Review! Review! I've had this story on my computer for a long time and I was trying to finish some of the things I've started and haven't finished. I was absolutely in love with the plot of this when I wrote it and I hope to continue it.

Kay

Chapter 1:

The floor of the drop ship was covered in dirt and grime. The supplies were put in the corner. Herbs, liquids and other types of things like spare rags were clinically organized according to how often they were used. The table smelled of moonshine because it'd recently be sanitized.

Octavia didn't notice any of those details.

No, the image burned into her brain was her brother as he sat on the edge of the moonshine table as he thrust into Clarke Griffin. Seriously, she remembered every detail of her short visual before she turned on her heel and ran out of the drop ship. She remembered how Clarke's head was turned up to look at the ceiling and the soft moans escaping her lips. She could see her brother's lips against the blonde's collarbone and how his hand had a grip on her ass.

And it made Octavia completely nauseous. "I'm going to throw up." She declared to no one in particular as her pale face met the crowd of people surrounding the bonfire. Why did I even go in there?

XXX

Bellamy finished inside of Clarke and watched her climb off of him. She never looked him in the eye after they got carried away…if they could even call it "carried away" anymore. This happened at least twice a week and she never knew what to say to him. She would blush after being completely confident in her sexual escapade and it made him crazy. She drove him crazy. And by the sound of her some nights, he drove her crazy too. "Come on, Clarke…silence, still?" There was a frown on her lips as she looked for her jacket. "Carried away" had been the word they'd used seven times in three days…ever since she got back from Camp Jaha.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Clarke said while turning around, "Can you get this?" He smiled while he clasped her bra. His hands slid down her arms when he was done. She jerked away from him. "My arm still hurts from the cut." She explained.

"Wouldn't have guessed it." Bellamy said as he went for his own pants. "We have sex all the time…you don't have to be modest about making me cum."

"Don't say things like that…" She met his eyes with a beautiful intensity. Her stormy blue eyes locking in on his warm brown eyes. "Please." She begged him with those eyes and he found himself being drawn closer to her.

He moved into her, "Princess…" His eyes were begging her to make the first move this time. He wanted to feel the tightness between her thighs. He wanted to feel her on him, he wanted to hear her moan again and again because his sexual desire was at its prime. "Fuck" was the only word left between them before they got "carried away" once more.

Clarke was scared by the ferocity of Bellamy's hold on her—not the physical hold—no, the emotional hold that seemed to tug in her chest every time he was around. How could a smile bring her to her knees? How could a kiss make her throw out her moral compass? How could sex feel like so much more? And how could she not want a single answer? She loved Bellamy Blake…it was something she'd came to terms with a long time ago but there was a moment to love him and there was a moment to store her feelings away and she'd done the latter.

Of course, a nice tumble in the metaphorical sheets every now and again made the feelings creep up into her throat. They sat there—punching her vocal cords until it felt like she would never be able to say another thing. Then, she would breathe and the feelings would fall back into their prison cell, where she kept them until they could be sentenced to death.

Because she would have to sentence those feelings to death soon. She wasn't an idiot, she knew this relationship had an expiration date.

XXX

Octavia watched as they departed the drop ship separately, not meeting each other's eyes for a second. She noticed the red blush creeping up Clarke's delicate skin as she moved into Octavia's direct point of view. For a moment, Octavia thought of confronting Clarke about the nature of her relationship with Bellamy—and then she remembered what she'd seen. The returning feelings of sickness filled up her body and destroyed any of her previous want for food.

She couldn't believe that Clarke was with Bellamy.

And she couldn't believe that out of all the teens on the ground, there wasn't a single person that had a mother or father as a therapist because she desperately needed a therapist.

Like, now.