All he could feel was the pressure of her skin of his forehead, and the heat it was spreading down from his cheeks to his neck, all the way through his core.
A tiny part of him thought that maybe he should just pull away, snap the magnetic pull between them, make sure this was right, that he wasn't just a rebound or a way to get back at the guy who slept with someone else behind her back on Christmas Eve. But then he felt that knot, the one that was permanently lodged in his ribcage, tug him towards Clarke and he was afraid something in him might break if he pulled away.
He wanted to be closer, to touch her, but he had no idea what to do. His brain had gone fuzzy the second she breathed his name and he felt like while his heart was beating out in overdrive, his brain had flipped a switch and he was incapable of thinking anything but closer, closer, closer.
His hand moved from his lap, brushing his fingers over the nape of her neck, again and again when he felt her shiver in response, then, drawing them away from her skin, he tangled them in the soft strands of hair, pressing his palm to her neck and just holding her, close, feeling her breath trickle over his skin.
He was very aware of every part of him that was touching her. Where her hand lay on his chest felt like it was on fire, her hand burning through his tshirt, leaving a red mark on his skin.
"Bellamy," she whispered again, and he had to shut his eyes when his heart stuttered at the way his name sounded on her tongue.
"Clarke."
He opened his eyes to find a pained expression on her face, eyebrows knit, nose scrunched up, eyes squeezed tight, and the knot in his chest felt like it was pushing back, cracking his ribs, and he had to peel his hand away, feeling colder with each finger that left her skin, and lifted his forehead away from hers.
"Clarke?"
She looked up at him then, and he got his first real look at her face since she'd rested her hand against his chest. It was flushed pink, and her eyes were blown wide and he wondered exactly what she was thinking because her expression wasn't giving anything away.
Her fingers had inched up, and started playing with the collar of his t-shirt.
"You gotta give me a clue here, Clarke."
She bit her lip, nodding. Then she dropped her hand from the collar of his shirt and gingerly grabbed the hem, rubbing her thumbs back and forth across the sliver of skin she had exposed, thinking. Seeming to come to some sort of decision, she nodded once more and pushed his shirt up, bunching it under his armpits, and then shoving at it some more until he got the hint and drew it over his head.
Dropping his shirt onto the ground, he brought his hands to her face and brushed the hair that had fallen across her eyes, tucking it behind her ears.
"Your turn," he teased, indulging a bit, dropping his nose down to her cheek. He felt her smile push against him and then her hand were reaching for his, tugging them down from where they rested against her face, guiding them to the hem of her sweater.
He slipped his hands under it at first, feeling her soft stomach against his hand, and felt the heat on the back of his neck shoot to his core again. She arched up into his touch and he let out a shivering breath. He shifted so she was leaning against the arm of the couch and slip down, pushing the sweater up her torso, putting his lips in place of where the soft knit fabric had been moments before. He watched in fascination at the skin beneath his lips turned pink and hot and he pressed his lips to her stomach again and again and again. He wondered if she noticed the same thing happening to the skin of his back where her fingers were burning patterns into his skin.
She pushed him off her stomach for only a moment to tug her sweater the rest of the way off, and he propped himself up above her, arms on either side of her waist, drinking in the sight of her in only a bra beneath him. The reality of their situation started to hit him.
"So," he said, blushing. "What now?"
Smiling she laced her fingers behind his neck and tugged him back down to her.
She knew he was getting tired. They were laying side by side, squished together on the cushions of the small couch. He was lazily playing with her hair and she felt his breathing start to slow beneath her head. She, in contrast, had never felt more awake. Every part of her was tingling, the memory of his breath and his mouth and his hands on her from moments before ghosting over her skin, ensuring she would not fall asleep for a long time.
She nudged him with her elbow. "Falling asleep on me, old man?"
He chuckled. "Not a chance. Don't want to give you an excuse to slip away."
She blushed harder at that. She wasn't sure what all this was to him, and she wasn't sure she was quite ready to ask him. She wanted to lie there, nestled close, feeling his fingers brush against her skin for as long as possible before popping the bubble.
So hearing him say something like that threw her completely.
She pulled herself up a bit, straining against his arm around her at first as he momentarily tightened his grip on her, before loosening it as he realized she wasn't getting up completely. She propped herself up above him, half over his chest, and stared down at him. He had an easiness about him that she wasn't used to seeing in him and she had a tiny flicker of hope that it was because of her.
"No?"
He shook his head. "Nope." He smirked.
"And what about when you get bored of me?"
His laugh startled her, shaking beneath her.
"How about when you get bored of me, Princess?"
She paused before answering. She liked watching him smiling playfully up at her, and she didn't want to be the one to break the spell, but she also didn't think she could play along for much longer if that's all it was to him.
"How honest do you want me to be right now?" she asked, dipping her chin down onto his chest.
He nodded, stroking his fingers back up and down her side. "Go on."
"Alright," she took a deep breath. "I…I'm afraid I'm going to freak you out right now, to be quite honest. Because this thing between us, whatever it is, well it's just that I—"
She cut herself off, trying to figure out exactly what to say.
"I just don't want it to only be a one-time thing, I guess is all," she settled on. She added in a quieter voice, "It's kind of something I've wanted for a long time."
Bellamy's face got a bit closer to hers before he dipped and pressed his lips to her neck. He slid his mouth up brushing his lips up against her ear.
"How long?" he breathed onto her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She felt all the breath leave her body and she couldn't believe anyone could have this effect on her. With the stuttering of his heart beneath her, she clung to the hope that she had a similar effect on him.
"Come on Clarke," he teased, smiling against her neck. "How long?"
She let her head fall down to his shoulder. "Far, far too long," she gasped out.
"We should probably make up for lost time then, shouldn't we?"
"Mmm," she nodded. "How long do you think that's going to take?"
He flashed her a wicked smile. "Oh, well, at least until the new year, I'd say."
Clarke smiled and pulled herself off of him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up after her. She made her way to the staircase, walking backwards, forgoing their clothes on the floor by the couch.
"We should probably find some place more comfortable, then shouldn't we?"
Bellamy nodded vigorously, and she decided not to focus on the frantic beating of her heart or the pulsing of her blood through her veins, but the steady blush creeping its way between her freckles as she pulled him up the stairs behind her.