A/N: I decided to take a tiny break from my Olicity streak, and this happened. This is my first time writing for this fandom. I've only seen the 100 one time through, so I apologize if there are any inaccuracies in here. I just really like Bellarke. I'm looking forward to season three, and hopefully more scenes with them. I had a lot of fun writing this, so enjoy :)
Bellamy shifted, feeling a twinge in his back from the thin bedding underneath him. Cringing, he brought himself into a sitting position, the sounds of movement and chatter reaching his ears. Most of the camp was already awake, preparing for their day. Bellamy sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Sleep wasn't something he'd been getting a lot of these days, and he knew the reason behind that. Clarke had been gone for months now, and the wound from her leaving still felt just as raw as it had the day of. Getting by without her was hell for him, and pretending like he was fine was even worse. How he managed to lead his people so successfully, he had no idea.
Today was one of the worse days. The ache in his chest was more persistent, ringing her name through his veins. Sometimes, he let it overtake him. Sometimes, he broke down, clinging onto the darkness of the night that masked his tarnished demeanor so well from the rest of the world. But sometimes, even that wouldn't work.
Getting away from camp was always helpful, since it allowed him to think clearly without the risk of interruptions from the arc members. Sure, sneaking off was getting harder to do because of their increase in protection. However, if he insisted upon doing something as simple as say, getting water, he knew no one would pester him too much.
So, his mind made up, Bellamy grabbed his shirt from the corner of his tent, slipping his arms through it and exiting the tiny form of shelter. As expected, he was pelted with questions from desperate people looking for instruction. He didn't have a clue. He was just going along with it all, making the small calls when he could. Without Clarke, it was hard to put too much confidence in his instructions.
Clarke.
There she was again, pounding through his skin, eager to escape and manifest into his reality. Forcing those thoughts down for the time being, he approached the guarded entrance. Only two men stood there, but the guns that were swung around their shoulders were more than intimidating. Bellamy walked between them, and as he predicted, they blocked his path.
"Where do you think you're going?" the taller one asked, and Bellamy thought he remembered the guy's name being Kyle.
Bellamy raised his head, meaning to come off as someone who knew what the hell he was doing. "I'm going to get water for the camp."
The men shared a reluctant look, before the other one spoke. "Why don't you take someone with you?"
Bellamy shook his head firmly, leaving no room for argument. "I'm fine. I won't be gone long."
After one more shared look, they ceased, nodding their okay to him. Bellamy stepped through the entrance, starting on his way. The rest of the camp probably wasn't going to be heading out for a while still. It was early, and most groups didn't start scavenging the woods for at least another hour or so.
Bellamy trekked softly through the forest, putting his body on autopilot so he could let his mind drift. The way to the watering hole wasn't too far from camp, but it was distanced enough so that he'd have his privacy for a good amount of time. He'd walked this path so many times, he could let his thoughts wander towards the single reason he was out here by himself in the first place.
God, he missed her. A lot. He missed her blonde hair and the way it would trickle through his fingers like sunlight through splintering wood. He missed her smile, and how it could settle his nerves in even the most dire of times. He missed her lips, how soft they'd felt against his cheek.
And with that thought, he raised his hand up to his face, blindly ghosting his fingers over the spot that'd kept him warm for several nights after its occurrence. Those nights, he'd spent wondering. He'd wondered about what he could have done to get her to stay. He wondered if there even was anything that could have changed her leaving. He wondered what would have happened had he kissed her.
He knew it was silly to think that kissing her would have gotten her to stay. Her mind had been made up and him kissing her wouldn't have changed a thing. Still, he had those thoughts; those silly, consistent, irrational thoughts.
Bellamy lifted his head up, dipping under a low hanging branch. The watering hole was just a few feet ahead now, and he brought himself back to reality so that he could focus on his supposed task. Pushing aside a bundle of leaves, he forced his way into the clearing. He took it all in.
The trees, the clouds, the water.
And the blonde woman kneeling down at the edge of the water, sipping from her cupped hands.
Bellamy froze. He had to be imaging her. She was not really there, just a few feet from him. He blinked, trying to slow his rapidly beating heart and digging his nails into the palm of his hand to try and snap himself out of it just in case it was a mirage. Yet, there she remained, gracefully unaware of his presence.
He swallowed, perfectly content with just standing there all day, drinking her in. It had been months, and although she'd changed slightly, she was just as breathtaking as he remembered. He found himself clenching his jaw, his lungs taking in air at a slightly faster pace. Though his mind wanted to remain there, his body had other ideas. Involuntarily, he took one step forward. A twig cracked underneath his heavy step, and she was immediately standing to her full height, a makeshift knife clasped in her right hand.
His lips parted, but no words came out. All he could do was stand there, frozen in place. Her eyes scanned him over, finally resting on his. He saw them soften, relief filling him in the matter of a second.
"Bellamy?" she questioned, the hand that was holding the knife dropping to her side and releasing the knife onto the terrain.
He nodded, his throat tight. "Yeah," he said, voice hard with unshed emotion. "It's me, Clarke."
In an instant, she was in his arms, her body crashing perfectly against his. He held her tight, burying his head into her hair, breathing her in. Her arms wound firmly around his neck, her hands sifting through his messy curls. Everything was falling into place, and there they remained, captured forever in this moment in time.
When Clarke finally let go, Bellamy kept her near him, terrified she'd leave again. If she noticed the death-grip he held on her waist, she didn't say anything. Instead, she smiled bashfully, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"I've missed you," she murmured, and his heart flipped in his chest.
He smiled down at her. "I've missed you, too. The camp hasn't felt the same without you."
It was as though he'd flicked a switch on inside of her mind. At the mention of the camp, her eyes lit up, full of unspoken questions.
"How's my mom?"
He was a little surprised that was the first question she asked him, but he knew more were still to come. "Your mom is fine, Clarke. She misses you a lot."
She looked a little torn down, and he felt guilty. "Yeah, I know." The moment was quickly refurnished when her eyes met his again. "What about the rest of the camp? How is everyone? Are you guys getting enough to eat?"
Bellamy nodded. "We're all fine," he assured. "We have plenty of food now that there are more people on the hunting patrol."
Her eyes glazed over with something akin to worry. "What about the Grounders? Any problems with them?"
He shook his head. "No, they've kept to their side of the woods. I think they're still feeling a little guilty about their betrayal."
"Good," she remarked, and he still saw that hatred for what they did flare behind her eyes.
He waited for her to say more, but she didn't. He decided it was his turn to ask the questions now. He'd been dying to ever since he saw her again, and now was his chance. He had things he needed to know before it was too late.
Before she was gone again.
"What about you, Clarke?" he asked, and her eyes flashed at his directness. "How have you been?"
"Fine," she replied, shrugging a shoulder in a nonchalant manner.
He nodded, deciding to try again. "Where have you been staying?"
Her eyebrows furrowed, and he swore he could actually see the moment her inner walls went up. "Bellamy, I told you I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"Clarke, of course I'm going to worry about you." He licked his lips, wondering how much he was going to confess to her, even though he didn't seem to have much of an option. "I worry about you every second of every day."
"You have nothing to worry about," she snapped, stepping away from his proximity. "I don't know what I can do to make that any clearer for you. Tell me how I can make you stop worrying about me."
"Come back with me," he answered, the words falling so easily, so instinctively, from his lips. "Return to camp, and just stay."
"You know I can't do that, Bellamy," she sighed, setting her hands on her hips. "Things... Look, I'm just not ready to come back right now. Honestly, I don't even know if I ever will be."
His eyes jumped up to her face. "You... You have to come back, Clarke," he rushed, his stomach plummeting with the terrifying thought of her never returning; of this being the last time he'd ever get to see her like this, standing only inches away. "Everyone misses you-"
"Bell-"
"I miss you," he said, cutting her off short like she'd tried to do with him.
It was a weak attempt at getting her to change her mind. He knew that, but that didn't seem to stop him. He was desperate, and that instinct to keep his feelings for her hidden had been abolished at the sight of her. It clearly hadn't worked, seeing as her face told him she'd heard exactly what he'd said. Her lips were parted, a look of uncertainty lining her features. He swallowed, taking a step forward, as if to show her just how much he'd meant his words. Because his life had become hell once she left, and there was just no pretending otherwise.
At least not with her.
"I can't do this," she whispered, and he could see the glimmer in her eyes where the extra fluid was threatening to flee. "Goodbye, Bellamy."
Watching her walk away and doing nothing about it would absolutely destroy him right now. He was certain of it. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't survive. At the very least, he'd come back in shreds, just a wisp of what he used to be. He needed to know - if he were ever to make it out of this alive - that he'd tried everything to get her to stay; that he'd put his heart on the line, and confessed to her all of the things that kept him up at night.
He had to try, even if it meant she still walked away.
And with those thoughts, and the visual of Clarke moving further and further away from him with each unsure step, Bellamy raced up to her, cupping her face and crashing his lips onto hers. She was warm, and soft, and he wanted to breathe all of her in. Bellamy wanted to get lost in her, to melt into her lips and become unrecognizable.
But she wasn't kissing him back.
Clarke was frozen in place, arms rigid by her side. He would have stopped, but one peek showed him that her eyes were closed. That had to mean something - and also, the fact that she wasn't pushing him way spoke volumes to him. So, he held her close enough for the both of them, pressing his lips harder against hers. He was sifting, digging for a reaction.
Just one.
And he got it.
Her hand raised to his hair, tugging lightly. Even more encouraged by her tiny response, he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She let out a small noise at that, and suddenly, she came alive.
Her lips parted, mashing against his. He grinned, pushing her into him with one hand on her lower back. She tangled her fingers in his hair, letting out ragged huffs of air. Clutching onto him tightly, she wracked her body against his. He knew what she was doing. He knew how she was feeling, what she was thinking. He knew, because he was experiencing the exact same things as her.
This animalistic, yet completely compassionate, emotion was emanating from him, clawing at him from the inside. It didn't matter how close he was holding her, it still didn't feel like enough. He needed her closer. And judging by the way she was clinging onto his clothes, she felt the same.
So, with his tongue devouring her open mouth, he backed her up against the nearest tree. The bark scratched at her, and she bit his tongue in a way that shouldn't have been as erotic as it was. With a thump, her back collided with the wood, and there was a sense of comfort at knowing he was barricading her. With her sucking a trail down his neck, he took in as much air as he could.
His lungs contracted with each heavy breath, and he groaned softly at the marks she was sure to be making on him. Never before, had he been a big fan of girls marking his skin. It just seemed too personal and possessive. And he'd never belonged to anyone. Well, that was true until he met Clarke. He belonged to her in every way, shape, and form.
That's why her tongue and mouth suctioning over patches of his neck and jaw was welcomed by him. He wanted proof of her on his skin. He wanted everyone who saw him to know that he'd been out there with someone. With her.
Lowering his head, he kissed her neck sweetly. She tilted her head up, giving him easier access to her creamy skin. He nipped at it teasingly, soothing the angered skin with a few lashes of his tongue. She moaned over a particular spot he'd discovered, so he focused more of his time there, burning the knowledge into his mind.
But the kissing and whole making-out thing was as far as it went. He made no effort to escalate things, respecting Clarke too much for that. If she wanted something, than it would be her decision to make. Just the fact that he was holding her so close to him was enough. If he left there today, without anything more than this, than he would surely die happy.
Then, Clarke showed him what she wanted. She made it clear to him, so much that there was no room for questioning her intentions. After he'd made his way back to her lips, she pushed him away. And he'd thought, just for a second, that it was all over. That was when she'd pulled her shirt over her head, making his jaw unhinge.
"Clarke..." he'd tried, because he still wanted verbal conformation from her.
"Don't," she stopped him, already aware of what he was trying to figure out. "Bellamy, I want this. I want you. You had to have known that, right?"
He broke out in a grin, trying to blow off his happiness that was currently overwhelming him. "I mean, one could only hope when it comes to you."
Now it was her turn to break out into a cheesy smile, and she pulled him back to her by his hands. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"
"You drive me just as crazy, Princess," he promised.
Her eyes darkened at his familiar term of endearment, and he found himself missing his shirt within seconds. Things were moving really fast now, and he quickly lost his control of the situation. Clarke was already working on his pants, and he'd had yet to even process her without a shirt on as much as he'd have liked to.
"Clarke," he said, but she didn't show any sign that she'd heard him. "Clarke."
Her head snapped up this time, and he could see the desire swimming through her pupils. "What is it?"
"Not here," he answered, looking down at the landscape.
She rose to her full height, frustrated in a way only Bellamy could take care of. "I don't know if this has occurred to you, but we don't exactly have a hotel room we could check into."
He laughed. "We can make the most with what we have."
He could tell she was about to question what he meant by that, but he beat her to it. Picking up the shirt of his she'd shed to the ground, he splayed it out across the part of the ground that was mostly grass and leaves. It was big enough to cover one of them, and he didn't mind at all that it was her. She was smiling down at his craft when he looked at her, and he gestured towards it so that she'd lie down first.
He watched as she knelt to the ground, sitting back on her elbows. Raising an eyebrow expectantly, she waited for him to come down and join her. He exhaled, taking in the sight of Clarke topless, beckoning him to her side. Gladly, he sunk down to her level, lining his body up alongside hers. He rested most of his weight on his arm, placing the other one on the opposite side of her to block her in.
Her hands framed his face, kissing him languidly. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, tasting her like he'd already gotten so used to doing. Kissing her was starting to become an instinct now, and that was really dangerous for him if she didn't change her mind about going. Clearing those negative thoughts from his mind, he concentrated on the new location of her fingers.
He felt the brush of her hands on his abdomen, and knew where they were headed without a second thought. He sucked in his breath when she felt him through his pants, savoring the feel before she'd even made skin-to-skin contact with him. When she got his zipper down and his button unbuttoned, he helped her pull his pants off.
Compared to her, he was basically naked. She was wearing way too much clothes, and he was going to do something about it before another article came off of him. Grinning at the amount of power she was granting him now, he got her pants down and off just as she had him. His eyes raked over her appreciatively, and she was so comfortable with herself - as she should be - that she just laid back, letting him get his fill.
Not satisfied with only his eyes exploring her, he began to trace her skin with his fingers, gliding his hands over each and every curve. He was searing himself into her by touch, and every shiver that ran down her spine had his lips tugging in an involuntary smirk. Leaning down to taste her next, he kissed a trail down from her neck to her hip.
She was watching him, not missing a muscle. When he went in to kiss her, she met him halfway. He held her face in his hands, getting lost in her lips so much so, that he didn't feel her unclasp her bra. It was only when she broke away to slide it down her arms, did he realize she was now lacking the fabric. His breath caught as he looked at her bare chest, his heart thumping in his chest.
"I don't think I can wait another second," she admitted, right before slipping her panties down her legs as well.
She looked so pristine, the milkiness of her flesh contrasting against the dark shade of his shirt. Not to even mention the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous, and there was no way in the world that he was deserving enough to be seeing her like this. He wasn't worthy of her, he knew that much. Yet,t here he was, lying against her, expected to touch her like his body was aching to do.
"Bellamy," she whispered, bringing him back to her.
As if he'd ever left.
"Your'e so beautiful, Clarke," he told her, tracing her face with his fingertips.
"So show me," she murmured, removing the last piece of clothing on him that was preventing them from becoming one with each other.
He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Shifting so that he was now hovering over her, he locked eyes with her. They were beautiful eyes, so trusting, so desire-filled. He couldn't wait another second either. Gently, he penetrated her, feeling her breath catch beneath him. Her eyes told him to keep going, and so he didn't stop until he was filling her to the hilt.
Slowly, he moved, kissing her fully and deeply. She held onto him, nipping at his lips, sinking her nails into his shoulders and back. The feeling was consuming, holding her like this, being with her like this. Nothing in the world would ever make him prepared for being with her. He was sure it would always catch him by surprise.
He knew for a fact that he would never forget that experience. He'd always remember the way she felt around him, the way she moved, the way she breathed. He'd never forget the way she said his name, and the way her back arched when she'd come down from her high. He'd never forget the way she looked at him. Never, would he forget those things.
Afterwards, they lied there, her head on his chest,, his fingers in her hair. He'd managed to cover them with the scraps of clothing they'd shed. She was more covered than he was, which he was perfectly fine with. He didn't want anyone to head this way and see her like he'd had the pleasure of doing. If it were up to him, he'd be the only one to ever get to see her like that from now on, and vice versa.
She rested her head on her hand, gazing up at him. He smiled at her, never feeling more content in his life. For the first time in as long as he could ever remember, he was happy.
Bellamy Blake was happy.
"This was nice," she said, and he lifted a hand to cup her face.
"It was perfect."
She looked down, and when her eyes met his again, there was something different about them. His stomach sunk, already knowing to expect the worse. He should have known things wouldn't stay like this forever. Nothing good ever lasts for him.
"I have to go," she told him, her voice thick with emotion now. "My camp is a long way from here."
"You're still going?"
Stupid question, he knew that.
She nodded. "I have to. Just because we... This hasn't changed things for me, Bellamy."
"I thought it would have," he admitted, chuckling bitterly. "I guess it was stupid of me to assume I'd be enough."
"Don't do that," she murmured, shaking her head. "You are enough. You always have been. It's me who isn't enough, okay? I wasn't enough then, and I'm still not now. Don't blame yourself for something that's my fault."
She sat up, re-clasping her bra and putting her head through her shirt. He knew she wasn't going to listen to him, but he didn't have it in him to stop trying. So when she finally stood above him, fully clothed, he made one last attempt at getting her to stay. Standing up himself, he put his boxers back on, taking her hand in his own.
"Clarke, don't go," he pleaded, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. "If you leave right now, it will destroy me, okay? I need you. I need you in my life. I know I told you I was fine at first, but that was a lie. I'm a wreck. Without you, I don't know what the point of it all is anymore. So please come back. Don't walk away from me again. Please."
She was crying now, but she held the sobs back, keeping them imprisoned in the back of her throat. Stabbing his heart, she pulled her hand free from his grasp. His lips parted in shock and hurt, but no words would come out. All he could do was stand there, watching as she walked away from him. It was the same as months ago, only it hurt about a million times more.
"Clarke!" he cried, but she was already gone from sight. "Clarke!"
He stood there, in the place she left him, screaming out her name until his lungs burned. Until his throat felt like it was on fire and his body was shaking, tremors wracking through him.
But she never returned.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he was suddenly jolted out of the woods and into his tent. He blinked rapidly, eyes focusing in on Octavia. He realized then that it had all been a dream. Clarke had never been there. He'd never even left camp.
"Bell, you okay?" Octavia asked, placing a hand on his forehead. "You were screaming in your sleep."
He nodded, trying not to let her see how shaken up he was. "Yeah, I was just having a bad dream."
She studied him sympathetically, looking to be contemplating her next words. "You were, uh... You were asking for Clarke again."
"My dream was about her."
Octavia's eyes softened like they always did when she found him calling out Clarke's name into the night. "She'll come back, Bell. Clarke will come back."
He repeated that in his head over and over again.
That thought was the only thing that was going to get him through.
It was the only thing keeping him going.
Clarke will come back.
A/N: Reviews make me happy!