It's always heart wrenching whenever he has to leave Clarke. Not knowing if he'll ever see her again.
It's worse this time, somehow. He wants to stay with her, accompany her to the island. But he's needed elsewhere, he has to try and fix things with Octavia, even if maybe it's a lost cause. It's the end of the world and he might not get another chance to do that.
But he might not get another chance to see Clarke again either and the thought kills him.
And so he'd tried to say… something. He's not sure exactly what. Words that can't be undone. Things that he needs to say, he wants her to know, but she's not ready to hear them yet.
So he let her stop him, and maybe it's for the best. Let her think they'll see each other again, that they still have time. He wishes he could believe it.
God, he'll never get to run his fingers through her golden hair, or kiss her like he really wants to kiss her. Hard and soft at the same time. Her lips, her throat, her breasts. And shit, he wants to fuck her a million ways. Make her tremble with his tongue, have her come on his cock.
He shifts in his seat, his cock now uncomfortably hard, and he feels guilty thinking about her like this, but he can't seem to stop himself. He stops the rover, turns off the engine and pulls his cock out of his pants.
He strokes the tip of his cock, coating it in pre cum, imagining Clarke here in the rover with him, leaning over to suck his cock, her pretty lips circling him, taking him deep into her throat.
It's not the first time he's done this, thought about her like this. Got himself off alone in the dark as he thinks about all the things he'd like to do to her, but will probably never get the chance.
He groans, wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking himself as he thinks about Clarke's tits, pulling them out of her top, sucking on her pink nipples. He imagines himself sinking his cock into her pussy, fucking her hard, making her cry his name.
He jerks himself desperately, already so close to coming, feeling like a pervert. He wonders what she'd think of him if she saw him like this. If she knew how often he imagined coming on her tits, in her mouth, in her pussy. If she saw him frantically tugging at his cock like a horny teenager, grunting like a caveman, all the while knowing how desperate he is for her. How pathetically in love with her he is.
He feels himself getting close to coming and he works his hand faster, still pretending his fist is Clarke's cunt.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groans as he feels his balls tighten, and he spurts his semen onto himself, shuddering as he orgasms. He drops his head to the steering wheel, breathing heavy. The shame is already starting to kick in and he quickly cleans himself up as best he can.
"If we live through this," he mutters. "One day I'm going to tell you. One day."