Chapter 1: You're Tense, Clarke

Chapter Summary:

Clarke is tense. Bellamy helps her out. (Oh, and they're sitting with their friends watching a movie.)

Chapter Notes

So, I'm starting a little collection of scenes and one-shots that bounce around in my head and demand an outlet... Stuff that doesn't necessarily fit into the fics I'm working, but they won't leave my brain? Also, I sometimes tease my friends with strings of smuty texts, and occasionally inspire myself to make a fic out of it (As was the case with this particular chapter ~ Thank you, Kayla)

Everyone gathers in the living room while Raven navigates the video library, and after a vote, settles on Robo Cop. Clarke is the last to come into the living room and glances around for an open seat. Her friends are settling in comfortably on the sofa and various spots on the floor. Bellamy, unsurprisingly, is stretched out over the entire loveseat. She feels a stab of annoyance when she sees him taking up unnecessary space, especially since there's nowhere for her to sit. She doesn't realize she's been staring until he raises a challenging eyebrow. The urge to strangle him wars with the urge to straddle his lap and kiss that infuriating smirk off his face.

That compulsion probably has something to do with their little arrangement.

Both Clarke and Bellamy decided it would be best to keep things under wraps, given that it's new, and they haven't really defined it. The last thing they need is commentary from their friends while they attempt to navigate this uncharted territory. She thinks maybe it falls under "friends with benefits." But, they haven't really talked about it beyond the agreement that it's something they don't want to share with the group.

After brief consideration, she decides she doesn't want to deal with the potential awkwardness of asking him to scoot over. Oh, that's one of the bigger changes she's noticed since they started fucking. She can't seem to act normal around him anymore. Gone is the witty banter, replaced by uncomfortable silences and awkward expressions. For that reason alone, she thinks maybe she should regret their decision to fuck on the down-low, but she can't. Because sex with Bellamy is absolutely mind-blowing. Nobody has ever been able to play her body the way he does. She's never had a partner bring her to that plane of pleasure or make her so dizzy with want. Just thinking about it is turning her on, which is really inconvenient, given the fact that all of their friends are sitting in the living room, oblivious to the thick sexual tension between her and Bellamy.

Clarke gives him a glare as she passes him, which he returns with a knowing smirk. She refuses to admit that his smile is the reason her heart just skipped a beat. She hears the sound of shifting cushions and turns her head to see Bellamy scoot over to make room. He pats the seat next to him in invitation and she nods with a sigh and hesitantly sits down. She crosses her legs away from him in an effort to make some space between them, but the small size of the love seat makes physical contact inevitable. She's pretty sure that the more they touch, the harder it will be to keep her hands to herself. He has that effect…

He chuckles, "I'm not gonna bite." His voice reaches a low register, quiet so only she can hear him, "…unless you want me to."

Clarke bites her lip to try and quash a needy groan. The resulting sound is a strained whimper that attracts Raven's attention. Clarke mouths"Sorry" with a shrug and Raven faces the TV with a dramatic roll of her eyes. She feels Bellamy settle more comfortably into the cushions, and in her peripheral vision, she sees him stretch his arm out and rest it on the back of the sofa. She debates whether she should just lean back and embrace this. The other option is to spend the next two hours seated in an awkward position just to (futilely) avoid contact with him. That sounds unnecessarily exhausting, so she settles into his side, hyperaware of the way her hair catches on the crook of his elbow.

Bellamy's voice is gentle but teasing, "You're tense, Clarke." She turns to face him and is met with blown-out pupils and an inexplicably seductive raised eyebrow.

A scowl forms on her features as she bites back, "You don't say."

He chuckles softly, which irritates her even more. How can he be this relaxed while she feels wound-up like a top?

"I can help with that…" His voice drops to a whisper against the crown of her head, "…if you'll let me."

Clarke worries her lower lip between her teeth while thinks about his offer. She faces forward again and senses Bellamy's disappointment at being shut down. After a letting him squirm for a moment, she clears her throat and nods in consent. Without turning her head, she can see that his grin is both casual and salacious, and her body is already buzzing with need for him.

She can't help but be amused by how quickly he produces a convenient throw blanket. There's no way he didn't plan this... Not that she's complaining. She makes a concerted effort to keep her hands from shaking as she drapes the blanket haphazardly over the two of them while Bellamy lifts her left leg over his thigh, spreading her legs open and giving him obscene access. His hand covertly makes its way to her skirt, then hikes the hem up as he slips his fingers underneath. She feels her skin heat up and she's thankful that the lights are out so nobody can see the furious red blush creeping up her chest and neck. She's ashamed of the sheer the desperation she feels for him (he hasn't even fucking touched her yet).

Her whole body shivers when she feels his low, gravelly voice in her ear, "You've gotta stay real quiet for me…" All she can do is nod. He orders her to close her eyes and she has to suppress a wanton groan when she thinks about how tempting it would be to defy him, just to see what he'd do about it. His fingers expertly draw her panties to the side so he can languidly tease her folds. He bypasses her clit (he's such a fucking tease), so she moves her hips to chase his hand, but he responds with a quiet but stern clearing of his throat. She bites her lip with a nod and composes herself again.

Bellamy's lips graze her ear, "That's a good girl." He figured out her praise kink early on, and makes it a point to maximize it at every possible opportunity… The sound of her racing pulse in her ears is almost deafening as he plunges a finger, then two in to her, and it's his turn to quash a moan when he realizes how turned on she is.

His breath ruffles her hair as he murmurs in the most vulgar possible tone, "Fuck, Clarke. You're so goddamn wet… Is that all for me?" Clarke has to bite her lip to contain her moan. He stops his fingers and reminds her, "I asked you a question." He bites back his own growl when he feels her walls involuntarily clamp down on his fingers with a shameful gush of wetness. Her body reacts to him with appalling transparency.

Clarke brings her lips close to his neck as she whispers, "You know it's all for you, Bellamy…" He growls with a low pitch that sends vibrations straight through her as fingers return to task with renewed vigor. He winds her up from the inside while he quietly murmurs obscene thoughts into her neck about how wet she is, how he loves it when she falls apart for him, how he wishes he could fuck her right here…

She forgets to suppress a moan when he crooks his long fingers against a particularly effective spot deep inside of her. Bellamy stills his movements when Jasper turns his head to see what's going on. Jasper furrows his brows and looks like he's about to ask something, but Bellamy fixes him with a glare that shuts him up before he even opens his mouth. Clarke can't help but feel even more turned on by Bellamy's authoritative expression, and nearly sighs with relief when Jasper heeds the warning and quickly turns back to the TV. Bellamy immediately returns to finger-fucking her, as if he was never interrupted. Jasper knows what's happening, and Clarke thinks she should feel completely mortified, and she does… But something about the way Bellamy boldly refuses to stop fucking her, unconcerned with who knows about it… holy fucking shit. The thought that he needs so badly to feel her come undone under his command sends Clarke rapidly to the edge.

Her pulse races and beads of sweat gather on her forehead and between her breasts as she climbs closer and closer to the precipice. She feels his voice, low and quiet in her ear, and his tone leaves no room for negotiation (after all, he won't be disobeyed). He commands, "Come for me…"

His demand sends her careening over the edge, and it takes everything she has not to cry out loud while that sweet, coiled pressure in her abdomen finally finds release. Her chest heaves but she attempts to keep her desperate breaths quiet as she comes undone.

She feels his hot breath against her skin, "Shhhh…I've got you, Princess." All she can do is nod, her body limp and useless. She's immensely grateful when he cups the back of her neck with his free hand and pulls her against his chest, muffling her pleasured gasps as she comes back down. As she relaxes in his arms, she feels her body twitch with the aftershocks of her orgasm, bolts of dampened electricity shoot from her core to her fingertips.

The movie still plays in the background and their friends remain absorbed in it, unsuspecting of the earth-shattering pleasure Bellamy just gave her (except for maybe Jasper, but she can't bring herself to care).

The last thing she remembers before she succumbs to sleep is the deep, barely audible rumble of his chest as he tells her what a god girls he is, and how he can't wait to do this again… And finally, the soft kiss he presses to her temple as he tells her she can sleep (she'll need her rest for later).

End Chapter Notes:

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