Author's Note: Okay, all. Since I've gotten so many requests to do a second chapter, I'm happy to announce that I've done so! If this chapter isn't any good, forgive me. My muse decides to come out and play at ungodly hours since I wrote the first chapter at 6 am! _

Anywhoozles, I'm slightly drunk and if there is any OOC-ness, whatsoever, I'm so sorry. It's the alcohol.

So, without further ado, I give you the second chapter to my former one-shot, A Very Strange Weakness. Hope you alllll enjoy it! :]

P.S. I don't own The Aristocats, The Three Stooges, or Liar, Liar. Oh! And I still don't own Wesker or Claire. They belong to their respective owners! X]

...

Claire rested against her door for a moment from the adrenaline rush she had gotten when she raced up the stairs to her apartment. The feeling of Wesker's fingers were still lingering on her body and she shuddered from the sensation as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

After locking her door behind her, Claire immediately rushed to her closet to search for the heaviest sweatshirt she had. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed as she pulled out a black sweatshirt that had once belonged to her brother. Claire hastily threw it on, and she instantly felt at ease. "So much better," she sighed as she walked over to her bed and crawled on it. Reaching over to her nightstand, she grabbed the remote and clicked on the television to find anything to get her mind off of Wesker and his -gulp- fingers.

At first, she began watching The Aristocats, thinking that the cute Disney movie would help her relax. But, it was short lived when Balios, the little black kitten, began tickling his little sister kitten, Marie, on her fluffy white belly. Claire sneered and immediately turned it to find The Three Stooges on screen.

She sighed in relief until Moe and Larry began tickling Curly's feet to get him to stop acting insane over a certain perfume. "Damn it!" she shouted as she angrily changed the channel.

Then Liar, Liar came on screen, and she decided that a nice Jim Carrey comedy would do the trick...that is until he began tickling his on-screen son's stomach with The Claw! Claire would have laughed at the cuteness of the little boy's giggles if she hadn't recently experienced the same horror with the one man that she truly hated! "Gah! I give up!" she growled loudly.

Turning the television off, Claire rolled over onto her side and curled into a fetal position. Christ...something as childish as that was making her paranoid. She hadn't bothered to take her boots off because she didn't even want the breeze from her air conditioner touching them; that's how paranoid she was.

Claire sighed and figured that sending Wesker to a false 'sample' hadn't been the smartest idea she'd had. Hell, she'd had worse. But then again, she had moved to a different apartment complex not even a week ago, and Wesker had caught her the first time by simply nabbing her off the street when she had walked away from her car when she had parked it in the parking lot of the deli about two miles away from her apartment building.

She was sure that Wesker wouldn't be able to find her.

Claire's mind didn't feel like debating because her heavy eyelids finally closed to send her off to a well deserved dreamland.

...

It was dark and rainy outside as Wesker stood over his sleeping beauty. She was stretched out on her bed and he had witnessed her subconsciously roll over from her fetal position. The only sounds were the rain lightly tapping on her windowpane and Claire's soft breathing.

Wesker had easily picked her lock and was slightly disappointed that she hadn't tried harder to keep him out. It would have made it much more entertaining, but on the other hand, it pleased him to see that he would have another chance to make Claire scream and laugh under his merciless hands.

Within a split second, he was straddling her and binding her wrists with his belt. He didn't want to make it too tight, but just to the point where she couldn't move them. Amazingly enough, she had not awakened yet. It didn't matter to him, though. Albert Wesker had all the time in the world.

Resting his hands on his thighs, he waited with an emotionless gaze as he stared at her. Watching and waiting...

...

Claire was dreaming of a peaceful world without Albert Wesker. It was nice. There was no such thing as viruses, unless you had the flu. There was no such thing as Umbrella, or Tricell, or any of that crap. Just a peaceful planet with peaceful people. And not a Tyrant in sight...

Suddenly, a crack of lighting and a loud blast of thunder jolted Claire from her dream, ripping it away from her and she was suddenly face to face with the blond Tyrant. Just as she was about to let out a scream, Wesker threw a gloved hand to her mouth, muffling it. She tried moving her arms, but found those to be bound above her head. Damn it! She glared at Wesker whose features were lit up from the lighting that cracked across the sky once every few seconds.

"I don't like repeating myself, Dearheart," Wesker said, lowly. "You're lucky that you're not Christopher, otherwise you'd be tore apart limb from limb." Claire narrowed her eyes at the Tyrant when he mentioned her brother's name. "If I take my hand from your mouth, do I have your word that you won't scream?" he asked.

Claire nearly scoffed into his gloved hand. The very idea of complying with such a request from this man was absolutely absurd! Then again, he was in control as much as she hated to admit it. She took a breath and then nodded slowly. Wesker gently took his hand from her mouth and put it back on his thigh. They just stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"Where's the sample, Claire?" Wesker asked, clearly annoyed. "You clearly lied to me, and that is something that I don't like." He got really close to her face within a fraction of a second. "Unfortunately for you, Dearheart, I get to use both of my hands this time."

Claire's eyes were as big as dinner plates, and Wesker just smirked as he straightened up. "Go to hell, Wesker." was all that she could say. Thank God she had this sweatshirt on, or she'd be in serious trouble.

But, Wesker seemed to read her mind as he grabbed a fist full of the material and ripped it off her body like it was nothing more than a Kleenex. The coldness of the air conditioner hit her torso with full force as she visibly shook from the sudden exposure. Within a few seconds, though, her body got used to it.

God. Damn. It!

"That's much better, Dearheart," Wesker smirked as he slowly grasped her sides and eased her tank top up until her beautiful abdominal muscles were in his view. "Now, why would you want to hide this wonderful figure underneath that horrid sweatshirt, Claire?" he asked in a teasing manner.

Claire only growled. "Fuck you, you Tyrant. I don't give a shit what you do to me, I won't tell you where the sample is." To her surprise, he merely shrugged with indifference. And before she could blink, he lowered his head to her stomach and "motor boated" her sensitive skin. Claire let out a child-like laugh against her will and started kicking her legs.

How does this man know how to even do this? It's not like he tortures his other victims with this childish act! "Stohahahahahahahop!" she begged as she squirmed against the horrid sensation. At this, Wesker snapped his head up and not a blond hair out of place.

"Sample?" He wasn't going to waste time asking the entire question. Just the one word would do. He waited until she caught her breath.

"Pretty soon...the fucking neighbors will hear me, Wesker," Claire heaved out. She watched as the man lowered his sunglasses a little and raised an eyebrow.

"Dearheart, do you honestly think the neighbors are going to question about a woman laughing?" He could clearly see her trying to think of some kind of excuse, and chuckled when she threw her head back into the pillow with an agitated groan. "You can end this by simply telling me where the sample is, Claire."

Claire's mind was racing as she stared hard at the ceiling. He did have a point, though. The neighbors wouldn't worry about a laughing woman.

She hated being tickled, and yet here she was absolutely refusing to tell this a-hole where the sample was. The real sample. There were no more fake ones. Still, if she told him where it was, then humanity as she knew it would be finished.

Double-edge swords suck.

"Go swim in an acid bath, Wesker," Claire growled without taking her eyes from the ceiling.

Wesker sneered as he slid his glasses back up his nose. "Do you think this is some kind of game, Dearheart?" he growled as he straightened.

"You seem to be treating it like one," Claire shot back. She didn't regret her snarky words for a second, until she saw Wesker blast her in the stomach with a clawed hand. Claire let out a shriek before giggling in that child-like way and trying to buck him off. "Q-Quiiiiiiit it!"

Wesker didn't let up as he tilted his head at her, slightly. If she wanted him to stop, then why not tell him where the sample was instead of enduring this torture? Why go through it? He paused his thinking for a moment to see Claire's face turning a slight shade of red and withdrew his hand. He watched as Claire heaved, trying to catch her breath. When her coloring was returning to normal, he asked yet again.

"Where is it, Claire?" He growled.

She clearly had enough with the tickling, but by the subtle look on his face, she could tell that he was enjoying this! "Get fucked!" she growled.

Wesker shrugged indifferently, again. "Suit yourself, Dearheart. But, I assure you, I'm not leaving until you tell me where it is." He started to lightly trail his gloved fingers up her ribcage which made Claire shiver and let out a grunt. Wesker stopped at the worst spot on her body with his thumbs on the hollows and his other digits wrapped around her shoulder blades.

Claire grit her teeth as the sensation was already getting to her. "Get your fucking hands off of me, Wesker," she growled. "If I tell you where that sample is, all of us will die!" Wesker tilted his head again; like he didn't really care what happens to the world. Not that it surprised her in any way, he hated every single thing on the planet.

Wesker didn't answer but instead he lightly guided the tips of his thumbs all over the hollows of her underarms in a slow, clockwise and counter clockwise manner. Below him, Claire was making small squeaking sounds and trying to move away from his thumbs. She started giggling quietly. "Dearheart?" he began.

"Fuck off!" she shouted through her giggles. Wesker's lip curled up and made his fingers go a little faster. Claire started laughing just a little louder and squirming a little more. She was close to her breaking point, as much as she hated to admit. But she still won't tell him! "No!" she shrilled.

Wesker made a noise in his throat, and lifted his hands from her body completely. Claire breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived when Wesker started wriggling all of his digits in her underarms all at once.

Claire lost all control and started laughing, screaming, squirming and bucking at the horrid sensation that was Albert Wesker's fingers.

"Stohahahahahahahahop! Pleahehehehehehehehehease! Just hahahahaha stohahahahahahahahahop!" Her breaking point was near. Oh so very near...

"End your suffering, Dearheart, and just tell me," Wesker said like he was talking to a child. But by the way she was laughing, he might as well have been talking to a child.

The more that Wesker tortured the poor girl, the more aroused he was getting. He grunted and shifted, but didn't let up until her face was turning red and small drops of tears were sliding from the corners of her eyes. In a nano second, his hands were back on his thighs.

"Alright, alright!" Claire yelled as she gulped in air. Wesker waited patiently while her face returned to it's normal coloring and her breathing was regulated. "It's...It's in my...Jesus Christ, it's in my closet. In a suitcase...on the shelf..."

Wesker quickly unstrapped her wrists and reattached his belt through his loops. Claire massaged her wrists and saw that the belt hadn't left marks, amazingly enough. "Show me," Wesker ordered, lowly. He slid off of her and she calmly walked to her closet. Opening the door, she slid the silver suitcase out from the shelf, turned around and opened it for him.

"See?" Claire asked as he gently took it from her grasp. He could see that this was, indeed, the real sample. When he looked back at her, he could see a small tear slide on her cheek and a solemn look on her face. "You have your stupid sample. Now, go," she said as she pointed to the door.

Behind his sunglasses, Wesker closed his eyes and slowly shook his head as he closed the suitcase. "Dearheart, I believe that an explanation is in order." The next look on her face was one of confusion. "This isn't a sample to saturate the planet."

Claire was clearly taken aback. "It isn't?" She didn't understand. Then what was in that vial that she took?

Wesker shook his head. "No," a small smile appeared on his face. "Dearheart, you took a sample of a new drug that I developed to keep myself from having dreams when I sleep. It's hard to get a good night's sleep when there are bothersome dreams infiltrating your mind."

Claire furrowed her brow and gaped at him like she wanted to say something. Finally, the words formed into a sentence. "You mean that I wasted my time trying to keep a sample from you when all it was was some stupid..." her mind searched for a witty name to call the drug. "Dream-B-Gone?" For extra effect, she threw her arms open to express how pissed off she was.

Wesker nodded. "Yes, Dearheart, I'm afraid you did waste your time. But," he slid his sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose just so half of his demon-like eyes were showing. "I didn't waste my time with you." He winked which was extremely rare, slid his sunglasses back up, kissed the tip of her nose and was out the door all in one fluid motion.

Claire was completely dumbfounded. All this time...he was playing with her? Ugh! The audacity of that man! She wiped the tip of her nose in disgust and stomped over to her bed where she flung herself face down into her pillow and screamed into it all of the swear words that she knew.

That night, when Claire was sleeping, she had a dream that Wesker had four arms instead of two and tickled her mercilessly all over her body. The look on his face was filled with sadistic glee and it was even worse when she could see his demon eyes without his sunglasses covering them up.

She shot up in bed with sweat beading on her forehead. Realizing that it was just a stupid dream, she threw herself back on her side with a growl and curled up into a fetal position. For a split second, she wished that she could steal that sample all over again.

She would have needed Wesker's 'Dream-B-Gone' for the next few nights.

End

...

Note: Sorry if the ending blew. I couldn't think of a proper way to end this, and this was the best I could come up with. Like I says, I'm slightly drunk. Laterrrr...X]