never cared about her hair before, but tonight she did. Usually she wore it up in her standard no-fuss ponytail. But if she was going to take the time to put together a nice outfit and put on a little makeup, she could do something with her hair. Private time with Wesker wasn't a gift she took for granted.
The ponytail was too simple for the outfit. But wearing it down didn't look right either. She did have a curler she occasionally used to give her hair a little extra style. Another girly item she hadn't bought for herself, it had been left by one of Chris' ex-girlfriends who had never come by to pick it up, so Claire had claimed it. Waste not, want not. After some debate, she decided to lightly curl the ends of her hair, brush the curls out when they'd cooled, and twist her hair up with a black butterfly clip securing it midway up the back of her head. Her hair was long enough that half of it fell over the top of the clip to curl gently on her shoulders. She left her bangs free to frame her face and gave her reflection a once over.
Claire was…surprised. Shocked, really. Was that really her in the mirror? She looked...sexy and older, like a woman in her 20s instead of a high school senior. How could a few small changes make her look so different? Staring back at her was the woman she wanted to be, someone who looked like she belonged next to Wesker because she could just as easily stand on her own.
Wait, what time was it? She was suddenly anxious for him to see her, to watch the expression on his face as he took in the sight of her. Would he think she looked as fuckable as she felt?
Checking her phone to see that it was almost 7, Claire thought, 'I guess I'll find out in a few minutes.' She pulled on her new leather jacket and zipped it up, stuffing her keys and phone in the pockets. The jacket did an amazing job of hiding the contents of the pockets without ruining the sleek look of it. Pulling out the keys long enough to lock the deadbolt behind her as she left, Claire hopped down the porch steps right as a black Jaguar XJ pulled up and parked in the driveway. It could only be Wesker, but how the fuck could he afford a luxury car on his salary?
Police captains must make a lot more than she thought.
Wesker stepped out the vehicle, looking casual in his dark blue jeans and black V-neck sweater. And sunglasses. So even at night he wore his shades. Was it a style thing or did he just like the mysterious flair it gave him? Or maybe he used it as a form of intimidation, to hide his eyes so you couldn't see what he was really thinking. His clothes were more distracting than the shades. The way the sweater clung to his torso made Claire almost jealous of it, the fit did nothing to hide the defined muscles of his arms and chest. And the jeans? They fit like they'd been made especially for him, like a seamstress had taken the time to contour the denim so it sat snug on his hips, tailoring the front so it clung to his groin and the bulge she saw there. She was pretty sure he wasn't hard right now, so the size of bulge gave her a very generous clue of what she had to look forward to. The fit wasn't as tight around his legs, but the jeans still showed off the toned definition of them.
Satisfaction was hers though when he stopped moving upon setting eyes on her standing in the light of the driveway. He reached up to tilt his sunglasses down, the action probably for her benefit, and visibly took her in over the rim of his shades. Yup, she was feeling pretty damn hot right now.
"Dear heart, does your brother know you're leaving the house dressed like that? If you go out looking like a walking male fantasy, someone may snatch you up and ravish you senseless. I'm certainly tempted to." From the scorching heat burning in his eyes, she wasn't sure if he was kidding. The possibility filled her with a wicked pleasure, and a little fear.
His Claire smiled at him and played coy, looking down at his boots when he let her see the naked lust she'd spurred in him. But she liked it, he caught her when she glanced back up to meet his stare with her own timid desire. The knowing smirk he flashed her had those eyes darting down again, the blush spreading across her cheeks tempting him further.
She cleared her throat to disguise her embarrassed flush. "Lucky for me, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself," she answered, unknowingly displaying her age to him. There was a moment when a sinister thought crossed Wesker's mind, an impulse to demonstrate to her how naïve her confident statement was in a city where rape was, unfortunately, not an uncommon crime and not every man could be judged on how dangerous he was by his appearance alone. The thought was gone as quickly as it came, he had no desire to scare her tonight and he knew she could hold her own against the average guy well enough. On another day, he'd address her irresponsible view of her chances against unknown dangers from a professional standpoint and leave the learn-by-experience method for other lessons.
Ever the gentleman, Wesker guided her with a hand on the small of her back to the passenger door, opening it for her so she could slide onto the smooth leather seat. He walked back around to his side and got in, checking to make sure that she had her seat belt on before he pressed the start button on the dash. The engine purred to life under his hands and he smoothly pulled back out of the driveway and took off down the dark road.
Claire was silent as he drove, her hands balled up in her lap. Nervous, he guessed. She should be, dressed like she was, practically inviting him to throw her down and have his way with her. He hadn't been expecting her to come out looking like lust incarnate and he was beginning to wonder if being alone with her was a wise decision.
'I may not let her leave tonight…or ever. Not when she comes to me dressed like she wants me to lose control, the little minx.' He cast a sideways glance at her, admiring the sinful vision seated next to him.
The lightly tanned skin of her ample cleavage surrounded by the crimson top looked luminous and full in the moonlight streaming through the tinted window. The leather jacket she wore fit her like a glove and he was glad she seemed to share his love of leather. The leather boots were also a nice touch. Her jeans hugged the delicious curves of her thighs in a tight embrace that he knew would make them difficult to take off quickly. He could always tear them off, he supposed, it's not as if they weren't torn up already. Personally, Wesker didn't understand this trend among youth towards buying damaged clothing, but he could somewhat see the appeal as the rips in the black denim teased him with tortuous glimpses of the soft flesh beneath. He imagined her in bed with him, his face in her lap, tracing the edges of those rips with his tongue.
"Are you hungry, Claire?" Wesker asked, startling her so badly she jumped in her seat. His voice seemed to echo in the quiet interior of the car.
"Food does sound good right about now," she answered after a short pause, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, and the subsequent danger she was putting herself in. All the better for him.
Wesker laughed in the dark and watched the shiver that crawled over Claire's skin. Her body's unbidden responses excited him, feeding his male ego. He wanted to see it again, her involuntary reaction to just his voice.
"I wasn't talking about food, love."
The sweet sound of her gasp, a sharp intake of breath, was sensuous music to his ears. A devilish smile formed on his lips. How he loved to toy with her, her innocence made it so easy. Wesker would never tire of this game they played.
Claire was silent for a moment, her rapid heartbeat like a drum inside her chest. He waited in anticipation. She licked her soft lips unconsciously, wetting them with a swipe of her tongue, and turned her stormy eyes to look at him.
She whispered, "Only around you," like she was telling him a dirty secret and she didn't want god to overhear.
The chuckle that passed over his lips after her confession was deep, dark, and sinful, leaving no question as to what he was thinking about when he reached over with his right hand to squeeze the top of her thigh, his fingers playing with the rips on her jeans in the same fashion he planned on using his tongue to play with her weeping slit. His hand started at her knee and gradually moved up as her arousal spiked. Fingering each tear. One finger rubbed the skin revealed at the top of the tear in small circles and short up-and-down strokes, two fingers widened each opening to expose more of her skin, dragging a nail lightly up and down the middle to stimulate her, three fingers tracing the outside and center of the opening he'd spread. His hand didn't stop teasing her until he had her audibly panting in her seat, her breasts spilling out along the edges of her blouse with each deep breath as she gripped the edges of the seat in an effort to control her squirming.
Pleased with the state he'd put her in, Wesker hummed in dark satisfaction.
"Good."
That one word hung in the quiet between them, and for a moment Claire was sure she would suffocate from the pressure in the air, the interior oppressively heavy from the heat of their bodies and the unspoken promise of things to come.
With a dark smile, he gave her thigh one more possessive squeeze before putting his hand back on the steering wheel.
The rest of the car ride was spent in charged silence. Claire trying to calm the painful ache between her legs. Wesker watching her squirm in her seat through his peripheral vision as his cock twitched in response. Each time the urge to touch her again became too great, he would remind himself that they would be at his house soon. It was going to require all of his self-control to stop himself from picking her up as soon as they walked through the door, carrying her into his private bedroom, and throwing her down on his bed where he could fuck her till they collapsed from exhaustion.
'As delicious as it would be to spend the evening taking her in every way possible, that would not be wise, I want more than one night of carnal pleasure with her,' Wesker pointed out to himself. He would have to wait a little longer before he could slake his lust for her inside Claire's sweet form.
Wesker lived on the opposite side of town, about a twenty minute drive from the house that Claire and Chris shared. It was populated mainly by the upper middle class, the homes typically featuring large amounts of land between neighbors to give the houses the illusion of privacy and reclusion. Claire had only ever driven through the area on her way to the Arklay Mountains, where she enjoyed hiking occasionally and relaxing by the deep river that ran through the area.
As they pulled into the long curving driveway, Claire was once again struck with the question of how Wesker could afford so much luxury. She couldn't ask him directly, it would be rude, but she still wondered. Did he come from a wealthy family? Considering his perfect etiquette, publicly at least, and the distant, dignified manner in which he conducted himself, it seemed likely.
"Wow…" Claire breathed, "You sure your place is big enough? This can't possibly be enough space for just one man."
Wesker just laughed quietly at the sarcastic joke she'd cracked and Claire turned her eyes back to the magnificent house in front of her.
His house was spacious, done in a modern prairie-style, and much larger than she'd expected for someone who lived alone. Although it seemed excessive, Claire could admit that she thought the house was beautiful with its rectangular architecture and clean lines. It suited the man sitting beside her. The two-story exterior was a mix of dark wood sections and white stone under a dark flat roof. Each floor featured huge frosted windows framed with black metal that reached from the floor to the ceiling, the glass somewhere between opaque and translucent, giving only vague blurry outlines of the interior.
The landscaping was like something she would see in a magazine, the kind that had to be maintained by a landscape design service. A raised garden bed bordered with smooth white slate ran along the sides of the house, the surface of the garden bed covered in small black stones and clusters of trimmed Russian sage and grayish green sedum. Three square raised beds of the same design, sitting maybe half a foot above the ground, were placed in a straight diagonal line among the thick green grass of his front yard, the bottom right point of the top square touching the upper left of the middle square, with the bottom square mirroring its brother. The middle square had deliberately been chosen to be larger than the other two. Claire could see all the beds clearly, even in the dark, thanks to the hardscape lights installed under the inner and outer lip of the stone beds. Large white square stones, set with a small well light in the middle of and in between each step, formed a path from the driveway to the front door. Between the lights in the garden and on the stone pathway, and the recessed accent lighting along the outer edge of the roof, sneaking up on Wesker's house would be impossible. Hard to hide when the entire yard is illuminated in a soft white glow.
When they entered the foyer, Claire was immediately hit with the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat, distracting her from looking around. Had Wesker cooked dinner before leaving to pick her up?
"What is that amazing smell?" she asked, slowly unzipping her jacket as she tried to identify the flavor hitting her tongue each time she breathed in.
Wesker smiled as he helped her slip her jacket off and hung it up in the small entryway closet. "That, my dear, would be the meal I've prepared for us." He slipped off his sunglasses and put them on the floating shelf by the door, next to his keys and wallet. While she was distracted by her surroundings, he took the opportunity to appreciate the view of her slim figure without the leather jacket in the way. Redfield, the surname was appropriate for his beautiful obsession. Red really was her color, it enhanced the ruby tones in her hair and highlighted the natural glow of her tanned skin. She looked particularly ravishing in shades of crimson. Wesker approved of the black lace detailing on the blouse she'd chosen to wear, only because she wore it in the privacy of his home and only in his presence. The pattern of the lace treated him to tantalizing flashes of the smooth skin below it. If she was trying to seduce him with her scandalous outfit, she was succeeding.
"You can cook too?" She sounded so shocked, was it really so strange to her that a man could cook? Perhaps it was, Chris didn't seem to possess many skills outside of combat.
At his nod, Claire eyed him appraisingly, "Is there anything you can't do?"
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Very few things."
"You sure you're human, Wesker?" She teased, finally relaxing after the pleasurably torturous car ride.
Strictly for her amusement, and because he enjoyed teasing her, he stopped and pretended to seriously ponder the question. "Last I checked I was, but I'll be sure to let you know if the status of my humanity changes."
She snorted at his joke and quipped back, "I'm gonna hold you to that."
The foyer was connected to what she guessed was the main hallway of the house, and they could have gone left, right, or straight ahead to reach a different part of the house. Wesker led Claire straight from the foyer through the open doorway ahead, entering the dining room to see he'd already set up two places on the small, intimate dining table in the center of the small room. The room was painted a beautiful dark blue, with bright white trim. Most of his home seemed to have dark hardwood floors and they went well with the blue of the room. There was a large square chrome-framed mirror on the wall and that was all the decoration in the room. Four tall black leather chairs were placed around the table, two of the chairs set close together so there would be very little room in between the chairs' occupants. The round tinted glass top was centered on a single wood leg, a solid ebony-stained base that split open, like the petals of a black lily, to support the top. In front of the two chairs that were clearly meant for them to use tonight were black placemats with white square plates, folded black cloth napkins, and the standard silverware. To her shock, each placemat also had a tall wine glass halfway filled with a dark red liquid she assumed was the alcoholic beverage the glasses were named for.
"Why, Captain Wesker," Claire purred, tracing a finger along the rim of a wine glass, "Isn't it against the law to provide alcohol to a minor?"
He smirked and reached for the wine glass she was touching, lifting the glass to rest against her bottom lip. He leaned down and held her gaze over the top of the glass, and his eyes said what his mouth didn't: that he didn't give a fuck about the rules of the legal system because here, in his home, he was the law and he would do whatever he pleased.
"I won't tell if you won't," he murmured into her ear softly, adding another secret they would share. She imagined it was a phrase that would be spoken between them a lot in the future. The jolt she felt in her sensitive core at that thought was so intense it hurt. She wanted to feel it again.
He watched her slowly bring her hands up, their skin touching, not nearly enough for him, as she tipped the glass back and took the first forbidden sip. 'So innocent,' he thought, 'So ready to be corrupted by me.' Wesker let go of the glass and walked into the connected kitchen off to the upper left of the room before she could read the look in his eyes. He wasn't ready for her to see how much he wanted her. The intensity of it would scare her, because she didn't know yet what it was like to burn for someone so much it mutated into a physical need, something as essential to life as food or water, a craving that had to be satisfied just to survive. No, she didn't understand it. He smirked. Yet.
When he returned to the dining room, his hands were carrying two wide, shallow bowls filled with the dinner he'd cooked especially for her. It didn't escape his notice that she had already drained half of her wine glass in the brief interim of his absence. That was peculiar, she must be feeling more nervous than he'd originally gauged. What about her choice had her so on edge? He was quite curious now as to what she wanted him to do for her. Or to her. Whatever it was, it was stressing her out enough that he grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled her glass, making a mental note to track how much wine she drank and limit the amount if necessary. He didn't want her anxiety to consume her before the main event, but he also didn't want her getting drunk. A few glasses over the course of the evening, partaken with a decent meal, shouldn't compromise her ability to think and make decisions for herself.
"I hope dinner is to your liking," Wesker said as he gently placed one of the large bowls in front of her before taking his seat at her side, "I assumed a steak salad would be a safe choice for our first meal together." Claire's heart skipped a beat at the words "our first meal together". Was he planning on there being more?
"You assumed correct," she replied, inhaling the delicious aroma with an appreciative sigh, "It smells delicious, and steak just happens to be one of my favorite foods. I really wasn't expecting this, Wesker. Thank you." Not even in her most imaginative fantasy had she ever considered the possibility of sitting down to a home-cooked meal from Albert Wesker. The night had just started and she was already blown away.
"Claire, I meant it when I told you I'd like to know you better. You're an intriguing young woman. And taking the time to learn more about one another will create a greater intimacy between us that will…enhance our experiences together. I wish to know your mind as intimately as I'll know your body." Her pupils dilated, this was exciting her, and he smiled, dropping his voice an octave. "I want to remove any barriers between us. And you can help me do this by tell me about yourself, your past, your likes and dislikes. And eventually, your secrets. Everything that makes you who you are. And I'd like for you to know me as Albert Wesker, the man, not just as the leader of S.T.A.R.S. or your brother's boss. Would you like that too?"
All she could manage was a nod as she stared up at him, hypnotized by his icy blue eyes.
"Well then," he began, "Shall we start with the basics? Where are you from? When I scouted your brother, he was living in a different state. Florida, was it?" Truth be told, Wesker knew very little about his subordinate beyond what Barry Burton had shared when he'd recommended the dishonorably discharged soldier to join S.T.A.R.S. And that hadn't been much.
Claire launched into her explanation as they started eating, nearly moaning when the steak's flavor hit her tongue. He'd grilled the meat to a perfect medium rare while still managing to sear the steak with just the right amount of char to give it that smoky taste she associated with all grilled meat. And the salad was better than she'd thought it would be. She'd never had steak and salad together as one dish, but it was delicious. Whatever this dressing was, the best she could come up with was that it was a creamy vinaigrette, but he must have chosen it solely for the fact that it paired wonderfully with the steak, highlighting the savory while still giving the dish a fresh zing that lit up her tongue as she ate.
She appreciated how all the different elements of the salad created a whole sensory experience: the crunch of the romain lettuce and croutons, the pungent aroma of the parmesan cheese shavings, the salty hints of bacon crumbled over the top, the smooth texture of the thinly sliced avocado a stark contrast to the soft disks of grilled squash as she chewed, and the mildly spicy kick of jalapeño hiding somewhere among the chopped leaves. This was the best fucking salad she'd ever eaten, how could a SALAD be this good?! She wasn't sure she'd be able to enjoy the simple caesar salads she occasionally made at home after this. Great, Wesker had ruined her for salads and it was only the first dinner.
In between enthusiastic bites, she described the city she'd grown up in, the important moments in her childhood that she thought might interest him, leaving out the part about her parents passing away, and then she told him of all the different places she'd lived after moving in with Chris. He listened as she told him of how the siblings had had to move around a lot because of Chris' training and Air Force assignments. That they'd only been living at their last apartment for six months when he got in trouble and was discharged. Then they'd moved to Raccoon City less than two months later when Wesker hired him. Wesker was attentive as she talked, asking the occasional question when something she said caught his interest.
As Wesker watched her, he saw the hesitation, the slightest stumble in her words, when she brought up moving in with Chris after he had finished boot camp. She was omitting something important, that much was clear. He wanted to know what she was deliberately trying to conceal from him.
"Claire, why did you move in with Chris when he returned home?" Her hands started trembling, rattling where they rested on the table. But she didn't notice them, her gaze was fixed pointedly ahead. Then he saw her lip quivering and knew he'd stepped into unpleasant territory for her. Something had happened, he surmised, something traumatic. Too difficult for her to discuss right now.
"It's alright, dear heart," he spoke softly to her as one of his hands began to stroke her back, "You don't need to say it. I can see that it hurts you to remember or talk about it. You can tell me another time. When you're ready."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with the pain of her memory.
Why was she apologizing? Who had given her reason to believe she should apologize for not discussing a time in her past that still tormented her? This would not do.
Wesker gripped her chin gently with his other hand, shifting her face to look at him with those wide, tear-rimmed eyes. "Do not apologize when you've done nothing wrong. I understand what it is to have memories that you cannot voice. I have many. I would never force you to tell me that which you can't and you should not feel guilt because of it." There would be times later that he would hurt her to cause her pain and she would enjoy it as much as he did, but this was not one of them. The look in her eyes was too raw, he needed to soothe the hurt he'd unintentionally inflicted if he wanted her to enjoy the rest of her time here.
Wesker let go of her chin and leaned forward to kiss her forehead softly, letting his lips linger there. "Tell me about Chris as a child. Was he as ill-tempered then as he is now?" He really didn't want to talk about her infuriating and annoying brother, but he was aware that the two of them were close and she likely had many fond memories of him that would distract her from the one she couldn't discuss.
He pulled back to show her he was paying attention, the hand on her back still rubbing the tense muscles in comforting circles. It took some time, the memory that haunted her was strong enough to slow Claire's response. Patiently, something that took tremendous effort on his part, he waited for her to find a memory worth mentioning. Once she did though, it didn't take long for the wounded expression to be replaced with one that reflected the nostalgic humor she was feeling now as she told him of the time her brother had done something stupid and she'd come save him, only for her to then get into trouble of her own that Chris would end up having to rescue her from. The more she shared, the more he noticed that this seemed to be a common trend in the Redfield family. Given his intentions for the future, this was bound to be a troublesome thorn in his side.
Their conversation shifted to other harmless topics, like how she enjoyed to spend her free time, her postsecondary education plans- the usual questions - and his free hand drifted to her lap, idly toying with the naked skin he could touch along the length of her thigh. Her eyes would flash whenever he brushed a particularly sensitive spot, her lashes fluttering as she tried to keep her thoughts in order, even as his fingers skimmed so close to her throbbing sex and robbed her of coherency. When she was discussing, her voice a touch rougher from the lust he had incited coursing through her blood, her favorite music, movies, sports, shows, anything that she was interested in, she mentioned chemistry and biology as her favorite subjects in school. Something they shared, a rather significant common interest.
She admitted, blushing in embarrassment, that she had looked for information on him online - just out of curiosity, she'd said, as if she needed to defend her actions - and had seen that he had several degrees in those fields. It was good for Wesker that her interest in him was so strong she had taken it upon herself to find out more about him. The more preoccupied Claire was with him, the easier it would be for her to accept who he really was and what he intended to do later.
His fingers drifted higher and higher as she talked, but he wouldn't allow his hand to touch where he knew she desperately wanted him to. It was amusing to see the frustration flit across her expression each time his hand brushed close enough to feel the heat emanating from her apex only to move it away again. Poor Claire, how unfortunate for her that he had no intention of giving her what she wanted for some time, but he did intend to tease her mercilessly until then. That was half the fun for him. He dragged his nails lightly along the line where the skin of her thighs and hips creased, down to the inside of her thigh. He palmed the flesh there, applying pressure as he slid his hand back down to play with the underside of her knee.
He loved that she tried to ignore what he was doing to her, how she pretended his touch didn't affect her when it so clearly did. It excited him, he wanted her to fight against what he was making her feel as much as he wanted her to submit to it. Nothing made his blood burn hotter than seeing her struggle as she fought her body's reactions. To know that she would lose, that she knew she would lose, even as she continued to try and deny his influence.
The thrill was in the chase, in the act of forcing pleasure on her, even though she was willing, manipulating her body and her head into begging for him because he was just that skilled. Because his masculinity overpowered and demanded her femininity answer it, changing her mind with just his touch. It was a primitive desire that moved within him, the need to prove he was alpha male and bring his bitch in line. But evolution had refined that desire and combined it with the love of the hunt, the compulsion to demonstrate his dominance through constant challenge, and the need to take care of his woman and provide for her needs. To use a phrase he had heard Claire mutter once, it was a confusing clusterfuck. Nonetheless, it was a need that had to be satisfied.
'Keep fighting it, dear heart, even as I corner you and cut off any chances of escape. Fight how much you need this, pretend you aren't thinking of my cock inside you as I take what's mine. I see your silly attempts to conceal how wet you are and how much your body aches for me right now. You don't understand why you do it yet, but soon you'll see. You resist because you love the struggle, because you want me to pursue you harder. You desire for me to overpower you and prove I'm worthy. As luck would have it, you and I want the same thing, for you to be conquered even as you resist.'
Claire downed another glass of wine and let her head fall back. Wesker's fondling felt so very, very nice and she was feeling the initial signs that the wine was working, taking the edge off her nerves. She'd never been drunk before, since she was underage and Chris had never allowed her more than a couple sips of wine from his glass on really special occasions, like her 18th birthday when everyone else was drinking and she couldn't, or at the last New Year's Eve party. But she didn't think she needed to have been drunk before to know that she definitely wasn't drunk right now. Her head was still clear and she didn't have the urge to vomit or sing old blues songs, but she did feel a pleasant buzz and she might have been a little more talkative than usual now.
Wesker's hands explored her thighs and back, driving her mad with lust and invoking more than a few fantasies that involved her taking his hand and forcing him to put it where it belonged on her body. Naughty bastard, that's what Wesker was right now, turning her on with his groping everywhere but where it would have felt best! But then again, she liked the teasing too, it felt so fucking good to be teased and denied over and over. Strangely, she didn't want that to stop. But she didn't want to be stuck with nothing more than teasing caresses forever either.
So she acted, or tried to anyway, like Wesker fondling her wasn't a big deal, like she could take a little petting without losing her mind or her clothes. In her head, Claire was showing him that she was just like any other woman he'd been with and she could handle fooling around with him by attempting to feign a level of experience and control she didn't have. Maybe it was a bad idea to be trying so hard to convince the older man of something she herself wasn't even sure was true, but she didn't want him to be turned off by how new all of this was to her. Not when she wanted him to be the one she did them with.
All she'd ever heard from the guys she knew, and from the hushed conversations the boys in her study hall period would have in the back of the room, was how annoying it was to be with a virgin. Virgins were boring. Virgins didn't know what they were doing, they had to be taught and that was a pain. So she was worried that she would disappoint Wesker in some way and he'd move on. That was her reasoning for the nonchalant front she put up while he played with her thigh. So he'd see that she wasn't going to run scared at every little thing he did to her. If Claire had known that Wesker was thrilled that she was a virgin not yet tainted by the influence of other men, that he very much enjoyed the prospect of teaching her the pleasures of the flesh, she would have saved herself a lot of stress.
When she finished eating, somehow managing to not make a fool of herself during the meal, Wesker cleared their plates and took them into to the kitchen. He left the wine glasses behind. When he returned, he was carrying a different bottle, a dessert wine he told her when he caught her perplexed stare.
He looked her over for a second, a sly look in his eyes. "Would you like to move to the living room? The couch in there, I believe, would be more comfortable for the rest of this evening's activities." The silky tone of his voice seduced her with a hidden message embedded in the words. It wasn't hard for her to pick up on the implication in his slow deep drawl, that it would be easier to lay her down on a couch than a chair. And it was difficult to argue with that logic, because it would be. But would they need to lay down for this? Maybe? Hell, she didn't know, she couldn't get her dirty mind to move past what it would be like to have Wesker laying on top of her on this couch he spoke of. Naked.
When Claire blushed a deep red, it wasn't entirely from the wine.
"Okay." She agreed.
The snake must have smiled at Eve as he led her down the path of temptation the way Wesker smiled at her now, holding out his hand for her to take. Was he the snake? Would he lead her down that same path, ruining her so she could never return to paradise just like Eve? What was that paradise though, besides a location? Ignorance? How could ignorance be bliss, while knowledge was power? Were those her options, happiness or power? That seemed wrong. Too simple. Power could bring happiness, just a different kind. An impure kind, perhaps, but it was still happiness. So what did she want? The happiness of the pure or the happiness of the damned?
Claire reached out and put her hand in his without hesitation. She made her choice. The choice to follow the snake. He picked up the wine glasses in the other hand and led her back out to the foyer and down the hallway on her left. His grip on her hand was firm and warm and her fingers folded around his automatically. It felt nice to hold hands with him. There was a rightness to the gesture she couldn't ignore.
They passed several closed doors on the way down the hallway, but two in particular stood out to her. The first was the only door that had its own hallway branching off from the main one. Almost all the doors were a rich mahogany with chrome door handles, but the one down its own hallway had a deadbolt locked with a key above the door handle. The other door that stood out was the one at the very end of the main hall. It was completely different from all of the other doors so it stuck out like a sore thumb. The odd door out was a metal one, maybe steel, with electronic locks controlled by a keypad. Curiosity pushed her to investigate both doors, but it looked like she'd have to be nosy another time. They were at the opening leading into the living room.
The whole room was brightly lit from the recessed lighting scattered across the ceiling, casting shadows from the furniture on the deep red walls. There was a three step drop down solid white marble stairs onto the plush grey carpet, the kind that looked textured and felt heavenly soft under your feet. The living room was large and open, a beautiful grand piano sitting off to the upper left on a floor with a three-step landing made of the same white marble that stood at the room's entrance.
The piano sat opposite a midsize stained hardwood bar. It was set into the corner with an assortment of hard liquors lined up on the tiered glass shelves against the wall, a row of lowball crystal glasses sitting atop the bar's matching cabinet below. Off to the right of the room's entrance was a long sectional couch, covered in black leather that would no doubt be very comfortable to lay on. The cushions were the deepest she'd ever seen on a couch, the cushions were deep enough for two people to lie next to each other and still have room between them. So they'd have even more room if they were on top of each other. Could probably get a roll or two in before they'd fall off of it. Where was she going with this...?
In front of the ridiculously accommodating couch was modern-style granite coffee table with a rectangle of glass set in the center of the top and a hollow middle for storing books and decorative accent pieces. Call her crazy, but Claire was beginning to suspect that Wesker liked modern and contemporary styles. The true star of the room was the tall, white marble fireplace below the huge LED flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. The inside of the fireplace was clean, so it had to be a gas one. Instead of the typical fake wood stack that every gas fireplace seemed to have, Wesker had chosen to line the the bottom of the fireplace with a layer of smooth black stones evenly stacked on top of each other. The best feature though was the reflective glass covering the interior walls. Probably coated in something that allowed it to withstand the high temperatures of the nearby fire. The glass would behave like an infinity mirror and reflect the dancing flames across each other, giving the fire the illusion of depth. The effect must be amazing to see.
"Sit down," Wesker ordered as she stared at his fireplace, "I'll join you in a moment."
While she did as he'd asked, or rather commanded, Wesker put the wine bottle and glasses down on top of the bar and moved over to the fireplace to light it. Her fascination with the unusual interior design was plain as day and he was more than happy to show her the feature she was clearly dying to see. The flames bursting to life after two clicks from the ignition and she gaped in awe as the flames reflected across the mirror-like walls. He didn't fault her for her reaction, it was an impressive sight to see. As a last touch, he turned a dial on the wall next to it, dimming the lights low.
Turning on the fireplace had more than one purpose besides impressing Claire, it also assisted him in setting the mood. The shadows of the flickering fire danced on the walls as the heat generated from the flames gently warmed the large room. A cozy, sensual ambiance surrounded them as Wesker watched her from where he stood. His smoldering gaze stayed on her as he crossed to the bar, not even glancing down when he pulled the cork out of the wine bottle and poured a full glass for each of them. Claire felt her own burning desire stir as he came towards the couch. Her panties were already uncomfortably wet from dinner and she wished she could take them off. The moist fabric was keeping the heat from her overstimulated sex trapped against her skin and no amount of rubbing or shifting had been able to release it.
His steps were slow and calculated, feeding the suffocating anticipation building in the room. This was what they had been waiting for all week. They were totally alone, there would be no Chris coming in right as the tension between them peaked, no interruptions to cut their time and fun short. He had her in his home, sitting in his living room, on his leather couch, with her cleavage on full display for him, and she was aroused and willing. Claire was completely at his mercy now, and from the rapacious gleam that had passed through his slit-eyed stare as it roamed across her body, she knew it. She shivered in the warm room and his smirk was all Claire needed to know that he saw it, that he liked it.
'Too late to run, even if I wanted to,' Claire thought as she took the wine glass he offered her and sipped deeply, draining a quarter of the sweet liquid in one gulp. The taste was very sweet, much sweeter than she figured it would be.
"Wow, this is really good. The flavor is so different from the first wine. What is it?" Claire hadn't really liked the first wine, it had tasted too strongly of alcohol, but it had helped calm the chaotic turmoil inside so she'd ignored the alcoholic taste and just swallowed it.
Although she had asked the question, the answer really wasn't important to her, her inquiry was nothing more than an attempt to procrastinate as she tried to gather her resolve again. The feeling of the cushion sinking down as he sat next to her really wasn't helping that. He angled his upper body to face her as he leaned back against the couch, laying his lean muscled arm along the back of the couch to rest directly behind her, crossing one of his long legs over the other.
He was the picture of ease, the embodiment of smooth seduction. Claire looked like a paranoid rabbit as she sat upright beside Mr. Suave, spine rigid and straight, shoulders way too tense. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with the situation, or that she didn't want to be alone with him. The problem was that this was all unfamiliar to her and she didn't know what she was supposed to do or how to act.
'You could try acting natural, Claire, that's always a good choice.' Ha. Yeah, easier said than done.
How could she act natural when she was sitting here next to a man so beautiful he could have been the brother of Adonis. She couldn't remember how to even act natural when she was so terrified she was going to fuck this up. Was this how women felt when they went on their first date? Not that this was a date or anything. 'God damn it, woman,' she internally yelled, 'What the hell is wrong with you? Get it together!'
Where was her bravado now? Since when did Claire Redfield turn into a meek little mouse just because she was in a new situation? She'd faced thugs with more bravery than she was displaying now. 'Just relax and be yourself with him,' she imagined saying to herself, 'stop thinking and you'll enjoy this. Let yourself go.' That...actually helped a bit. Another sip of wine soothed the anxiety even more.
A warm, cozy sensation spread through her, starting at her head going all the way down to her toes. Why not let go with Wesker? Was that so wrong? And wasn't the whole point of this little game of theirs to have fun? That's right, they were just having fun, nothing wrong with having fun with the gorgeous captain sitting next to her. She liked him, he liked her, it was all good. Claire leaned back against the couch to rest her head against Wesker's arm. His skin was so warm, almost hot, and the cushion was luxuriously soft and firm at the same time. Something was pulling lightly on her hair and Claire realized it was Wesker's hand playing with it. Once the shock of Wesker touching her hair had abated, yet another thing she hadn't expected, she hummed in open approval of the glorious contact. His fingers running through her thick locks, curling the ends around them, was putting her in a state of languid bliss that she didn't want to ever end.
Wesker smiled as he took a sip from his own glass. "That is a Cabernet Franc ice wine. Very different from the red Cabernet Sauvignon we enjoyed with dinner. The harvesting process and location of the grapes is what accounts for the distinct change in the sweetness and undertones in the flavor when it hits the tongue."
What was he talking about now? Oh, right, he was answering her question from before. Whatever it was that she'd asked, probably nothing important. He took another noticeably smaller sip than she had. Because he didn't have any reason to be nervous. Not like her. All the pressure was on her tonight. She unconsciously focused on his lips and throat as he took the time to fully appreciate the flavors of the wine, observing the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.
"So," his deep, cultured voice interrupted her ogling and brought her attention back up to his eyes, "Are you ready to tell me the penalty for your victory today?"
'Nope. Not in the slightest. Maybe. Probably. Fuck it, just tell him and stop being a goddamn pussy, Claire.'
"I am," She answered reluctantly, "but you'll probably think it's silly."
'Exactly what a virgin would come up with,' Claire grimaced.
"If it involves you in any way, I most certainly will not. I've been anticipating this night all week and you, my dear, are teasing me with all this stalling."
Claire could do this. She was a Redfield. Redfields never backed down, fear could not stop them. A little more liquid courage and she'd be good to go. In one gulp, she drained half of the remaining wine in her glass and set it down with a loud clink on the coffee table. She wanted Wesker, wanted this. Claire had been waiting for a chance like this for far too long to give up now. The alcohol coursing through her blood gave her the burst of bravery she needed to confess what she wanted from him for her first penalty.
"I don't know if you remember everything I told you on Monday," She began, making a point to give him full eye contact, committing to her decision, "I mentioned something important before you pressed me up against the door and said some very naughty things to me. By the way, what you said ended up in more than a few of my dreams this week. Have I told you that I love the way you talk?" She giggled in manner that was somewhere between salacious and bashful and Wesker cocked an eyebrow at her. Yup, the wine was definitely hitting her now, helping her loosen up finally, "Sorry, I'm getting distracted, you're very distracting." She abruptly laughed at herself again and Wesker couldn't help but grin, amused by how very relaxed she'd become. As cute as her demeanor was and as much as he was loving her openly flirtation, he was cutting her off from the wine for a while once she finished what was left in her glass. Wesker wasn't going to risk her crossing the line from happily buzzed to light inebriation.
Claire twisted to face him as she continued, "You probably knew this already, but I've been majorly attracted to you since the first time I saw you. Chris had just started his new job at the RPD and back then I would wait for him out in the hall, on the bench across from the office door. One day, it may have been a Thursday I can't remember for sure, I was there waiting and I heard this huge boom, like a door being slammed. And then you came storming down the hallway looking absolutely furious, scaring the receptionist and terrorizing any of the officers that didn't get out of your way quick enough. I don't know what you were so pissed about, but you were like this unstoppable force of barely contained violence, imposing and powerful and sooo sexy."
Claire smiled as she remembered the sight of him that day, the memory of the fear and exhilaration she'd felt then making her quiver in pleasure now, "I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I'd never before seen anyone that was so utterly...male. I mean, you are male, obviously, but most of the time when you look at a guy, you recognize that they're a guy because you can see it physically. But with you, I didn't need to look to know you were a man, I could sense it even before I turned my head to see you coming. I felt you like this...primal stimulus pulsing inside me, like a pressure in my chest, and it was so heavy that it stole my breath. Never in my life have I been so physically aware that I was a woman as I was at that moment. I'm serious."
Wesker almost told her to stop talking, because her blunt honesty was doing more to him than just stroking his pride. Her words were inflating more than just his ego. She was calling to the part of him that wanted to lose control, that lived for those moments. But he didn't tell her to stop. He wanted to hear more. Rarely was someone this transparent about their thoughts of him and it would be rude of him to interrupt her now. Wesker's pupils dilated as he listened, something the redhead thankfully missed in her rambling, and he slowly encroached on her space while she was distracted. The fact that the flattery was entirely unintentional on her part, she wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, simply letting the words slip out as she thought them, made him believe them, enjoy them. Without question, he preferred Claire's praise over the simpering compliments regarding his looks or intelligence that women usually paid him. How could his ego not grow when the young woman who'd haunted his thoughts for the last year was revealing to him that his masculinity had been so overwhelming it had compelled her awareness of her own corresponding gender. Redfields really did have a way with words.
Claire kept talking, oblivious to Wesker's gradually shifting demeanor. "And you weren't even looking at me, I was positive that you hadn't noticed me at all as you passed. I remember staring up at you as you went by and thinking, if I had to describe what a man was to someone who had been blind their whole life, this guy would be it. Cause, you know, you're strikingly gorgeous, and you definitely know it, and your body's...fuck, don't even get me started on what I think of your perfect body or I really will embarrass myself."
He smiled with her, and there more than a little arrogance in his. Yes, Wesker was aware that his appearance was highly appealing to the fairer sex. He'd used his looks on multiple occasions in the past to gain an advantage or broker a deal with a potential benefactor. It didn't matter to him that he felt no genuine interest in the pampered socialites and pretentious corporate harpies he'd charmed, they served a purpose and that purpose was to strengthen his position in the company he really worked for, the Umbrella Corporation. His work required resources and resources cost money. While Umbrella was willing to provide those resources, it garnered him more influence to bring in his own providers. Some of the more...special resources his work required couldn't be bought through the legal channels, and that meant he needed pawns who could connect him to suppliers operating outside the law. And powerful pawns always seemed to have a few women in their company that could be manipulated to fulfill Wesker's demands. That and it was easier, and less degrading, to use a woman near and dear to his target rather than dealing directly with the man holding the power.
All of the women were vain enough to believe it was their beauty that attracted him to them, that they were the ones doing the seducing, their honeyed praise nothing more than a ploy to control him. No one controlled Albert Wesker. But none of the women Wesker had associated with in the past had any of Claire's innocence either, they were all accustomed to getting their way by shamelessly flaunting their bodies in the presence of men with power, spreading their legs without a shred of humility to gain support from the man with the most influence, or lying with saccharine puffery, always heavy with implication, to curry favor. They played the same game he did, but they disgusted him. They relied solely on their body rather than their brain to win. He seduced the women he used, that was true, but he didn't sleep with them. It wasn't necessary for him to sink that low to exploit their worth. And it wasn't as if their gender made sex a requirement to get ahead in the corporate game, he personally knew one woman who could get what she wanted without removing a single article of clothing. Wesker wasn't fond of her either.
Even outside the corporate world, in his every day interactions with average women, there was still an ulterior motive in their flirting remarks. Wesker didn't date, he didn't normally entangle himself in romantic relationships with women. He fucked, he had one night stands, and over the last twenty years he had taken a few lovers who claimed to understand that the arrangement between them was strictly for the purpose of meeting their unorthodox sexual needs and nothing more. He made it clear to them from the start that he did not and would not have any feelings for them. And knew with absolute certainty that it was the same for them as well. Some were able to keep it hidden longer than others, but they all eventually revealed their true agenda once they overstepped their bounds, using manipulation, and in one instance blackmail, to try to force his hand and gain what they hadn't earned, but felt they deserved simply because they'd bent over for him or sucked him off more than once.
Power, money, prestige, it was always one of the three. It had reached the point where he'd decided the sex wasn't even worth the hassle it came with. The only times his hand caused him trouble were on the days he'd been stuck typing or writing reports for too long and it cramped. Maybe that was why Claire was like a breath of fresh air, if she was trying to get anything from him, it was just him. She was different, and so, to him, she deserved more. Everything Claire was saying to him was just an explanation behind the decision she'd made. That was what made the compliments still spilling from her mouth appealing. When they came from Claire's lips, he could believe them to be true.
"Wesker, you can silence a crowd without saying a word, and your ability to command and lead is revered by the whole city. And I could list all these other great qualities you have, but they wouldn't be what sparked the attraction I feel towards you, they just added to it. There's something about you that draws me in, I can't put a name to it. Something…" Her hands gestured aimlessly as she thought, "…diabolical? Like you're not what you seem and...I don't know, maybe I'm a little screwed up in the head, but that's just fucking hot to me. Then I saw you go into the S.T.A.R.S. office and I was gonna ask Chris to tell me who you were after he got off work, but when the door opened up again a few minutes later, it was you coming out. And you walked straight up to me and introduced yourself."
Wesker recalled the day she was referring to. It was one of the many times he'd had to remind Chief Irons - he scoffed at the title the imbecile held – of who held his purse strings after the incompetent buffoon had botched the response to a kidnapping case, the victim had been a high-ranking government official and one of Umbrella's key investors, because he was more concerned with procuring victims for his own sadistic hobby than doing his job. Irons was a puppet quickly outliving his usefulness, and his mistake had resulted in a considerable amount of work for Wesker, both officially and unofficially. But he'd noticed Claire sitting on the bench on his way back to his desk, her presence just hadn't registered for him immediately at the time because he'd been focused on containing the fit of rage threatening to spill out. It wasn't until he was back in the S.T.A.R.S. office that he'd realized the fetching young woman he'd passed was the very same one he'd rescued only a few weeks prior.
At first, he'd been seized with the disconcerting possibility that she had been conscious when he'd killed the thugs attacking her and she was here to identify him. But he'd quickly dismissed that scenario. Even if she had coherent enough to identify him somehow, it was more likely she'd come here to thank him, not turn him in for murdering a few insignificant miscreants. In all likelihood, she wasn't even here to see him, he'd remarked to himself. And if that was the case, it wouldn't hurt for him to take this opportunity to find out her name and acquaint her with his. A positive first impression was paramount after all, and it would be imprudent of him to let her leave thinking the S.T.A.R.S. Captain was nothing more than a tyrant. He was a tyrant, no reason for him to deny that, but his public image was also derived from his personality, a very specific part of it. He was known to be a polite gentleman as well. So he'd gone back out into the hallway to formally introduce himself to her as Captain Albert Wesker, the refined tyrant.
What a revelation it had been when she'd introduced herself to him as Claire Redfield, the younger sister of the man who had swiftly become the bane of his existence. An unfortunate relation to have, but it wasn't her fault that genetics was playing a cruel joke on the both of them.
There was a lull of silence that stood out after so much had been said by the talkative redhead. Claire seemed to be at war with herself now, apprehension the most prevalent of the emotions written on her face. "Don't laugh, but…," she trailed off, looking away from him, attempting to hide her eyes out of embarrassment or shame. A light tug on her hair from the hand still tangled in her long tresses brought them up back where they belonged. Wesker wanted to see her eyes, because in them he could see her every thought and verify the veracity of what she said.
Since she couldn't look away - why couldn't Wesker just let her stare at the fireplace? - Claire lowered her voice to a husky whisper instead. Her speech had been long-winded, she blamed the wine for that, but even the wine couldn't take away how vulnerable and open the rest of what she had to say made her feel. Because this was one of her secrets, a truth she had carefully guarded whenever he had been near. That is, until she had slipped up on Monday.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that day," she confessed after another pause. "I've thought about a lot of things I wanted to do with you," Wesker didn't miss her glance flitting down briefly to his lap, "all things I've never done. Before the day we met, I didn't really have those urges that everyone else seems to. There wasn't anyone I found attractive enough to even consider, you know, being physical with. I was still curious about sex, but I didn't care about guys or dating. And I didn't really feel like…doing the stuff that leads up to sex when there wasn't anybody I liked enough to make me want to. But then I saw you and it was like my body woke up and my hormones shot through the roof, and suddenly I wanted everything I had been missing out on. Just with you." The blush was becoming a permanent tint on her inflamed cheeks, the blazing heat had become unpleasant to her now, and Claire wished she could be a little cooler about all this.
She sucked in a deep breath and released it, this was the part that had her so annoyingly frazzled. Time to get it out and over with.
"When I was deciding what your penalty would be, it hit me that there was one experience I hadn't had that absolutely had to be with you. And it's an experience I need to have before I can do anything else." A momentary glimpse of the dancing flames. Another deep breath to steel her will. Then deep azure met icy blue, and there was no wavering now.
"I want you to be the first to kiss me. That's your penalty. I know, it's not bold or interesting. But it's important to me that you're the man who takes my first kiss, it's a female thing, women never forget who their firsts were and you're the one that triggered all of this in me. So...I'm choosing you. I need it to be you." There, she'd said it, now she could look away and avoid seeing the disappointment he was bound to be feeling now.
Outwardly, Wesker appeared calm, his face set in a neutral mask that gave nothing away. He met Claire's eyes when she glanced up nervously, aware that she had been more honest than she'd meant to be, and gave her a small reassuring smile to allay the dread building on the edges of her countenance now that she'd finished. To dispel the fear that she had said too much. Perhaps the wine had had an influence on how much she'd revealed, although she did ramble on occasion, not that he minded when she did, and Wesker most certainly did not mind right now.
Every part of his expression was carefully constructed to keep her at ease. She didn't need to know that he was fighting off the impulse to push her down and take more than her first kiss right now. The demand to taste and claim her bordered on bestial, and the part of him that cared little for his meticulous plans and only for satisfying his lust imposed on him the visual of her straddling his lap as his hands roughly gripped her hair and hip to hold her in place.
The image of his tongue driving its way between her sweet lips to taste her for the first time at the exact moment as his throbbing member penetrated her maidenhood to reap the prize of her virginity nearly staggered him. The vision kept going, ignoring his attempts to redirect his thoughts, showing her crying out in rapture with her breasts bouncing freely as he rocked his hips into her at a pace that would have knocked her off if her hands weren't holding onto his shoulders. His body reacted to the visual, hardening in the confines of his pants. She was right in front of him and she wanted him, his baser instincts reasoned, a little seduction and she'd be ready for him to make the image a reality. What better way to reassure her that she had been right to speak so honestly about her feelings for him than by peeling off her clothes and putting her on all fours so he could kneel behind her and…NO! No, no, no, no, no. Not now, not today. He lashed out at his baser self and threatened the internal beast with violence. His libido was not master here and he would not throw away this chance at progress for an unplanned rut, regardless of how satisfying it would be. If he couldn't shut down the fantasy his traitorous mind was explicitly painting for him, he would leave the room. Patience and sacrifice now would lead to much greater pleasures later. To have to remind himself of that was…irritating.
This didn't happen to him, never happened to him, Wesker did not lose himself in carnality like this, didn't give up so much control to the ferine entity residing inside him. It was her. Her presence awoke more than his desire it seemed. She was a little minx, his Claire. An astute, vulnerable, enticing coquette so very close to being violently, lovingly ravished on the floor if he couldn't keep himself in check. Did she know the effect her words would have on him? Doubtful. It took effort, but Wesker squashed the resistance he encountered from his libido and regained control of himself. Confident that he would not go beyond the limits he'd put in place for tonight, his thoughts returned to the pertinent information he'd learned mere minutes ago.
The level of attraction she'd professed to harboring for him was much more than he'd anticipated. He'd assumed she'd likely held some desire for him before their talk earlier that week, but he'd never considered the possibility that she'd lusted for him for as long as he had for her. If he'd known of her longing sooner…no matter, she was making him aware of it now and he would be taking it into consideration as he plotted his next move.
For now though, there was the matter of her penalty. She thought it silly. He disagreed. It was perfect. By her own choice, she was presenting him the means to sow the first seed, to begin the infiltration of her defenses, to set the bar by which any future suitors would be compared to and subsequently fail to meet. Wesker felt a deep sense of pride, as well as a possessive stirring, that she had consciously chosen him to be the one to claim her first kiss. No one else was worthy of it in her eyes, no one but him. As it should be. The right to be the first one to taste her lips absolutely belonged to him. He would have to take care to ensure it was a memorable one. Wesker reached up and caressed her face, running the back of his fingers across her jaw. She didn't know it yet, but he would be the only one to kiss her lips, to intimately know her taste. Wesker would be the first and last man to discover how soft her mouth would feel as she parted for him.
"Dear heart, I don't know why you cling to this assumption that I would view any penalty of yours as silly. That could not be farther from the truth. Let me assure you that, as a man, I find it rather attractive that no one else has had the privilege of kissing you. You can't begin to fathom the delight it brings me to be your first." He swiped his thumb across her pouting bottom lip, puffy and red from her teeth biting on it throughout the evening, before using his hand to pull her face close while he lowered his.
He didn't immediately descend on her lips though, as Claire had expected.
With exaggerated leisure, Wesker started by laying a kiss to her forehead, his sharp, straight nose nuzzling her bangs. Next were the careful kisses on each fluttering eyelid, barely brushing the delicate skin. Then his mouth was touching each flushed cheek, taking his time to trace her high cheekbones in small quick pecks, like his affections would cool the inflamed flesh. Claire was panting by the time she felt him placing a kiss on each corner of her mouth. Wesker pulled back just enough to see her glazed eyes, half open, the apprehension that had been plaguing her earlier long gone. When she tilted her head up, granting him better access, it was all the indication he needed that she was ready.
Agonizingly slow, Wesker pressed his lips softly to hers, the initial touch teasing both of them. The pressure was almost nonexistent when his lips met hers, barely brushing the surface. Exactly as he had intended. He pulled back and she whimpered, wanting more, and he crushed his mouth to hers, giving Claire what they mutually wanted.
"Wesker…" Claire moaned, and he smiled against her skin. Already moaning for him and he'd only just started.
Their lips slid against each other and Claire pushed back with her own, seeking more of the pleasure the kiss gave her. The feeling of his mouth moving against hers was as wonderful as she'd imagined it would be and she reveled in the fact that, after a year of fantasizing about it, she was finally kissing Albert Wesker. She was enjoying herself, sighing happily as Wesker's parted to play with her bottom lip, and she mimicked his movement to close hers on his upper lip. Now she knew why teenagers got caught making out so much at school, this was so much better than she'd thought, she didn't want to stop.
Then she felt something wet and slimy pushing against her mouth and she pulled back with a girly squeal.
"What are you doing?!"
Wesker just looked at her like she'd done something funny. "I'm trying to kiss you," he said with a smirk as he pulled her back in and captured her lips again. Her response was hesitant at first, a little leery of whatever it was she'd felt trying to get past her lips, but soon she was once again pulling herself closer to him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest as she eagerly returned the kiss with firmly closed lips.
And then she felt the wet prodding at her mouth again. When she realized it was Wesker's tongue prodding her, she popped back like she'd been electrocuted.
"Why are you trying to stick your tongue in my mouth?!" Claire asked, like it was the strangest thing in the world.
Wesker cocked an eyebrow at her, confused by her behavior. "That's how you kiss, Claire."
Now she felt absolutely mortified, because she hadn't been expecting him to do that! How could she have forgotten that people used tongue when they kissed? Had she assumed he would kiss her like they were two middle-schoolers?! Claire wished she could disappear right then. She knew her face had to be flaming red as she stared at Wesker and frantically tried to form an answer that explained away her moment of ignorance, anything to salvage her pride, but all that came out was a stammered gibberish that Wesker couldn't understand anyways because she was too rattled to make any sense. He watched her working herself into a state of panic, trying to recover from what he saw as a truly endearing display of her innocence.
Wesker couldn't help himself, the expression on her face was absolutely priceless. He lost it, his composure dissolving into uncontrollable laughter. Attempting to smother the sounds with a hand over the source, he raised the other towards her in an appeasing gesture, hoping to placate her distress.
He reassured her even as he struggled to breathe through the fit, "I swear, dear heart, I am not laughing at you, it's just…you look so…" The humor of the moment overtook him again and he covered his face with his hands. Wesker was genuinely trying to rein his amusement in, but whenever he glanced over at her the hysteria would hit him even harder, till he was almost on the verge of tears. He really wasn't laughing at her, his unusual reaction was coming from a place of affection. She had no idea how fucking precious she looked freaking out because she hadn't anticipated that kissing him would involve their tongues.
He finally had to turn away from her to get himself back under control. When he faced her again his expression was unguarded and open, the base mask he always wore, something she hadn't even noticed until it was gone, stripped away during his fit. Without the mask, Claire could see the warm tenderness in his eyes and something in his crooked smile that set her somewhat at ease after her embarrassing blunder.
"I apologize for that, my dear, I didn't mean any offense," Wesker looked down and smiled as he shook his head, "I don't think you realize how charmingly adorable you can be sometimes."
Claire groaned in defeat, throwing her head back against the couch. "Adorable really wasn't the impression I was going for tonight. I was hoping for something a little closer to sexy."
He shook his head again, because she was still being adorable, and reached out for her with both hands, murmuring to her quietly, "Come here."
She leaned forward with a dejected sigh to allow him to cradle her face softly before he captured her lips once more.
"This should come as no surprise to you, Claire," he whispered against her lips, "but I have had my fair share of women over the years," he kissed her again, "all of them sexy," another kiss, "…and all of them boring." He stole her breath as his mouth devoured hers with a sudden fervor. One of his hands trailed up her arm to cup the nape of her neck, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against his broad chest. His breathing was labored when he broke away to continue, "Personally, I think that sexy, on its own, is an overrated quality, because so many women can be sexy," his tongue swiped across her lower lip and she gasped, "but most women can't pass for adorable, and rare is the woman who can manage to be both, like you," he nibbled on her lower lip, taking it gently between his teeth and pulling it slowly, releasing it only when she whimpered for him, "So don't view being adorable as less, because I find it to be very," their lips touched briefly as he rose up on one knee above her, "very," her head tilted back with the rise of his curled hand under her chin, lifting it until her neck was taut and all she could see was his smoldering eyes directly above hers, their noses brushing each other, "refreshing. I don't mean for this to sound like an insult when I say it, but I can get sexy anywhere. What you have to offer is so much more arousing, and that is what I want. I want you just as you are, give me that and don't fret over trivial details like whether or not you're sexy. I wouldn't be this painfully hard every time I'm around you if you weren't."
If she'd been bolder, or more experienced, Claire might have reached up to palm the proof of his claim, but she wasn't sure how he'd react to that and she'd already fucked up once. What he'd said had the intended effect on her, she was both flattered and consoled. She stared up at him, enthralled, waiting for him to descend on her. But he did not budge from his position, continuing to watch her from above like a beautiful predator.
What was he waiting for? Was he going to stare at her all day or make a move and kiss her? Frustrated, Claire decided she'd had enough of his teasing, if he wouldn't give her what she wanted, then she'd have to take it.
In a surge of impatience, she grabbed the back of his neck to force his lips down to hers. She captured his mouth, trying to copy some of what he had done to her earlier, pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth and swallowing the sound of his laugh as he returned her kiss.
Taking back control, Wesker used his weight to push her back into the couch. He once again ran the tip of his tongue where her lips pressed together to see what she would do. As expected, Claire froze, her body rigid. She didn't know what to do, he understood without her needing to verbalize it. The kissing Wesker preferred required some technique, and because she didn't have a clue on how to do this, the fear that she'd be terrible at it was hindering her response.
A solution already in mind, he broke away from the kiss and sat back down on the couch. He took hold of Claire's toned waist and pulled her over his lap, so she sat straddling his legs. On reflex, Claire placed her hands on Wesker's shoulders, feeling the firm muscles flex underneath his shirt as his left arm shifted from her waist to hold the nape of her neck again. His right arm stayed where it was so the blonde could play with the skin peeking through the lace on the shirt, tracing the diamond shapes with the tips of his fingers.
"Relax, Claire. I'll tell you what to do. I want you to enjoy this as much as me." His voice was low and gentle, a stark contrast to the hunger he felt inside.
"Okay," she agreed with some trepidation.
He applied pressure to the back of her neck, silently commanding her to lean forward again. A light squeeze on the back of her neck stopped her just before their lips could meet.
"When you feel my tongue press against you, open your mouth a little," he instructed while placing soft kisses along the edge of her jaw.
Curiosity getting the better of her, and because she didn't want any more surprises, she asked him why, her hands drifting away from his shoulders to begin an exploration of his muscular chest.
He nipped her chin and smirked at her. "So I can taste you and find out if your luscious mouth is as sweet as I think it is," he purred. Then he brought her mouth forward to meet his and their lips parted and slid against each other yet again. She was so very eager against him, her confidence growing as she became familiar with the movements, the little moans she gave him a sign that she was beginning to lose herself in the heady pleasure of being consumed by him.
This time when he licked her lips, asking for entrance, she opened her mouth for him. Evidently she opened them too wide, because she felt the deep rumble of him chuckling against her lips as he muttered, clearly amused, "Not that much."
Claire, more comfortable after the first mistake, giggled and whispered an apology as she adjusted her mouth, but as the silence dragged on and she tried to get her lips into the right position, she couldn't stop giggling, her entire upper body was shaking with it. The mood had become so awkward to her that it crossed over to humorous. Even though she was bothered by how terribly she was doing in front of Wesker, this seriously had to be the worst kiss the captain had ever had with a woman, the giggling wouldn't stop. Claire imagined what Wesker must have been thinking when she'd nearly mouthed his face. Probably that he hadn't given her enough to eat at dinner.
The visual that thought produced wasn't helping Claire stop her own giggle fit. First Wesker, now her. Claire was wondering which they'd done more of tonight: kissing or laughing. She took a few deep breaths, visibly trying to calm herself. Then she made the mistake of looking at Wesker to check his mood. Claire burst into a fresh peal of laughter at the sight of his tightly-clenched smile and furrowed brows, a clear indication he was fighting to not get sucked into the comical moment. His eyes were shiny from the effort and he refused to look at her, staring hard at the bar to the left, because she knew if their eyes did meet that he'd start laughing and then they'd never get the mood back.
Claire told herself to concentrate, the evening wasn't over and she still wanted to kiss Wesker some more. Without eating his face. But the laughter had helped in a way she hadn't been expecting. It had eased some hidden tension in her and broken the pressure she'd been putting on herself for this night to be perfect. When was anything ever perfect? In a way, the laughing fit had made it better, the situation felt normal where before it had seemed so surreal to her. Now she felt closer to herself, like she was really here mentally, no longer worrying about him seeing her as this worldly lady. Claire had pretty much obliterated that persona when she nearly swallowed the captain's chin. God, that was embarrassing, but at least they'd both seen the humor of it. Besides, it had freed her from the pretense she'd been trying to maintain, and since there was no fooling him now she might as well be herself, virgin and all. He didn't seem to care, so why should she?
Feeling good in her skin, and against Wesker's body, she released the last of her reservations and focused on the here and now, allowing the atmosphere to seep into her. No fighting, no thinking, just feeling her surroundings. Her focus zeroed in on the little details around her. Like how warm and hard Wesker's pecs felt under her fingers. She loved feeling along his broad shoulders, squeezing his defined biceps as her hands explored his upper body. He was all hard, rippling muscle under smooth, warm skin. No doubt he was strong, stronger than his lean frame appeared. When she breathed deeply, she could smell him. The woodsy, yet spicy musk of his cologne, and under that was the clean scent of the soap he used, mixed with hints of leather and something that smelled buttery and slightly sweet? It reminded her of the time she'd gone with her brother to a Christmas party at his previous boss' home and she'd caught a whiff of the dark liquid in his glass, some fancy alcohol he kept in a crystal decanter locked away in the cabinet. Brandy maybe?
For some reason his scent smelled so familiar to her, like something she'd smelled in the past, even though she was sure she hadn't before today. Although she couldn't place where she'd come across the scent, it made her feel safe, putting her at ease. It also made her feel horny. His scent seemed to have a direct line to her sex drive. She took another deep breath of him and groaned. Without saying a word, they both knew that the mood was returning. His hot breath along her exposed skin left goosebumps behind and she shivered on top of him. So close, just a little more and she could lose herself in the moment again.
Tired of sitting, she pushed up onto her knees so she could wrap her arms around Wesker's head and shoulders, his own arms wrapping around her thighs in response. The move meant Wesker's face was now buried in her cleavage, so he didn't protest. She heard the lascivious snicker he made from between her breasts, and she might have laughed at it, potentially starting the cycle over again, but the hysteria was cut off before it could begin when she felt the subtle shift in his demeanor. Nothing happened that could explain the shift, no obvious catalyst she could pinpoint, but suddenly there was something potent in the air, the promise of something growing. It was in the slow drag of his nose along the surface of her breasts, drawing in the scent of her perfume and the lingering hints of black raspberry and vanilla from her body wash.
Claire stood absolutely still, listening to the heavy intake of breath as he buried his nose in the crook of her neck. "You smell so fucking good," he growled into her ear, the sound so guttural she moaned low in response. Her heart rate soared as her hips unconsciously surged up against Wesker in an effort to put pressure on her swelling clitoris. The quality of his voice was so animalistic, like there was a wild beast caged inside yearning to break free, and it pushed her rational thinking to the side as her carnal instincts took over.
Wesker nuzzled the soft press of her bust, nipping the sensitive flesh she openly displayed to him. Feeling the familiar ache between her thighs and the spreading heat across her skin, Claire tried to focus on her breathing, on the quiet crackle of the flames in the fireplace, on the plush cushions under her knees, anything to distract her from his teeth biting the tops of her breasts and his hands running up and down the back of her thighs. Her fingers combed through his surprisingly soft hair, and she used her nails to lightly scratch his scalp on each pass, getting her own bit of satisfaction from the low groan she received in return as turned his head to rest it against her cleavage, like he was laying on a lush pillow.
Did he feel like she did right now? Because Claire felt fan-fucking-tastic. The urge to see his eyes, to verify that she was affecting him as much as he affected her, was too great to ignore. Fearing he might move his head from her chest if she jostled him, she leaned to the side carefully, bending right to catch a glimpse of his handsome face. His eyes may have been closed, but he was aware of her looking down at him. Like the rise of the glowing moon over the horizon at dusk, his eyelids slowly crept open. When her eyes caught his and she saw the raw force in them, she fell. Not physically, her body was still very much in the same position. But she fell, straight into his scorching cold eyes. She had no defense to protect her against his pull. She was gone, lost in his dominance, oblivious to everything but him. Like darkness, it was all-encompassing, there was no escaping him. His look sucked her in and took her hostage, chaining her to the man that held her, and for the life of her she couldn't find the will to be bothered by that. Not when she'd willingly given her captor the keys to her shackles. In the back of her mind, there was the knowledge that if she really wanted to be free, she could. The realization widened her eyes minutely, but she remained in his thrall. The hold only existed because she allowed it.
The mood crashed over them again, oppressive and needy. It was so feral, almost violent in its need. It choked her and it felt good to let it. She enjoyed it. And that was all her. When Wesker had caught her attention and the weight of the power he wielded slammed into her, it had cracked against something in her psyche. The place she hid in her mind, where she kept her secrets safe, now had a tiny fissure on its surface and the smallest trickle of the contents she kept sealed there oozed out, indiscernible. For now. The force of her partner emptied out all of her thoughts till there was nothing but him, and her, and what they could be together.
He held her eyes with his as he slowly lifted his head from the rapid rise and fall of her twin globes. The expanse of her cleavage was marked with the angry red imprint of his teeth. Wesker had bitten down hard enough to fill his mouth with the supple flesh she'd bared to him intentionally. He'd wanted to mark her, even as his rational side had told him that would not be wise, that Claire would have to hide or explain away the bites. But instead of worrying about the suspicion he'd unintentionally put them at risk of, the baser half was internally snarling at the idea of her covering up his work on her skin. That just wouldn't do, it decided, if the visible ones wouldn't be seen by potential rivals, they'd have to leave their mark on her in other ways. There was more than one method he could employ to protect and enforce his claim on her.
Their eyes stayed locked together.
In a trance, she slowly lowered herself back down to his lap. So slow, her knees shook with the effort it took to maintain the sluggish pace of her descent. Once she stilled, all movement stopped save for the quick, shallow pitching of Claire's marked skin, a sharp contrast to Wesker's deep and measured inhales and exhales. Wesker wouldn't allow her to look away from him, her attention belonged to him, just as she did. He bore into her blue depths with a fire that branded her, her blood pooling and boiling deep below in the hollow of her hips, drenching her folds with her essence. There was no need to touch her to stroke the fire between her legs, he commanded her body with just a look to answer him. And she did, he could smell hints of the fragrant buttery scent of her arousal in the air between them.
'Not enough,' he thought, 'She needs more. I need more. This isn't enough.' There was no fear in her, and so Wesker advanced without hesitation.
There was no visual signal, no verbal cue, nothing physical to convey what he wanted her to do. Yet the silent command still reached her ears, and she leaned forward, her lips hovering in front of his, waiting for him to give her permission.
But now he denied her. Looked at her still and told her no without a sound. Even as his hands snaked over the tops of her thighs, curving around the sensual swell of her hips to grab her firm ass, grasping each cheek in the palm of his hand. Even when he used his grip on her to pull her hips forward as he pushed away from the couch, closing the gap between his erect member and her pulsing sheath hidden beneath their clothes. His domineering eyes, mere inches away, refused to say yes.
Wesker grunted harshly at the sharp pleasure he felt when their groins met, her own cry of desperate want echoing him at the collision. He didn't give her the permission she needed to press her lips to his and his hands didn't reach under so he could touch the damp seeping into the cloth between her legs. There was no question that she was completely his as she rotated her hips against him like a wanton slut urging for him to satisfy her, and it wasn't as if the pain of the physical denial wasn't torturing them both. But Wesker waited, because right now her body was only asking. And it should have been begging. So he tormented Claire, let her see in the connection they maintained still what could happen, no, what would happen, if only he'd give her permission to take that last inch separating their lips.
It was too much for Claire.
She didn't have the control he did, nor the experience to handle this much passion. Her body couldn't contain it and she was afraid her skin would burst if her release wasn't granted soon. Wesker was probably getting some sort of devious joy out of this. The proof of her assumption was clear as day in the expression he wore: arrogant and dark, so very dark, almost tenderly cruel in nature. But above all, his demeanor said that this excited him. This, this was one of his kinks, one of his cravings, this was the sort of thing that turned him on.
If she could get her head to work for a second, she would agree that it was one of hers too. There was pain building inside her, but in a realization that should have made her sick, but didn't, she found herself loving it like she'd hoped she would, relishing the way it stroked her nerve endings and ignited her entire body with sensation. She wanted to bridge the distance between them, but underneath the arrogance and feverish desire on his face was a threat of punishment if she dared to steal a kiss before he permitted her to. So as much as she wanted it, she would not take it. This time.
Being denied for so long pushed Claire to her limits, and she abandoned any sense of decorum in favor of stopping the torture Wesker was inflicting on her. Fuck decency, if he wanted her to beg she would, cause if he didn't move this along she was going to spontaneously combust. She mewled like a famished kitten in his lap, pleading for mercy, for relief from the intense hunger robbing her of coherency, the sharp stabbing between her thighs that teased the walls of her channel without filling that emptiness. Her pleas broke his will to drag this out any longer and she finally saw the yes she sought.
Instantly, her mouth was on his, feeding on his lips. He responded in kind and they fought for dominance, their teeth occasionally clashing. It was messy and wet and rough. She didn't try to be gentle, after all the denial she wanted to punish him with her harsh kiss, but he only moaned and pushed back harder, taking pleasure from the harm she inflicted. The battle was fiercely fought, but in the end Wesker won, of course he won, and he reached up to grab her face in victory, holding her back and stopping her effortlessly as she tried to push forward to kiss him again. The hands that held her back were immovable, his strength made it impossible for her to gain any ground, and Claire understood then that he would controlling the kiss now.
He smirked when she stopped fighting his hold, although her expression was too wild for him to fooled by her sudden compliance. But she'd still submitted.
Such a good girl, so willing and eager to give in to him, she was starving for his touch.
The likelihood that she would always be this obedient was slim. If her brother was any indication of the Redfield nature, she would be just as volatile. A turbulent but passionate lover was preferable to a weak and docile one. He loved a woman that kept him on his toes, loved the thrill of a sweet submissive one day and a defiant spitfire the next. Variety saved the sex from becoming dull and the unpredictable kept his senses sharp.
It was especially pleasing to him that Claire picked up on his unspoken cues quicker than any former partner ever had. Whatever it was that drew him to her, an impetus he doubted he'd ever be able to accurately determine, seemed to pull her to him as well.
The hands that held her back brought her forward again, but the approach was calculated and unhurried as her face was drawn back to the man she desired. His mouth pressed into hers in a bruising kiss and when she whimpered for him his cock twitched, straining against the zipper of his jeans as if with enough force it could tear through it to reach the hot, moist entrance sitting tantalizingly close above. His tongue pushed forcefully against her mouth now, not asking to be let in to her wet orifice but demanding it, and she parted for him with a sweet sigh, opening just the right amount this time. He delved inside and tasted her, running across the surface of her tongue. His groan was muffled by their tongues clashing. She was absolutely delectable, just as sweet as he'd known she'd be. He attacked her lips with a renewed hunger, using his hold on her hair to angle her head back sharply, allowing him to control the moment.
Their tongues wrestled as they moved their lips frantically against each other. Harsh dragging breaths punctuated the silence of the room. Delicate hands ripped at his sweater, diving underneath to reach his toned abdomen. The way she moaned when she traced the lines of his abs made him wish he could do the same to her. Normally he would have no problem lifting his lover's shirt so he could play with her breasts, especially when they were taking the same liberties, but he couldn't do that with Claire today. He'd allow her to have her fun though, let her soft hands rub across his smooth chest, her nails lightly scratching across his ribs each time he bit and tugged on her lips.
He pulled his tongue back and hers immediately followed, slipping between his lips to lightly run it along the front roof of his mouth before engaging his again. He rewarded her initiative with a low husky growl, sucking on her probing appendage. Claire's mouth and hands weren't the only parts of her body moving against him now. As she licked his lips, taking the chance to experiment on her own, he allowed her to slip inside his mouth once again and she began to undulate her hips on his groin, grinding down against him in abandon. Up until that point, he'd been good, he'd been in control, he'd been careful. But when she wantonly rubbed herself against him like this, stimulating her pussy with his swollen cock, actively inviting him go even further with her, he decided he'd been good long enough.
The clip in her hair was roughly pulled out and tossed to the side, but she didn't have time to cry out at the light pain he'd caused before Wesker had lifted her up as he rose and threw her down flat on the couch. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of her, his hips firmly pressed between her thighs, using his weight to pin her between him and the cushions. She looked up at him, her wide, glazed eyes startled, chest straining against the tight shirt she'd worn to tease him, her cupid's bow swollen from his teeth biting down on her plump lips, and he saw the fear and desire mixing together in her expression.
He raised himself up on his arms to take in the intoxicating sight of her beneath him, his greedy eyes roaming over her body and he hummed in shameless appreciation, keeping her hips flush against his. This was better than he'd imagined it, his mind hadn't done her loveliness justice. "Do you have any idea how magnificent you are, laying here, begging me to take you with those wild blue eyes and pouting red lips? My voluptuous little siren." She heard his hoarse groan and responded with her own throaty giggle, husky from her own arousal, as she basked in the exalted rush she received from watching Wesker struggle against the savage urges she was invoking in him against his will.
"You look like sinful perfection, Claire, like you belong underneath me. And I belong on top of you." The amorous beast she'd seen lurking just behind his cool eyes was starting to peek out and her body arched towards him to greet it, a whine of leaving her lips to mix with the sound of his heavy breathing. She'd liked what she heard. The laughter she heard from above now bore the same qualities of the man that was producing it, dark and dangerous and obscenely sexual, it touched her everywhere that he had avoided so far. Wesker flexed his hips forward once, grinding up against her wet heat, and she threw her head back with a shrieking cry to god that ended in a high keen, exposing the delicious line of her neck to him. Absolutely exquisite.
Blindly, her hands reached up to encircle his neck and pull him down to her, and with an indulgent chuckle he dropped down to his elbows to claim her lips again. His hands plunged into her auburn locks so he could pull on the strands when she needed to be reined in, but also so he could keep them from traveling somewhere else. As their tongues wrestled with each other, he didn't miss her opening her thighs wider, trying to get closer to what she wanted. When he felt the unmistakable pressure of her pushing her hips up against his, he nearly lost control again, but he caught himself, stomping down the urge to release her hair in favor of reaching down to unbutton her jeans.
This was…well, Wesker certainly hadn't anticipated all this, and he was rarely surprised these days. Hidden beneath her insecurities, who would have thought that Claire was a ravenous fox? The sensation of her masturbating herself against his stiff erection was maddening. Claire was using him like a sex toy to get herself off and he loved it. Even as the friction drove him insane. He snarled against her lips, the sound of it thick with unquenched lust. The walls of her womanhood clenched erratically as their kissing became frenzied.
The combined music of her soft, needy sighs and his rumbling groans filled the room as he rubbed the bulge in his jeans between her thighs in long, heavy strokes. The volume of her pleasure grew louder as they built an aggressive rhythm, using his strength and his hand on her lower back to increase the pressure of his cock grinding against her hidden treasure. He hissed, his eyes closing to savor the delectable pain, when he felt Claire's teeth sink into the crook of his neck as her hips frantically rose to meet him.
As delicious as this was, it wouldn't be enough for Wesker to reach orgasm. Claire, however, was well on her way to her climax from the desperate way she was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his chest, her nails digging into his shoulders. There was a wild edge to her passionate pleas for him to keep going.
Wesker didn't mind not getting off this time, it wasn't important right now. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to indulge himself a little more before he gave her an orgasm. She'd confessed to him that she loved the way he talked, and lucky for her dirty talk was one of his favorite pastimes. Few things gave him as much pleasure as watching a woman react as he voiced aloud all the filthy thoughts running through his head. He savored the way they'd blush in embarrassment as he described in excruciating detail the perverse fantasies he imagined or the devious fun to come. He enjoyed talking dirty in the bedroom more than most men, likely because it was the polar opposite of his public persona. They never expected it from him and therefore were never prepared to school their expressions once he started. It never failed to thrill him to see the shock and shame on the faces of his lovers as they listened to the vulgarity he whispered so intimately in their ears. Claire's reactions though, he suspected, would be very different, and much more enjoyable, than his previous lovers' had been.
Wesker kept his grip on her silky hair with one hand and the other skimmed down her body to reach around and grip her thigh, pulling it up with a deep grunt to wrap around his waist and grant him a better angle to pleasure her. He resumed his firm grind against her throbbing sex, and for a blissful moment he enjoyed the sight of Claire writhing below him, delirious from ecstasy, her eyes squeezed shut as she lost herself to what he was doing to her, too far gone to care about how she looked or sounded as she gave into raw need. He wanted to remember this, his Claire free of inhibition or thought from what he was doing to her. When he was confident the image was permanently imprinted in his mind, he commanded her attention to him again.
"Look at me." The order was delivered sharply, the harsh edge to it said without words that the order was to be followed without question, but the naked desire in his tone helped her pry her eyes open to gaze blearily up at him, barely clinging to her sanity.
Wesker's wolfish grin greeted her from only inches away when her vision finally focused. "Think of it, love, this is just a taste of what I can do for you, what I can do to you," He purred seductively, brushing her lips with his, "I want you to imagine…how good it's going to feel…to have all of this…" he pulled his hips back and thrust against her, and she cried out beautifully for him "…inside you, feeling yourself spread as I enter you." He lowered himself down to lay atop the length of her pliant body, settling his weight in the space between her legs as he rocked his swollen member in slow oscillations against her folds, "You're going to be so tight, I'll have to force my way inside, and you'll love how it hurts. You'll look forward to it each time your soft...warm...wet…pussy has to stretch to fit this inside you," he thrust against her again, harder this time, and she let out a surprised gasp as a red blush painted her cheeks, but she didn't look away from him. Her eyes said his words were turning her on just as much as his body moving on top of hers was.
He breathed in her scent along her neck and jaw line, listening to the rhythm of her rapid shallow pants. Experience was his greatest ally tonight, he knew moves that could drive her out of her mind even with all of her clothes on. He angled his groin to press down right where her clit should be, rotating his hips in a circle directly over that small spot, and she sang her pleasure for him as she tried to both pull him closer and push herself away. What he was doing to her felt so good, too good, and she couldn't decide if she wanted it more of it or not.
Wesker hid his smile against the shell of her ear and murmured quietly to her, "Once I'm all the way inside you, when you're full of my cock, you're going to feel complete in a way that you'll only ever feel with me. You'll willingly open your legs for me to take you over...and over...and over, just so you can feel that way again."
"Oh my god!" Claire choked out, barely able to speak around the need in her, and he chuckled in dark triumph.
Swallowing the rest of her cries with a searing kiss, he used his tongue to mimic the thrusting and grinding of his hips on hers. Her orgasm was rapidly approaching, but he wasn't done with her yet. The grip he had on her hair was rough, but the pain was confusing, because it felt pleasant to her. Claire whimpered at the loss of his solid weight on top of her as Wesker rose up and used her hair to pull her head back, forcing her to look up at him again.
He looked down at her and there was another need in his eyes: to dominate. It was a look that would have been more appropriate while wearing nothing but leather pants rather than the casual sweater and jeans he wore now. She trembled under his dark imperious gaze. As long as Wesker stared down at her like that, she'd gladly do anything he wanted if it meant she could fucking reach her orgasm already.
A frustrated grunt drew her attention back to him, right before her lower body was hastily lifted and his hand issued a sharp slap to her ass that she enjoyed much more than she should have. He'd seen that she was distracted and his narrowed gaze said wasn't happy about it. "Don't you dare look away from me," Wesker growled, "Right now, I am master here, you will only cum because I want you too, and I am going to watch your eyes as you shatter from my touch. I will see your face as you climax with your legs wrapped around my waist and your pussy rubbing against my dick. Is that understood?" Claire nodded desperately, she wouldn't look away, she couldn't. She'd never seen anything as erotic as Wesker looming over her like some hedonistic god.
He leered down at her with a cocky smile, pleased with her response. "Good. Now I want you to tell me who it is that's turned you into such a naughty girl?" He was still grinding against her, thrusting with enough force to push her folds against her pelvis and expose her clitoris to the friction.
Wasn't the answer obvious?
"You," Claire replied, yelping when he suddenly pulled hard on her hair and spanked her ass again, glaring down at her without malice, that haughty smirk still in place.
"I don't like having to repeat myself, dear heart. I will ask one more time, who is it that's made you into such a naughty girl?"
What did he want her to say?! She'd said it was him, it was him! Unless…
"Wesker!" she screamed and the sinister grin he flashed her said she'd answered correctly this time.
"That's right. Now tell me who it is you want licking your sweet cunt?" He purred.
Again she screamed his name.
"Mmm yes, scream it just like that. I can hear in your voice how much you love this. You're making me very, very happy right now. Tell me, Claire, who is it that you want to please with that wicked mouth of yours?
"Wesker!" she was nearly sobbing now, she could hardly take what he was doing to her. She'd never burned like this before, she'd never been this painfully turned on ever. It was like his words had a direct line to her clitoris and they stroked it vigorously every time he spoke. She should have felt ashamed at the way he was talking to her, he said things that a gentleman should never say, so filthy and obscene she should have felt violated by it, but it appealed to the deviant in her. It was so wrong, but she wanted to feel this way sometimes, like a dirty little whore even though they both knew she definitely wasn't, and so she basked in the depravity of it all. The fissure inside widened a touch more.
"Very good, dearest, you seem to know all the answers tonight," he snickered and Claire might have thrown a glare his way, but it was hard to tell when she was moaning so much. "Next question, who are you going to think about every time you play with yourself from now on?"
"Wesker! God damn it, Wesker, please!"
One more push and he'd finish her. The speed of his rubbing and thrusting increased, massaging her clit faster and harder, and he released her thigh to lightly grab her by the throat, squeezing the delicate column with the barest amount of pressure. Her eyes flashed for a moment, but the fear was gone just as quickly, the understanding that he wouldn't hurt her wiping it away. Instead she pushed her neck against his hand, testing how it felt to her, deciding if she liked it or not. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip and a deep groan escaped. She liked it.
"I know, you're so close, so very close to coming apart for me. This is the last one, and this time I want to hear you scream. Cum for me now and tell me who's going to fuck you and take your precious innocence? Scream it!" The violent command was punctuated with one final, brutal drive forward, ramming against her entrance with enough force to bruise her pelvis, enough to even hurt him. But it was exactly what she needed to reach her peak.
Her eyes rolled back and her mouth opened in a wide 'o' as her answer ripped through the room in the scream he'd demanded.
"WESKER!"
Her spine bowed so sharply it had to have been uncomfortable, but any pain she was experiencing went unnoticed as she came thrashing underneath him. Her nails raked down his back, drawing blood even through his sweater as she shook with each pulsing wave of her orgasm. Every muscle in her body was stiff, the tension curling her legs and pointing her toes. The force of her climax left her mouth open, but no sound came out. She bucked a few times as the last of the incredible sensations rushed through her. When she had stopped moving, save for the sporadic twitches from the remnants of her climax, he took her into his arms, stroking the side of her face as she came down from what he smugly assumed was the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had. An orgasm she'd always remember that Wesker had given her. That on its own was all the satisfaction he needed tonight. Getting to see her lose herself in the throes of ecstasy more than made up for not receiving any relief of his own.
Slowly, her muscles unclenched as her body relaxed, shuddering as the final spasms passed. Claire's dazed blue eyes began to focus on him, and she gifted him with her own satisfied smile. Oh yes, the sight of Claire post-climax was worth his own discomfort right now. Wesker captured her lips with his in a possessive embrace and she responded, although her lips moved languidly against his, her tongue putting up a half-hearted fight as he plundered her mouth and tasted her sweetness. But she broke away suddenly to look down between them. Confused at first, he realized when he followed her gaze that she had noticed his stiff length pressing against her still.
"You didn't…" Claire trailed off, but he understood what she was asking.
He laughed lightly, trailing hungry kisses along her jaw down to her neck. As he nibbled on the sensitive skin behind her ear, he answered, "Next time, perhaps. I wanted tonight to be all about you."
This hadn't been for him, but he'd enjoyed himself regardless of whether or not he finished. There would be time later to take care of the affliction of his lust. It hurt to ignore it, but it mattered to him that she understand the importance of her pleasure, a good first lesson for her to learn.
She wanted to protest him not getting to cum, but she was tired and her muscles felt like they'd been replaced with jello. There was a good chance she wouldn't be able to stand if she tried right now. Not that Wesker gave her the option when he settled his weight on top of her again. They shared soft, languorous kisses now, relaxing together as the tension left her body and his erection calmed down.
"Are you ready for dessert now?" he asked, not giving her a chance to answer before he forced his tongue between her lips, stealing another taste.
When he pulled back again, she was half-lucid. "I thought what we just did was dessert," she moaned beneath him, leaning up to get him to kiss her again.
He snickered and shook his head. "That was to satisfy a different kind of hunger, dear heart. I prepared an actual dessert for tonight as well." Carefully, Wesker got up to stand on the floor next to her, "Don't move, I'll only be gone a minute."
She nodded and watched him exit down the hallway to the kitchen. While he was gone, she took a second to straighten her clothes and hunt for her hair clip, finding it near the fireplace. She chose to leave it on the coffee table rather than putting her hair back up since Wesker liked to run his hands through her hair whenever they kissed and she didn't want to dissuade him from doing that.
He returned a few seconds after she'd sat back on her spot on the couch with two spoons and a small glass bowl filled with chocolate mousse, a dollop of white whip cream on top. God damn it, way to set the bar high, Wesker. The man had really pulled out all the stops for her. Why though?
They shared the decadent treat and Claire was in a whole different kind of bliss. The activity was simple, but it felt romantic, like something a couple would do. A few times Wesker even fed her a spoonful of the silky smooth mousse, smirking at her as he slipped it between her parted lips and heard her contented sighs as she enjoyed the decadent chocolate taste. After each bite he fed her, he'd immediately follow with his mouth pressed against hers, his tongue dipping in to taste her warm mouth with the chocolate flavor coating it. The bowl was left on the coffee table once empty and she laid back down on the couch again, Wesker holding himself above her.
The mood was sensual rather than sexual now as the two exchanged long, probing kisses, her fingers brushing through his short hair. Claire pulled Wesker down to close the distance between them, and he didn't resist her. His weight on top of hers was reassuring and warm and one thing she'd discovered this evening was that she loved to be trapped below him, to feel his body so solid on top of hers. With him settled above, she leaned up to engage his tongue in a lazy war while his hand buried itself in her auburn locks to hold her face gently, the other massaging the side of her neck.
Eventually though, the late hour got the better of her and Wesker caught her trying to discretely stifle a yawn. Claire hadn't realized how exhausted she felt when they were making out on the couch, but now that she had, she couldn't stop yawning. They hadn't noticed the time passing, but when Wesker looked up to check the clock on the mantle above the fireplace, he saw it was well past midnight.
"Unfortunately, it looks like our evening together is over. I need to get you home before your brother returns and finds you gone," he said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.
Claire groaned, to Wesker's smug delight, but agreed. She knew the night had to end eventually, but that didn't mean it sucked any less.
On the way back, during her last twenty minutes to be truly alone with Wesker until who knows when, Claire decided to push her boundaries a little, feeling a bit more confident after the evening she'd had.
Still a little shy, she reached over the center console to grab Wesker's thigh as he drove, like he had done to her on the way to his house. Her grip was tentative, she wasn't sure if she could freely touch him like this, but when he didn't tell her to remove her hand, her touch grew more confident. She rubbed this thigh in firm, teasing passes, dipping down towards the inner thigh as she grew braver. Wesker was thrilled that she was already more comfortable with him, less hesitant to touch him on her own. He encouraged her with a low drawn out groan so she could hear how pleasurable her hand on his leg was. The blush blooming across her face when she heard it was apparent to him even in the dark interior of the car. But she didn't pull her hand back and she didn't stop inching it further in with each leisurely pass.
Once they reached her home and saw, with no small amount of relief for Claire, that the driveway was still empty, Wesker got out of the car and walked over to her side to open the door for her. His warm hand on the small of her back escorted her to the front door. Then, when she turned around to say goodnight, he slammed her into it with his body pressed hard against hers, pinning her wrists above her head with his hands. Any protests she might have made were silenced with his mouth devouring hers. The violent passion of it stole her breath and she responded eagerly to him, the kiss a frantic dance of lips and teeth that bordered on vicious, but there was no cruelty behind the frenzy, only untamed ardor.
Claire sucked impatiently on Wesker's tongue, something she'd noticed him do earlier to her, and he snarled, pulling her lower lip out with his teeth before releasing it to move his lips to her neck. He bit down on the crook of her neck, his favorite spot, hard enough that she was sure there'd be a bruise. He made what was guaranteed to leave a love bite worse by sealing his lips around the tender flesh and sucking hard, drawing the blood to the surface to give her one hell of a hickey.
When he pulled back, she was gasping against the door and straining against his hold on her arms, leaning forward to reach him. But as always, he was in control, and he'd decided Claire had had enough for one night. Even if she disagreed.
"Good night, dear heart," Wesker said with a patient, amused smile, ignoring her glowering expression at being denied again, "I thoroughly enjoyed paying your penalty tonight. But don't expect to get so lucky next time. I suspect it will be you paying the price of a losing bet very soon."
Because he clearly enjoyed torturing her, he gave her one more kiss, this one gentler and sweeter, but no less possessive than the last one had been. Claire told herself it was completely out of her control when she raised her leg and rubbed herself against him. But she found it hard to feel all that bad about it when she heard his frustrated growl he emitted before he hissed quietly into her ear, "I am warning you now, if you keep teasing me like this, neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight."
His meaning was clear enough and she reluctantly gave up trying to tempt him. It wasn't lost on him that Claire didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt for giving him another raging erection right before he had to get back in his car and drive home alone. Nor did he miss the aggravated huff that told him she hadn't wanted to stop.
Wesker laughed at her sullen expression, she looked so put-out by her own decision. Poor thing. He leaned his forehead against hers and shook his head. She was going to be the death of him with her provocative instigating and adorable reactions, he was sure of it.
He released her wrists so his hand could caress her cheek. "You're a vixen, you know that?" He whispered, and the intimacy of his tone made the quiet noises of the night seem too loud to her.
Claire shook her head, mesmerized by his piercing eyes and his woodsy scent mixed with the fragrant night air.
"You make me want to lose control, and that is something I can never do." He held her face between his hands and planted one last chaste kiss on her lips. "I'll be thinking about you tonight when I'm lying in bed. When I take care of this predicament you've put me in, you'll be the only one in my thoughts. I'm going to imagine it's your hand that's stroking me, and when I reach my release it will be your name I call," Wesker nipped her chin, "Sweet dreams, Claire."
He stepped away from her, leaving her dazed at the door, and heard her wish him a breathy good night as he walked back to his car. She caught him smirking as she tried to figure out how legs worked again and cursed to herself. Once he saw her go inside, he got into his car and drove home, refusing to recall the night's events just yet.
It wasn't until he was grabbing the glass bowl from the living room and his eyes landed on the couch, remembering how he'd had Claire screaming his name underneath him on it earlier, that he couldn't hold off his desire for relief any longer. As the memory of the evening assaulted him, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his stiff member. Laying in the spot she had occupied before, he stroked himself with a firm grip, focusing on the head as he masturbated. Closing his eyes, he visualized Claire sitting on top of him, blushing and demure in her innocence, her soft hands gripping his girth, her fingers wrapped around it as she jerked him off. Then she was bending over, lowering her face towards his engorged length, and the sinful look she gave him was not that of an innocent virgin. She stared at him with a dark lust and whispered against the head of his cock that she wanted him inside her, begging for it with a breathy please, before she covered the tip with her soft lips and sucked on the head long and hard, her tongue playing with the slit. Then her wet mouth was sliding down, taking more of him inside her, till his cock hit the back of her throat. But she didn't stop, she swallowed the rest of his member, deep-throating his dick as her head bobbed up and down between his legs. Her fingers fondled his balls expertly and she hummed when her mouth formed a ring around the base. She looked up suddenly, meeting his eyes while she sucked him, dragging her lips up until the head popped out with an audible sound, her saliva dripping from her chin onto the head as she smiled coyly up at him and blew a hot breath across the tip.
He came without warning, snarling the name of the redheaded vixen, the milky white ejaculation shooting out in spurts across his hand and jeans, a few drops managing to land on the leather cushion. Still not satisfied, but accepting that it would be enough to at least allow him to get some sleep, he got up and cleaned up the mess he'd made, carrying the dirty dishes and wine back to the kitchen.
As he washed the dishes from dinner, he mulled over the modifications he'd need to make, sure now of the course of action he'd take with her. He would proceed slower, devoting more time to seduction to gently break her down. Later, they could take their fun to the basement of his home, where he'd introduce her to even greater pleasures. The wait would be torturous, he'd likely have to rely on his hand for a while longer to quench his lust. His hand reached up to trace the bite mark she'd left on his own throat. Then again, based on her eagerness tonight, perhaps he could rely on hers as well.
Next time, he decided with an amorous smirk, she would be on the losing end of the bet. He'd guarantee it.
Thank you for reading chapter 3! Please review, you guys have no idea how much I appreciate it when I see that someone took the time to tell me what they thought!
This took me longer to edit than I intended because I wasn't sure about the dirty talk and the sexual content. I went back and forth wondering if it was too silly or too much or if I should take it out. But I figured if I'm gonna write smut, I'm gonna go for it. Hopefully I won't be the only one who likes the dirty talkin' Wesker.
Sometime in the next few chapters, I'll need to introduce an OC of mine into the story. It's a character from my original works (not posted), but her background story and personality have been fully developed and she fits what I need in here. The OC is necessary because Claire needs a friend who is also a friend/ally of Wesker. The OC won't be paired with any main characters, unless you count H.U.N.K. as a main, and even then that will depend on where this story ends up going. I'm still debating which direction I'm going to take it, because I have another story planned that will go in the direction this one doesn't.
The next one won't be until sometime in May, unfortunately! But keep reviewing, they feed my creative fire! I'll try to get chapter 4 out ASAP!
THANK YOU FOR READING
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The Penalty Game