"Finn." Her hands were caught above her head in his grip and all she could do was move her hips. He chuckled in response as he pressed feather-like kisses across her jaw and collarbone. Her hips writhed beneath him. She bucked and her core came into contact with his hard length, causing her to groan. She was sure that he groaned as well and shuddered.
"Be still, Princess. Or this will end much faster than I want it to." The whisper caused her nipples to tighten. Raising his head, he watched her breasts as if fascinated with her reaction. The scrutiny caused Clarke's nipples to tighten even more which brought a smirk to his lips. "Please."
"I love it when you beg." And then his fingers were on her left nipple, his mouth on her right. His hand tugged and pulled gently at her nipple while his tongue laved at her right before he bit down. Clarke cried out and arched into his mouth. His mouth went from her right nipple to her left while his hand drifted low on her hip. Her breath caught in her throat and he slid his hand into her panties.
She didn't know to cry or to scream so it became a cross between the two. His fingers caressed her folds, spreading the wetness around as his fingers danced dangerously close to her clit. She thrust up, hoping that his hand would slide where she wanted it to go. "It isn't going to work." Finn pushed her down, his fingers stroking her outer lips, all the while spreading her juices around. "I want to savour you, Clarke. And I will."
"Please."
Finn chuckled once more. For some reason, Clarke realised that something was very, very wrong. Finn never chuckled and he never made her wait. He was an attentive lover but he always gave her what she wanted. She never had to beg and she never was teased. Then, his thumb brushed across her clit and all thought was obliterated. "Stop thinking."
Before Clarke could do anything else, he plunged his fingers into her and kissed her at the same time. Her scream of pleasure was absorbed into his mouth as his thumb brushed over her clit. She was wet, so wet. And she was so hot, so very hot.
Then, she heard the scream and there was blood on her hand. It was warm and it was dripping and there was the knife, the glint caught on the fire glow. Finn was above her, his weight on her, crushing her as the hollow words reached her ears, "Thank you, Princess."
No, no. The mad cheers (or was it roars?) of the Grounders filled her ears. Finn's eyes were filled with pain and hatred. His face morphed into Raven's, wailing. She was doing nothing but screaming. The blood dripped down Clarke's arm. She had killed Finn. She had killed Finn. Raven turned to her, her eyes were blood-red and screeched. With each syllable, the screech grew sharper and sharper, enough to shatter eardrums. "Murderer! Murderer!"
She couldn't breathe. Breathe. Clarke screamed.
The scream caught in her throat as she woke up, her eyes immediately going to her hands. Although she had scrubbed herself clean, she could still see the blood there. She could still feel the sickening warmth of Finn's life force drip down her arm. She was shaking violently and shivering.
Clarke wrapped her arms around herself tightly, as if she were pulling herself together, until the shaking stopped. The shivers, however, didn't. Nights on the ground were unusually cold but despite blanketing herself in all the heat-technology gear the Ark had, she was still shivering. And she couldn't fall asleep.
With a sigh, Clarke grabbed the nearest jacket and left her room. Too late, she realised that she had grabbed Finn's jacket and nausea hit her. She was doubled over, dry heaving as the flashbacks came. She had needed something more positive to remember him by and had fought to keep it rather than have it recycled. However, as his scent overwhelmed her senses, Clarke was crippled.
She slid to the floor, using the wall as support. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she fought the nausea. In the day, Clarke had to be strong; she had to show the Grounders that she was unaffected. However, in the dark, where all secrets lay, she had no reason to be.
That was how Bellamy found her. "Clarke." His voice was soothing. It was the same one that he used to comfort Octavia. She felt him sit down next to her, a solid block of heat. She was numb as he held her against his chest, tucking her tightly into his embrace. This had been their routine for the past four nights. "Same dream?"
She clutched tightly at his leather jacket and inhaled Bellamy instead of Finn. She clung to him until the tightness of his embrace stopped the shaking and his warmth stopped her shivering. "You've got to stop using me like this, Griffin. I feel like a tissue."
Her laugh escaped her lips in a sort of pathetic gurgle. She smiled a little and then tucked her head under his chin. His hand stroked her back repeatedly. The reassuring weight of his chin and the steady beat of his heart comforted her.
She lay there in the dark, listening to the sound of Bellamy's even breathing before she found the courage to answer the question he had asked four nights ago when he had found her in the same position but in a different corridor. "I dream of him. I dream that I'm killing him over and over. I dream of Raven killing me."
She didn't tell him that she dreamt of sex and that dream-Finn didn't sex like real Finn. She couldn't admit that in Finn's place, she was dreaming of Bellamy, or at least, what she thought Bellamy would be like in bed. "How do you do it? How do you take a life and live with it?"
"I've never killed someone I loved."
"I didn't love Finn." The protest was weak even to her ears but it was that.
"Everyone knows. Admit it and it'll make grieving easier."
"I am not grieving."
"Then what is all this for? If this is not grieving, then tell me what it is, Clarke. Because it sure as hell looks to me like you are."
Tears rolled down her cheeks but she didn't know if it was caused by anger or sadness. Perhaps it was both. "Regret. It is regret."
With a groan, Bellamy pulled her close. "It had to be done, Clarke. There was no other way. It was their hand or ours."
"I see him every time I close my eyes. I feel his blood on my hands. Raven won't stop looking as if she wants to gorge my eyes out. I can't do this, Bellamy."
"Yes, you can. I believe you can. We need you to lead us, Clarke. We need you. I need you."
Clarke's breathe caught in her throat at that simple admission. Days ago, she had told him that she couldn't lose him. Her heart raced in her chest. It was a long while before either of them spoke. Clarke could feel the irregular beat of Bellamy's heart against her cheek. "I should tuck you in before anyone wonders if I am compromising you."
It was back to teasing Bellamy. Clarke preferred teasing Bellamy. It was safer and easier to deal with teasing Bellamy who treated her like a sister. The walk back to her room was quiet which gave Clarke time to process what Bellamy had just said. It was a slip of the tongue, of course, nothing more. Clarke entered her room and turned to speak but he beat her to it. "This is where I say good night."
With a small smile, Clarke nodded. "Good night, Bellamy."
However, as he turned to leave, the fear of her dreams returned again. Bellamy had said to slay the demons once upon a time but how was she to slay her demons when she was the demon? She started shaking once more and Finn's scent surrounded her. Without hesitation, she called out to Bellamy.
"Will you stay with me?"