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Clarke woke to the chirping of birds and hummed while stretching her body to full-length until her joints popped. This had always been her favorite moment of a day, just waking up and unfolding her body to its fullest, stretching skin and tissue until it felt it would almost burst and just lying on the back for a minute more to let the thoughts wander.
When she stretched the movement made Bellamy moan next to her and he shifted his grip from her waist to one of her exposed breasts. Clarke smiled into his mob of curls, within kissing-distance resting comfortably bedded on her chest.
Bellamy’s fascination with her breasts was amusing really. Last night he nearly spent twenty minutes worshipping them with his hands, lips and on occasion a tiny bit of teeth. Although it wasn’t really doing anything to Clarke she indulged him. (Because he spent double the time to do the things that were really, really doing it for her and he would do so until he would have her catching for air and humming and moaning with pleasure.) When they started sleeping together (without the more deeply intimacies, that followed soon after) Clarke had been surprised by Bellamy’s sleeping habits.
She had seen him sleeping on various occasions (if at all as he was usually the one signing up for watch shifts first no matter how tired he might be) and it had always been light, in a crouched sitting position, intensely unmoving yet surprisingly agile if there was an alarm going off, and he was always bright and awake within seconds.
But within his own safe space, he could sleep deep and long and oversleep on a regular basis and he was so beyond confused upon waking up which was so disturbingly uncharacteristically compared to his other behavior, it left Clarke flabbergasted that, by the sheer force of his will, he could force his habits of sleeping in accordance to the circumstance he was in.
She always thought he would be claiming the whole of the sleeping space available with his big body, the long limbs and selfishly demanding the blanket in his sleep and being his general grumpy self. And because she slept that way too, she wondered when the idea was brought up for them to share a tent because of practicalities whether they would strangle themselves within two days or a week latest.
(Now, after, the only reasonable explanation for his grumpiness, that had Clarke go mad with anger and frustration at first in their early times on earth when they were still budding their head against each other so much in their common hope that the other would drop dead on the spot, became now his general lack of sleep and comfort. She was hell bent on making him sleep good and long for as often as possible. For his, hers and everybody’s sake, she would manage the one or the other way to tire him out so much, that he would do nothing but comply.)
But Bellamy turned out to offer her yet another surprise. He slept on his side, curled together, claiming as little space as possible, neither moving nor kicking during his sleep cycles.
(Yes, her scientific mind made her watch him in his sleep. It might have been the moment she realized just how much she wanted to be the big-spoon to his little-spoon, and not only for power-reasons.)
She had wondered why that was. She came to the conclusion that he was taught to be as small as possible on the ARC. Because of his little sister he was taught to be invisible, barley existing and not attracting attention. Because a two-persons-living quarter was just so big and with a growing, illegal third person inside, room was scarce and he needed to offer as much space to Octavia as possible because that was all she could have.
(She soon guessed that his attempt at dictatorship in the beginning was also part of a reaction to this incredibly grand amount of space around them. Part of the possibility to be selfish for the first time. Part of the chance to ask for more, to demand for the first time more for himself than he always thought he could have, more than he though he deserved before.)
Whereas she always had been the princess of the ARC, the holy, high daughter, angel of mercy, with big living-quarters, an own room for herself even, with an own bed for herself and she knew nothing, and was sleeping broad on her back, with her limbs thrown away from her, claiming all that space that was and more, and taking all that space for granted.
Hell, she even had a prison cell for her own in the Skybox.
Space was nothing to her, but everything to Bellamy.
When the thoughts of this, of his random self-sacrifices and her self-realization hit her had, they were inside the small tent, getting ready for one of this rare nights, which none of them would spent either on guard shift or in medical, and which had been damn uncomfortable at first but where now covered in a more than comfortable blanket of shared silence and companionship.
Bellamy curled together in his self-trained sleeping position and an incredible amount of love overcame her, and she had touched his shoulder, to tell him all about the fondness she just felt towards him, and when he looked at her and gave her a small smile Clarke was lost at words, so she kissed him instead. He had been surprised, yet reacted to her pressing of lips with taking her head into his big hands and kissing her back like he had waited for her, all this time, to make the first step.
(He knew her so well. She knew him so little.)
After that she had curled herself against his body, with her arms thrown around his torso and her head resting on the spot where neck and shoulders meet and pressing her chest against his chest and she allowed him to claim as much sleeping space as he wanted, as he deserved and they fell asleep together and the next morning they woke up late, with Clarke on her back again, occuping all the bedding with limbs streched wide from her and Bellamy curled together next to her, his head on her chest and Clarke realized that they were complimenting each other in this way too.
His bed-hair was the most arousing thing she ever saw, so she kissed him again, kissed him awake and pushed him on his back again (because that what he earned, what he deserves) and they had slow, morning sex and Clarke would never, ever forget the feeling of coming and sighing his name with a smile and the sight of him hovering over her, claiming all the space in her eyesight and smiling back, and everything was good.