They had known each other years ago and were high school acquaintances at best. She had one memory that lingered when she thought of him, and it wasn't particularly clear. Something about a Science class and earthquakes. He was building something and laughing with his lab partner. Clarke remembered his charming smile and dark hair, but not much else. When he'd found her again years later, sent her a message, she was at a strange, unsettled point in life, questioning the future, questioning past choices. Bellamy's presence was like a breath of fresh air. He was energetic, open, and sincere, qualities Clarke didn't realize she had been craving. He brought a sense calm to her frantic thoughts.

At some point, their long conversations started to include a game they called "Questions." Someone would start, and a slew of questions and answers would pour from them both. It was an intriguing way to discover each other's quirks: her anxiety over trusting new people, his desire to feel strong. Her avoidance-baking a slew of muffins instead of doing paperwork, his strength-training away dark moods and frustrations. They formed a strange, virtual bond that they both appreciated and desired more of. This bond was possibly the reason "Questions" took an interesting turn one evening. Suddenly sex was the topic of choice, beginning with a question Bellamy had about general, female preferences. It wasn't the same as text-fucking, as he liked to call it. They were just having literal, almost clinical conversations about anatomy, likes and dislikes, generalizations about each gender, and wonderings over past encounters. That level of openness was difficult for Clarke as she always feared revealing herself to anyone, but Bellamy was patient and understanding, pushing her to reveal new information only when she was ready to share. This connection began a new level of intimacy neither of them was expecting or prepared for.

Clarke could not quite pinpoint the moment it happened, but on some occasion during one of their many talks, she realized she was turned on. Extremely, uncomfortably turned on. She felt badly for it, almost as if it was a betrayal to this friendship they were building, and so she decided to ignore her body. She crossed her legs, tried to take calming breaths, and reminded herself that having Bellamy in her life was really a privilege. Not many women had a trusted male friend to ask embarrassing, intimate, graphic, sexual questions. Clarke's pulse kicked up a notch just thinking about the things she could say to him. How would he respond if the conversation suddenly became less academic? She shook her head, scolding herself for letting fantasy interfere with such a valuable friendship. As casually as possible, Clarke made excuses and signed off for the night.

Unfortunately, this internal battle wasn't easily won, especially on the night Bellamy told her that sometimes he tried to imagine what her voice sounded like when they talked online. She found her mind was again wandering: Did he imagine other things about her? Did his voice become rough when they talked about sex? Would they be attracted to one another were they to finally meet again in person? What would his mouth feel like on hers? How would it feel to have his hands traveling her body? She mentally slammed the door shut on that line of thinking. Openness be damned, she kept these questions to herself, and gave him the most casual response she could muster at the moment. She was not going to be the one to mess this up.

In spite of Clarke's self-control, and her now constant sexual musings, Bellamy was actually the first to reveal something was changing between them. Clarke was telling the story of a wild night in college when she'd had her first threesome, and in the midst of the tale, Bellamy messaged one unexpected, friendship-altering line: "You're making me hard, Clarke." And any of the friendly balance Clarke had been trying to maintain went right out the window.

She gasped aloud and jerked her hands away from the keyboard. She was making Bellamy hard? He was turned on listening to what she had tried to make a very boring recanting of her crazy college days. Apparently she wasn't the only one affected by these long, very open discussions. Refusing to think too deeply into what she was about to do, Clarke responded to Bellamy's statement with total honesty. "I've been wet the last few times we talked. I can't help it." She waited for his response, breath pent up in her lungs.

Bellamy: Sometimes I stare at your mouth in your profile picture.

Clarke: My mouth?

Bellamy: I love when you wear red lipstick. Your mouth looks fuckable. It makes me want to slide my cock between your perfect lips.

Clarke froze, panting. She couldn't believe Bellamy had just said that. "I have a fuckable mouth," she said aloud, touching the soft skin of her lips, tracing the curves of her mouth. Knowing just the sight of her mouth could make Bellamy hard, made her lips feel suddenly sensitive, swollen. She bit her full lower lip, testing. Her tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth, tasting. She glanced back at the screen re-reading what Bellamy had just said and her pussy clenched imagining what he was describing. She slipped a hand up to cup her breast, sliding her thumb across her hardening nipple. She groaned beginning to lose herself in the fantasy of having Bellamy's hand touching her, when the messaging tone sounded again on her computer. She'd completely lost track of time and had left Bellamy waiting for her response for almost two minutes, an eternity in the virtual world.

Bellamy: I'm really sorry. I know I shouldn't have said that. I've been thinking it for weeks and we're always so open... Every time we talk about sex I imagine what you're describing. I didn't want to keep it to myself any longer, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.

Clarke couldn't help smiling. That was so like Bellamy to make sure he hadn't upset her. Far from it, in fact. She grinned again thinking about how immediately turned on she had become. His comment had left her feeling bold.

Clarke: Do you want a picture?

Bellamy: Sorry, what? You're okay with what I said?

Clarke: Bellamy, do you want a picture?

Bellamy: A picture of what?

Clarke: Of my very, very fuckable mouth.

Bellamy: Jesus, Clarke…

Clarke: Is that a yes?

Bellamy: Yes. Absolutely, yes. Send me a picture.

Clarke had never sent an even remotely naughty picture to someone before. The idea sent a thrill through her body. She was giddy to know Bellamy's reaction. She grabbed the lipstick off her dresser and painted her full lips a bright, strawberry red, just as he had described. Using her phone camera, she tilted the lens down to focus on her mouth. One click, and she checked the image and smiled. She had unknowingly included a very clear view of her cleavage, hardly contained by her simple cotton nightgown. She evaluated the focal point of the shot, and decided to take another picture, this time with her lips parted as if she was waiting for Bellamy to feed her his cock, just as he had fantasized. That was the shot she sent to him. And the immediate, thrilling panic that raced through her veins had Clarke scurrying to disconnect from the conversation.

Clarke: Enjoy. I'm off to bed!

And with that, she signed off, tingling with adrenaline over what she had just done, incredibly turned on thinking of what Bellamy's reaction might be. Bellamy, however, wasn't about to let her get away with a fleeting goodbye. The text tone of her phone sounded.

Bellamy: This is the sexiest picture I've ever seen. I can't stop looking at the way your red lips are parted.

Clarke felt her face flushing with pride.

Bellamy: I have to know, how big are those beautiful tits?

Clarke: DD

Bellamy: I want to fuck them, too. I want to fuck them right after I make you take every inch of my big cock into that sexy, full mouth.

Clarke couldn't breathe. The way he was talking to her, it had never been like this before. And the idea of Bellamy telling her what to do, God that was amazingly sexy. She hadn't even known she liked that kind of thing until this moment. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear him commanding her, almost feel the velvety skin of his cock sliding along her lower lip. She crossed her legs trying to quell the growing ache between her thighs. She wanted to talk to him in the same gritty, erotic way he spoke to her. She wanted him to be as hard as she was wet. She wanted to be Bad with him. She took a breath and began to type her exact fantasy.

Clarke: I want to taste your big, hard cock. I want to feel it sliding between my lips, smearing my lipstick with each thrust. What else would you make me do?

Bellamy: Tell me what you're wearing.

Clarke: Just the nightgown in the picture.

Bellamy: No panties?

Clarke: No.

Bellamy: Perfect. I want you to touch your pussy, right now. You only get one finger and you only get to rub your clit for the next ten seconds. 10…

Gasping, Clarke hastily shoved her hand down to her pussy. She let that one precious finger delve into the unimaginable wetness Bellamy had caused. The first brush of her finger across her clit made her jerk and moan. She rubbed it again, amazed at how close she already was to cumming. She rubbed again and again, hips thrusting with each pass. The text tone sounded again.

Bellamy: …2, 1. Stop, Clarke.

Panting, she dragged her finger away.

Bellamy: Did you stop playing when I told you to?

Clarke: Yes, I stopped.

Bellamy: Good girl.

Clarke couldn't help groaning again.

Clarke: That's so hot when you tell me I'm a good girl. Say it again. Please.

Bellamy: Good girl. Now, tell me what your sweet little pussy feels like.

Clarke: It's so hot and wet. I've never been this wet before. I'm dripping, and my clit is so, so sensitive. Those ten seconds made my whole body light up. I feel like I could cum just from talking to you.

Bellamy: Fuck. I wish I was there. I want to watch you cum for me. There are so many wicked things I want to do to that luscious body.

Her face turned hot. Clarke was so thoroughly aroused right now that she would succumb to anything Bellamy asked of her. Letting Bellamy decide how he would use her body, where he wanted to cum, it was all part of a fantasy she never knew she wanted.

Clarke: Oh god. Please. Anything.

Bellamy: I'm going to fuck you every way I've imagined these last few weeks. I want to hear you moan my name and lose control while I'm buried deep inside of you. Do you want that, Clarke?

Jesus Christ, she could barely breathe.

Clarke: Yes. God, yes. I want to feel every inch.

Bellamy: I know you do. You're going to love every moment, Princess. Now be a good girl and get some sleep.

Clarke let out a disgruntled huff. He couldn't just send her off to bed like this. She was drenched and throbbing with need. And apparently, Bellamy new that.

Bellamy: Do NOT touch that beautiful wet cunt. That is all mine.

Clarke: But…

Bellamy: Don't worry, Clarke. I always take care of what's mine.

Clarke choked out a laugh. Bellamy just might be the filthiest, most delicious man in the world.

Clarke: I'm going to hold you to that. Good night, Bellamy.

Bellamy: Good night, Princess.

Clarke locked her phone and tossed it aside. She couldn't help the delighted squeal that escaped her mouth as she covered her face with her hands. What the hell had just happened between them? She was so unbelievably aroused. It was agonizing, and the hottest damn thing she had ever experienced. Bellamy had just text-fucked her and despite being more turned on than she could ever remember being, she was also absolutely going to play along with this little game. Why not, right?

Clarke flopped back onto her bed, tugging down the material of her nightgown so she wasn't tempted. She resisted the urge to further torture herself by re-reading their conversation, and eventually fell asleep wondering when she would get to see Bellamy.

She woke up the next day to a new text.

Bellamy: That was quite the evening. Let's continue where we left off. I want to take you out tonight. How does 8pm sound?

Clarke couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

Clarke: Sounds perfect.

So they'd finally see each other again. Clarke could feel her muscles tensing up in anticipation. Would they be as attracted to each other in person? What the hell was she going to wear? Would he touch her right way or would that come later? Better question, would she cum later? She groaned and had to laugh at herself. Oh, yes, a plan was beginning to form in her mind. Tonight, Clarke would make herself irresistible to Bellamy, and get exactly what she wanted