Who We Are
(Rewrite)
Introduction:
Clarke Griffin could barely keep her eyes open, but the sound of his snoring kept interrupting the beginnings of a dreamless slumber. Moments ago, she was quite sated from a tremendous round in the sack. Bellamy had been relieved when she showed up to his room that night, especially since they had a very public argument earlier in the day. In the back of her mind, she knew that she could not really blame him for being at peace in his own space.
Honestly, Clarke rarely stayed the night because she wanted to avoid "the talk" as long as possible. Their thing was fairly new, but she couldn't really classify it as a sexual arrangement because it meant so much more. Their entire professional partnership, which only survived mere weeks, had been absolved the moment everyone was freed from Mount Weather. The qualified adults had stepped in and the eligible voters seemed comfortable with the situation.
Clarke never intended to be romantically involved with Bellamy Blake. After they involuntarily surrendered their leadership positions, her life was filled with a hum—the type of noise some of the insects whispered in her ears mixed with the sound of a ventilation system keeping a patient alive. It picked and picked at her brain until she snapped, falling from grace into Bellamy's strong arms. If she had truly fallen, he helped her find some sort of redemption. Clarke had been praying a lot more than usual. An "Oh God" here and a "Please, God" there.
Of course, right now, it seemed the only phrase she could muster was "Oh, God, please shut the hell up so I can sleep."
Clarke knew that she would not get any reprieve if she stayed under the warmth of the shared blanket. It would be cozy if she had a restless mind. Clarke sighed, softly rolling on her stomach to avoid jostling Bellamy awake. As annoying as he was at the moment, Clarke would feel incredibly guilty for waking Bellamy after the long shifts he's been pulling since becoming a free man.
Holding her breath, she reached down until she felt the worn fabric of her t-shirt. It was black but it fit her form a little too tightly. Bellamy was kind of infatuated with it, though. Clarke found it in a recovered bunker with tons of other clothes. Clarke attempts to gently fall off the bed, but when she wiggles her body, the mattress squeaks. Bellamy immediately stops snoring just as Clarke successfully falls to the floor with a cuss lingering on her lips.
"What are you doing, Clarke?" Bellamy sleepily asks, turning on his side to get a proper look at her. Clarke makes the mistake of peeking over her shoulder, meeting his eyes in the shadows of his residential unit. The only light is the alarm clock on the other side of the room and she's cursing it because it's allowing her to see how fucking glorious Bellamy happens to be. No one should be blessed with abs like that. He's smirking by the time she looks away.
Clarke breathes, "I can't sleep here."
"Maybe I don't feel like sleeping anymore." Bellamy huskily replies with a quickness that Clarke can't even manage because she is so exhausted. "C'mere, Princess, let's pick up where we left off." Normally, she would roll her eyes at the concept of the nickname, but it sounded so charming coming from his lips.
"You're relentless, Blake."
"Mm, I was sound asleep." Bellamy chuckles as she eases herself back into his arms. Clarke pushes his body back against the mattress, straddling his hips with a laugh on her own lips. Bellamy is an unfair sight to look at when he's hot and hard against her sensitive skin. Bellamy runs a hand through her sex hair, stopping to hold her face in his palm. Clarke turns into it and kisses his palm, biting the fleshy part playfully.
She sighs, "If I don't get some sleep, I might stitch through someone's hand…or worse."
Bellamy fakes a pout, "What if I need you?"
"You don't need me."
He bucks against her and she releases an anticipatory moan, "I fucking need you, Princess."
AN:
I know that I'm definitely crawling out from under a rock. I haven't really written anything in years-not for a lack of trying, either. I have been rereading a lot of my older pieces. I wrote most of these stories when I was 17...before I experienced any type of reality (real love, real grief, real emotion) and I wanted to revisit them and kind of modernize my writing because I have changed so much and my writing as definitely improved.
I am still going to keep the old stories posted because I know the heartbreak of getting a favorite story deleted.
Thank you for your patience and as always, review!
More to come soon, but enjoy this introduction to the new and improved "Who We Are"