/

The rest of the day, they did not speak and the day following, was the same. On the third night, however, Clarke was weary of the silence between them and her loneliness drove her to want to make amends.

Yet one look at Roan, had her bolstering courage, sniffing out like a light; the sharp tick in his jaw clearly screamed he was still very much upset so she decided it was best to steer clear of him and grudgingly settled to sleep on the far side of the campfire that night. They'd found shelter amongst a cluster of boulders – one of which had about a three and a half foot overhang that provided shelter overhead – and once the fire was down to just embers, Clarke wrapped herself in a fur blanket and tried to sleep.

It wasn't long before the nightmares set in. She was always haunted with the memories of Mount Weather, but when one of the victim's faces morphed into Roan's irradiated flesh and lifeless eyes, Clarke shot up in bed, sweating and screaming. The screaming wouldn't stop and soon, she'd worked herself into hyperventilating and hysterical sobs that wracked her body until suddenly, Roan was in her face, cradling her cheeks and nearly shouting at her to breathe.

It was only then that she realized her throat had closed up and she literally couldn't, before her nails dug into his shoulders for purchase.

She was SO hysterical, he knew his voice wasn't getting through to her and exceedingly worried she would pass out at any moment, he squeezed her face between his hands and pulled her so they were forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose and nearly mouth-to-mouth. He exhaled into her space, then inhaled while pressing his nose against hers hoping it would encourage her to do the same.

It did. She felt the exhale of his breath through his nose, to hers and at last, her eyes opened and focused on his.

"That's it. Just breathe with me, Clarke." He coaxed soothingly and continued to inhale and exhale with his forehead and nose pressed to hers. Eventually, they were breathing in perfect sync – in through the nose, hold for three seconds, then out through the mouth.

Her fingers uncurled from his shoulders but her hands remained in place and finally, she offered him a slight nod. She was okay.

"Waking to your screams, is more terrifying than death." He admitted a bit unsteady. His thumbs caressed the underside of her eyes and along her cheekbones and for the first time in days, they met each other's eyes. "What were you dreaming about?" he asked quietly, his deep, gravelly voice sending shivers up her spine.

"Mount Weather. I always see their faces – Just like they were on that day. Blistered, b-burned flesh and dead eyes. But this time, I saw – "

She bit her lip, ducking her head but he caught her chin and forced her to look at him squarely. "Tell me."

"…I saw your face. You were there. And you were dead, just like the rest of them." A tear escaped, tracking down her cheek but he caught it with his thumb and flicked it away. "Skaifisa, ai laik hir." (I'm right here.)

"I know, b-but-" her lip quivered and he bowed his face over hers, lips nearly grazing. "Yu gon ain hosa." (You are my home.) He declared firmly and though she couldn't decipher every word, something about them and the look in his eyes, made her heart stop. "…Please… tell me what that means?" her voice was a fragile whisper like she was afraid to shatter this moment if she spoke any louder – only her hands clung to him in a death-like grip.

His eyes were cemented in the recesses of hers when his dark voice rumbled, "I think you know what it means. Clarke, When I told you, you were enticing and that it was dangerous, I didn't mean it in the sense of pushing you away. I meant it as a warning to you – and to myself – that there was a very high probability that I wouldn't be able to keep myself away from you for very long. When I told you not to touch me, it was meant as a caution to you; I - can't promise that I will always be in control of myself when it comes to you."

She looked back and forth between his eyes. "…Why do you feel like you're losing control? I guess I don't really understand -"

His eyes narrowed on her. "Because ai gaf in yu. I want you. If you seriously haven't figured that out yet, then you are incredibly stupid." He declared bluntly. Clarke was left blushing furiously with nothing to say.

Observing her reaction, he cocked his head to the side, scrutinized her and clicked his tongue. "So I actually have to spell this out for you, then. I told you before that I don't waste time on things I don't want. When I first saw you, you had gone to strike a deal with Lexa, to save your people and you made it out alive. No one challenges heinheda and those who have, were executed on the spot. Not you. You dared to defy her and she respected you for your bravery. I had never seen anything – anyone – like you before, Clarke kom skaikru – and I have wanted you from that moment till now."

Clarke was breathless, and with Roan so close - his breath and heady scent invading her space, and filling her with nothing but him, her body moved mindlessly and she pressed trembling lips to his mouth in a feverish kiss that set her skin on fire. Whatever courage had overcome her, lasted all of 3 seconds before her mind slammed back into consciousness, and she was reeling back from him as if burned.

What she hadn't realized was that Roan's warning of 'don't touch' had not been the least bit understated or carelessly bestowed.

But it was too late and the Azgedan warrior proved this by rolling onto his haunches and advancing on her with all the deadly grace of a panther who stalks it's prey.

She was flat on her butt and backing away from him but there was nowhere to go as her back hit solid rock and there he was – icy blue eyes melting into a molten flame as his arms boxed her in on both sides.

Like a lamb before the slaughter, Clarke sat with her back against the wall, helpless as her Azgedan prince wedged a knee between her legs, forcing himself further into her space. He was practically pinning her to the wall and floor – his powerful body folded over hers like a panther or leopard would, just before they spring for the kill.

And O, spring he did.

"That, was your mistake." He growled, just before he claimed her lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He was not gentle, nor was his mouth patient, but savage as he wasted no time in forcefully parting her lips with his tongue and diving in for a taste. His muscle was persistent and invasive as it swept over her palate and then dove down to tangle with hers.

She tried to evade him but he gave her no ground and growing frustrated with her resistance, he caught her retreating tongue between his teeth, drew it into his mouth, and suckled long and languorous.

The raw salacity of his kiss left her shaken and trembling, yet even the tremors in her body would not bring him to relent – though in truth, she was equal parts overtaken, as well as wanting more; his kiss was brutal, frightening, but addicting.

Unfortunately, air as it happens, is a vital necessity whether you reside in space or on Earth, and it is this necessity that supersedes that of his kiss; she breaks away and manages a ragged inhale before his savage, delicious mouth, latches onto her throat, sucking hard.

She knows she's bruised instantly, without even having to look, but doesn't have time to berate him because his face fills her vision again – his eyes a predatory glint – and his hand hooks behind her knee and he drags her down to the forest floor.

There is a thin blanket beneath her – beneath them – but it won't matter; when her head hits the ground in a soft THUD, her hair rumble tumbles over her shoulders and spreads around her head like a golden halo.

She'll have leaves, dirt and twigs tangled together with her curls, by morning.

Again, his mouth finds hers – this time, his tongue begs entrance seconds before his lips even reach hers, and again, she is overwhelmed by the feral savagery in his touch.

He licks along her gum line – long, deep strokes – and then his tongue slides along her palate, seeking hers.

Eventually, it is too much and a high-pitched moan escapes her which only spurs on Roan's passion; wedging a strong thigh between her knees, he grinds it upwards, into the throbbing ache between her thighs, while simultaneously grinding his hips downwards to undulate against hers.

The friction is criminal and he groans into her mouth, long and loud.

"Do you feel this?" He gasps against her, eyes scorching her with a look that could burn her clothes straight off without ever lighting a match.

"This… is only a tenth… of how bad… I want you." He rumbles darkly. His hands are scraping up her sides now, taking the hem of her shirt a little higher with each pass, until her shirt is bunched up to the edge of her very thread-bare Ark issue sports bra.

She can feel the cool night air nipping at the underside of her breasts through the thin fabric, then something hot and rough slips beneath it, cupping her full mound and she's gasping in shock, realizing it's his hand.

"Gyyyah! Roan! St-stop!"

His eyes are less than an inch from hers when he mutters a fierce, "No." giving her breast another firm squeeze, in answer while never breaking his gaze.

A heavy blush creeps up her neck all the way to her hairline and she bites her lip, tearing her eyes away.

"…You act as if I am the only man who has ever touched you."

A hesitant flick of her eyes, confirms it and Roan is actually surprised. Pushing up on his forearms, his gaze settles upon her for a long moment, glacial eyes closely scrutinizing her.

When she offers no further indication, his lips part in a genuine smile that Clarke finds charming and breathtaking.

"Then you have pleased me even more." And he bowed to kiss her – his lips persistent yet this time, sweeter against hers. "Do you understand it now?" he whispers heatedly against her lips and she nods softly, meeting his mouth with hers as her arms tangle around his neck.

When he pulls away, she is gazing up at him, her eyes searching every inch of his face as if to memorize it.

"What?" He murmurs, head tilting in question.

Her hands slide around to his shoulders and then one lifts to rest against his jawline. Her fingers trace a line to his temple and then caress underneath his eyes and her lips part on a soft exhale. "It's just your eyes - they're beautiful."

Fin

/

So I think maybe this is it for this multi chap drabble. I might do one more chapter for this one? Not sure yet but I'm thinking about moving onto the next drabble which would be the Roan/Bellamy/Clarke triangle. Not sure, you'll all just have to put in your votes! ;)