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It was a dangerous game they played and Bellamy knew it. The Grounder, Lincoln, had escaped, or so Octavia’s story went, and Bellamy had vowed to find him. He hadn’t, however, vowed to start this game.
The woods around their camp were dangerous with Grounders out to kill them at every turn. Still every few days Bellamy would find a white flower near camp, sometimes far too close to his liking, and he would leave. Sometimes he claimed he was going to bathe or patrol. Sometimes he just left and ignored the questions.
“You’re slow today, heda.” Lincoln’s breath always smells of sweet herbs after a particularly grumpy Bellamy had declared his breath stank. (That certainly hadn’t stopped him from kissing him anyway.)
His hand slides under Bellamy’s thin shirt and he holds him close to his chest as the boy, really a man, squirms. This is their game. Bellamy searches for Lincoln in the woods, or maybe Lincoln searches for Bellamy. Sometimes the Grounder is taken by surprised and it’s something that is becoming more common. Good.
Bellamy rarely speaks during their encounters. They never speak of this at all really. Instead he turns, hand going to the back of Lincoln’s neck to force him into a kiss, though the force isn’t needed.
His breath comes as an annoyed grunt as his back meets a nearby tree. His head is protected by Lincoln’s hand in his hair and that warms some part of him. More kisses come and hands wander but Lincoln doesn’t push – he never does.
He pulls away, their mouths barely brushing and Bellamy finds himself staring at that mouth through his lashes. “I want to show you something.” Again he pulls away and Bellamy follows, letting Lincoln take his hand.
Sometimes he wonders why he does this. He could have any girl (and half the guys if the looks he gets tell him anything) in the camp and he has certainly had no trouble proving that to be true. Instead he risks his life and his people to sneak out and fuck a Grounder. Maybe he’s more fucked up than he had first thought.
Lincoln leads him to a clearing though it is canopied by high tree branches. The grass is high and green and here are dozens of white flowers bloomed. They sit together for some time, knees touching and Lincoln’s hands playing with Bellamy’s perpetually mussed curls.
“Do you play this game with my sister?” He asks all of a sudden and it’s the first thing he’s said all night.
Lincoln doesn’t speak for a long time but his hand doesn’t stop moving in Bellamy’s hair. He doesn’t answer even as he leads Bellamy back to the outskirts of the camp. “You are special to me.” And he leaves with a kiss on Bellamy’s forehead and nothing more.