for Sarah (snailsrcool on tumblr) as part of the 100 secret santa 2015 - hope you like it!
Truth be told, Clarke isn't that phased about the fact that Raven has disappeared into Finn's room for the night. As it is, she knows that Finn doesn't have a roommate because of the odd number of people on the school trip, so it's not like anyone is really losing out on a place to sleep. Sure, she used to have a crush on Finn, but that was when she hadn't realised that he was all talk and sex and most likely no feelings. Clarke wants a guy who cares about more than how good she is in bed, and so when Raven had said, "Hey, Clarke, are you bothered if I go over to Finn's?" Clarke had shrugged and simply replied that she had a pretty good book to read.
The school trip is pretty crap, if Clarke is honest, because the museum they were supposed to spend two days looking around is closed for unforeseen renovations (ie. The building is basically collapsing) and the kids are pretty much left in their rooms to do crappy fill-in-the-blanks worksheets, the answers for which are in the textbooks, so no one's doing much. Clarke can't really blame Raven if she wants to go and make out with Finn.
So she lies on her bed in nothing but a strappy tank top and some flimsy boy shorts (really, who is going to see her?) and rests her chin in her hands as she glances through her book. It is interesting; she wasn't lying – it's one of her mother's, all about mutations and cancer, stuff Clarke is actually interested in. She's about to turn the page when the door bursts open – she left it unlocked in case Raven wanted to creep in at some ungodly hour of the morning – and a boy stumbles over the threshold.
Bellamy Blake is somewhat an enigma to Clarke Griffin, who usually makes it her business to know at least a couple things about everyone. He has your typical 'tall, dark and handsome' stereotypes going for him, and so it's really no surprise that most of the girls and a couple guys in Clarke's year want him bad, in spite of the fact that he's quiet and has (seemingly) no friends.
That is one thing that really puzzles Clarke. From what she's seen, Bellamy is pretty intelligent. He has a strong head on his shoulders and never gets anything wrong in class. Despite this, she knows he was held back a year in school somewhere along the line. She doesn't know why; he hardly ever talks to anyone.
Which is why it's such a surprise for him to tumble into her room.
She scrambles off the bed, shutting her book with a soft thump and standing.
"Um…Hello?"
He straightens, and she sees a green bottle clasped in his left hand. That explains something, at least.
Bellamy looks straight at her, and frowns. "Sorry," he says, "Is Murphy here?"
Clarke wrinkles her nose. John Murphy is not exactly the kind of guy that she likes to talk to on a regular basis. "No, why?"
He ignores the question, "Why are you here?"
"This is my room."
"No, it's mine," he shoots back, and she starts to notice that he's moving into the room, stepping towards her. He looks around, and back to her.
"Pretty sure you're wrong."
"Pretty sure I'm right," he counters, a smirk playing on his lips. Clarke would be lying if she said he wasn't attractive, because damn, he was. Bellamy Blake was all kinds of hot. She has thought about kissing him before – the mysterious guy with freckles, a dimpled chin and a tall, muscular figure.
"No," she continues, as he comes ever closer, "This is my room. I'm sharing with Raven."
"Where's she, then?" He asks. They're only half a metre apart now, and Clarke can almost feel the heat radiating off him.
"With Finn."
He makes a face, "Collins? Hmm." He mutters, "So you're alone."
"Yes…"
"Clarke," he says suddenly, his voice a mere whisper. She blinks; she thought he didn't know her name.
"Bellamy," she returns.
"If I kiss you, is that okay?"
She blinks, taken aback, and considers for a split second. As fascinating as her book is, she would be kidding herself if she said that the idea of a very attractive Bellamy's lips on hers wasn't infinitely better.
And yet. He stands at a foot and a bit over her, tall and hulking with broad shoulders. Although Clarke might have a very vivid imagination and would love to see those strong, calloused hands of his in action, she can't help but think that he could take advantage of her. Then again, she recalls the brief information she knows about him, things she's seen him do: last week, a younger girl had dropped her books everywhere and Bellamy had stopped everyone from laughing at her, helping to pick them all up. Clarke's seen him with his sister, driving to the local primary school where Clarke sometimes volunteers, hugging her into his arms after school, ruffling her hair in the gentlest way possible.
Clarke locks eyes with him. His are gorgeous, a molten brown that seem to burn, sending sparks down her spine and making her toes curl. She decides to stop overthinking it.
"Yes."
And so he does kiss her, god, he does. Bellamy is suddenly everywhere, his lips, insistent yet soft, mould with hers, and his hands are playing with the tips of her long blonde curls. She moans (something that would normally embarrass her, but by the looks of it it's turning him on) as his tongue curls into her mouth, gliding across the inside of her cheek. His hands move down her back to rest on her hips and she weaves her fingers into his dark, soft hair, tugging slightly and pressing herself against him.
He groans. "Princess," he mutters, "What are you doing to me?"
With a daring smile, she kisses the underside of his jaw. "Don't call me that."
"Is that a threat?"
"A demand."
"We'll see about that," he shoots back, and Clarke feels herself being pushed down onto her bed. Their lips lock again and she savours the taste of him: cheap beer and a slight bitterness, but also a mouth-watering heat, one that makes Clarke's stomach flutter and her back arch.
He kisses her everywhere: on her lips, cheeks, down her neck and collarbones. He nips lightly at the pulse point on her neck, a movement that sends her senses into overdrive. She's hyperaware of his skin against hers, the way that she can feel his hot breath just above her breasts, the feel of his muscled stomach under her fingertips as she works his t-shirt over his head.
She gasps as he kisses his way down her shoulder, sliding the straps of her tank top down her arm and guiding his lips in a trail of hot fire across her chest. In return, she kisses his Adam's apple and relishes in his groan as she wraps her legs securely around his waist, pressing herself against him.
This is not Clarke Griffin – the normal Clarke is smart, safe and sensible, always doing the right thing. This Clarke is exploratory, nervous, daring. This Clarke is scratching her fingernails into the back muscles of Bellamy Blake; this Clarke is making him growl obscenities into her ear.
No, this is not Clarke Griffin. Not really. So when Bellamy's hands brush tentatively over her sides and he sends an inquisitive look to her, she shakes her head with slight regret.
"Sorry," she says, even though she knows she shouldn't be apologising. No one ever said she had to sleep with him. "I just don't…"
"That's okay," he speaks gruffly, and Clarke can tell by a glance downwards that he's having trouble with keeping a certain part of his anatomy under control.
"I've never done this before," she says, struggling to keep the blush off her face, because if the rumours are true, Bellamy Blake is definitely not inexperienced. She continues, "And I don't think I'm ready yet."
"That's okay," he repeats, and he gives her a smile so soft that Clarke is startled over how out of character it is (and then she wonders just how out of character it is – is his brooding bad boy appearance just a façade?). The smile tells her all she needs to know; that it is okay, and that he doesn't mind, and that she can talk to him, if she wants to.
She does. "I kind of want to do it with someone I know. The first time, I mean."
The smirk which had previously sent her toes curling reappears. "No problem," he says, a laugh in his voice. He extends a hand. "I'm Bellamy Blake. How are you today, princess?"
She tries for a scowl, and ends up with a grin instead, shaking his hand and blatantly ignoring the sparks it sends through her veins. "It's Clarke, actually," she says, "And I'm just fine, thank you."
And she is. They talk, and slowly Clarke begins to discover a little about him. He has a sister – "Octavia," he says with a sense of reverence, and Clarke can tell that this girl means more than the world to him. He lives with her alone, without their parents – Clarke recognises that this is a touchy subject for him – and he is nineteen.
"That explains why all the girls like you," Clarke blurts out, "You're older." He sends her another one of those smirks.
"Yourself included, princess?
She tells him stuff she's pretty sure he knew – how she lives with her mom, who is on the school board of governors, and how she wants to study medicine.
They talk and talk and talk, and it's about three a.m. when Clarke realises that she's exhausted. By now, they are side by side on the cramped single bed, hands brushing against each other. She's just finished laughing at the way his long limbs hang off the end of the bed and they fall into a silence that's only a touch awkward, considering the fact that before tonight they'd barely ever spoken and she didn't even really know him.
The calm grows, and slowly her eyes flutter shut and she shifts onto her side, getting into a more comfortable position. The last thought she has before she drifts off is that Bellamy Blake's arm makes for a very nice pillow.
"Ahem."
Clarke grunts and squints up at the ceiling. Instead, she is greeted with a smug and surprised Raven Reyes, who has her eyebrows raised sky high and a look on her face that screams tell me everything.
Clarke sighs and ignores Raven, turning around and burrowing her head into her pillow. She freezes as she realises that someone's neck is mere millimetres from hers.
"Um."
Slowly, she sits up, ignoring the way that her neck cricks as she moves, and stares down at the body next to her. Bellamy is adorable when he's sleeping, there's no other way to say it. His eyelashes are dark against his freckled cheeks and there's a little pucker in his lips that makes them look oh-so-kissable. Gradually, Clarke begins to remember, turning to face Raven just as Bellamy begins to wake.
"Nothing happened," she starts, only for Raven to let out a laugh.
"Yeah, right, Clarke."
"No, really," Clarke mumbles, rubbing her eyes blearily.
A grunt from next to her. Bellamy sits up, "She's right, Reyes, nothing happened."
"Sure," says Raven. "I believe you." (Although she clearly doesn't.) "I'm just gonna take a walk, and when I come back, you –" she points at Clarke, "Better still be here, and you," she turns to Bellamy, "Better be out. Okay?"
She leaves the room, kicking aside the bottle on the floor that Bellamy had entered with, before either of them can get out another word.
"Morning," he says, stretching his arms high in the air. Clarke's eyes widen at the way his forearms flex and at the sliver of tan skin that appears just above his shorts.
"Good morning," she replies, because it is. It's a beautiful day and she just slept next to a very good looking boy. Things could not be better for Clarke Griffin.
"So, uh…"
"I—"
"Go on," He says.
She takes a deep breath, deciding quickly that honesty is the best way forward. "I don't really know how to put this, but I like you. Ish. You're kind of annoying and a bit of an asshole –" Here, his eyebrows raise challengingly, "Because you call me princess and you smirk way, way too much. But, you're nice, sometimes, or at least you seem it. And you're a good kisser."
"So…"
"So I want to get to know you better. I mean, if you want."
He smirks yet again, and Clarke can't decide if she wants to punch him or kiss him. Both sound good, really. "Princess, you're a handful. You argue too much and you're far too smart for your own good. But," he says, clearly imitating her, "You're pretty cool, generally. You're a good kisser, too."
"Thanks," she says with a genuine smile, and then, feeling brave, she kisses him on the cheek.
"Friends?"
"Friends," she says, "Now get the hell out of here before Raven comes back."
"Will do, princess," he stands, and they walk over to the door.
Bellamy salutes Clarke and sends her a wink, before strolling down the corridor, hands in his pockets. She watches him go for a moment, before swearing and yelling, "Bellamy!"
He turns, that irritatingly gorgeous look on his face yet again, "Princess?"
She rolls her eyes and jogs over to him, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a light kiss to his lips.
"What was that for?"
"Just making sure last night wasn't a fluke," she says airily, and, ignoring his hilariously outraged face, turns on her heel.
She's made five steps before she feels his fingers wrapping round her wrist and spinning her back to face him. When he kisses her this time, his lips aren't soft like before, they're strong and passionate and she craves more, more – until she realises that they're in the middle of a hallway and therefore surrounded by their classmates, even if all the room doors are shut.
"Definitely not a fluke," she mutters against his smirking lips, before they say goodbye (again).
As Clarke turns into her room and waits for Raven, she is certain of a few things: one, Bellamy Blake is even better looking with his shirt off, two, he is actually a good guy, and three, she does not regret one bit of what has happened between them. In fact, she can't wait to see what happens next.
A/N: hope you liked it! please review :)