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The ballroom of the Marriott hotel in Washington was filled with people in uniforms and tuxedos—the annual BSAA gala, celebrating yet another year of surviving the fight against bioterrorism. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over tables set with glassware and silver cutlery, while a quiet orchestra played in the background—something between jazz and classical, neutral enough that no one complained.
Claire Redfield stood at the bar, leaning lightly against the counter, a glass of white wine in her hand. Chris had invited her personally—Come on, sis, you deserve a break.—and she couldn’t refuse. The dress she’d chosen was simple but effective: black, form-fitting, with a V-neckline that ended just above the line of decency and a slit on the left thigh that revealed her leg with every step. Her hair was down, softly waved, makeup subtle—only accentuated eyes and red lipstick. She looked like someone who had come to celebrate a victory, not someone still carrying scars from her last mission.
Leon noticed her the moment he entered the room. He lingered at the entrance longer than he should have, whisky glass in hand that he hadn’t even tasted yet. He’d never seen her in a dress… not really, ever. Always leggings, jackets, tactical boots. And now—this black fabric hugged her body in a way that forced him to look away so he wouldn’t stare like an idiot. But his gaze kept drifting back. Every time.
Chris approached him first, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough that Leon nearly spilled his drink.
“Have you seen Claire?” Redfield asked with a wide grin. “She looks killer, huh?”
Leon nodded, trying to appear indifferent.
“Yeah, she looks… good.”
Chris snorted.
Leon didn’t answer. He knew what was holding him back. Years. Missions. Separations. And that constant feeling that if he ever allowed himself more, everything would fall apart.
But Chris didn’t wait for a reply—he dragged him toward the bar.
“Hey!” he called to Claire.
Claire turned, smiling broadly at the sight of her brother, then her gaze shifted to Leon. Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, then warmth, then something she couldn’t quite name.
“Leon.” she said softly, raising her glass in greeting. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Chris dragged me.” he replied, trying to sound casual. But his voice was lower than usual.
Chris laughed again and quickly found an excuse to leave them—someone from command was waving at him from across the room.
They were alone.
Claire looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“You look… sharp.” she said, sizing him up. The tuxedo fit him perfectly, accentuating broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
“You too.” he answered, then added more quietly: “Very.”
The faint blush on her cheeks was barely noticeable, but Leon saw it. And that was enough to make his heart beat faster.
They talked about everything and nothing—Chris’s latest mission, how BSAA had increased the budget again, how the orchestra was playing too loud. But beneath the words was something else. Glances that lingered a second too long. A touch when he handed her a fresh glass—their fingers brushed for a moment. Smiles that weren’t just polite.
When the orchestra began a slower piece, Claire set her glass down.
“Do you dance?” she asked, straightening.
Leon hesitated only a moment.
“With you? Always.”
He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Her palm was warm; their fingers intertwined naturally. When he placed a hand on her waist, he felt how thin the dress fabric was—almost like a second skin. Claire rested one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his. They began to move—slowly, in time with the music.
They were close. Too close for friends. Leon could smell her perfume—something light, citrusy, mixed with her natural scent. Claire lifted her head, meeting his eyes.
“I haven’t seen you in… how many months?” she asked quietly.
“Too many.” he replied.
His thumb brushed her back, just above the dress line. Claire shivered slightly but didn’t pull away. On the contrary—she stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching.
“I missed you.” she admitted in a whisper.
Leon swallowed hard.
“Me too.”
The music played, but they barely moved—just swayed gently, lost in each other. Leon leaned down, his forehead almost touching hers. Claire closed her eyes for a moment.
“Leon…” she began.
But she didn’t finish. Because in that moment someone bumped into them—another dancer, apologizing quickly. The spell broke.
Claire stepped back slightly, smiling uncertainly.
“It’s too hot in here.” she said. “I need some air.”
Leon nodded.
“Come on.”
He led her off the floor, but instead of the balcony, they turned down the corridor toward the restrooms. It was quieter there, fewer people. Claire stopped against the wall, leaning back against it.
“Thanks.” she said, breathing deeper.
Leon stood in front of her, closer than he should have.
“Claire…” he started again, more seriously this time.
She looked at him—eyes darker than usual, lips slightly parted.
“Say it.” she asked softly.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. But she didn’t. Their lips met gently—first a brush, then a deeper kiss. Claire sighed into his mouth, hands sliding to the nape of his neck. Leon wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
They kissed slowly, as if making up for all the lost years. His mouth trailed to her neck—soft kisses along her collarbone. Claire arched slightly, fingers tightening in his hair.
“Leon…” she moaned quietly.
He pulled back for a moment, searching her eyes.
“Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head.
“No. Absolutely not.”
He glanced around quickly—the corridor was empty, but nearby was the accessible restroom, larger, with a lock. He took her hand.
Inside, he locked the door. Claire leaned against the wall, looking at him with a mix of desire and uncertainty.
Leon stepped closer, hands on either side of her head.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.” she answered, pulling him to her.
This time the kiss was hungrier. Tongues met, hands began to wander. Leon kissed her neck, nipping lightly at the skin, and Claire moaned when his hands slid to her hips, pulling her hard against him. She felt his hardness through the fabric of his pants and sighed deeper.
“For so long…” she whispered in his ear.
“Forever.” he replied hoarsely.
His hands slipped under her dress—along her thigh, through the slit. Claire’s skin was hot, smooth. His fingers brushed lace. Claire trembled under his touch.
He lifted her slightly, pressing her against the wall. Claire wrapped her legs around his waist, the dress riding high. They kissed desperately—lips, neck, collarbones. Leon kissed her forehead, then her mouth again—gentle, tender, before it turned sharp once more.
Claire reached for his belt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers. Leon helped, lowering his pants just enough to free himself. Then his fingers slipped beneath her underwear—he found her wet, ready.
“God, Claire…” he groaned as he slid one finger inside, then a second.
She rocked her hips in rhythm with his movements, head falling back. Leon kissed her cleavage, sliding the strap of her dress down to reach her breast.
When she couldn’t take it anymore, she pushed his hand away.
“Now.” she urged.
Leon didn’t wait. He entered her in one slow thrust—deep, until they both gasped loudly. For a moment they simply stayed like that—joined, eyes locked.
Then they began to move. Slowly at first—deep, long strokes that made Claire bite her lip to keep from crying out. Leon kissed her neck, whispering her name.
“Faster.” she begged eventually.
He sped up—the thrusts became sharper, harder. Claire clenched around him, nails digging into his back through his shirt. The wall creaked faintly under their rhythm.
With one hand he held her up, the other circling her clit—fast, in tight circles. Claire came first—loudly, his name on her lips, body shaking.
He didn’t stop—drawing out her orgasm until she began moving again, demanding more. A few powerful thrusts and Leon followed—deep inside her, biting her shoulder to muffle his groan.
They breathed heavily, still connected. Leon kissed her forehead, then her mouth—gentle now.
“I love you.” he said quietly, for the first time out loud.
Claire smiled through the tears in her eyes.
“I love you too. For years.”
Then they heard knocking at the door.
“Claire? You in there?” Chris’s voice, concerned.
They both froze.
Claire covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. Leon slowly lowered her to the floor, straightening their clothes.
“Yes, Chris!” she called, trying to sound normal. “I’ll be right out!”
“Everything okay? Door’s locked…”
Leon looked at her in panic. Claire let out a quiet laugh despite everything.
“Yeah, just… fixing my makeup!” she shouted.
Silence. Then Chris sighed.
“Alright. I’ll wait outside.”
When they emerged a moment later—Claire first, Leon a few seconds behind—Chris was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He looked at his sister, then at Leon. Raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously? In the bathroom?”
Claire blushed.
“Chris…”
Leon stood stiffly, unsure where to look.
Chris sighed heavily, but amusement flickered in his eyes.
“You know what? I don’t want details. But if you hurt my sister, Kennedy, I’ll kill you. Slowly.”
Leon nodded seriously.
“Understood.”
Chris clapped him on the shoulder—this time more gently.
“But… I’m glad. Finally.”
Claire smiled widely, taking Leon’s hand.
“Let’s get out of here.” she said.
And they left together—no longer hiding anything.