AN: Picking up sort of where we left off – the Morning After! Hope you like it :)

As always, I don't own anything relating to The 100, I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while

Big thanks to my wonderful beta, Liz!

Chapter title from "Truly Madly Deeply" by Savage Garden

Please see the end of the chapters for warnings!

11

Until the Sky Falls down on Me

Clarke is sure they must have moved during the night, but when she wakes up the next day, cold morning light seeping in through the drawn blinds, they're in almost the exact same position as last night – her on her side, Bellamy right behind her, close enough that she can feel body heat radiating off him but not quite pressed against her back. The only difference is his hand, which is now resting on her thigh.

His breathing is deep and slow, so she assumes he's still asleep, but when she shifts a little, his hand slides down her thigh and then back up, settling on her hip. He pulls her tighter against him, grinding his hips against her butt, and she lets out a low moan at the feel of his morning wood.

"Morning," he mumbles, voice raspy with sleep, into her ear, making her shiver.

"Mmm, morning," she replies, pushing back against him. "Someone's up."

He chuckles against her throat before placing an openmouthed kiss below her ear. Clarke reaches back to slide her fingers into his hair and twists her head to be able to kiss him. It's not the most comfortable angle for her, but by the time she breaks the kiss to let her neck rest, they're both breathing hard.

Bellamy's hand abandons her hip, trailing up her stomach and under the t-shirt, finally reaching her breast where he flicks a nail over her nipple, making her gasp, before palming her breast and squeezing lightly. She arches her back into the touch, but too soon he moves to her other breast, repeating his motions, and then slides his hand back down her body, all the way into her panties.

"Fuck, Princess," he groans against her skin as his index finger slides easily between her already slick folds. Clarke angles her hips slightly and he immediately takes the hint and pushes the finger inside her, easing some of the tension coiling in her body.

Their position doesn't let her do much more than move in time with his finger sliding into her and his hips grinding against her back. Their bodies are pressed too closely together for her to be able to get a hand between them and wrap around him, but she still reaches back under the comforter, finding his thigh, and lets her nails drag along it up to his boxers. The hiss in her ear tells her that he likes it, so she repeats the motion, this time continuing to the waistline and tugging, trying to tell him that she wants them off.

He pulls his finger out of her – which was so not what she wanted – but then he tries to push her panties down. She abandons her attempt at removing his underwear to help him get hers down her legs. While she's kicking them and the comforter off, the sudden exposure to the air making her skin break out in goosebumps, he shifts away from her for a moment and when he returns, his boxers are finally gone. He's fully hard now and when he pushes forward, his dick easily slides between her butt cheeks.

Bellamy stills for a moment, his fingers digging into her hips. Then he pulls back, sliding against her wetness with ease, and pushes forward again. Clarke gasps as the head of his dick bumps her clit, her fingers curling into the sheets. He slides his hand up her stomach, this time pushing the t-shirt up until it's bunched underneath her arms, and pinches her nipple, making her arch against him.

She needs more, though, so she meets his next thrust with an angling of her hips, which pushes just the tip of his dick inside her. He lets out a ragged breath against her throat, but instead of pushing all the way in, he pulls away completely.

For a moment, Clarke's confused, but then she hears the drawer in the nightstand opening. Right, condoms. She doesn't technically need to worry about them, since she can't get pregnant or catch an STD – both curtesy of being a Soul Keeper – but it's probably too soon to pull the 'I have an IUD and I'm clean' card.

She rolls over, wanting to be face to face, and snaps the little foil packet out of Bellamy's hand when he turns back to her. He watches her open it and roll the condom on, his breath hitching as she squeezes a little before letting go. Then he pulls her towards him, taking her mouth in a deep, dirty kiss. She happily returns it while shifting her hips forward a little and hitching her leg around his waist, her heel digging into his back and urging him closer. His hand slides along her back, across her hip and down her thigh and then he's lining himself up and slowly pushing inside her.

They both pause, breaking the kiss when he's completely buried inside her, their eyes locked for an infinite moment. Then Clarke moves her hips back just a little, letting him slide out an inch or so, and then forward again, pulling him back in.

Bellamy's hand flexes against her back before sliding down, coming to a stop at her hip. The next time she moves, he meets her, keeping his movement slow but pushing deeper inside her, and she lets out a gasp at the feeling, wrapping her fingers around his bicep to have something to hold onto.

It's slow and lazy, perfect morning sex, and Clarke realizes that she's missed this, the intimacy of waking up with another person, of taking the time to enjoy each other's bodies without hurry. The room is quiet, the only sound their bodies moving together and the occasional gasp and moan, the quiet of a Sunday morning like a heavy blanket over them.

For a long moment, their eyes are locked, their shallow breaths intermingling in the few inches of space between them, but then Bellamy closes the distance and kisses her, soft at first but when she parts her lips to let him in, it quickly turns dirty. His fingers dig into her hip for a moment, before he slides his hand around, up her stomach and finds her breast. When he pinches her nipple, she lets out a moan that he swallows, and he then repeats the motion in time with his thrusts. It's not long before Clarke has to break the kiss to gasp for air, the first hints of her orgasm starting to build deep inside her.

He doesn't let her catch her breath, though, sliding a hand down her stomach and rubbing tight circles against her clit at the same time as he pulls a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Within moments, she's tumbling over the edge, eyes falling shut and mouth opening in a silent cry.

It's not an explosive orgasm, like last night, no fireworks going off. Instead it washes over her in warm waves, slow ripples of pleasure rising and waning over and over. Bellamy keeps up the slow pace of his thrusts and a light pressure against her clit through it, though he abandons her breast to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of her throat and neck, whispering things in her ear in between. Clarke only picks up bits and pieces here and there – beautiful Princess, feel amazing, good girl.

It feels like ages before she finally comes down, opening her eyes to meet Bellamy's gaze. His mouth quirks up at one corner.

"There you are," he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.

She hums contentedly and wraps an arm around his neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away and pushing against his chest. He raises an eyebrow but secures an arm around her waist before rolling onto his back and taking her with him.

Clarke pushes herself into an upright position, which makes the t-shirt – that she had honestly completely forgotten that she was still wearing – fall down over her chest and stomach and pool slightly at her hips. She quickly pulls it over her head and tosses it to the side before leaning down for a kiss.

She stays still for a moment, focusing on the kiss and adjusting her position so she has better purchase, before she rises up slowly, almost letting him slip out of her completely, and then sinks back down in one fluid motion, twisting her hips a little.

"That's it, Princess, feels fucking amazing," he breathes against her mouth, his hands settling on her hips.

She rises up again, and back down, setting a quicker pace than earlier. Bellamy's hands on her hips guides her lightly and he meets her movement with upward thrusts, but apart from that, he lets her take the reins.

She breaks the kiss after a while, bracing her hands against his chest and throwing her head back. On her next rise, she experimentally squeezes her internal muscles, and is rewarded with his fingers digging into her hips almost painfully.

"Oh, fuck, do that again."

She does, eyes intent on his face as he squeezes his shut and grinds his teeth together, breath coming in quick gasps. It's exhilarating, seeing that she can do this to him, having that kind of power. She leans down, letting her teeth graze his nipple and picking up the pace a little. The next time she sinks down, his hands tighten on her hips, preventing her from rising back up, and a moment later, she feels him pulsing inside her.

Clarke's own orgasm a little while ago exhausted a lot of her energy, so she lets herself collapse on top of him, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. His hands move up from her hips, one arm circling her waist and holding her close, the other hand trailing up and down her spine.

"Now, that's a good way to wake up on a Sunday," Bellamy notes after a long moment, when both their heartbeats have finally returned to normal.

Clarke laughs at that and turns her face in against his neck, nosing at the skin beneath his ear. "Oh yeah. Wouldn't mind that kind of wake-up call in the mornings. Way better than my alarm."

His hand continues further north this time and he tugs a little on her braid.

"That can be arranged." His voice is light and she's not sure if he's serious or if it's just one of those things you say. Luckily, she's saved from answering by her stomach rumbling loudly. Bellamy chuckles. "Breakfast?"

"Mmm, yeah. But maybe a shower first."

"Good idea."

She reluctantly moves off him, rummaging around at the foot of the bed to locate her panties as he ties off the condom and throws it in the trash. Before they leave the bedroom – neither of them bothering to put on any clothes – she opens the drawer in the nightstand and grabs another condom. He raises an eyebrow at her. "Really, Princess? Insatiable, are we?"

"You better get used to it."

He just chuckles as he follows her into the hallway and then the bathroom. The harsh light makes her blink a couple of times, breaking the gentle haze of the morning.

Bellamy steps into the shower first, turning the water on and twisting the knob to hot. Clarke drops the condom on the counter before following him, closing the glass sliding door behind her and sticking a hand into the spray. It seems that he, like her, likes the water borderline scalding, which she appreciates.

"I'm afraid we don't really have a lot of options here," he says, gesturing at a shelf in one corner, where there are a few bottles of shampoo and body wash, all for men, which makes sense.

"That's OK," she says, taking a step closer to him, into the spray of the water. "I don't mind smelling like you."

He steps closer too, so her breasts are pressed against his chest. "Oh yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

She doesn't particularly want to slip and break her neck in his shower, so instead of reaching up on her tiptoes, she wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him down to her for a kiss. Bellamy's arms immediately goes around her waist, pulling her closer.

They kiss for a long moment, the water beating down on both of them, steam forming in the enclosed space. Then he pushes her up against the shower wall, and Clarke hisses as the cool tiles hit her back.

"Cold," she complains when he pulls back with a frown, and he chuckles.

"Maybe we should wash up?" he then suggests. "You know, what showers are for."

"Oh, is that the only thing showers are for?" she questions, letting her hand slide down his chest and across his stomach, her nails scraping over his abs. Bellamy bites his lip as she continues further down, but she stops before she reaches her goal, backtracking the way she came.

"Tease," he murmurs in her ear before taking a step back, and Clarke laughs.

"Come on, I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine," she offers, turning away from him.

He does, squeezing some shower gel into his hands and running them across her shoulders and down her back, massaging the lather into her skin with firm movements. He then moves onto her right arm, even scrubbing the palm of her hand before switching to the other arm and repeating the routine.

As he finishes, Clarke's breathing picks up in anticipation, and when she hears him kneel down behind her, she's almost disappointed. But then he wraps both hands around her left ankle and slowly works his way up her leg, all the way to the juncture between her thighs. His hands disappear briefly, and then one returns, rinsed off, and he cups her sex for a moment, sliding one finger along her slit, before he gets some more shower gel and starts massaging it into her right thigh, this time working his way down.

By the time Bellamy gets to his feet and slowly comes around to face her again, her legs are shaking slightly. He leans in to kiss her once, deep but short, before squeezing some more shower gel into his hands and rubbing them together to make it lather. He then places his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles against her collar bones for a moment before he slides his hands down her chest. He makes no move to stop at her breasts but continues all the way to her hips where he rubs the soap into her slippery skin, slowly moving upwards. When he finally reaches her breasts again, she's panting, and when he uses one finger to circle her left nipple, she has to squeeze her eyes shut.

"Fuck," she breathes, and he chuckles.

"You like that, baby?"

She just nods, limply letting him guide her under the spray of the water again to wash the shower gel off. A moment later, she feels his lips against hers and eagerly opens up to let him in. His hands slide down her back, all the way to her butt, and he pulls her closer.

Clarke hums into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her hips against his. She feels his dick, half-hard again, twitch against her stomach.

When she pulls away, she gives him an innocent smile.

"Your turn."

Bellamy watches her through hooded eyes as she finds the bottle of shower gel and squirts some into her hand. She starts the way he did, with his back, rubbing the soap into his skin and digging her fingers into his muscles at the same time. He lets out a content breath, his head falling to one side and she presses a quick kiss to his neck before continuing with his arms.

Clarke takes her time, massaging the shower gel into every inch of his back, shoulders, arms and legs. When she moves around to his front, she glances down to confirm that he's at full attention before she starts on his chest. The muscles in his stomach jump under her hands, and when she sinks to her knees in front of him, he opens his eyes and looks down at her.

She maintains eye contact as she wets her lips and then drags her tongue along his dick, from the base all the way to the tip, and relishes the sharp intake of breath she gets in response. When she wraps a hand around him and sucks the head into her mouth, his fingers tangle in her hair.

She takes him as deep as she can, hollowing her cheeks when he hits the back of her throat and sucking hard for a moment. He lets out a string of expletives and his grip on her hair tightens. Happy with this reaction, she pulls back, swirling her tongue around the head before again sucking him into her mouth.

This time, she doesn't pause as long but instead moves her mouth over him at a faster pace, using her hand at the base. After a few minutes of this, she feels Bellamy tugging at her hair more insistently than before.

"Fuck, babe, stop, I'm close."

She reluctantly releases him and looks up. "Isn't that the whole point?"

His hand leaves her hair and he tugs her up, kissing her hard.

"Maybe I want to come fucking you," he whispers in her ear, the words going straight to her core.

"Well, I guess if you insist," she replies, stepping away from him and sliding the shower door open.

"What's wrong with right here?" he asks, tugging her back against his chest and grinding his hips against her butt.

"Do you know how many shower sex related injuries American hospitals see every year?" Clarke retorts. "I for one don't want to be just another statistic. Wash off and join me."

He laughs at that but does step under the spray to rinse off and then follows her out of the shower, obediently taking the towel she holds out and drying off haphazardly.

"Bed?"

"I said no shower sex, I didn't say no bathroom sex," she replies with a smirk, hopping onto the vanity across from the shower. The space between the wall and sink is wide enough that she fits without a problem and the counter seems to be the perfect height.

Bellamy hesitates for a brief moment before stepping between her legs. "Good thing Miller's not home, that lock's been broken for ages."

She runs a hand down his chest and stomach, wrapping around him lightly. His eyes slide closed and he leans heavily against the counter, hands on either side of her thighs. "So what I'm hearing is make the most of the time we have before he gets back."

"Good idea."

He leans down to kiss her, hands moving to her hips and pulling her forward, to the edge of the counter. Clarke fumbles around next to her and eventually finds the condom she brought earlier, eagerly ripping the package open. He takes over from there, rolling the condom on before sliding one finger inside her, making sure she's wet enough. Which, really not a problem, she's been practically dripping since he finished cleaning her off in the shower. Still, he pumps his finger into her a few times, curling it just right, before lining himself up and pushing all the way inside her in one thrust. Not pausing, he pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back inside, a little more force behind it this time, which has her crying out as he hits a spot deep inside her.

"OK?" he asks with a frown, slowing a little but not stopping.

She nods frantically, using her heels to urge him on. "Yeah, yeah, keep going."

He does, not quite as forcefully but definitely with enough power that she would have been pushed backwards on the counter if he hadn't been holding her still. His mouth finds hers again, demanding, and she returns the kiss with just as much fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck to get even closer.

The tile underneath her butt is cold, a perfect contrast to the heat radiating off him, and she loses herself in the rhythm of their bodies moving in sync, their tongues sliding together, his hands on her hips and her fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

When he breaks away from her to trail kisses down her throat to her breast, she throws her head back to give him better access and leans back against the counter. Only her right hand doesn't find the counter, but the sink, sliding down into the bowl, making her tilt to the side.

Bellamy immediately stops moving and straightens up, a confused expression on his face for a moment, before they both burst out laughing. Clarke pushes herself out of the sink and places both hands on his chest. "OK, let me down."

He nods and takes a couple of steps back so she can hop down on the floor. Her legs aren't as steady as they might have been, but she doesn't collapse in a heap, so she takes that as a win. Instead of pulling him along out of the bathroom and back to bed, which Bellamy probably expected, she turns on the spot, placing her hands on the counter she was sitting on a moment ago, and meets his eyes in the mirror behind it, raising her eyebrow.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and he steps up close behind her, one hand going around to cup her breast while he uses the other to position himself at her entrance and pushing inside her again. Clarke lets out a sigh and lets her eyes slide closed at the new angle this position gives him.

"No," he murmurs in her ear, pinching her nipple, hard, making her moan. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

So she does.

She's not sure what it is, but watching herself in the mirror, Bellamy right behind her, is incredibly erotic. The bathroom counter hits her just below her belly button, so she can't actually see him fucking her, but she can see the expression on both their faces, the way her breasts bounce with each thrust, his fingers digging into the flesh on her hips.

She can tell by the way his jaw is clenched together that he's close, and it's not like she minds not coming during sex, it's not a must for her and she's definitely enjoying herself, but still… she keeps her eyes locked with his as she uses one hand to push away from the counter a little, enough so that she can get the other hand down between her legs, finger immediately finding her clit.

But Bellamy won't have that – she had almost suspected as much – and he pushes her hand away and takes over, his other hand sliding up from her hip to her breast, thumbnail scraping over her nipple a little harder than he probably intended, pulling a high-pitched whine from her.

Clarke leans forward a little more, not breaking eye contact, and braces her elbows against the counter instead of her hand. "Faster," she gasps, pushing back against him.

He doesn't need telling twice, immediately picking up the pace, using his thumb and index finger to tweak her nipple and applying more pressure against her clit, almost too much. Another thrust and his mouth on her throat, teeth nipping at her skin, and Clarke comes hard, squeezing her lips together to not scream out loud. As if he had been waiting for her release, Bellamy thrusts once more and follows her, groan buried against her skin.

She collapses against the counter, the only thing preventing her from sliding all the way down to the floor his arm tight around her waist, holding her against him.

Bellamy recovers first, straightening up behind her and pulling out. He presses a kiss at the base of her neck before releasing her, and Clarke slowly pushes herself up into an upright position, still leaning heavily on the counter and trying to catch her breath.

"You good?" he asks, nuzzling her neck and squeezing her hip.

"Fucking amazing," she replies. "Just give my legs a moment to start working again."

He chuckles, moving away from her to grab their discarded towels off the floor. He wraps one around his hips and drapes the other over her shoulders, making Clarke realize that the bathroom has cooled down considerably since they got out of the shower and she's actually shivering a little.

"I'll go get started on breakfast," he tells her, his lips pressing against her temple briefly, and she nods.

He closes the door behind him and she waits a little longer, until her breath has returned to normal and it doesn't feel like her heart is going to beat out of her chest, before lifting the toilet seat and sitting down. When she's finished, she wraps the towel more securely around herself and looks in the mirror.

She has a hickey at the junction between her neck and her left shoulder, and she touches the spot, remembering Bellamy's mouth there just a little while ago. She'll have to remember to wear high neck tops over the next week or so, to avoid comments from the kids at her homework sessions, but she kind of likes it.

Her hair is starting to dry in an attempt at impersonating a bird's nest. There's a comb on the counter, so she works through the tresses, getting out all the tangles. The end result isn't fantastic in any way, but it's the best she'll be able to do at the moment. She splashes some water on her face and then leaves the bathroom.

There are sounds coming from the kitchen, telling her that Bellamy's already at work making breakfast. When she enters the bedroom, she finds that her bra and top have joined her leggings and panties on the back of the desk chair. The blinds have been opened slightly, letting in more light while still giving her privacy, but apart from that, the room looks exactly the same, the sheets still rumpled and the comforter kicked to the foot of the bed.

She pulls on her panties and leggings and puts on her bra, but instead of her top, which feels a little too flashy in the morning, she grabs the shirt she slept in off the floor and tugs it over her head.

There's a clock on the wall over the dresser, and the time – only ten fifteen – surprises her a little, since they must have been up for a couple of hours by now. Then again, she supposes they probably went to sleep fairly early last night. She definitely wasn't keeping track of the time, but she arrived at seven, so they probably finished dinner around eight thirty, then dessert… The intense make-out session on the couch felt like it went on for hours at the time, but that was probably just her mind playing tricks on her. All in all, they were probably in bed – and asleep – by midnight.

It's so different from what she's used to, picking up virtual strangers at a bar or club, stumbling into bed well into the small hours and slipping out again before first light. But the domesticity of last night and this morning – having dinner together, watching a movie (or at least trying to) and falling asleep together after amazing sex, waking up and doing it all over again – is something Clarke hadn't even known she was missing.

And something she could definitely get used to.

She determinedly refuses to linger on the thought that it won't last long enough for that.

Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content. Honestly, this is basically just sex. I snuck some plot in there, but not that much…