AN: Another tumblr prompt... "do you think Clarke has ever drawn Lexa's pussy?"
Chapter Four:
"Hold still."
It's a simple command, clear and concise—but Lexa isn't used to following orders instead of giving them, and her face has never burned hotter. Stripped of her clothes and reclining on the bed, she feels unbelievably exposed. The cool air prickles against every inch of her skin, and her heart is hammering wildly within the cage of her ribs.
She has been naked in front of Clarke countless times before. In fact, Clarke's head is usually buried between the trembling legs she's now spreading several times a week. But somehow, this is different. Somehow, while Clarke is sitting a few yards back in a chair instead of lying on the bed with her, eyes flicking up and down from her sketchbook, Lexa can't help but squirm. The scratch of charcoal across paper sends shivers down her spine, shivers that aren't entirely unpleasant.
"Lexa..." Clarke gives her a chastising look, one that's nevertheless filled with fond affection.
Lexa drags her lower lip between her teeth and tries to hold still, encouraged by the plea for obedience in her lover's eyes. She would give Clarke the sun, moon, and stars if she could. Posing for one of her drawings is nothing in comparison. She focuses on her breathing, trying to even it out, struggling to ignore the embarrassing heat between her legs as Clarke's eyes roam the bare expanse of her body.
"Lexa?" The second time Clarke says her name, her voice is throaty and full of concern. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're about to pass out."
She swallows, trying to dislodge the nervous lump stuck in her throat. She manages to work some moisture into her dry mouth, but most of the wetness in her body has already rushed downward. "I'm fine," she rasps, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels. "This pose is just... intimate."
A small smirk spreads across Clarke's face. "You aren't embarrassed, are you?"
She is, but she doesn't have the presence of mind to articulate why. She can feel the heat and pressure of Clarke's eyes almost as if they are hands, coaxing her thighs to spread, making her arch, leaving her sticky with unsatisfied want. Instead, she can only heave a shaking sigh. "Please, continue."
"I promise I won't let anyone else see," Clarke says, not really looking at her. She has bent back over her sketchbook, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. It's an adorable gesture, but Lexa can't help finding it arousing as well. She's known that soft pink tongue all too intimately, and she keeps imagining how it would feel dragging down her stomach, sliding up from her knee, flicking feather-light over the swollen bud of her clit.
"This is just for me," Clarke continues, but judging from the glint in her blue eyes, Lexa knows her shudder hasn't gone unnoticed. "For me to look at when I can't have the real thing..."
That causes a whimper to crack in Lexa's chest. Her embarrassment is swiftly giving way to arousal, and something about the way Clarke's lips wrap around the words 'the real thing' is intensely erotic. "How much longer?" she asks, panting slightly. I don't know how much longer I can hold this pose...
"Almost done." With a final flourish, Clarke sets down her sketchpad, blowing away the excess charcoal and placing the stick carefully to one side. She doesn't offer to let Lexa see the finished product, and Lexa doesn't ask. Instead, she reclines on the bed, spreading her knees even further in invitation and hoping Clarke won't make her beg.
Luckily, she doesn't have to. Clarke is on her in moments, prowling up from the foot of the mattress, tongue already rolling over her lips and eyes fixed on her prize. The sheer hunger of the look is enough to send another pulse of warmth straight to Lexa's core. She gasps as Clarke ducks beneath her knees, then groans as a warm tongue parts her outer lips, covering everything in a broad, flat stroke.
"You know," Clarke mutters, close enough for Lexa to feel the hot wash of her breath, "it was fun drawing you. Getting the shapes right... every lip and fold..." Her tongue darts out again, almost dancing, and Lexa can't help but keen. "Making sure I captured how wet you are... all for me..."
Lexa can't help it. Her hips buck, and her hands shoot down to grasp Clarke's golden hair, only for Clarke to catch her wrists and pin them to the mattress. "No. Let me. Relax."
She does. Something in Clarke's voice demands it. She closes her eyes and whines, embarrassed at how close she already is, but too desperate to pretend otherwise. She needs to come, and she can only hope that Clarke will take pity and finish her without teasing too much first.
"I just wish..." Clarke mumbles between licking and sucking, still somehow managing to be everywhere at once. "I wish I could... capture you... just like this..." Lexa almost bites through the inside of her cheek when Clarke's lips seal greedily around her clit. When the pressure vanishes, she's close to screaming. "Maybe next time, I'll have you touch yourself... so I can draw you at just the right moment..."
That suggestion is too much. She's coming before Clarke's tongue even finds her again, releasing everything she has in short, sharp pulses. It's messy and fast and she's pretty sure her eyes are watering with tears, but she's too far gone to care. She needs this, and Clarke's desire for her is intoxicating. By the time the rippling waves cease, Clarke's chin is gleaming with her slickness, and her inner muscles continue to quiver every few seconds.
"That was a thank you," Clarke purrs, pressing a kiss to the top of her pubic bone. "And this..." She dips her head, beginning to clean up after herself with a long, slow swipe, "...is some encouragement for next time..."
