"Mr Blake, Clarke is here," Bellamy's assistant, Jasper, tells him, sticking his head in the door.
"Tell her I'll just be a minute," Bellamy says absentmindedly, barely looking up from his computer where he's going over a story one of his writers has just submitted.
"Um—" Jasper starts, but he's cut off by Clarke pushing past him and into Bellamy's office.
"Thanks, Jasper," she says and Jasper rolls his eyes before retreating and closing the door behind him.
"Hey," Clarke says, and Bellamy finally looks up. Which, as it turns out, is a huge mistake. The crush he has on his friend is old news to him, and he's mostly pretty good at ignoring it. Some days it's a little harder than others. Like today, for instance when she walks into his office dressed in a tiny floral playsuit, the neckline of which drops very low exposing what seems like most of her breasts. Plus he's pretty certain she's not wearing a bra, which only makes matters worse.
The effect in his pants is almost instantaneous and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, hoping she doesn't notice his discomfort or the way his eyes barely make it up to her face.
"Hey," he swallows.
"Are you ready for lunch?" she asks, and she seems to be acting normal, so he figures she hasn't noticed his less than subtle reaction.
"Um," he says. Technically he can finish reading this after lunch, there's no hurry. But he knows he can't stand up at this particular moment, what with the obvious bulge in his pants. He's not exactly small, and there's no way she won't notice. He surreptitiously moves his hand under the desk to his crotch, trying to somehow shift his cock into a more concealed position, but it's no use. Clarke is looking at him expectantly though, and he knows he has to say something.
"I actually have a couple of things I need to finish up. Why don't you go on ahead?" he suggests.
"Oh, that's okay," Clarke shrugs, pulling out the chair across from him. "I'll just wait here. I promise I won't be distracting." Bellamy almost groans out loud. Not distracting. Right. But it's not like he can tell her to leave, unless he cancels their lunch altogether, which she would be hurt by. And he really doesn't want to hurt her. He'll just have to try and compose himself.
Bellamy turns back to his computer and tries to focus on his work, but his stupid mind keeps wandering, wondering if Clarke has also forgone panties along with the bra, imagining getting his mouth on those luscious tits. His cock throbs, pressing painfully against the material of his pants and he grips the mouse so tightly he thinks it might break. He really hates himself for having these crude thoughts about his best friend, and he wants to stop, he really does. It's totally inappropriate. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to think of unsexy things. Donald Trump. His sister's terrible cooking. The pile of dirty dishes at his apartment. Jasper's bare butt.
"Alright," Clarke says. "If your eyes are closed, you aren't working. Time for lunch," she declares.
"Clarke…" Bellamy protests, his unsexy thoughts having not worked in the slightest. "I really need to finish this," he lies. It's the only excuse he's got. But Clarke's already getting up.
"You can finish it after lunch," she tells him, walking around to his side of the desk. He panics, wondering what the hell she thinks she's doing.
"Clarke," he says warningly, but she's already pulling his chair out (why does it have to be on wheels?) and spinning him to face her, and there's nothing to hide his massive erection from her.
"Oh," she says in surprise, and there's no way she hasn't noticed. Bellamy's face floods with colour and he can't decide if he should be using his hands to cover his blush or his hard on. "Now I get it," she says and Bellamy can't work out if she's amused or offended or what.
"I'm sorry," he says lamely. "This is humiliating."
"Well, you can't go out like that," Clarke says matter-of-factly, and he supposes she's not offended.
"If you just give me a minute I can… take care of it and then we can go to lunch," he says. That's if he can ever bring himself to look her in the eye again.
"Or…" Clarke starts hesitantly. "I mean," she shrugs. "I could take care of it, if you want."
"What?" Surely he heard wrong.
"I mean I'm right here. I don't mind," she says.
"Are you offering to get me off?" he practically chokes. Fuck.
"Yeah," Clarke says, and he almost chokes again.
"I can't ask you to do that," he manages, even though he really really wants her to. The thought of her hand in his pants, jerking him off makes his cock twitch.
"You didn't ask," Clarke points out, a little smirk playing at the corner of her lips.
"Well…" he starts, swallowing. "Okay," he agrees. "If you're sure." He's impressed with how steady his voice sounds, though his heart is beating at a million miles a minute. Maybe he should have given more thought to this, after all, she's his best friend and things could get weird after this. But he's not exactly thinking straight.
"I'll lock the door," Clarke says, and Bellamy watches her ass sway as she walks over to the door. His mouth is dry, and he probably looks totally bewildered, the way he's staring at her. She walks back after locking the door and drops to her knees in front of him. She reaches for his belt buckle and Bellamy can hardly believe this is happening. He's fantasised about something like this too many times to count.
Bellamy doesn't even realise he's holding his breath as Clarke releases his cock from his pants, and he swears he could almost come just from the small touch of her hand, he's wanted this so long.
"Wow. Um." she says as she takes in his cock.
"You don't have to—" he assures her.
"I want to," she cuts him off. And well, if she wants to, he sure as hell isn't going to stop her. "You're so big," she says, a little breathlessly he'd like to think. She reaches out to touch him again, moving her thumb across the head of his dick experimentally. Bellamy grips the arms of his chair, willing himself not to move, in case this really is just a dream. Clarke continues to lightly tease him with her fingers, lubing him up with a little of her own spit.
"Clarke, please," he whines.
"Right, we have to get to lunch," she says, as if that's what he's concerned about, not the fact that he's hard as fuck and incredibly horny and her current ministrations are only making it worse. "I'll make it quick," she winks, and then she's lowering her head to the tip of his cock, and Bellamy's head rolls back as her lips make contact.
Clarke uses her tongue expertly, her mouth hot and wet around him, driving him crazy. He watches her work on his cock and he can't stop himself from moaning, and somehow his fingers wind up in her blonde hair without his permission.
"Fuck, Clarke," he groans. "You're so hot. This is so hot." Her answering hum makes her lips vibrate against his cock and he manages to stifle another moan, but he knows he's dangerously close to coming. "Clarke, I'm gonna come," he pants. She glances up at him to acknowledge his words, but she doesn't slow down, and then he's right on the cusp, and with one last strategic tongue motion he's coming into her mouth, down her throat.
"Fuck," Bellamy groans as she swallows unconcernedly. Bellamy, however, can feel himself turning red, embarrassed at how fast he came. He wants to tell her he can normally last much longer, but somehow he thinks that would only make it worse.
"I said I'd make it quick," she winks, grinning at him, and Bellamy shakes his head, smiling despite his embarrassment.
"I messed up your hair," he says apologetically.
"Worth it," she smirks. "Come on, or we won't have time to eat." She jumps up and starts to head towards the door, leaving Bellamy to make himself presentable.
"Clarke, wait," he says and she turns, hand on the doorknob. He stands, buckling his belt and following her to the door. "If you, uh, ever want me to return the favour…" he trails off.
"I'll keep that in mind," she smiles impishly, opening the door. She heads out of his office and Bellamy follows, glancing at Jasper as he passes the boy's desk. Jasper gives him a thumbs up and a wink and Bellamy grimaces.
"Do you get the feeling Jasper knows what we were doing?" he whispers to Clarke.
"Well, you were pretty loud," Clarke shrugs.
"I wasn't that loud," Bellamy huffs. "I bet you're louder."
"We'll see," Clarke says, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, lunch!" Bellamy rolls his eyes, but he's grinning as he follows her into the elevator.