Chapter Text
“I’m ordering sushi, you want anything?” Clarke asked Bellamy, who was currently laying on her couch watching reruns of The Simpsons — he wanted to graduate earlier in the year, writing two times the amount of essays and passing all of the exams his professors were throwing at him, this way he would graduate two months earlier than the rest of them; that was the deal he made with the Grad School he got in to be a professor, not just a teacher at a high school.
“Can you order something with chicken wings, I’m craving chicken wings.” He answered from the living room.
“So you’ve decided to act like a pregnant chick with weird cravings, huh.” She teased, already searching up the closest KFC, she was never a fan which Bellamy made a outrageous noise at that when he found out a couple weeks back.
“I’m already half-dead inside, unhealthy and roasted chicken isn’t going to make things worse.” She could hear the humor in his tone.
“Wanna go to the gym with me on Friday?” She asked — Murphy straight up ignored her when she suggested to work out with her, Jasper and Monty were to high to even comprehend what was happening when she asked, so Bellamy it was.
“When did you start going to the gym?” He asked, and she scoffed.
“I hate working out, but it’s my only way to get my anger out sometimes.” She said. “Plus, I like to be in shape. Raven’s doing when she made a backhand compliment about my boobs being big.” She said, and heard him choke on something. Clarke smirked, finalizing the order on KFC Delivery page.
“Oh, I thought you know, didn’t need to go to the gym for that…” he trailed off, making her roll her eyes — she hated how people always seemed to be scared to talk about it in front of her.
“You can say ‘eating disorder’ you know?” She said, and he nodded slowly. “And, no. To get back to being healthy I needed to throw on some weight, but it was a long process, getting used to my ‘new’ body, and all that stuff, so instead of throwing up to be skinny, I started going to the gym. Replacing the bad coping mechanism with a good one.” She replied, and this time she didn’t feel, like she was throwing all of it on him, and burdening it with him, instead it felt: freeing, almost.
“That’s actually really good, Princess.” He said, the nervous face changing to a grinning one. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks?” She said, unsure of what to say — she never knew how to take compliments.
“I mean, not like you needed to hear it, but… I’m— I would love to go to the gym with you.” He suddenly changed the topic, which she was grateful for — she knew he was glad with the progress she made, even if it was all in the past.
“Great.” She exclaimed. “I’m finally going to see where you got those muscles from.” With a teasing tone in her voice, she turned back to the kitchen, ignoring how she saw the tip of his ears go red when she glanced at him quickly.
She heard him chuckle, and up the volume and changing his focus onto The Simpsons. Clarke wasn’t exactly sure where the boldness came out, teasing him, and even trying to… flirt?
——————-
When Bellamy told Murphy, that Clarke and him wouldn’t be at the New Year’s party, he shook his head, but he saw something mischievous in his eyes. When he started wiggling his eyebrows at him, Bellamy lost it, telling him to fuck of, and that it wasn’t like that, which it wasn’t in reality. They just didn’t want to spend the new year’s eve with a bunch of drunk frat boys laying on the ground, as if already dead.
“Clarke never bails on me, dude. That’s love if she did that for you.” Murphy said, and Lincoln whistled, making this ten times worse than it needed to be.
“She hates your parties, Murphy.” He sighed, when Murphy scoffed, not believing him.
“She does not.” He muttered.
“Everyone who enjoys not being black out drunk, doesn’t like your parties, asshole.” He answered, earning himself a slap in the back of his head from Murphy. “Ow, I’m just telling the truth.” Another slap.
“He’s not wrong, Murph.” Lincoln said, coming into the room. “I enjoy your parties, though.”
“Yeah, because you think with your dick.” Murphy muttered. “Anyways, how are you and Clarke spending New Year’s together? Cuddling in bed, on the couch, talking to each other for the whole night, and staring into each other’s eyes, like two completely platonic friends do?”
“There’s an exhibit Clarke wanted to go to, and the final piece of it is shown at midnight, she’s going to love it.” Bellamy answered. He knew how Clarke loved art, but never had the time for, because of how pre-med was kicking her ass constantly — the fact that she was a double major, made his head spin with the amount of things she needed to do.
“So it’s a surprise?” Lincoln asked, and he nodded, a wide smile creeping up on his lips. “Is it after, or before that you’re going to confess your undying love for her? Or are you doing this just to touch her boobs?” He made a hand gesture, squeezing the air, mocking him.
“Shut the fuck up, Lincoln.” He growled. “I’m still confused as to why girls even want you.”
“You want a relationship with the blondie, I want to hook up with girls. There’s a difference.” He stated, and yeah he was right, Bellamy thought. “But for real, is this your little plot to talk with her?”
“About what?” He asked, already tired with the conversation — he didn’t get a lot of sleep, after sleeping yet another night on Clarke’s too small couch, she did insist for him to take the bed, and the invitation was so tempting, but he knew she didn’t mean to sleep with him, just sleep, she would take the couch, and he wasn’t enough selfish to do that to her back.
“Your crush on her.” Murphy answered for Lincoln, giving him a unimpressed glare — he wasn’t going to talk about his feelings with the two of them, especially not when they continued to make stupid jokes around Clarke, especially Murphy.
“There isn’t anything to talk about. She just had a rough couple of days, and I want to make her feel better.” He said — he wasn’t lying, Clarke’s dad anniversary really hit her, and even if he subconsciously made her forget about it, by focusing on resolving the problems between them, it didn’t help later in the following couple of days. To top that, he was extremely exhausted with the amount of work he needed to finish before graduating earlier, he needed a getaway, and a silent art gallery with his favorite person by his side, was a great idea.
“I’m interested if you’re going to tell yourself that after your little escapade on new year’s.” Murphy muttered, looking down. “You haven’t seen Clarke in a fancy gown, I even had a small crush on her when she walked down those crappy stairs in her building.”
“I don’t need to see her in a dress, I already know she’s beautiful.” He sighed. He felt a pillow being thrown at him, and groans from the two men.
“You’re a fucking sap, stop it.” Lincoln said, he stood up with not another word, leaving the two of them in the living room. Murphy kept staring at him curiously, like a cat getting ready to attack.
“What.”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, if you keep staring holes into me,” Bellamy replied. “Come on, out with it.” He gestured with his hands for Murphy to say anything.
“You don’t need to act like a dumbass in front of me, Blake.” Was the only response he got from him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answered, he wasn’t going to pour out his heart to Murphy out of all people — when he knew the second he would say what he truly felt towards Clarke, Murphy would run straight to her and tell her everything, when she wasn’t even interested in him.
After a few minutes, Murphy stood up looking down at him. “Just… don’t be a coward.” He said, and left for the door.
—————————
“I’m telling you, Bell.” Clarke exclaimed, her grin wide and cheeks slightly flushed. She waited for him until his class ended, gushing over something about a party, which was… strange, to say the least. “It’s not just some party, Blake.” She said, throwing a white robe on him, ordering him to dress up — there was even a leaf made crown waiting for him in the taxi that was waiting for them.
Turns out there was a party at Murphy’s (as he said before) which was going to probably be a disaster. He couldn’t oppose when the blonde besides him was so giddy about the whole thing. The two of them went inside only to see a small group of people, that he fairly knew from campus around a table — all of them turned around to look at the two of them. To his surprise almost everyone was dressed up as someone historical (he was pretty sure he saw Lincoln dressed as Abraham Lincoln; hilarious.
“Surprise!” All of them shouted in unison, startling Bellamy who looked like a deer in the headlights. “Happy birthday, Bell!” She said, hugging him tightly around his middle. “I know you love history, so I did a little something.” She gestured around them.
Oh, yeah. His 24th birthday fell on December 29th and he’s totally forgotten, so the usual.
“Not gonna lie, I only agreed to this, because it meant there would be a party.” Murphy said, clapping him on the shoulder — he was wearing a spider man costume, with… cat ears? “Happy birthday, man.”
“When did spider man become a historical figure?” Bellamy asked, and Murphy frowned.
“He’s an icon, and that’s all that matters.” Murphy answered stubbornly, crossing his arms on his chest.
Some people that he only saw in his class went up to him, hugging him or even kissing his cheeks (mostly girls) and saying the usual, about wishing him good health and fortune, so typical. Bree even showed up unannounced, wearing a skimpy ‘renaissance’ dress, but he didn’t judge.
“Bell! I haven’t seen you in the past few months?” She whined, pushing her chest towards him, with a pouting look on her face — he smiled awkwardly, moving back a little.
“I was busy, with graduating and all that.” He shrugged, and she shook her head.
“You always had time for me.” She wrapped her hands around his middle, just like Clarke did — the blonde that he actually wanted to be this close with in the moment. Not Bree. “I’ve heard there’s a free room upstairs, wanna get your birthday present?” She winked, and this time, it was his turn to shake his head.
“I’m with someone.” Bellamy blurted out, pushing her away from her. Bree shook her head, not believing him.
“The famous Bellamy Blake is with someone?” She scoffed, not getting the hint and moving forward. The ari seemed thick with tension on his side — all of what she was saying happened back in freshman year of college, now he was a senior. He didn’t know whether Bree was this delusional to think a person doesn’t change in the span of four years, or if she didn’t realized how long it has been since he was with her in a bed.
“Yeah.” He said. “Go to Lincoln. He always has place for another girl in his bed.” He remarked, turning away from her before he could see her shocked and angry face, moving to the kitchen, where he expected Murphy to be.
Turns out Murphy wasn’t there, instead he was met with Clarke talking to Lincoln, both of them looking like they were getting along surprisingly — he could only hope that Lincoln wouldn’t try anything on her, because bro code, and all of that.
Frat boy tradition, Bellamy was reminded with, when the two word ‘bro code’ even came to his mind, as if he was some possessive asshole, who had some kind of power over the blonde, which no, he didn’t, in the slightest — she wasn’t even his to begin with.
“Bellamy, hey.” Lincoln waved with his solo red cup at him. Clarke turned around seeing him with an easy smile on her face, gesturing for him to come to them.
“Hi, Bell.” She answered softly, when came to stand in front of her, leaning on the counter top. “We were just talking about you.” She nodded to Lincoln.
“Yeah? What about me?” He asked curiously.
“Oh, you know.” Lincoln said. “Just about your freshman year of college, and how much of an ‘party animal’ you were.” He smirked.
“I wasn’t so far off from my comment about you looking like a guy who was surrounded by girls at every party.” Clarke piped in, chuckling to herself.
He turned beat red, too scared to ask about the things Lincoln said to her about him — it wasn’t that he was ashamed (well kind of) of what he’s been doing - there was a threesome once, drunken hookups with random girls and a guy once, at a party, but that was just his coping mechanism at that point in his life, and he didn’t know better.
“Well, it was almost four years ago.” He replied. “Now I’m ready to marry someone and have five kids.”
“Sure.” Lincoln said, the smirk on his face seemed to never leave. “I’m gonna head out, early morning tomorrow.”
“Since when has that stopped you?” He asked.
“I’m changing my ways, Blake.” He shouted, the music seemed to up its volume. “Happy Birthday, dude.” Bellamy nodded, watching his friend leave.
He could hear the music growing louder, the house felt like it was going to fall apart any minute — he regretted listening to Clarke and dressing up as some Greek God; he felt as if his dick was going to be exposed any minute by the flimsy white robe.
“Enjoying yourself?” Clarke asked, raising her right eyebrow at him in question.
“Sure.” He said, smiling lightly down at her — damn, he sometimes forgot how small she was. “Bree was trying to get into my pants, but other than that, everything’s fine.”
Clarke made a humming noise, looking away from him for a second; her lips put into a tight line. “Well, why aren’t you with her?” She asked, her voice clipped and sharp.
Bellamy frowned in confusion. “Wasn’t interested in her. I’m not the one nightstand kind of guy anymore, I guess.” He exclaimed, breathing out. “Is something wrong?” He asked.
“Nope.” She replied quickly, with an emphasize on the ‘p’. “Everything is fine.”
“I know you, Princess.” He said, adding the old nickname. If he knew one thing, it was that Clarke was the most stubborn person he knew, but that wasn’t going to let it down, when he knew something was not right.
“I’m just tired and irritated by pre-med. Rethinking my life decisions as we speak.” She sighed, letting her head drop to the back, leaning on the wall. “Go enjoy your party, Bell.” She prodded, pushing him away from her slowly, smiling lazily up at him.
“I prefer being here with you.” He said, moving forward to hug her.
She was hesitant at first. It wasn’t something they did often, almost never he could say. After a moment, Clarke loosened up, wrapping her hands around his shoulders, the feeling of comfort overtook Bellamy; he could feel Clarke smile against his shoulder, wrapping his hands around her tighter. He heard Clarke say something to him, but he didn’t get it, because of the loud music and people shouting around.
“What did you say?” He asked, pulling away to take a look at her, but not quite letting go of her. Clarke moved closer, their faces inches away from each other.
“I said.” She stopped, looking up at him. “You’re many things, but I didn’t know you were soft too.” She giggled. He chuckled, grinning down at her, his hands wrapping tighter around her.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He remarked, and she nodded. “But we’ve got time.” She nodded again.
“Yeah.” Her voice was quieter.
“Yeah.” He said too. He didn’t stop moving his face closer to her, when he saw she wasn’t stepping back — their noses were touching, when he made the decision to close the gap between them, his mouth on her soft, plump and pink lips.
This time it wasn’t a surprise, it was something of a long-awaited happening — something natural. He couldn’t stop, but feel the butterflies flutter in his stomach, and the feeling of comfort when her arms tightened around his shoulder, one of them moving to his hair.
He then felt Clarke pull back sharply, he felt so dazed that it was up until she pushed him away from her, was when he realized how distraught she looked — something dropping in his stomach; he made another mistake.
“We have time, right?” She asked nervously, biting her lower lip. He looked up at her, only to see curiosity and anxiety written all over her face — he could feel the nerves building up inside him too, so he didn’t blame her.
He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” Bellamy answered; the disappointed seeping into his response that he couldn’t actually help, but sigh and drop his look from her face — this was the second time this has happened.
Them kissing.
It felt amazing, something that he never felt, but he couldn’t just kiss her if she didn’t want to — and from his point of view, she didn’t.
As if she was reading his thoughts, she said. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”
“Yeah?”
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them up again, looking straight into his. “What is this, Bell? What are we doing?” She asked helplessly, looking lost and tired.
“We kissed.” He stated, and she nodded, probably fighting back to roll her eyes at the obvious. “Um, it felt nice.” More than nice. “At least for me, it was something I’ve wanted to do again, since — since that last kiss.”
Clarke didn’t say anything for a second, the longest second he knew — because the next thing he knew he sighed, pulling away — this wasn’t something she wanted, even though she said she did; he wasn’t going to push her into something she wasn’t ready for, even if it hurt.
Suddenly he felt her mutter something, grabbing his wrist back to her, the other hand placed on the back of his neck — pulling him into another kiss.
He wasn’t expecting that one, so being his usual self, he didn’t respond at first — the warm feeling of her plump, rosy lips on his was incredible, so he didn’t waste another second to return it. Clarke let out a small whimper, which just spurred him even more.
With his both hands, he grabbed her by the waist pulling her closer to him, so their bodies where flushed against each other — their mouths not leaving one another for a second, he could feel the corners of his lips turn upwards, making the kiss sloppier. The two of them didn’t seem to care enough to stop. He could still hear obnoxious people moving through the kitchen, laughing and shouting, but he didn’t budge for a second.
What stopped them from kissing, was in fact the guy who wanted them together the most — John fucking Murphy.
“Well, well, well.” He exclaimed, smirking. “I don’t want to ruin your moment, but… I said so!” He shouted, clasping his hands like a kid who just got a new toy from his parents — Bellamy shot him a deathly glare, silently pleading for him to get the fuck away from them.
“Shut up, Murphy.” Clarke said, grabbing his face with both of her hands, and smashing their lips together — the kiss hot, sloppy, but perfect at the same time. He grabbed her again, ignoring their friends’ protests and comments.
He finally got the girl.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asked, praying to God she would say yes. Thankfully she nodded excitedly, looking at his lips. He grasped her hand and the two of them moved to the exit of the house together. He didn’t seem to think about saying anything to Murphy about them leaving his birthday party, but he was sure his friend probably already knew where they would be (if the make out session was anything to go by).
Of course, as his luck seemed to run out, it couldn’t have been that easy and simple to go back to her or his apartment — they stumbled upon, or rather Finn Collins pushed him hard from the back, making him hit the wall heavily.
“So this is your new boy toy, huh?” He screamed at Clarke, the slur in his voice standing out. “i gotta say, you always went for the guys with issues… a fuck up like you always searches for a guy equally fucked up, is that it?” He scoffed.
“Finn, calm down.” He heard Clarke say as he stood up slowly, not to make Finn snap again, he wasn’t paying any attention to him at the moment; his body turned to Clarke.
“Stop, just stop.” He held up his hands, to silence her. “I slept with another chick because you didn’t want to put out, which was so fucking strange as you are such a fucked up slu—“
Bellamy fist connected with Finn’s cheek, he grabbed him by the shirt. Finn’s punches were uncoordinated, never actually hitting him. “You wanna fucking repeat that, buddy?” Bellamy growled, pinning him to the wall. Finn didn’t say anything, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in shock — he wasn’t expecting him to actually punch him. “Listen to me now.” Bellamy snapped, his voice sharp. “You won’t ever come near her, you won’t talk to her, you won’t do as fucking be in the same room as her, got it?”
Finn nodded.
“Because if I see you near her, I will fucking come for you.” He pushed him aside, Finn’s body slowly sliding to the floor, he couldn’t contain his anger, so he punched the wall in front of him. Bellamy didn’t realize the music stopped, and that there was circle of people around them, looking both terrified and curious. “There’s nothing to see here.” He shouted, and the group dispersed, the music slowly turned back to its normal volume, leaving an unconscious Finn on the floor, Clarke and him alone in the hallway. When he looked back at Clarke, afraid to see the expression on her face from his outburst, now that the adrenaline and tension went down a couple notches, he saw her worried look, not at Finn, but at his fists.
“Let me check those.” She whispered, her voice shaky. “There’s a cut on your right hand, let me see that.” She prodded, but he still didn’t budge — he kept looking for any sign of fear in her, but there wasn’t any; she was shocked and worried, but not scared. When she realized she wasn’t going anywhere with her pleas to see his hand, she sighed. “At least let’s go back to your apartment, okay?” She asked.
“Okay.” He whispered, going after her.
The silence between them in the car was unbearable — he wished he could read her, as he almost always knew how, but this was just like the time they went back from Thanksgiving, her not giving him any sign of distress, but him knowing there’s something wrong.
“I’m sorry.” He said, when they found themselves standing in front of his building — at least an apology would do something, make her say anything to him.
“For what?” She asked after a while, he looked down at his bloody knuckles; shit, he really got Finn good from the looks of his hands. “You protected me. In an unnecessarily and inconvenient way, but still.”
When they got inside of his apartment, Bellamy asked her another question.
“You’re not mad?”
She shrugged, shaking her head slightly. “I’m mad that you thought fighting my ex was the best way to go, and getting yourself hurt in the process, but… I’m not mad that you’re the first guy that didn’t hesitate to protect me.” The two of them sat on the sofa. “Now, please let me check up on your hands, because I will go crazy just by looking at them.”
He gave her a small smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He said, but proceeded to give her his right hand to inspect. She carefully looked at the small cut on his knuckles, then quickly went to the kitchen and returned with a wet towel, washing his hands of the blood. “Thanks.” He said, when she was done.
“No problem.”
He nodded to himself, waiting for her to say anything next, but that moment never coming. “I can be a little bit overprotective sometimes.” He said lamely.
“No shit.” She whispered, and the both of them chuckled.
“It’s just…” he brushed his hair with his fingers nervously. “Do you remember when you talked about your eating disorder to me.” She nodded, her face filled with confusion. “Uh, the way I am, overprotective, overbearing or basically possessive sometimes is because of my sister and mother.” He said.
“I didn’t know you had a sister.” She replied.
“You didn’t know, because she doesn’t want me to be in her life, well not mostly.” He sighed. “I didn’t grow up in a good neighborhood, my whole life from the time I was a kid was to be dedicated to make my sister’s life better. My sister, my responsibility.” He whispered at the end, remembering his mother’s words to him, when Octavia was born. “I was sixteen when I first got a job, my mom was almost never at home, I never knew where or with who she was, the only person that was a constant in the house was Octavia. She was troubled, she had anger issues, getting into fights at school. At first I didn’t think anything of it, because I had similar problems like her, maybe not as intense, but still.” He looked up at Clarke, only to see her already looking up at him.
“Octavia was all I had. I wasn’t doing well in school, because of my jobs, and my sister getting angrier everyday. It all went even more to shit, when I found my mother in her room, hanging by a rope around her neck.” Clarke’s sharp breath was her only response. “Octavia got even angrier, lashing out on me in the every way she could, mentally and physically. That house wasn’t my home anymore, it was a nightmare. I myself got into a wrong crowd in the first year of college after somehow getting accepted here. I started sleeping around a lot, partying till I was black out drunk, waking up in strange places. Octavia moved away at seventeen I think? I was worried as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but I focused on getting my life back together. I rented out this place, it wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough for me and her, so I got in contact with her, telling her everything about my work at the bar, and classes and that I got an apartment for the two of us… I didn’t realize she wasn’t listening to me the whole time, her only response that she was fine where she was, and that I needed to let her go, because without her overprotective brother in her life, it was so much better.” He said, his hands starting to shake. “Now she just sends me pictures of the places she’s in, that was my only wish; to know she’s well and alive.”
The silence between them stretched out, so when he felt her hand touch his forearm he startled.
“Bellamy, listen to me.” She whispered, her voice strong as it always was most of the time. “It’s not your fault that she left you, you did nothing wrong by raising her the way you did. You’re the most selfless and caring person I know, and if that was too much for her, then I really don’t know what she’s looking for, because being around has made my life so much better. It’s Octavia’s fault that she doesn’t see that. She doesn’t deserve you.”
He let out a silent sob, the tears spilling down his cheeks. “I- I just wanted you to know, that if I’m being overbearing or too much, please tell me to stop.” He stuttered. “You’re so important to me, I don’t want to lose you like I lost them.”
“You’re not going to, Bellamy.” She replied. When he didn’t say anything, she sat closer to him, wrapping both of her arms around him, he leaned into her, his head resting on her collarbone. “You’re never going to lose me. You’re one of the best things that happened to me. I need you.”
“And I need you.” He whispered, her arms pulling him even closer to her. They stayed in that position for what seemed a couple of minutes, but was surely longer than that. He couldn’t place why he was feeling so safe in her arms, how even though she was so much smaller than him, her frame embraced him.
“Bell.” She said, after pulling back slightly to look at his face — her look full of adoration but also worry. He gave her a lopsided smile, and she chuckled at his sheepish expression. “I just - I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way, that you need to kiss me, or do anything more with me, just so I won’t leave you. Because I won’t.”
His smile fell from his face, his chest starting to ache slightly. “Why would I do that?” He asked.
“You’re my best friend, and I want to be in your life, as long as you’ll have me.” She said, taking a deep breath after. Deep down he knew that, Bellamy kept telling himself — he knew that he was in some way important to her, but hearing it from her lips made it real, and he wasn’t opposed to that.
“I think I’m in love with you.” He confessed quickly, in the rush of the moment, not thinking before saying it. Clarke’s eyes widened in surprise, and he was about to start beating himself about telling her too soon, when they really didn’t even talk whether it was a relationship or not. He then saw her smile slightly, her cheeks reddening slightly too.
Then her expression fell.
“I-“ she looked away, as if she was embarrassed about something. “I like you, in a non-platonic way… I like you so fucking much, Bellamy.” She said carefully. “And I feel the same as you do, but… I -“
“You don’t need to say it.” He assured quickly, her telling him that she liked him romantically was enough for him— Bellamy didn’t care whether she said it, or not.
She nodded, kissing him on the lips softly, so softly he felt as if their lips barely touched. Bellamy deepened the kiss, tangling his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer. The position wasn’t comfortable, with him almost laying on her, her head turned in a uneasy way, he sat back on the couch, bringing her with him, sitting her on his lap.
Clarke moaned when his tongue found hers, he roughly grabbed her hips, growling when she rolled them into his seductively. “Clarke.” He whispered, a plea — she smirked, smashing their lips together again, grinding against him.
He didn’t realize when his costume was thrown aside, leaving him in black boxers, and her still fully clothed, which was probably a crime itself. “Why are you still dressed?” He asked, almost out of breath from the intense make out session. Clarke shrugged, looking down at him.
“I don’t know…” she dragged out, this time fully smirking at him. He turned them around, with her back laying on the couch, and him on top of her, between her legs who her hugging his thighs. But when he slowly started to undress her, her expression turned from a seductive, to a nervous one.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, and she shook her head, scoffing quietly, probably to herself. “Hey, talk to me.” He stopped unbuttoning her shirt, and she finally looked up at him.
“It’s just—“ she broke off, shaking her head. “The last time I was with someone, it was Finn.”
“You know I’m nothing like him.” He quickly replied, and she shook her head again.
“No, it’s not that. I know you.”
“Then what—“
“He, um, made some comments about my body.” She answered quickly, her skin flushing. “That I was too skinny, like a stick.” Clarke scoffed. “And I know how I looked back then; like someone could literally break me in half if they tried.”
“You’re healthy, Clarke. That’s what matters.” He assured, and she nodded.
“I’ve put on some weight, but I still— I still don’t feel like I’m healthy enough.” She confessed, her voice shaky. “I’ve never liked my body, and I don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“Ruin what?” He asked, he was one step from expressing how beautiful she was, how her body in his eyes was perfect.
“Our first time.” She whispered — he shook his head immediately, she wouldn’t ruing anything for him, never her.
“Clarke, listen to me.” His hands found both of her cheeks, turning her head to look at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re healthy, I’ve never known anyone even as half beautiful as you in the past.” He whispered. “I’m gonna take care of you, Princess.”
He heard her take a sharp breath— smirking in response, Bellamy kissed her passionately on the lips, then trailed his kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her throat and down her chest, unbuttoning every button slowly; it was almost torture for the both of them — knowing that she wanted him as much in this moment as he wanted her.
Still, that didn’t stop the teasing on both sides — Bellamy trailing his kisses slowly lower, and Clarke massaging his hair gently, with quick and sharp, strong grips from time to time. “Bellamy…” she whispered weakly, when he finally started pulling down her panties.
He was absorbed with the tangy but also sweet smell, giving her small kisses on either sides of her thighs before licking into her — Clarke moaned loudly, her grip on his hair getting stronger with every second he was down here.
“You taste so good, baby.” Bellamy whispered, turning to take a look at her face; she looked blissed, her cheeks slightly red, and her chest moving up and down from the sharp breaths she took every minute.
“Come on, Bell.” She prodded, getting annoyed with his patience — Bellamy smirked once again, and put his mouth to use, his hands - who her holding her thighs in place - moved to her clit, making her whimper. She moved her hips against his mouth, wanting more.
He didn’t waste anytime, passionately licking into her, with his right hand pinching her clit, when he knew by the louder moans, and pleas falling from her mouth, that she was so close.
She let out a long moan and shuddered against him — he then turned to his boxers, his hard on straining uncomfortably against them; Bellamy shook them off in a second, awkwardly standing up from the bed, but before he returned he took a look at her.
Clarke wasn’t looking at him, quite the opposite, she had her eyes closed and her mouth slightly opened — he couldn’t find the right words to describe the sight in front of him; beautiful wasn’t enough to describe that. She was and looked majestic, like something out of this world, that no one deserved.
Bellamy then realized that they were actually doing this, no hiding from each other, or backing off when things got too hard — they were honest with each other, honest to the point where he felt as if he could tell her everything, and he almost did, he confessed his terrible childhood to her, and she didn’t judge him for it. The only thing left was to tell her how deeply he was in love with her, yet, the words seemed to be stuck in the back of his head, never actually being able to tell them to her, at least not yet.
“You coming back or what?” Clarke asked, raising her eyebrow at him standing there — catching him admiring her.
“Yeah.” He kneeled on the bed first, but she stopped him from getting on top of her. Instead, she let him fall onto the bed on his back, and she crawled down — the thought of her in front of him, on her knees with his dick in her mouth was something he fantasized about quite often. But now he had other desires stronger than that.
“I want to be inside you.” He said to her, after pulling her back slightly. She nodded understanding, her expression switching from a confused, even hurt to a heated one. He grabbed her by her hips, pulling her into his lap — for a moment they took a second to just look at each other, and then their lips crashed.
He could feel her clit bumping into his hard cock every time, he grabbed her tighter to be closer to her, he needed for her to be as close she could. They pulled away, he quickly got a condom which Murphy must’ve thankfully put it in his cupboard, and with the help of her hands on his shoulders, and his hands on her hips she sunk down on him.
He grunted, closing his eyes, and she whimpered, he couldn’t tell if it was from pleasure or from hurt — maybe even both. He could feel her clench slightly and then relax. “Does is hurt?” He asked, when she stopped moving for a second.
“No, yes. It’s just so big.” She whispered, and then moved deeper into him. “But it’s so good, I can’t get enough of it.”
He moaned this time, her words being too much for him — this could end in seconds if she was going to talk like that to him, he wouldn’t last. He lifted her hips, and she moaned an “yes!” Then going deeper again.
They started moving together in rhythm, when the thrusts started getting harder and quicker, her laid his head on her shoulder, and she laid her head on his. She was so tight, it was heaven for him, and the rolls of her hips into his were sinfully amazing.
“Yeah, baby, just like that.” He growled, when she grabbed his shoulder harder, and driving into him even quicker. He wouldn’t last long, and by the way she didn’t seem to say a full sentence, only oh, yes’s, Bell’s and fuck’s she was close too. “You like being on top, huh.” He said, spurring her on, she nodded against his head. “Fuck me, Clarke.” He growled, the hold on her hips getting stronger, it would leave a bruise he was sure of it, and some sick, twisted part of him liked the idea of her being marked by him.
“Marked, huh.” She whimpered, but her voice was teasing, he cursed when he realized he said that out loud, but the next thing he saw was her shuddering against him, just like she did when he went down on her couple minutes ago, this time accompanied with even louder moans and whimpers. He couldn’t wait, so he closed his eyes and with a moan he came.
He laid back, and with him she went to lay on his right side, her head laying on his chest — he didn’t have the energy to cover them with something even as a blanket, he wished the bliss he was living in would last forever.
“I’m sorry, about the marking comment.” He said quietly after a couple of minutes, when their breaths seemed to calm down. “I really got carried away.”
“It’s alright.” She said, looking up at him, kissing him. “It is a turn on, if I’m going to be honest with you.” She added after a moment, hiding her face in his chest.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He let out a sigh, and chuckled. “Then I guess I’m gonna start calling you mine. How about that?”
“I was yours since the time you thought that going with me on Thanksgiving to my family when we barely knew each other was a good idea.” She smirked, and he chuckled at the memory — it seemed to long ago, but in reality it was just a couple of months.
“Will you stay?” He asked hopefully — he knew the answer to that already, but he needed to know for sure.
“Of course.” She whispered.
That night he slept with no worries or insecurities on his mind — he knew they would come, as they always did, but he wanted to take pleasure in this moment as they weren’t a problem for now. He knew there was going to be a lot to get through if they wanted all of this to work, but somehow, he was sure they would go through them together this time.
Sleep took over him quickly after that.
This time it was a dreamless night.