Chapter 1:

This will be a short multi-chapter fic, rated M. Please excuse any typos – I promise I will eventually edit this. I own nothing but the plot. Enjoy my first venture into The 100 fan fiction!

Clarke was coming off the worst 12-hour shift of her life. Being stuck in the operating room with Finn for nearly the entire thing was bad enough, but then running into Raven (who was picking her fiancée, Finn) was just icing on the cake. Finn and his puppy dog eyes and Raven and her glares could both go to hell. Clarke was going out and getting drunk and maybe find a hot guy to make her scream. That was the only acceptable solution to her shit mood. Med school sucked. Relationships sucked. Cheating bastards sucked. Slamming her car door after she climbed in, she glanced around the hospital parking garage. Seeing that no one was around, she shimmied out of her disgusting scrubs and pulled on her ass hugging jeans, a low cut tank that showed off her considerable assets, and sexy red pumps. She brushed through her hair with her fingers, applied a layer of cherry red lipstick and mascara, and drove off.

Arriving at Dropship at 9 pm, she quickly found a parking spot and went inside. It was a Friday night and the bar was packed, mostly with college kids. She couldn't really blame them, she discovered this bar when she and Octavia were freshman and needed to escape the dorm. They had cheap shots and good music and rarely checked IDs. Nowadays, Clarke only went to Dropship when she didn't want to run into anybody she knew. She was too old for a place like this, but, well… cheap alcohol and sexy boys were a draw to her. Even college boys could work for one night to scratch her itch. And she didn't have to face the judgment of her friends while doing it.

Clarke sat at the bar, ordering a couple tequila shots to take the edge off. With a sigh, she swiveled the seat around to scan the crowd, checking to see if anyone caught her interest. And there, at the end of the bar, was a tall, dark, and handsome man that could certainly fit the bill. Biting her lip, she sipped on the vodka and cranberry she'd just received, watching as the man downed what looked to be whiskey. He caught her watching him, she could tell because his lips tilted in a smirk.

He was the definition of perfection. Dark curls that were just a little too long, tan skin, and thick, toned muscles cording his body. She couldn't look away. He suddenly stood up and walked over to her. As he approached, Clarke had to bite back a groan. He was tall – well over six feet – and had adorable freckles across his cheeks. Fuck, he was so hot. She rubbed her thighs together as wetness flooded between them.

"Hey there, Princess," he said, taking the seat next to her. And goddamn, even his fucking voice was hot. It was deep and warm and just made Clarke want to ride him into oblivion.

"Hi," she nearly sighed. Damn, her voice was breathy. But she couldn't help it; this man was something else. Now that he was close, she could tell he was older, definitely not the typical Dropship customer.

They made small talk for a little while, sitting so close that she could smell him and his arm brushed against hers as he drank his whiskey. His eyes burned with lust, and Clarke could tell that the look was mirrored in her eyes. He was hot, and charming, and perfect to scratch the itch.

"What do you say we find somewhere more… private?" he suddenly asked, his thumb rubbing circles on Clarke's thigh.

"I say that's a great idea, come on." They closed their tabs and she dragged him outside to the deserted parking lot. It was only around midnight, the bar was still in full swing, so everyone was inside. She unlocked her car doors and slid into the backseat, pulling him in behind her. Before he was even settled in the seat, she was in his lap, her legs straddling his waist, and her lips were slamming against his.

It was hot and dirty. His tongue slid into her mouth and she fought back a groan as her hips started grinding down against him. His arms were around her, hands cupping her ass. When they finally pulled apart for air, her hands slid under his tee shirt, sliding along his impressive abs before pulling his shirt over his head. His mouth found its way to her neck, sucking a deep mark into her skin. His hands left her ass and slipped under her tank, running along her back and stomach before removing it.

"Fuck Princess, you're so fucking hot," he hissed, kissing the swells of her breasts as she continued to rotate her hips. He unclasped her bra and she immediately shed it from her arms. "Damn, look at those tits," he nearly hissed as his hands moved to grab at her chest, his thumbs sliding over her nipples before tweaking them.

Her hand fell to his jeans and she quickly unbuttoned and unzipped them. He gasped as her hand snuck inside of his pants and boxers, gripping him tightly. At the same time, his hot lips surrounded her nipple, and she arched her back. She needed more. She may or may not have said that out loud, she was too distracted by the goodness and his hard, velvety cock that she was so, so ready for as it pulsed in her grip.

"I'm gonna give you more babe, I promise. Fuck your hand feels good." His attentions moved lower and he undid her jeans, encouraging her to kneel on either side of him so he could slide her jeans and panties down in one swift move. Before she knew it, she was bare to him and he was lifting his ass of the seat to pull down his jeans and boxers.

"Holy fucking god," she groaned, taking in the view of his cock, which was resting against his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

"I know babe." She slammed her hips down again, rubbing her bare pussy against his cock. She was suddenly thankful that she got that Brazilian with Octavia last week. It felt so good. Her nerve endings were already firing when two of his fingers slid inside of her and he crooked his fingers against her. She gasped and leaned into him, her chest gliding against his.

She rode his fingers with abandon and kissed him hard, unable to contain her moans. His fingers rubbed against her walls, touching the soft tissue inside of her that made her convulse. And within minutes she was coming hard. Her thighs were shaking and her ears were ringing as she came down from her high and he smiled against her lips. "I needed that."

"Glad to be of service," he said with a chuckle. Before he could say anything else, she lifted herself up, wrapped her hand around his cock, and slid down, sheathing him inside of her. Taking a second to adjust to his impressive size, she kissed and sucked at his neck and his hands once again came to her nipples.

And then she was riding him. Her circular movements atop him were complemented by with clenching of her inner walls, making the drag even sweeter. She leaned back a bit, changing the angle and cried out at that change combined with him thrusting into her.

"Fuck, it's perfect. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"That's right babe, ride me. Goddamn, you're so fucking hot. Is that the spot, Princess? Does that feel good? Tell me how it feels."

"So full. God, it's hitting me so good. Touch me. Please, please, touch me!" He voice rose as she begged him, the tension inside of her coiling. He groaned, one hand coming to her clit and rubbing tight circles while the other hand pinched her left nipple. He leaned toward her, kissing and sucking on her neck and collarbone.

The world faded away as Clarke fucked the stranger in the backseat of her car. Her entire body felt tense and there was a whooshing in her ears. He bit down on her neck and suddenly she was releasing, screaming as her hips stuttered and eventually stopped. He kept thrusting before stilling and groaning loudly into her ear. His cum was warm and wet inside of her as she finally pulled off of him, sitting on the seat next to him.

"Did we just fuck in the backseat of my car?" she asked. He was already pulling his pants up and putting his shirt back on.

"Sure as hell did. And it was hot. You're a fucking firecracker, Princess." She smiled widely as she re-clasped her bra. Hey, just because he was a stranger didn't mean she couldn't take a compliment from him, right? Sliding on her tank, she opened the car door and got out, with the man doing the same on his side. They stood toe to toe by the truck of the car.

"Well, this was fun," she said with a giggle. He leaned forward, kissing her gently. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth and tilting her head. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers sliding through his curls.

She couldn't help it if he was so hot. She couldn't resist him.

He pulled away a few minutes later. "I gotta go, babe. I have an early day tomorrow. Thanks for this, I needed it." She nodded and, with one last kiss on the cheek, he was gone. She saw him cross the parking lot and get on a motorcycle before speeding away. In a daze, she decided to call a cab, she'd go back for her car the next day.

When she finally got home, Octavia was already asleep so Clarke wandered into her room, stripped, and promptly fell asleep on her soft bed.

"CLARKE! Wake up! My brother is going to be here in half an hour!" Clarke registered Octavia's voice and groaned. She'd forgotten that Octavia's brother, Bellamy, was moving back to town and he was coming over for breakfast before moving into his new apartment. Opening one eye, she pulled herself up. Hangovers were truly from the devil himself.

"There's a bottle of water and some painkillers on your end table. Now, get up and go take a shower. You look like a raccoon and smell like cigarettes and booze – not the impression I want to give my too strict, cop of a big brother. My best friend has to make a good impression. NOW GO!" Octavia yelled from the doorway of Clarke's room. How the woman was so awake at 8 am was a mystery. She must be really excited to see her brother, since it was usually impossible to find her even semi-coherent at this hour on a Saturday.

After a shower and throwing on a pair of jean cutoffs and a tee shirt, Clarke felt like a human being again. Her blonde curls were pulled up in a high ponytail and her face was bare. Octavia had recruited Clarke to help her decorate her brother's apartment while he, his friends, and Lincoln moved his belongings. So she was dressed for comfort and sweating. Just as she was tugging on her sneakers, there was a knock on the door.

"He's here! He's here!"

Clarke left her room a little hesitantly. She didn't know much about Bellamy Blake. She knew he was four years older than she and Octavia – twenty-nine – and a cop. He'd raised Octavia since she was fifteen, when their mom overdosed. He was always overprotective but, when Octavia got into college he decided to let her spread her wings and move to Chicago while he stayed behind at home to work for the NYPD four six years. However, now he was moving to become a detective in Octavia's adopted hometown. He wanted to be close to Octavia and he wanted a fresh start. Whatever that meant.

"Clarke, come meet my brother!" She didn't realize she had been standing frozen in the hallway until Octavia had dragged her to the living room.

"Bell, this is Clarke. Clarke, this is my brother Bellamy." The tall man standing in her living room turned around slowly, a smile on his face. Which promptly dropped as soon as their eyes met.

"Fuck," Clarke whispered. She'd just come face to face with what turned out to be her biggest mistake.