Chapter 37
Heading home from a road trip wasn't nearly as exciting as leaving on one. It was just a bummer for Clarke knowing that, in a couple days, she'd be back at work and back in her classes, back in the same routine. There were upsides, too, though. She missed her bed—Bellamy's bed, whatever—and her friends. Plus, it would take two days to get back to Arkadia, just as it'd taken two days to drive out to Missouri in the first place. That was two days of uninterrupted time with the sexiest man she'd ever seen, so there was no reason to complain about that.
The drive home was so relaxing. They passed the time with jokes and playful teasing, plenty of flirting and some graphic suggestions about what they should do once they found a good hotel in Ohio. But they were also able to sit in comfortable silence, just roll down the windows and let the wind blow in while music drifted out from the speakers.
Clarke felt free out here on the open road. Like she could go anywhere, do anything. Back in Arkadia, there was all sorts of mounting pressure, questions about her future, about her plans post-college. She tried not to think about it, though, and instead focused on how nice it was to have this time alone with Bellamy. Just the two of them. It was literally blissful.
He made love to her on that first night of the drive back, in a small hotel room in a small town in Ohio; and it was so good, she could barely walk straight the next day.
It was late afternoon the next day by the time they finally got back to Arkadia. Clarke had fallen asleep for about an hour, but she woke up when she felt the truck slow down. Bellamy was taking their exit. "We're home already?" she asked, slightly disappointed that it was really over.
"Almost," he said, stopping at the highway. He looked both directions, then turned left instead of right.
"Where are you going?" she asked. Surely he wasn't going to drop her off at her place, was he?
"There's something I gotta do," he said quietly. And that was all he said about it.
Clarke didn't ask questions, even though she had plenty of them. He drove some streets she wasn't even all that familiar with, and eventually they came upon . . . a cemetery? Why the hell would he want to stop at a cemetery? Wouldn't that—
Oh, she realized, nothing his body language as he turned off the car and then just sat there, staring out the windshield at the graves in front of him. This isn't just any cemetery.
Wordlessly, he climbed out of the truck and slowly walked forward, hands in his pockets. Clarke wasn't sure whether he wanted her to come with him or wait for him. But soon enough, he turned back around and asked, "You comin'?"
In a way, she was surprised—not all that long ago, he'd been so closed off about all the tragedy he'd endured—but she was also pleasantly surprised because, if he was inviting her to join him, then he'd made tremendous strides from where he'd been back at New Year's.
She got out of the truck, pulled the sleeves of her shirt down past her wrists, and lingered behind him a bit as he led the way to a medium-sized grey headstone. She wasn't sure whether to expect Gina's or Roma's, but she recognized the picture of Roma on the stone before she even read the name. Beloved daughter, devoted friend, it read beneath the smiling image of her. Her birthday and the day of her death were engraved on there, of course—not even twenty years—and her birthday . . .
It was today. Today was her birthday.
Oh my god, Clarke thought, wishing she'd known. Bellamy had been a bit quieter today than normal, but he hadn't seemed . . . depressed. So maybe that was a good thing.
He knelt down in front of the headstone and brushed his hand over her photo tenderly, managing a small smile. "Hey, you," he said quietly, almost too quiet for Clarke to hear. That was all he said out loud, but Clarke figured he was saying a lot more in his head. I miss you. I love you. Things like that.
She stood behind him, almost feeling as if she were intruding on a private moment. She wasn't sure what to say, so she was grateful when he said something again.
"She would've been twenty-five today." His voice shook just slightly, and he looked to be blinking back tears. "Her birthday."
Clarke had to dab at her eyes to keep from crying, too. She hadn't even known the girl, but knowing that Bellamy had loved her . . . that was enough to make her feel at least a piece of the sadness he was feeling.
"Do you come out here every year?" she asked him softly.
"Yeah." He brushed some cobwebs off her gravestone and rearranged some of the flowers in the holders on the sides. Some of them were dead flowers at this point. "I should get out here more often, though."
It's probably not easy, Clarke wanted to say. But knowing Bellamy, he wouldn't want to hear it. He'd just say it was no excuse and he needed to start visiting once a week or something.
"I don't really get to go to Gina's grave, because she's not . . ." He trailed off, rephrasing. "It's not anywhere close-by. She's buried in her hometown. So." He shrugged sadly.
Clarke doubted he'd be able to go visit Gina's grave anyway. Roma seemed to be that love-of-his-life girl, but Gina . . . she was the mother of the child he'd never get to know.
Sitting down next to him, Clarke murmured, "I visit my dad's grave sometimes. And I talk to him."
Bellamy snorted, looking up to the sky. "You think any of 'em can hear us?"
Clarke smiled, confident in at least that much. "Yeah."
Bellamy let out a heavy sigh, and even though he wasn't quite as confident as she was, eventually, a subtle smile crept onto his face.
They stayed there for about a half an hour, and Bellamy talked to her about Roma without her even having to probe for stories. He told her about Roma's seventeenth birthday, which had apparently been one of the greatest nights of his life, because they'd gone to a concert, and he'd never seen her look so happy as she did when they stood in the fifth row and listened to her favorite band play her favorite songs. He told her about how Roma had hated birthday cake, so one year, he'd made her a pie instead, and it was the best damn pie either of them had ever eaten. He said that, most of the time, her parents and family hadn't really done anything much to celebrate, so she'd usually spent the entire day with him. They'd always skipped school on this day to spend time with each other, and each year had been even more fun than the last one.
Clarke listened with interest, glad that he could talk about this now without looking so tortured by the memories. He just seemed so much lighter than he had that night he'd come to her apartment and opened up about this girl for the very first time.
They probably would have stayed longer had the sky not darkened and had it not begun raining. But as it started to pour, they scurried back to the truck, and Clarke asked, "Are you sure you're ready to go?"
"Yeah," Bellamy replied. "I'm ready." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss and twisted the key in the ignition.
The rain had let up by the time they got home, just a light drizzle then instead of a downpour. It was a warm rain, so Clarke really wouldn't have minded lying out on the trampoline with Bellamy. But she was also tired after so many days of traveling, and part of her just wanted to go up to their bedroom and crash for the night.
"Home sweet home," Bellamy mumbled as they walked in the door.
"Yep," Clarke agreed, dropping her bag at her feet.
"You're back," Miller chimed from the kitchen. He and Jackson were cutting up some vegetables and potatoes and dumping them in the crockpot.
"Back and better than ever," Bellamy said, making a face as soon as those words left his mouth. "What am I even saying? I don't know."
"It was a long drive," Clarke said, sitting down on the arm of the couch. She flopped down onto the cushions, feeling spent. "We're tired."
"Yeah, I could go to bed right now," Bellamy agreed, dropping his bag down next to Clarke's.
"Hold that thought," Murphy said suddenly as he came out of the bedroom. Clarke tilted her head back and saw that Emori was with him, and she had a nervous look on her face.
"What's wrong?" Bellamy asked, as if he immediately sensed something troublesome.
Emori exchanged a look with her boyfriend, then met Bellamy's eyes. "It's Octavia."
Clarke immediately sat up, worried about what that could mean. Bellamy's entire body went rigid and tense. "What about her?" he gasped. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Emori assured him quickly. "She kinda . . . passed out when we were at the gym today."
"What?" Bellamy shrieked. He looked like he was about to bolt right out the front door upon hearing that. "Why?"
"She was dehydrated," Emori explained. "I took her to the doctor, and Lincoln dropped everything and came there, too. He took her home, and she's fine now."
Bellamy threw his hands up in the air, looking almost . . . outraged. "Why the hell didn't anyone tell me, call me at least?"
"We didn't wanna worry you while you were on the road," Murphy answered. "She's fine, man. There's nothin' to worry about."
Thank God, Clarke thought, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd been dehydrated before, years ago at a kids' medical camp she'd gone to one summer. It sucked. She glanced up at Bellamy, though, and he still looked on edge about the whole thing. These reassurances from his friends clearly weren't going to be enough for him, so she wasn't surprised when he shot out the door.
"I'll go with him," she volunteered, running to catch up.
Bellamy barely said anything as he drove. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Clarke tried to be comforting and remind him that dehydration was common, that there was no reason to be concerned, that Octavia was fine now, but he still looked tense as a coiled spring. He had to see for himself that it was okay, otherwise he wouldn't believe it.
Bellamy knocked on the door to Lincoln and Octavia's apartment frantically, and Lincoln was the one who opened it.
"Is she alright?" Bellamy asked, pushing past him.
"I'm fine," Octavia answered. She was curled up on the couch under a green afghan, a carton of ice cream on her lap. There was a glass of water on the end table and two on the coffee table, all of which were halfway full. "All this liquid's not exactly agreeing with my tiny pregnancy bladder, but . . ." She shrugged nonchalantly. "What can you do?"
"You can't freak me out like that," Bellamy said, crashing down next to her on the couch. He gave her a big hug, practically crushing the ice cream carton between them.
"Who told you?" Lincoln asked Clarke quietly.
"Emori," she replied.
Lincoln nodded, shutting the door. "I'm making dinner," he told Clarke. "You guys can stay if you want."
"Oh . . . thanks." She wasn't sure Bellamy would want to make this into a social visit, but then again, he might want to stick around a little while to keep an eye on Octavia, too. She was good with whatever he decided.
Lincoln wandered back into the kitchen to stir something in the pot on top of the stove, and Clarke sat down on the coffee table as Octavia repeatedly tried to explain to her brother that she was fine.
"It was just dehydration, Bell," she said.
"Just?" he echoed in horror. "People die from that, O."
"I went a little too hard at the gym; that's all," she said. "Emori was right there with me the whole time."
"Did everything get kind of muffled and fuzzy?" Clarke asked. That was how it'd happened for her.
"Yeah. I don't even really remember it," Octavia replied. "One minute, I was stretching, and the next, I was lying down on the yoga mats, and there were all these people around me. Emori had a cold washcloth on the back of my neck, and people were trying to get me to drink something."
"Oh my god," Bellamy said, rubbing his face and forehead. "That sounds serious."
"I felt fine afterward," his sister assured him. "But Emori took me to the doctor and called Lincoln, and he rushed straight there. They said I was dehydrated and that I was doing better, so I just needed to relax the rest of the day and drink plenty of fluids. So that's what I've been doing." She motioned to the glasses around her. "As you can see."
Clarke smiled at her, putting a hand on her knee. "We're really glad you're okay," she said.
"Yeah, me, too," Octavia said. She gave her brother an almost-stern look and said, "See? Nothing to worry about."
He sighed heavily, and Clarke could tell he was still struggling not to worry. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered emphatically.
"Because I can take you to the emergency room-"
"Oh my god," Octavia groaned, rolling her eyes. "Clarke, please take him home and have your way with him. Just get his mind off of me. Please."
Clarke laughed lightly, not used to Octavia encouraging her and Bellamy to have sex. "I'll do my best," she said, happy to see that the girl was in good spirits. She seemed completely fine, completely normal, and even Bellamy had to see that.
Even though Octavia's incident had clearly been nothing major, Clarke still had to practically drag Bellamy out the door. He didn't want to stay for dinner; he just wanted to stay and ask her if she was okay. Over and over again. Since that would have driven Octavia nuts, Clarke made it her mission to get him out to the truck. For every three steps he took forward, he seemed to hesitate or backtrack, but eventually, they got to the truck, and he started to pace back and forth in the parking lot.
"Dammit," he swore. "I can't deal with anything happening to her."
"Bellamy, she's fine," Clarke reminded him. "You heard her; you saw her. She's good."
"She's pregnant. And she passed out. And now I'm supposed to just-"
"Yes," Clarke cut in. "You're supposed to just calm down and not freak out and not assume something bad is happening. Because she's fine. And the doctors even said she's fine."
Bellamy bit his bottom lip, shaking his head worriedly. "I can't handle it if something bad happens to her," he fretted. "I can't lose her, too."
"You won't." She frowned, reaching for his hand, but he turned around and ran both his hands through his hair. That relaxed guy from the road trip was gone. The guy who had sat at Roma's grave today and been able to smile as he recalled some of their happier memories . . . nowhere in sight. And now he was just this panic-stricken, overprotective big brother who once again felt the fear of losing someone he loved.
"Bellamy." She had to calm him down, otherwise he wouldn't be able to fall asleep tonight. So she walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him from behind, able to feel how his abdomen shuddered with every intake of breath. She held him tightly, hoping that, somehow, her touch would be enough to calm him down. It took a while, but gradually . . . it was. His body finally lost its tension, and his breathing evened out.
"I'm alright," he said, slowly turning to look at her. "Thanks."
"You're alright and Octavia's alright," she said, keeping her arms coiled around his midsection. "Okay?"
"Okay," he said, nodding as if he understood. "Yeah."
"Come here." She pulled him close and melted into him as his arms wound around her. She pressed her cheek to his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat. He definitely wasn't as worked up as he had been when they'd come over here. Now that he'd seen that his little sister was okay, he was okay, too.
...
The first few days back from their road trip were an adjustment, for both Clarke and Bellamy. He sensed that he was getting back into the swing of things quicker than she was, though, because he didn't have as much going on. For him, it was pretty much just work as usual. But she was busy with projects and essays for her classes and seemed frustrated that the last semester of her last year of college wasn't easier. She practically pulled an all-nighter on Wednesday, and then on Thursday, she was so tired after a long day of classes and work that she fell asleep at 7:30 on the couch. He carried her upstairs and stayed there with her, just in case she woke up and felt inspired to fool around. But she never did, so he decided to be productive and work on a few scholarship applications instead. The ones that required essays were probably the ones he stood the best chance of getting—if he got any at all—but those were a pain in the ass to do.
Maybe it was all just a fucking waste of time anyway. He hadn't been accepted yet, and that didn't feel like a very good sign. Tomorrow was the start of April. Most colleges had probably sent out the majority of their acceptance letters by now. He'd gotten his application in pretty late, and it wasn't like they'd be clamoring to make room for some twenty-four year old handyman who still only had a high school diploma.
If Clarke had been awake, she would have told him not to worry about it, would have assured him that he was going to get in. Even though he had way more doubts about that than she did, he kept working on those scholarships. Just in case it somehow all worked out.
Friday, his afternoon was pretty open, so he came home early with money in his pocket and a smile on his face. For the most part, he had a free weekend, save for one little showerhead issue he was going to get around to fixing at Monty and Jasper's house. He was in a pretty good mood about things and even had enough time to lie down and take a nap.
When Clarke got home and came into the bedroom, she clearly wasn't in half as good of a mood as he was.
"Rough day?" he asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He could tell just by looking at her.
"It sucked," she grumbled, shutting the door before she started ranting. "First of all, I got this essay back in my Capstone class, and I totally bombed it. Why? Because that jackass professor hates me. And then in my next class, we were working in groups, and these girls in my group started talking about their plans for the future." She threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly. "Of which I have none, so I had nothing to contribute to the conversation. And they were like, 'Oh, well, you'd better figure that out. We already have jobs lined up.'" She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I wanted to tell them to fuck off, but I'm way too nice for that, and that just pissed me off for the rest of the day."
Bellamy couldn't help but smile as Clarke continued to rant and ramble. She was so cute right now, but he had a feeling she'd get pissed at him, too, if he told her that.
"And then work was long and endless and boring, and I just wanted to get out of there. And I think I'm about to get my period, and that really sucks, because then I won't even be able to have sex with you to make myself feel better, and . . . everything's just frustrating me right now, Bellamy!"
Well, luckily, he knew he could help with that. "You're gonna get your period but you don't have it right now?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Opening his arms to the sides, he proclaimed, "Then let the doing it commence."
That brought a reluctant smile to her lips, and it even got her to laugh. She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, settling in on his lap. "Mmm," she moaned into his mouth as they kissed. "You always know how to make me feel better."
"I try my best," he whispered against her lips before trailing kisses down her cheek to the side of her neck.
"I seriously just—I'm stressed out right now," she confided as he sucked on the skin near her pulse point.
"Don't be stressed," he murmured.
"But they're right. I really do need to figure my future out," she fretted, threading her fingers through her hair. "I have no plan."
"So?"
"So . . . it's stressful," she summarized.
"So I need to de-stress you," he concluded, snaking his hands up underneath the back of her shirt.
"Yes."
"I need to . . ." He lifted his head to kiss her lips. ". . . get your mind on something else. Completely."
"Completely," she agreed emphatically.
"Hmm." If she wanted to, he could go all night, but in the back of his mind, he had this idea that there was one thing in particularly that could really clear her mind. While one hand rubbed up and down her spine, he allowed the other to venture down the gap in the back of her jeans, fingers slipping beneath her panties to caress her backside suggestively. "I could fuck your ass," he proposed.
At first she laughed, like he thought he was joking or something, but he wasn't. And when she realized that, she froze, and this real stunned look came over her face. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." There were no more dildos left to use for practice, and he'd been getting her used to some gradual anal stimulation for a month now. That was plenty of time. Tonight was as good as any other, he figured, and if anything could make her forget about all the stress of the day, it was having a cock in her ass for the first time in her life.
She balled his shirt up in both hands, holding onto it tightly, and likewise, her whole body suddenly tensed up.
"You still want to, right?" he questioned.
"Yeah," she said, but she didn't sound as convincing as he would have liked.
"We don't have to," he added quickly, pulling his hand out of her pants. He didn't want to pressure her at all, even though this had been the one act at the top of his Clarke Griffin sexual bucket list for the entire time he'd known her.
"No, I want to," she insisted, and she did sound more sure this time. "I'm just . . ." She lowered her eyes, voice softening as she admitted, "I'm nervous."
Stroking her cheek tenderly with his thumb, he made an unlikely confession. "Me, too."
She seemed surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah." He wasn't exactly experienced with this kind of sex, on account of only having done it a few times. It hadn't been Roma's cup of tea, but Gina had enjoyed it, with the exception of some mild discomfort the first time. Hopefully he'd gotten Clarke sufficiently ready and it wouldn't hurt too much for her.
"You'll be good at it," she said confidently, rubbing his chest through his shirt. "You're good at everything."
"Hope so," he said, kissing her cheek. He smiled at her excitedly, wriggling his eyebrows, and asked, "So you wanna?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"And you trust me?"
Instead of sounding exasperated—because it was about the billionth time he'd asked her that since they'd begun their anal explorations—she touched his cheek and looked him right in the eye, confirming, "I trust you."
Good, he thought. That was kind of the key thing here.
He made out with her some more, using the opportunity to rid her or her shirt. She quickly did the same to him, but then her bra still stood in the way. He reached around with one hand and popped open the clasp, sort of feeling like a stud that he could get it undone so fast. When her breasts were free, she leaned forward, pressing her bare chest against his, and he bent his head down to rain kisses on her shoulder.
"Oh, Bellamy," she moaned, rolling her head back as he bent down even further to suck on her tits. "I want it."
Even though it was tempting to keep teasing her nipple with his tongue, he lifted his head, gazing at her lustfully. "You want what?"
She circled her hips wantonly in his lap. "I wanna feel you."
He groaned low in his throat, fairly certain she could already feel him since the mere prospect of doing this was enough to make him hard as a rock. He was gonna have to fight like hell to draw this out and make it worth her while, because the minute he stuck his dick up her ass, it'd be hard not to cum.
"Then feel me," he urged, grinning playfully.
For some reason he blushed, and she smiled sweetly as she reached down in between them to pull the waist band of his boxers down. His cock sprang free into her palm, and she began to handle him expertly. She knew exactly what kind of strokes to give him to get him worked up—the long, slow kind. And she even took a minute to fondle his balls, which made his whole body jerk with excitement.
"Damn, Clarke," he said, taking a few deep breaths to get control over himself. The anticipation of this had been building up for a while. The last thing he wanted was for it to be over before it started.
"Wait a minute," she said suddenly, quickly withdrawing her hand. "I need to shower." She shot off the bed and darted into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly.
"Right now?" he asked helplessly.
"Yes!" Seconds later, water started to run.
He sighed disappointedly, looking down at his straining erection. Great, now he had to wait. Although he understood where she was coming from with the whole shower thing. From what he knew, anal sex was an extremely self-conscious thing for some girls, and really, being sanitary about the whole thing was good. He would've done it whether she'd showered or not, but whatever made her feel more at ease.
He decided he may as well be productive while he waited for her, so he stripped off his boxers and roamed around his room naked, getting everything set up the best he could. He put a pillow down right about where her hips would be, and he got all the lube out and ready to go. He was gonna go with KY, just because that was what he was most used to, and that was Clarke's personal request.
When the water stopped running inside the bathroom, he asked, "You comin' out, babe?"
"In a minute," she replied.
A minute, he thought. That probably gave him enough time to run downstairs, grab some romantic candles, and light 'em up, try to make it a real romantic ambiance for her. "Give me three minutes," he told her.
"Why?"
"Just give me three minutes." He yanked on his boxers again and zoomed downstairs to grab some candles out of the junk closet. They had one lighter around there somewhere, but hell if remembered where it was at, so he had to get some matches before heading back upstairs. He arranged the candles around the room, on the nightstand, on his desk, on top of his dresser, and lit them quickly, then shut off his beside lamp. Perfect, he thought. It was a good ambiance. Warm, inviting, that sort of thing. It wasn't so dark that he wouldn't be able to see her, but it was definitely a softer glow than the lamp provided.
"Can I come out now?" she asked right as he'd finished up.
"Yeah," he replied, shoving his boxers back down to the floor. He stepped out of them and waited eagerly for her to walk out and see what he'd set up for her. Hopefully she liked it.
Slowly, the door opened, and out she came completely naked, her hair only slightly wetted down. She gasped in amazement when she saw all the candles and said, "Bellamy . . ." holding her hand to her chest as if she were touched.
"Romantic?" he asked.
"Very romantic." She closed the distance between them and looped her arms around his neck, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him better. Her skin felt so smooth beneath his fingertips, and he felt bad that his hands weren't smoother. Despite the callouses that years of manual labor had given him, he touched her greedily, running his hands all over her sides, her hips, her waist. Her curves were insane in the best way possible, and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't appreciate them. As far as he was concerned, Clarke Griffin's body was the standard of beauty that magazines needed to promote on their covers. Screw the stick-thin girls with no figure whatsoever; she was the ideal.
"Bellamy, m-make love to me," she sputtered pleadingly as he kissed a path down her neck again. "Please?"
"Yeah," he breathed out against her skin, scooping her up into his arms. She clung to him tightly as he carried her over to the bed and gently laid her down, carefully setting in on top of her. He kept up the foreplay, kissing her as he massaged her breasts and rubbed his cock against her folds teasingly. It took all his willpower not to just drive into her wet pussy, because that time she'd spent in the shower hadn't decreased the strain of his erection at all.
"You ready?" he asked her.
She nodded frenziedly.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
He smiled at her, hoping she knew how goddamn lucky he felt right now, how absolutely floored he was that he was going to get to do this with her. It was a privilege, in his mind. Then again, everything about being with Clarke was a privilege.
"Turn over," he instructed, sitting back on his knees.
She did as told, her hips comfortably positioned on the pillow beneath her, which elevated her ass in the air and gave him the best angle to have access to her. "Perfect," he said, smoothing his hand over the round globes of her backside.
"No, not really," she denied.
"Looks perfect to me." He reached over onto the nightstand and grabbed the lube, squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand before coating the entire length of this cock. Not that he expected to get the entire length in there, or anywhere close, really. He was just going to go as far as he could without her feeling any major discomfort, certainly without feeling any major pain.
"Spread your legs, Princess," he told her.
She giggled slightly upon hearing her nickname and did as instructed. "Lots of lube," she told him.
"Lots," he agreed, spreading an ample amount around her hole. He made sure to coat her ass cheeks, too, and her inner thighs. He wanted everything to be as smooth and easy for her as possible.
"You're gonna go slow, right?" she asked.
"Of course." This was her first time doing this. Ever. With anyone. She was giving this to him. He wouldn't dream of going any other way.
When he was sure the lube was sufficient, he tossed it aside on the mattress and lay down on top of her, enveloping her small frame with his much larger one, holding as much of his weight up as possible while he pressed soft kisses to her shoulder blades and back.
"Mmm," she purred, closing her eyes. "That feels nice."
How's this feel? he thought, nestling his cock in the crack of her ass. He rubbed it up and down suggestively, and he could tell she liked that, too, because she smiled dazedly.
"I'm gonna make you feel good," he promised, whispering the words into her ear.
"You already are," she whispered back, turning her head enough so he could kiss her properly on the lips again. He let his tongue twist around hers for a moment, still rubbing his cock shamelessly against her ass. Good god, he could probably get off just from doing that. He had to stop, otherwise this would be over way too fast.
Sitting back, he first put his hands to work, probing her with just one finger at first. She'd gotten used to that, even used to a second one, so he pushed his middle finger a minute later, pumping them in and out, trying to move them like scissors to see how far he could get her to stretch. The biggest dildo she'd taken was still smaller than his cock. The fact of the matter was, he was just well-endowed, and as much as the ladies liked that about him, it also presented problems sometimes. He didn't want anything about this to be problematic.
"I like the candles," she remarked suddenly.
He had to laugh, because it was so cute seeing her look around the room and comment on his decorative choice while he had his fingers up her ass. "That's good."
"I look tan with the candles," she said. "You look really tan."
Again, he just chuckled. So cute. So fucking cute.
She shifted gears suddenly, though, when she told him softly, "Bellamy, I . . . I think I'm ready."
"Yeah, I think so, too." He withdrew his fingers, holding her cheeks apart to admire the small gape. The finger-fucking and the dildos and all that . . . it had loosened her up these past few weeks, but she was still tight as hell, and it would definitely be a snug fit.
"Are you gonna fuck me or what?" she teased, wriggling her rump playfully.
"Wait, I thought I was supposed to make love to you."
"Well . . . that, too."
"That, too?" That kind of sex was a tough balance to achieve for some couples, but with Clarke . . . honestly, that was how they did it naturally. "No pressure, though, right?"
"No pressure."
He grabbed the lube and squirted a dab more onto his cock, smearing it around the head. "Seriously, though, Clarke, no pressure. At all. If you want me to stop . . ."
"I won't want you to stop," she predicted.
"But if you do . . . just say something and I will," he promised. Hell, even if it was the best sex of his life, he'd end it in a heartbeat if he thought for one second that she couldn't handle it anymore. He wasn't going to get so wrapped up in what they were doing that he ever stopped focusing on her or paying attention to how she (and her body) was reacting to this. She was his priority. Everything else was secondary.
"Just do it, Bellamy," she urged him, reaching back to spread her ass cheeks open.
Fucking hot, he thought, scooting forward on his knees with the base of his shaft in his hand. He lined it up so that his cock was positioned right at her hole, poking and teasing the entrance, and he couldn't help but get a kick out of her impatient moaning.
"Bellamy . . ." Her whines turned into a sharp gasp as he made the first push inside. He took it slow and didn't go in very far. With only the head of his cock in her, already it felt like heaven.
"Oh my god," she breathed out.
Watching in amazement as she stretched to accommodate him, he pushed in a little farther, eyes practically rolling back into his head. If he'd been standing, his legs would have buckled, because it felt so fucking tight and so fucking good, and it was a hell of a sight to see.
"Uh!' she whimpered, and when he checked her face to gauge her reaction, he got worried. Because she looked like, despite his best efforts to prepare her, she still felt some pain.
"You okay?" he asked, concerned.
"Uh-huh," she said shakily, but that didn't disguise the tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed at the pillows beneath her head desperately and winced.
"I'll stop," Bellamy offered.
"No," she said pleadingly.
"Clarke-"
"I'm fine," she insisted, wiping the tear away. "It just feels . . . really full."
He chuckled, shaking his head in astonishment. It looked full, too. "Damn." He could feel her clenching and unclenching around him as she tried to stay as loose and relaxed as possible. So he just sat there and waited, rubbing her back and her shoulders, trying to soothe her discomfort. It was actually a good thing that she needed a minute to adjust, because it gave him a chance to calm down and keep from cumming right away.
"I'm good," she said, lifting her head up, peeking back towards him. "You can keep going."
Keep going? he thought, not sure if he should just stick with a shallow penetration or try to get in just a little bit farther. The look of pain was gone from her face, though, so he chanced it. He moved forward just about another inch, but it was enough to make her put her head back down and close her eyes. "Oh, god . . ."
That sure sounded like pleasure to him, so he took that as a sign that he could start thrusting. He moved his hips forward and back slowly, watching in awe as her body accepted his. The lube prevented any unwanted, unnecessary friction, so even though it was tight, he could move easily. And it felt incredible.
"Fuck, Clarke," he swore, feeling himself go deeper and deeper with each thrust. She was really opening up for him.
"Does that feel good?" she asked him.
"It feels . . . amazing." He stilled his hips as he leaned forward, covering her body like a blanket. He kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her lips, his breath mingling with hers as he started thrusting again. He kept it slow and steady, enjoying the feel of her around his cock. Plus, her lubed up butt cheeks were all shiny and gave him the perfect cushion for the pushin'.
"You're fucking my ass," she whispered.
"I'm fucking your ass." It was unreal to think about, and in the back of his mind, he remembered that he was the only one who had ever done this to her, that no one else knew what it felt like to be with Clarke Griffin in this way. And that just turned him on even more.
He started thrusting faster, unable to help himself. His body moved on its own accord, and she certainly noticed that he'd picked up the pace, because she groaned gutturally and clutched the pillows tighter. "Oh . . ." she moaned loudly.
"You still alright?" he asked.
"Yeah," she reassured him. "Oh, Bellamy . . ."
Holy shit, he thought, stopping for a moment just because . . . he had to. When she said his name like that, he almost erupted on the spot. And he wasn't ready for this to be over quite yet.
He sat back, taking a second to admire how much of his length was sheathed inside her, how much she'd managed to fit, and then grabbed his cock in his hand, pulling the whole thing out.
She whimpered in protest. "Uh, don't stop."
"I'm not." He pushed back in again, filling her up with one long movement.
"Oh!" she cried out shakily. "Yes . . ."
She liked that, huh? He pulled out again, mesmerized by just how far her ass had stretched for him, and shoved back in, a little harder this time, just to test it out.
"Uh . . ." she said shakily, her ass clamping around him as though she intended to make him stay there. "Oh, fuck . . ."
He did it one more time, perhaps a little too hard this time, because her whole body moved forward on the bed. "Sorry," he apologized.
"It's okay," she whispered. "Bellamy, just . . ."
Before she could even finish, he was thrusting again, holding onto her hips so he could pull her ass backward when he moved forward, creating a penetration deeper than he'd thought would be possible this first time. It helped that she had totally relaxed into this by now, and even though he didn't hold any unrealistic expectations of getting her off, he was glad that she at least seemed to be enjoying herself.
He hadn't even realized he was grunting and growling until she craned her neck to look back at him and laughingly asked, "Are you okay?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "No." This just felt too good to draw it out for much longer. His head was spinning and he felt like he was high on something. He'd never actually been high before, but he doubted it could feel any better than this. "Clarke, I'm gonna cum," he warned her.
"So cum," she said invitingly.
"Yeah, but . . ." He slowed his movements, trying to think if there was any position he could get in that would draw this out longer. But there really wasn't. No matter how they set it up, he was inside her ass. Fucking her like this was one of the hottest things he'd ever done in his entire life, and how he'd managed to prolong his orgasm even this long was a mystery.
"Here," he said, pulling out of her suddenly. She seemed confused until he rolled her over on her side and spooned up behind her. He grimaced as his erection brushed against her ass, because he was so hard, it was actually painful. "Lift your leg up," he told her, and when she did, he hooked one hand underneath it to hold it in place while his cock nudged against her hole again. He had to use his hand to help guide it into her, but it slid in so easily this time. If it felt uncomfortable anymore, she wasn't giving him any indication.
"Can you take it?" he asked, rolling his hips against her.
"Yeah," she said breathily. "I can take it."
I hope so, he thought, coiling one arm underneath her to wrap around her waist, while the other held her leg under her knee. He went for it, thrusting up into her hard and fast, really pounding her now, giving her as much as he had left. The sweat on their skin mingled as his chest rubbed against her back, and he heard that familiar sound of his skin slapping against hers. His balls knocked against her ass cheeks, and he swore, "Fuck, Princess," not sure he'd ever felt anything better than this.
"Oh my god," she gasped, "oh my god . . . oh! Bellamy?"
"I'm right here," he rasped against her ear. "I got you."
"Oh god," she choked out again. "Oh . . ."
Say my name again, he thought, his whole groin area tightening up. If she said his name again, he'd-
"Bell . . ."
"Oh, fuck," he moaned, pressing as far into her as he could as his brains shot out through his cock. He held her close as he came hard, filling her up with his seed. It was such a powerful orgasm and his cock was so sensitive that he had to take it out of her mere seconds after he was done, even though he would have loved to have just . . . stayed in there.
She just lay there in his arms, breathing heavily, slowly lowering her leg. He lay behind her, completely spent, not even sure if he was alive anymore or if he was just . . .
He couldn't even think.
When he regained enough function to press lazy kisses to the back of her neck, he found himself intoxicated by the smell of her in that moment. She smelled like . . . well, there really was no way to describe it other than to say she smelt like them.
"Wow," she said at last.
"Yeah," he agreed, barely able to form thoughts, let alone words. Next time, he'd play with her pussy, try to get her off, too. She deserved that for being so . . . so fucking amazing.
"Wait a minute," he said, sitting up suddenly. He flipped her over onto her stomach once again and spread her ass cheeks one more time, smiling proudly as he watched some of his cum drip out of her. In porno terms, that was called a creampie, and it was hot as hell. He wished the candles illuminated the room more so he could see it better, but . . . he saw it, and it was sexy, just like seeing it drip out of her pussy was.
"What're you doing?" she asked.
"Just taking one last look," he said, giving her ass a little spank as he lay back down beside her. "You did so good, babe," he told her, stroking her hair lovingly.
"So did you," she said.
"Was it okay?" It'd sure as hell felt okay to him, but then again, he was a guy. In all honesty, he was open to some constructive criticism if there was something he'd done wrong or something he could have done better. He could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd asked a girl if the sex was okay, but this was a special circumstance, and he needed to know.
"It was good," she reassured him, turning over onto her side, still facing him.
"Really?" She wasn't just saying that?
"Yeah." She snuggled up into him and added, "Different, but good."
He smirked. Different but good. That was the whole point. "So you feel better?" he asked her.
She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I was feeling bad?"
He laughed lightly. "Yeah, when you came home."
"Oh." She shrugged as best she could in her current position. "I don't even remember."
"Good." Clearing her mind, de-stressing her . . . that had been the idea.
He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close so he could hold her for a while. They liked cuddling after sex, though their semi-public escapades didn't exactly permit it. When it was just the two of them, though, here in their bedroom, in their bed like this . . . it was such an intimate feeling, one he hadn't felt in a long time. Her skin was aglow with candlelight, her hair damp with a mixture of sweat and water, and he swore . . . she was way too good for a guy like him.