It had been a long day. The grounders were getting closer to attacking with every day, their people were still trapped in Mount Weather, and Finn and Murphy were still looking for Clarke.
Clarke, however, was perfectly safe within the confines of Camp Jaha. From the Ark cells, to the Dropship, to Mount Weather, and now here, Clarke always seemed to be a prisoner somewhere, never in control of her own actions. Not anymore. Her mother may have kept her inside for now, but at dawn her, Bellamy and Octavia would venture off to try and find Finn and Murphy.
Until then, though, all Clarke could do was wait.
Because not everyone could find inside the fallen part of the Dropship now named Camp Jaha, tents had been set up surrounding it for the population to live in, still safety tucked away within the confines of the electric fence. Clarke had warned them that the fence would do little to keep out the Grounders if they truly meant to attack, but nobody seemed to want to listen to her. Who was the one who had been down her for the past month? Who had survived down her on nothing but a meager supply of equipment and her own brain? Certainly not any of the idiots running things now.
So Clarke decided to go find the one person who would listen to her; Bellamy. Sneaking from the back of her and Raven's tent, she circled around to where she knew Bellamy would be. Supposedly sleeping, Clarke knew he would be wide-awake, formulating every imaginable scenario for how to get their people out of Mount Weather. Though they had disagreements when they first landed on earth, Bellamy was now the person Clare trusted the most.
True to Clarke's predictions, Bellamy was sitting up on his cot, back hunched as he scratched away at a piece of paper. In his other hand was the map Clarke had brought from Mount Weather, now crumpled and dirty due to the nature of Clarke's escape. Bellamy was holding the page so tightly it was becoming soft and brittle in his dirty, callused palm.
Clarke gently pulled the page from Bellamy's grasp. He looked up at her, his eyes desperate and glazed. She sat down next to him as she took the coal and paper from his other, glancing at his hurried, panicked notes before placing them gently on the floor.
"I – I don't know what to do, Clarke." Bellamy looked so helpless in that moment. Clarke wanted nothing more than to see the arrogant, fierce Bellamy she used to hate. Now she could see through the cracks, she could no longer kid herself into thinking Bellamy was someone to be loathed, or feared, and that scared her. Before her was a man, broken and damaged and compassionate and loyal. This new Bellamy, the one she related to and cared for, scared her more than that boy from the past ever did.
She wrapped Bellamy into a hug without thinking, reaching up and placing her arms around his lean, muscular neck. Unlike the hug earlier today, this was much sweeter. More intimate, delicate, slow, they embraced for a long time, long enough for both of them to breath a little deeper, to stop the trembling in their shoulders. Clarke breathed in the scent of dirt and trees and fresh air, reveling in the smell of her new home.
They finally let go, slowly, reluctantly, and when Clarke looked into Bellamy's eyes now there was not only desperation, but also a fiery determination. A need. Perhaps it was what she looked like to him.
Maybe it was the stress of needing to rescue their friends, or extreme exhaustion, or just seeing her newfound grounder ally bleed out in her arms, but Clarke did not expect what she did next. After so long of surviving off instinct, her desires had finally figured out away to control her.
As their lips met, the horror and pain of the last few weeks melted into something sweet. Clarke remembered the taste of honey and those flowers that secreted the sweet, juicy nectar they had found on day 2. She thought back to those first few days, when everything was fresh and new and exciting, but even those brief, sweet memories faded to nothing, as she was lost in Bellamy's warm, rich taste.
Soon the kiss grew in tenacity, and before long Bellamy was gently prying open Clarke's mouth with his tongue, tasting of salt and safety. Clarke leaned in closer as Bellamy's hand scaled her back, the other gently caressing her cheek. She hands tangled into his clean, wet hair, gripping it tightly as if afraid to let go, pausing only briefly as Bellamy eased her jacket from her shoulders.
She smiled against him as a sense of euphoria took over her, and before long their shirts were in a heaped pile on the floor. Bellamy's fingers slid down her bare back, his nails digging in slightly in an attempt to pull her closer to him. Bolts of electricity shot through her spine at the points of contact, as Clarke pressed herself deeper into Bellamy's embrace.
Bellamy slowly eased Clarke down onto her back, his muscles in his arms tensed as he began to move away from her mouth, venturing towards her ear and down to her neck, teasing and biting softly as he went. Clarke groaned with desire and pleasure at his touch, as he left a burning trail down her side.
Bellamy smoothly unclasped her bra, and before long their pants had joined the heap beside the shallow cot. He continued his descent down her chest and stomach, the flesh underneath burning. Suddenly, Clarke gripped Bellamy's hair and ripped him upwards, back towards her yearning mouth.
His body felt so strong and firm against hers; she felt as if she could melt into it. Clarke felt lost, still fierce but lost to this man. She felt as if she would be content to drown in him, to live out her days like this, with him, holding him, being with him. Her chest swelled as she leaned her forehead against his, gasping for breath.
As she looked into Bellamy's eyes now, there was something different. Something had shifted from the guarded, forceful man. He was softened, vulnerable, and sweet, and this somehow made him all the more powerful to Clarke.
All she could taste was him. She had never tasted this delicious bitterness before; not with Finn, or any of the boys on the Ark. Clarke's aching body was waking up to his, her injuries healing. Her heart felt like it had been bleeding for so long, but now the bleeding had slowed.
She straddled him and pulled him down, rolling so she now lay on top of him. He grinned and shivered as she traced down his chest to his stomach, and then continued. Clarke smiled as Bellamy begun to moan gently, and she leaned down and silenced him with a soft kiss. As she pulled back he brought her back down, and she crashed into his lips. Hard.
Bellamy turned and they crashed down onto the floor, and Bellamy was on top of Clarke again. She couldn't keep track of what was her anymore, as their limbs wound together in a perfect melody. Clarke could feel her body sweating and crying in pleasure, but she didn't want it to stop.
She wanted him so badly, so much. She felt as if she could explode.
Finally. The profound relief knocked Clarke back, as she let a soft sigh escape her throat. They were now moving together, tossing around in the dirt and grime, hearts beating together, breathing together. She was made for this. Her body was made for his.
When it ended Clarke didn't feel disappointment; she felt elated. Bellamy was on his back to her right, staring at her with puppy eyes; eyes she never thought shed see on Bellamy's face. She laughed and he chuckled back softly, and he put his arm around her.
Bellamy chuckled, deep and sincere, "We've come a long way, Princess."
Clarke thought back to the first few days; Bellamy letting her dangle above a pit of spiked, arguing with her, refusing to listen to her in the midst of his new regime.
All Clarke could do was smile. She made to get up, thinking of her mum, who could be looking for her. Bellamy grabbed her arm and pulled her on top of him.
"Stay for a while longer?"
Clarke settled into him, head against is chest.
She had been wrong before. She could stay like THIS forever.