There were a lot of things that Clarke had noticed about Bellamy's hands.
They were usually holding a book, for one thing. A crinkled, yellow page flicking between the pads of his thumb and his forefinger, as his tongue flicked out each time he flipped over to the next page.
Or the way they'd grip a pen, scribble over a notebook, his neck bent at an awkward angle over a text book.
Or how they would look when they wrapped around Octavia's back as he pulled her into a hug every time he saw her. The way they ruffled Jasper's hair when he said something stupid or the way they tapped against the counter as they waited for the coffee to brew.
She'd seen them wave at her from across the room and cover his mouth the hide a smirk or pressed into the crease between his eyebrows whenever he had a headache.
She'd seen his hands when they were restless and itchy and nervous.
But one thing she'd never seen them do was reach out toward her face to pluck her headphones from her ear, before resting on the wall behind her.
"Knocking beneath you, Princess?"
She felt his breath creep down her neck as he leaned his weight onto his hands, elbows bending away from either side of her face, boxing her in. His hands seemed to sink into the wood of the door where they rested, as he made himself comfortable.
Clarke had never been that close to him. She didn't have time to fully process the situation she was in before she was answering him.
"Ever think of locking the door?" she snapped.
It wasn't her fault. Who takes a shower without locking the bathroom door? And what was he even doing in her apartment anyway?
The cord from her headphones was sticking to her neck, where Bellamy had laid it moments before. She'd already been covered in a sheen of sweat before she came in, but the hot water flowing from the shower behind him was sending a wave of fog over her, and she swore the room was filled with more water than air.
It was stifling.
"O said you were out," he said, shrugging. One of his elbows dipped and bumped her shoulder with the movement.
"I was running. I had to come back at some point."
He just raised an eyebrow at her. Duh.
Finally jolting back to the reality of her situation, Clarke raked her eyes over the man standing in front of her.
He was barefoot and shirtless, his jeans slung low on his hips. She saw his belt was already off, sitting atop a pile of discarded clothes right in front of the sink.
His hair was messy, sticking up in every direction as if he had just tugged his shirt over his head before she walked in. Thick strands hung low on his forehead, blocking his eyes and if her hand wasn't frozen at her side, if she had been a slightly braver person, she may have reached up to brush them away, if only to see his dark eyes a bit clearer.
The steam was blanketing his skin too, leaving his chest covered and shiny. As she stared at it, exposed in front of her she thought she saw him sway, felt the air move a bit differently as he leaned just the tiniest bit closer to her.
Involuntarily, she moved closer too, an exhale of breath knocking her further away from the door and a fraction closer to him.
She couldn't help but sway. He took up the whole room, and she was boiling over.
"You probably want to shower now," she said quietly.
Her hands weren't listening to her though. They had thawed, and were reaching out for the source of their heat. Just the tips of her fingers brushed up against the rough material of his jeans, a barely noticeable touch.
He hummed in response, and she would have taken it as her cue to leave if his tongue hadn't flicked out across his bottom lip at the same time, or if his lips hadn't then stretched into a smile when he dropped his eyes down to watch the tips of her fingers dip down toward the pocket of his jeans, where they stopped and curled themselves in.
She would have turned and left, but his hands were still pressed against the door behind her, keeping it shut tight; still framing her body between his arms which were slowly inching their way closer on both sides, until she could tip her head just a bit to the side and feel his forearm bump against her nose.
She saw him take a clear step forward then.
His head was dipped down, he was close enough where his chin had to be nearly pressed into his neck to be able to see her. She could see where he was biting his cheek to keep from smiling at her.
"I should leave then," she said, her voice a whisper. She swallowed. "So you can shower."
"Mmm," he said, his forehead coming to rest on her temple. She felt the air from his mouth reach out and tickle her ear. "Or you could stay."
Her chin dipped in the tiniest nod she could muster, while her hands used their grip in his pockets to drag him forward. He stayed in much the same position, letting her guide him toward her, moving on his own only to sweep his right hand down from where it sat beside her head, down to the knob of the door where she heard the click of the lock.
"Oh," she breathed on to his neck. "So now you lock it."
She felt his lips stretch into a smirk against her ear. "Got what I want in here, now," he murmured into her hair.
Her hands moved out of his pockets then, his breath still warm on her ear, crawling down her neck, and her fingers began working on the button of his jeans.
Heat was spreading all down her neck as his jeans fell to the floor, and before she could work on the next layer, his hands moved to her wrists. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles in the palms of her hands as he lifted them over her head. His fingers barely grazed the surface of her arms as he brought his own back down, only to move them to the hem of her shirt in order to lift it up and over her head.
She felt the fabric muss her hair—though it had been sticking to her head from the heat anyway—and Bellamy, dropping the shirt, ran his hands from her forehead the nape of her neck where her ponytail sat, smoothing the rumpled hair as he went. She reached her own hand back and pulled the hair tie out.
Her hair pooled over her shoulders in sweaty clumps, slick from both her run and the sauna they'd created in her bathroom. She shifted her shoulders to brush it back, but Bellamy had gathered it up in one hand and held it up above her neck. He dipped his lips down and covered the expanse of the nape of her neck with his lips, his tongue flicking out against her skin.
At the feel of his mouth on her neck, she arched her chest up into his and dragged his arms back down to her hips, as she pulled her sports bra off herself. As her hands lifted it up and over her head, she felt one of his slide its way up to her chest and cup her breast, his mouth moving down her collar bone.
She stood there, in just her shorts, pressed up against his bare chest as his lips worked their way over every inch of her neck. Her back was pressed against the wood of the door, closer and closer with each hitch of his hips. She let him drink her in like that, until her hands were itching to get on him.
She slid her hands inside the waistband of his briefs, raking her nails across skin of the side of his thighs, fascinated by the shiver it elicited from him. She did it again and again before bringing her hands back up to the waist band. His head had dipped onto her shoulder and she gave the briefs a tug until they slid off his hips, and she crouched herself down, dragging them with her, until they got low enough for him to step out of.
She pressed her mouth to the outside of his calf, working her way back up his legs to meet him where he stood. Her hands followed her mouth and by the time she had pulled herself back up to her full height, her hands were gripped on his hips and she flipped them so he was against the door, and she was pressing against him.
She steps back, only long enough to grab the waistband of her underwear and her shorts and pull them down herself, kicking them off her feet before moving back to him.
His skin is fully flushed beneath her touch. She pressed herself close and moves her lips to just below his ear, leaving wet sloppy kisses from his ear, all along his jaw line. She feels his chest move up and down under the palm of her hand, his breathing quicker, unsteady.
"Probably shouldn't waste any more of that hot water," she mumbles into his neck. His laugh shakes her chest pressed against him and he moves his hands to her hips, pushing her gently back.
He leads her, walking backwards toward the shower and pulls the curtain back for her.
"Well," he smirks. "Ladies first."