Companion piece (or more of a follow up, really) to Paying For Love. It's not completely necessary for understanding - I actually think some details have changed, even - but that one is almost as sinful as this, so knock yourself out.
I'd like to apologize in advance by the sheer amount of Sinning that this story has. I have a place reserved for me in hell and it's called the goddamn throne. Hit me up on Tumblr alyciadebnamscareys, if you'd like!
DECEMBER, 19TH
After running her eyes over the same words for the fifth time without reading them, Lexa lets her book fall with a thud on the coffee table. The thousand-page classic strains her wrists as well as her eyes in the romantic light of her hotel room, and Tolstoy's big words are hardly calming her worked up nerves. She eyes the empty tumbler, a ghost of the whiskey she had downed still lingering at the bottom, and leaves a frustrated puff of air - it had done nothing to help her get rid of her shaky anxiety. It sits accusingly beside the recently opened bottle of wine, some expensive earthy kind from a year she can't remember - she hasn't touched that yet, waiting for her guest to arrive.
She's marginally calmer than she was during their first encounter, but her skin still prickles with the thought of blonde curls splayed against her bed sheets.
Lexa gives the book a dirty look, as if it's the Russian classic's fault she can't focus, and gets up, walking towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that displays a different landscape from the one they both gazed at the first time Clarke visited. The full canopies that colored green the street below had given way to bare branches that decorated the thick white blanket laid out on the street. It feels almost foreign, to see that immaculate white and know that it is below freezing in the street when she is so warm inside her hotel room, in her sleeveless button down shirt and pant suit. Yet somehow it feels like home, watching the snow gathering on the windowsill - New York in the winter could be as magical as the tale went, but she'd still take Canada over it any day.
A knock on her door takes her out of her nostalgic reverie, and she takes a moment to straighten her back and pick at a nonexistent lint on her pants, before striding to the door, more confidently than she felt. She hesitates for half a second - maybe this is a mistake, just like their first encounter had been - before opening the door to reveal wild blonde curls, rosy cheeks and smiling eyes. Lexa barely has time to take her figure in before Clarke is shutting the door with her heel, a surprisingly warm hand cupping her cheek as cold lips enclose hers in a soft kiss.
"I'm glad you called," Clarke whimpers against her lips, unwillingly breaking the kiss and touching their foreheads together, "I'm really glad you're back in town." Lexa reaches up for her forearms, more for support than anything, and leans in for another kiss. She tells herself it's muscle memory and refuses to let herself think about how it's been months since her last kiss, how much she misses the feeling of lips against hers, a tongue against hers. She lies to herself and lets Clarke deepen the kiss.
Lexa's back is hitting the wall as Clarke presses her body flush against her before she even realizes what's going on. She hasn't said a word yet, but her entire body is on flames. As her arms enlace the Clarke's waist and pulls her closer, hips colliding and a soft sigh leaving their joined lips, Lexa almost forgets she's paying an insane amount for these kisses. When Clarke breathes her in as she breaks the kiss, pupils blown wide with desire and cheeks flushed by more than winter wind, Lexa can swear Clarke has also forgotten this isn't any ordinary hook up. Either that, or she's so damn good at her job that she fools the lie detector Lexa had spent all of law school developing.
"I want to talk-" Lexa pushes her hips against Clarke's, a whimper catching in the back of her throat as Clarke presses back, "-first." They break apart, Clarke all but stampering back, both flushed and breathless, chest heaving as they take each other's hungry gaze in. "You can take off your coat, if you want, and-" Lexa walks towards the coffee table as she talks, picking up the thick envelope and handing it to Clarke, "-here. Would you like some wine?"
She turns her back to Clarke to pour their wine after a confirmation, giving the woman some privacy to count the money and make herself more comfortable. Lexa sits down on the armchair, elongating her spine as she sips on her wine. If she had slowed down her gulping, she might have been able to taste the earthy tones and half other adjectives she had memorized from the menu, but she finds out she's too nervous to want anything from the wine besides the soft buzz.
By the time Clarke sits down on the loveseat before the coffee table and takes her glass, swirling the liquid in a way that shows she knows what she's doing, Lexa is ready for a refill. She lets herself watch Clarke for a moment and notice the way her bottom lip hugs the rim of her glass, the long neck connecting to exposed shoulders in the perfect angle for a kiss, how her black pumps make her legs longer and more enticing the closer they get to hem of the skin clad dress.
Gods, it has already been too long.
Their last encounter - in mid March, when the spring air had just reclaimed its right over the winter winds - had been the last time Lexa had been intimate with someone else. Between nights spend doubled over files that needed her attention and early morning meetings, Lexa had barely had time to think about how needy she was, let alone find time to take care of things. But seeing Clarke's cleavage threatening to spill from the low cut of her dress made her acutely aware of how long it had been.
"You wanted to talk?" Lexa is pulled back to the present by Clarke's low voice, her cleavage even more prominent as she leans against her crossed legs.
"Yes," Lexa takes a deep breath in, falling back into her high executive persona - if she looks at this as a business transaction and nothing else, it'd be less humiliating. Or at least, so she hoped. When she looks at Clarke once more, warm blue eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of something else, Lexa sees a future business partner to whom she must be direct, clear and practical, not all mumbled words and low raspy sighs. When she looks at Clarke, she's every inch of the Commander everyone fears so much in Toronto. "I'd like to make a business proposal to you, in fact," she shifts a little at her own word choice, but Clarke remains still and focused on her, "You're a very attractive woman, as I'm sure you're more than aware. You seem to be able to hold yourself in… delicate situations, for lack of better word. We haven't really talked much in our last encounter-" Lexa bites her cheek to keep the blush from warming her face, "-but I have the feeling you're capable of holding pleasant conversations with most types of people, considering it could be a required for your field of work."
"Do you tell this to everyone you make business with?" Clarke says in a teasing, throaty voice, drinking from her wine before Lexa can read her expression.
Thoroughly ignoring her, Lexa keeps on mechanically reciting the words she had made herself memorize, "Considering your profile and what I've disclosed to you at the end of our previous meeting," about Costia, Lexa wants to add mostly to make herself clear, but she doesn't want to say her name around Clarke again, as if that would taint her memory even further, "I'd like you to accompany me in a few upcoming events. I'll be meeting a few colleagues, attending some holiday parties, mostly with business partners and clients, a few more with friends and acquaintances." The thought of her brother taking her to the side and asking if she's doing okay on her own for the fifth year in a roll is too much to bear, and she can only take so much of the pity looks from people who she's been working with since before the accident. "Despite working in the industry I do, being married to my work isn't a good enough life for these people. I need someone who can act a certain way, convince people of what I need to sell, and I do believe you're the best candidate. If you're interested, that is."
Lexa closes her eyes for a moment - she got it all out and didn't really embarrass herself or exposed herself too much, that was something to be proud of - before looking at Clarke again. She's smirking, the playful glint in her eyes giving away her amusement. This probably isn't the first time someone asked her to play pretend. Which shouldn't surprise Lexa, yet, somehow, it does. She swallows past the Sahaara-like dryness in her throat as she watches Clarke set down the wine she has barely touched and stride in confident steps towards her.
"So, you want, um... the girlfriend experience," Lexa finds herself following Clarke's breasts as she throws a leg over hers, straddling her and shifting to make herself comfortable. Realizing what she's doing, Lexa tears her eyes away and tries desperately to focus on Clarke's eyes.
Needy, weak and completely at someone else's mercy in a moment - it'd be funny, if it wasn't so mortifying.
Her voice is hoarse when she squeezes out a "I suppose, yes," with as much composure as she can muster, which isn't much. The whiskey and wine mix is starting to get to her, Lexa ponders, that would explain the warm molten lead in the pit of her stomach and the fuzzy feeling slowly taking her legs away from her.
It certainly has nothing to do with Clarke's mouth pressed against the underside of her ear, "Can I call you babe?"
At that, Lexa lets out a breathy laugh and drops her hands onto Clarke's exposed thigh, the cold skin rapidly warming under her touch. "I don't do pet names," she says plain and simple, arching her head to the side to give Clarke more room to work on.
"What about honey?" Clarke says again in a teasing tone that Lexa barely notices as the words themselves are muffled between lips and the underside of her jaw. She gives Clarke a one word answer - "no" - as she busies herself on splaying her hands against the soft skin under them, "Okay…" Trailing off, Clarke swirls her tongue against Lexa's pulse point as she weaves her hands into her hair, keeping her close, "Pumpkin pie. That'll certainly sell us as a couple."
Lexa can't even muster an answer as Clarke is simply talking senseless words to her ears in between teeth scraping her neck. She moves her hands up Clarke's thighs and under the hem of her dress, whining under her ragged breath as the blonde breaks contact and leans back on Lexa's lap, who can't do much but look at her through heavy lidded eyes, "Was that a no?" Clarke smirks and Lexa moves her hands to rest possessively on her waist, pulling her hips towards her own, "I'll just call you sugar lips, then."
Before Lexa is able to even bother herself to try and think of a decent and witty come back, Clarke's lips are on hers again - hungry, urgent, demanding. Clarke's tongue finds hers in a familiar movement and she hates how often she's thought about their kisses. But Lexa can hardly care when she can feel Clarke's breath against her cheek.
But not for long. Too soon Clarke breaks the kiss and once more the overwhelming need growing in Lexa's belly seem to be all too powerful. And, gods, it annoys Lexa to no end that Clarke doesn't seem at all affected by this.
"What about PDA?" Clarke mentions it, as if they were truly discussing the terms of their agreement, and Lexa sighs, leaning back to put some much needed space between them. She can't think clearly with Clarke's scent clouding her mind.
"I hardly think we'll have to make out in public," Lexa takes a deep breath and leans against the armchair back more comfortably, shifting her hips under Clarke's and letting her hands slide from her waist to her exposed arms, "I suppose we won't have to go much further than holding hands."
Clarke untangles her fingers from Lexa's curls and holds her palm up for Lexa to place hers on top. Their fingers intertwine in a loose hold and Clarke lets them fall on her lap before leaning in and sealing their lips in a second long touch, "Could I do this?"
"I guess you could," Lexa thinks about the boring events that lay ahead of them and music how much public displays of affection they could sneak in between business conversations and politely looking at pictures of newborn grandchildren,
"And this?" Clarke lets their fingers untangle and drapes her arms around Lexa's shoulders, almost as if they were getting ready for a slow dance. She leans in and nuzzles her head into the curve of her neck, inhaling Lexa's scent in, whose hands find their home on Clarke's waist one more time, pulling her closer.
"That would be okay," Lexa whispers against the skin of Clarke's neck, her lips dragging against her pulse as the blonde peppers kisses up her neck, swirling her tongue against the back of her ear and taking her earlobe in between her teeth.
Before she can police herself and stop, Lexa lets her mouth slack open and a throaty moan come out, burying her face back into Clarke's neck as the blonde tangles her fingers in her curls again, tugging at it for Lexa to expose her neck further. She closes her eyes as Clarke scrapes her teeth against her pulse, sucking at it until Lexa feels light headed. Between the lusty fog, Lexa doesn't think before pulling harder on Clarke's waist until they're flush against each other, her lips meeting Clarke's collarbone. When the blonde starts waving her hips, Lexa grits her teeth and pulls back a fraction, warning in a hoarse voice, "We can't do this in public."
Clarke lets out a laugh against Lexa's neck and sits back on her lap, letting the pads of her fingers trace patterns on the arms wrapped around her waist, "I guess it'll be better to leave it for later." Lexa opens her eyes, a question glinting on them, and Clarke wets her lips and looks at her through her eyelashes, "You know, when we're alone… Back in your room."
It takes Lexa more than a moment to realize what Clarke means, "I… You wouldn't- I'd never ask you to-" Somehow, Lexa didn't realize they'd be having sex - that she'd be paying for sex as well as her company.
"Come on," Clarke starts, drawing the vowels as she tucks a strand of hair behind Lexa's ear - who doesn't need a mirror to know she has mussed hair and her curls are everywhere, "Having a girlfriend has its perks."
Clarke leans in for another kiss, but Lexa straightens up again, trying to blink away the haze clouding her thoughts, attempting to get her business savvy brain back. They had to discuss schedules, payment, dress code, had to come up with a simple yet believable story as to why no one had heard about her before - and Clarke's drawing her fingers up and down her exposed arms, trailing the underside of her breasts and toying with the buttons on her blouse isn't helping to sharpen her mind, "We should probably- discuss the details-"
"Not now," Clarke's voice is almost snappy as she draws herself back to her knees, tugging at Lexa's lapels until their lips meet in a frenzy of teeth and open mouths, tongue sliding against tongue, lips colliding in pure desire. Clarke angles herself until their bodies are flushed together, leaving Lexa to arch her head back to keep the kiss from breaking.
Lexa wants to feel Clarke, each inch at a time and all at once.
The kiss deepens, grows sloppier as the need becomes all too much for constricted moves. Lexa moves her hands to the hem of Clarke's dress, sliding it up until it's bunched around her waist and she can splay her hands on Clarke's behind. She kneads the soft flesh, playing with the edge of her panties, and Lexa can see herself doing this for two weeks. She tells herself she'll welcome the release simply because it'll help her get through the holidays in one piece - and she believes her blatant lie when Clarke sighs softly into her mouth.
Lexa grabs the underside of her thighs and pulls harder than she intended to, breaking the kiss and having Clarke seated on her lap in one swift motion. She had wanted simply to bring her closer, but her eyes meet the blue pools of Clarke's, lids as heavy as hers, lips bee stung much like hers feel, and god.
Again, Lexa can swear this isn't just an act.
She follows Clarke's hungry gaze to her chest where her blouse was half opened, probably from all the tugging, a hint of white lace peeking through. Lexa keeps her hands splayed on Clarke's thighs as the blonde meticulously unbuttons each button. Lexa's eyes are glued to the swift hands working her clothes off, falling to Clarke's own heaving chest as she pulls her blouse open, falling slightly from one shoulder. Lexa grips her thighs harder as Clarke splays her hands across her stomach, the pads of her hands dancing across the span of her skin.
"Want me to- take it off?" Lexa manages to squeak out half a sentence, barely willing herself to move her hands from Clarke's thighs to undo her bra. She's halfway through before Clarke sets her hands back on her thighs, higher than before.
"Leave it on," Clarke whispers, drawing Lexa's hands to her inner thighs before putting her hands back on her taut stomach. Lexa whimpers at the warm feeling of Clarke's thigh, her thumb grazing the edge of her underwear. She's so focused on how damp the fabric is that she doesn't realize Clarke is kissing her until it's over and she's drawing a trail of wet kisses down Lexa's jaw, neck, collarbone.
Lexa puffs her chest out and Clarke lets out a laugh - probably at how desperate she already is - before closing her lips around the stiff peak. The feeling of Clarke's tongue pressed against her through the fabric makes her mind go blank - eyes closed shut, mouth half open, shaky hand trailing to tangle into blonde curls to keep her in place, the other sneaking under her dress, splaying flat on the small of her back. She lets herself sink into the feeling and between teeth scraping her pebbled skin and Clarke's free hand going down, down, down, Lexa could only barely keep herself from crying out.
Pulling Clarke's face up, Lexa brings their lips together in a hungry, urgent kiss and loses herself in the feeling of Clarke tongue, still tasting like wine, against hers. She'd be okay with kissing, only kissing and nothing else - as long as Clarke kept taking her lower lip into her lips and soothing a light bite with her tongue. She's so far gone, thinking about nothing but how good it feels to have a body pressed against hers and how good of a kisser Clarke is, that she only realizes her pants are open when the pad of a finger grazes over her covered slit.
The sudden touch surprises her and she moans softly into Clarke's mouth, breaking the kiss and gritting her teeth to keep the sounds in. She shouldn't be so weak but the lazy circles Clarke is drawing on her bud, too lightly to do anything, is already enough to have stars peppering the blackness of her screwed shut eyes. Lexa whimpers unwillingly when Clarke draws her hand away from her and shifts on her lap. She feels cold at the sudden loss of contact, but lets both her hands fall back on the arm chair, desperately trying to get her breathing even once more - and failing miserably.
Her heavy lidded gaze follows Clarke's movement, unable to do much more than comply to her unspoken orders. Clarke kneels again, this time straddling only one of Lexa's thighs, and she reaches for the free leg to throw it over the arm of the armchair. Lexa feels how erratically her heart is beating, how sticky the apex of her thighs is and she can't help herself as she reaches for Clarke once more, connecting their lips in a kiss that the blonde soon brings to an end.
A question in her hungry eyes, Lexa remains quiet as Clarke presses her thigh against her and pins her shoulders on the backrest. Her hands fall limp on Clarke's waist, seeking meaning in the deep pool of her eyes. Clarke merely dips her head and traces her collarbone and jaw with the tip of her tongue, until she reaches the shell of her ear, "I want you-" Clarke starts, her voice sultry and low as her hands map the skin of Lexa's torso, "-to be loud."
Lexa closes her eyes for a moment, considering her options. It's one thing to express her pleasure, being loud is something else entirely. She could count in one hand how often she had lost control and screamed in blissful abandon as Costia coaxed her down from her high. And even then, she had either drank a lot or their foreplay had left her on the edge for too long. It hadn't happened often and it hadn't happened with anyone else but Costia. "I'm not loud," she says in a whisper, her voice as convincing as a child's after they were caught elbow deep in the cookie jar.
She hears an amused chuckle coming from the blonde still kissing her neck before Clarke draws back and straightens up, "We need to be comfortable with each other-" Clarke whispers, blue eyes bored into the gold-sprinkled green of hers, "-we need to seem close-" she lowers her hands, tracing the muscles in Lexa's stomach, making them twitch, "-and in love." Lexa draws a deep breath as Clarke's hands reach the seam of her pants, going downwards in a excruciatingly slow pace, "We need intimacy-" Clarke finds the apex of her thighs, cupping her yet barely touching her, "-and for that-", she hooks her finger on the edge of Lexa's panties, pulling them aside just barely, "-I need you-", the pad of her fingers find the drenched slit, pressing down only enough to give her a taste of what is to come, "-to be loud."
Lexa's voice is strained as she answers, "I am not loud," her firm resolve being shattered into pieces as soon as Clarke starts circling her entrance without any pressure. Between the teasing and Clarke's eyes fixated on hers, Lexa gasps to keep a moan inside as she lifts her hips, groaning in frustration when her neediness is clear as water in the constrained noise she makes.
Leaning in to kiss her in between a chuckle, Clarke takes her lower lip into hers and smiles into the kiss, "Fine, you're so not loud," she says, not believing her own words for a second. Lexa grips her hips in a faint warning that makes Clarke laughs softly as she moves her hands properly inside the panties, gliding her fingers through slick flesh, "Then I want you to... let go," - and with the two last words, Clarke slides her fingers inside.
With a start, Lexa screw her eyes shut and grits her teeth, arching her back as Clarke remains still. Fingers inside, face hovering so close Lexa can feel her - probably amused - breath hitting her cheeks. She can feel her walls gripping and pulsing around Clarke's fingers and god, god, god, its been so damn long, way too long, she's missed the desperation in her belly, she missed the feeling of complete shamelessness when searching for release and, god, god, oh god if Clarke doesn't start moving soon, she will scream.
Rolling her hips forward, trying to find some friction that isn't coming, Lexa barely hears Clarke coaching her with a soft yet firm voice - "Loosen your jaw, come on. Open your eyes now, yes, look at me - god, your eyes are so beautiful. Relax your back, yes, that's it. Good. Don't hold back, come on, Lexa." Following the instructions blindly earns Lexa a slow lazy thrusting, without a proper rhythm - too little pressure for the tension threatening to burst her open.
Lexa lasts all of two minutes pretending this is enough before she splays one hand against Clarke's belly and pulls her in for a kiss with another, her fingers curling around golden tresses. A sigh leaves her throat as Clarke slides her tongue against hers in the same lazy rhythm as she's pumping her fingers in and out of her and suddenly it's way more than Lexa can handle yet, somehow, less than what she needs. She buckles her hips, trying to change the angle and more than willing to beg Clarke to just get it done, but all it gets her is Clarke breaking the kiss and stopping her fingers.
"What do you want?" Clarke says in a low voice, and Lexa grits her teeth to keep a frustrated grunt inside. All she has the mind to do is rock her hips against Clarke's now still hand, knowing it's obvious what she wants, "Look at me and tell me what you want," Clarke took her fingers half way out, keeping Lexa from doing anything to help herself get some release, "I wanna hear you say it."
Lexa looks up through hooded eyes and her insides curl in on themselves at the sight of Clarke's warm eyes on hers, breasts heaving so close she could bury her face in the pale mountains and never come up for air again. Clarke looks at her expectantly, almost daring her to say the words. Lexa feels her neck getting hotter, the tips of her ears burning so badly it hurts - but between the need pooled in her stomach and the promise in Clarke's eyes, the embarrassment seems worth it.
"I want you…" she runs the pad of her thumb across fair skin, tracing her jawline as Clarke reaches for her neck to keep their eyes locked, "to fuck me." Her words float in between them for a moment, each letter seemingly infinite. They seem to be what Clarke was hoping for, considering her low moan at the words, and she starts moving her fingers in and all the way out, slowly and lazily still, but with something resembling a rhythm now. Lexa closes her eyes and lets herself enjoy how the slender fingers stretched her walls and hit her just right and she can't remember why she thought this would be a bad idea.
"Can you be loud?" Clarke says in a low voice, her thumb flicking over Lexa's clit which makes the brunette buckle her hips again and let out a raggedy sigh, "Please?" Lexa hears the want in her voice and sees it in her blue eyes once she finds the strength to open her eyes, and yes, yes, I can. She'd scream from the rooftop if it meant Clarke would speed up her thrusting, "For me?"
Lexa nods once, not trusting her own voice, and drops her head against Clarke's shoulder. She loosens her jaw, willing the sounds to come out one Clarke picks up a faster pace - she gives herself a moment for her soft sighs to become more vocal, for her gritted teeth inhales to become loud groaning. All it takes is Clarke shifting the angle and drawing errant circles on her bundle of nerves to have a string of filthy moans filling the room.
"Faster," Lexa orders against Clarke's collarbone, the single word mixed with a cry, being promptly rewarded with an increase of speed - doing as she was told had never felt this good. "Fuck," she drags the vowel and stops abruptly at the 'k', her own hand meeting Clarke's wrist and angling it just right.
She throws her arm across Clarke's shoulders as the blonde sucks on her pulse point - she's so far gone she can barely worry about a possible hickey, all she can feel now is the rhythmic flicking of Clarke's thumb over her bud, the fingers going in and out and in again until she's seeing stars peppering the black behind her screwed shut eyelids, the speed increasing as she gets louder, louder, louder.
The sounds echo in the bedroom, her own voice - now slightly husky from the almost excessive moaning and the pleasure running through her veins - floating back to her and she doesn't have the mind to analyze how odd it is that her own noise is turning her on even further, not when Clarke is whispering senseless encouragements on her ear, not when she's so close and fuck. Between the curling of Clarke's fingers and her chuckling against her ear, Lexa soon is shooting her head up, spine strained as she rides the wave of her orgasm.
A smile reaches her lips as Clarke helps her down from her high, every accidental brush on her too sensitive bundle of nerves sending stars back to her vision, her hips jolting upwards erratically. Lexa hides her face on Clarke's neck, taking in the quiet of the room, finding herself quieter as well.
God, she hadn't realized how much she's missed the soft buzz afterwards, and the way the blonde kept on mumbling nonsenses against her skin only made this seem more heavenly. Just as her mind drifts back to their precious conversation - cut short by kissing and touching - is that Lexa realizes Clarke's fingers are still buried within her and moving.
"Clarke," she means it as a warning, but it comes out breathy and cut by her own desire building back up. She falls forward again, Clarke's touching nearing torture. Her skin feels like it's on fire and her insides curl up as she throws both of her arms around Clarke's shoulder to anchor herself and closes her legs against the blonde's to it's pressing the hand inside of her, making each thrust deeper and harder.
In what feels - embarrassingly - like mere seconds, Lexa is shivering, jaw slack open against Clarke's collarbone as a string of curses come mixed with moans out of her. They stay connected for a moment longer and Lexa feels boneless. When Clarke draws away from her, she whimpers and falls back on the arm chair, her hands falling back to exposed thighs and she watches through hooded eyes as Clarke closes her lips around her second knuckle, sucking her own finger. Lexa makes a noise and she's not even sure if it was a frustrated grunt or an aroused moan, but Clarke shuts her line of thinking by kissing her lazily.
"I can't tell what I love the most," Clarke says against her lips and Lexa barely registers her words, too lost in the taste of herself in the other woman's lips, "You cursing like a sailor or screaming my name." Lexa remembers cursing, she can't be sure about screaming Clarke's name but her mind has been so pleasantly foggy she doesn't argue - nor doubt Clarke's word, it's very likely she did scream her name. She feels her cheeks getting warmer and embarrassment flooding her - did anyone else in the hotel heard her? As she's starting to work herself into a panic attack, Clarke kisses her again, brushing her dark curls away and tracing her jawline with her fingertips. Lexa opens her eyes as the blonde shifts and gets to her knees, finding blue eyes glued on hers, "We can discuss the details of our arrangement now, if you'd like."
Her tone is painfully casual as she gives Lexa a last quick kiss on the lips before leaving her lap entirely. By the time Lexa has the coordination to zip her pants back up, Clarke is already back to the loveseat, her dress covering her legs again, hair smoothed down to near perfection. Lexa stares - she feels like she has the right to, Clarke just watched her meltdown in moans and screams - as she gets up and buttons her shirt slowly, fingers still clumsy from the high she's getting down from. Clarke reaches for her wine, taking a modest sip as her eyes are burning on Lexa, following the path of skin she's slowly covering. And fuck it if desire starts pooling in her belly at the sight, despite her legs being wobbly still and the acute hurting in the apex of her thighs.
Running a hand through her curls, twisting it into a lazy knot on top of her head, Lexa excuses herself to the bedroom. She needs to get her planner, filled with the schedule she's supposed to keep and all the meetings she needs to attend, and good lord, she needs to check her reflection and at least try to look composed.
The body length mirror shows an image that makes her groan. Between the wrinkled shirt falling out of her pant suit like she's some middle aged man getting home drunk from the office and the redness in her neck that she's sure will develop into a hickey, Lexa looks anything but the professional lawyer in a business meeting she wants to present herself as.
Sighing, she tucks her shirt back inside her pants and adjusts the collar, willing herself to keep it together. She takes her planner, thickened by the year's events, along with a legal pad to write down everything Clarke should know, and strides back to the living room area, head tall and eyes sharp, looking more confident than she felt.
"The first event is two days from now, on the 21st," Lexa starts, keeping her voice even as she sits down beside Clarke and accepts the wine the blonde offers her, "We opened a filial in New York in March, and this is an office gathering of both our employees from Toronto and here. A mixer, some would say." Lexa can feel Clarke's eyes burning on her but she keeps her eyes fixated on her planner, flipping the pages and reading her scribbles that no one else would understand. Clarke is nodding along, sipping her wine politely and drawing closer to Lexa. "On the 23rd we have a similar event, this time with our New York employees only and a few our clients-"
Lexa keeps talking, pausing to clarify some question Clarke has or to add some information about a particular event and how things should go along, how they should behave as to convince everyone they've been together for a few months now. By the time they have finished discussing payment and meeting times, Clarke has her mouth on her ear again, drawing Lexa's hand back under her dress.
As her planner falls to the carpeted floor, Lexa wonders if she'll even survive what's bound to be two long weeks.