a/n Here's a smutty Saturday in which Clarke wakes up from a sex dream at Becca's mansion in S4 and things get interesting. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing it. Happy reading!
Clarke wakes up sweaty, frustrated, and really rather disappointed in herself.
Then she looks around her and grows still more disappointed with life in general. She's still in her room in Becca's mansion. She's not in Bellamy's bed, as she dreamed she was, just then. She's all alone, and that dream was silly wishful thinking.
All the same, she cannot quite shake it off. She cannot forget the fullness of his cock, nor the reverent way he skimmed his hands over her skin.
She frowns deeply, tries to clear her head. It's no use. She's been so hung up on Bellamy since yesterday – even more so than usual. There's something about the way he tried to tell her something important before they were parted. That if I don't see you again has been echoing through her mind since yesterday afternoon. She's been reliving the lingering hug they shared before they went their separate ways, too.
It's stupid. Only yesterday morning, she was determined not to act on her feelings for Bellamy. Not to let them become real. People she loves die, she's pretty sure. And Bellamy is already in enough danger on the ground. She doesn't need to make that worse.
But then he went and said goodbye to her like that. He went and made her think he must feel the same way. He even looked disappointed, when she cut him off, and that breaks her heart. She used to think she was only depriving herself, by refusing to act on her feelings for him.
But now she's growing increasingly convinced that she's upsetting him by holding back, too. And she really doesn't want to hurt him.
She frowns. It's a difficult problem. Usually she likes solving problems, but this one gives her a headache every time she attempts it. She loves Bellamy, but she is convinced she's bad news. He might love her, but she cannot know unless she asks. Is it perhaps right to give him the option? All his life, his mother and sister have made his choices for him. Maybe, just this once, she ought to let him have some say in his own destiny.
Yes. That's a good, logical argument. That's better than throwing herself at him because she just had a sex dream about him, anyway. She ought to tell Bellamy how she feels, because it's only fair to let him make his own choices.
With that decided, she gets straight out of bed and heads downstairs to the radio. She's not being impulsive – not at all. She made this decision sensibly. But she wants to act on it quickly, because the world is ending. And this seems as good a time as any. It's still before dawn, so she knows she is not going to be disturbed by any other residents of the mansion. Bellamy will be resting on the road back to Arkadia, but she's pretty certain he will actually be awake already. He doesn't sleep well, in her experience.
She reaches the radio. She nods to herself, briskly, just once. Just to steel her courage and remind herself that this is a perfectly sensible thing to be doing so early in the morning.
And then she picks up the radio and starts speaking.
"Bellamy? Are you there?"
He doesn't keep her waiting. "Clarke? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to speak to you. Are you awake?"
"I'm not talking to you in my sleep." He bounces back.
She quirks her lips just a little. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah. I do. I wasn't asleep." He confirms, as she suspected he would.
"Good." She takes a deep breath, gets stuck straight in. She did not make it this far on Earth by beating about the bush. "So, I was wondering – what were you going to say to me yesterday? On the beach? I've been thinking I shouldn't have cut you off."
He snorts, not quite a laugh. Evidently he's still a little annoyed with her for interrupting him. "Bit late now, Clarke."
"No, really. I want to know what you were going to say, if you'll tell me. I'm sorry I wasn't ready to hear it yesterday."
There's a moment's pause. On the other end of the call, she could swear she can hear Bellamy breathing.
Then he speaks, carefully controlled. "What do you think I was going to say?"
"I know what I hope you were going to say." She throws back, somewhat nervous, now the moment is perhaps really here. "But I wouldn't like to guess wrong."
"You sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes. Please. More than anything."
He sighs loudly. "I love you. There. That's it. That's what I wanted to tell you – I've fallen in love with you." He sounds more resigned than joyful, she thinks.
Hopefully she can do something about that. "I love you too. So much. I'm sorry I couldn't talk about this yesterday."
He laughs a hollow laugh. "That's some great timing, Clarke."
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Please stop apologising. Better late than never. I – you really do?"
"Yeah. Really. I – I just get scared about losing the people I love."
"I get that. It's OK." He takes a loud breath. "Sucks that we're so far apart, huh? I really want to kiss you right now."
"I want to kiss you too." She assures him at once.
"Yeah? Can't wait to try that when we see each other again."
"Definitely. And then I want to get my mouth on your neck."
There is a heartbeat of perfect silence. Just long enough for Clarke to wonder whether perhaps that was a little odd – did that make her sound like some kind of vampire, or just somewhat crazy?
Then Bellamy puts her mind at rest with a long, loud sigh.
"You really shouldn't say things like that when you're so far away." He grumbles. "You want to get your mouth on my neck?"
"Yeah. You have a lovely neck – so strong but your skin is soft, too. I love nuzzling it when we hug. So when we're together again I want to kiss it." She tells him. Somehow she doesn't feel at all self-conscious admitting that, now that she knows he's looking forward to the physical side of their reunion, too. And anyway, she did make life difficult for him yesterday when he tried to tell her how he feels. She figures it's only fair for her to meet him halfway today and show him just how much she adores him.
To her surprise, Bellamy has something more to add. "I want to get my hands in your hair when we see each other again. I always felt like a creep touching it when we would hug. But now – now I want to tug at it while we're kissing. I want to really tangle my fingers in it and pull."
She groans a little. "That sounds great. You going to bite my lip at the same time?"
"If you want me to. You want me to kiss you dirty?"
"Please. You'd be good at that. I want your soft lips but I want you to be harsh with me at the same time, you know?"
"Yeah. I want that too." He half-growls. "You know what else I want? I want my hands on your butt."
"At the same time as my hair?" She prompts, teasing.
"No, you're right. That can be where I go next. I want to pull your hips against me so you can feel how hard you make me."
She gulps. Are they really going there?
Yes. Yes they really are going there.
"I make you hard?" She presses, intrigued. She wants to show him this turn in the conversation is more than OK with her.
He laughs a strained laugh. "You can say that again. You're driving me crazy just talking about this."
"Me too."
A beat of silence.
And then, Clarke decides, it is time to go all in. Time to lead the way into this next chapter of their relationship with her head held high.
"I want you to touch me and feel how wet you make me, too." She offers. She's never really tried doing this before, but she likes it.
That's an understatement on both fronts. She has never done anything even vaguely like dirty talk over the radio before, and she fears she sounds clumsy and inept. But she loves every moment of it all the same.
"Yeah. I want to touch you." Bellamy agrees, voice low and throaty. "Can't wait to get my hands on you."
Even as he's talking, Clarke is slipping a hand down her pyjama pants. She figures that's only fair at this point, right? That's obviously where this conversation is going.
Right on cue, Bellamy matches her. "You touching yourself for me, Clarke? You going to touch yourself while I tell you what I want to do to you?"
She nods, mewls a little. She hopes he gets the message – although it occurs to her too late, through the haze of building desire, that he cannot see her nod.
"Yeah. I'm touching myself. Have you got your hand on your cock for me?" She asks pertly.
He laughs, tight and too high. "Yeah. That OK?"
"Perfect."
"I want to get a finger in your pussy now." Bellamy tells her plainly. "I want to feel how wet you are for me."
"So wet." She answers at once. It's almost embarrassing.
"That's good. I just want to be gentle with you at first. Just getting you warmed up for me."
She hums in agreement. "I want to get my mouth on your cock." She says. She knows that's not possible, right now, but she hopes that at least it might add something new to this game of make-believe.
"Yeah? What do you want to do to me with your mouth?"
"Not sure. Just... play with you. Get you ready. Going to just play with the tip with my lips at first." She tries.
He likes that. He's groaning lightly.
She presses on. "Once you're really hard I want to tease you a bit more. Maybe take you deeper. But I'm not going to use my mouth for long. I want to keep you needy." She teases.
He laughs, more strained than ever. "I'm not playing any games with you." He counters. "I want to get a second finger in your pussy now. You need it. I'm not a tease like you are."
"You love it when I tease you." She bounces back.
"Yeah. I really do." He growls a little. "You want to use your hand on me for a while?"
"I want your cock in my pussy." She says simply. "But yeah – for today, I guess that's not an option. Yeah, hand on your cock."
She's losing track, here. She's losing track of whose hand is whose, whose instruction is whose. Somewhere along the line, this stopped being about what they want to do, and started happening here and now.
There's a hand on Bellamy's cock, and he's panting loudly, and that's all that matters.
"I want to get my hand on your tits." He tells her now.
"Yeah. I want that. I need that." She tells him, short and breathy.
"Tell me how it feels." He pleads urgently.
"It's good." That was inane. She can do better than that – she must do better than that, for Bellamy. "It's so good. Your hands are so big. My tits are so heavy but your hands can take it. They're just spilling right into your hands."
He groans loudly.
She tries harder. "Can you feel how soft they are? Want you to keep touching them."
"Want to get my mouth on them." He counters, hoarse.
"Yeah. I want that. I want your mouth on my tits." She babbles, frantic, reaching for a nipple with her own free hand. "So good, Bellamy. It feels so good."
"Want to get a third finger in your pussy." He manages.
"Three?" She echoes, stunned and so damn close.
"You can take it. Feel how wet you are. You need another finger to fill you up."
"Yeah. Yeah." She goes for it, does as he asks. "You're right. Feels so tight."
She runs out of words, then. She resigns herself to panting uselessly. She ought to say something to urge him on, but she's all out of words. She's helpless to do anything more than sit back in her chair and ride out the fantasy they have built together.
He gets there first. At least – she presumes he does. There's a deep groan, a strangled cry of her name, a muffled swear. And then a long, loud sigh.
That's what she needed, it turns out. That gives her the confidence to just relax and let herself fall apart. That reassures her that he really does desperately want this.
That he really does desperately want her.
She's there. She's falling apart around her hand, seeing Bellamy's hand in her mind's eye. She's letting loose a moan as she arches up off the chair and presses her breast into her own palm.
And then she's done. She's sitting there, breathless, with her own hands down her pyjamas and a hot flush rising in her cheeks.
She sits in silence for a moment, waiting for her pounding heart to grow calmer.
"So – that happened." Bellamy offers, sounding rather smug and not at all apologetic.
She laughs. "It sure seems that way."
"That's not quite how I planned that conversation to go. I kind of rehearsed what I wanted to say yesterday." He admits, apparently a little embarrassed. "I was going to say a few things about how brave and strong but kind and warm you are, and how you always make me feel better in myself. I wasn't going to jump straight at your tits."
She laughs. "It's OK. I get it. It's not only about the tits." She swallows hard. "It's like that for me too. It's like – when I'm with you, life isn't only about surviving from one disaster to the next. There's actually something to smile about. But – yeah. Hot sex. Getting off to the sound of your voice. That too."
He laughs in turn. "Just think how much better it'll be in person."
"Yeah. We will meet again. Didn't I say that yesterday?"
"Yeah. Damn right we will." He tells her, fierce and firm.
Silence sits for a moment. She's not sure where they go from here. What's the next logical step, after a declaration of love and a stunning orgasm? Outside, beyond the windows of the mansion, the sun is just starting to rise. A new day is dawning.
Maybe that's her cue.
"We should probably say goodbye." She offers reluctantly. "People will start waking up here soon. I know Jackson's always an early riser."
"I guess you're right. I should get driving."
A pause. So they've agreed that they should say goodbye – and yet neither of them has made any move to actually do so.
Bellamy speaks up, quieter than usual. "Maybe we could just stay and talk for a bit? Really just chat? Jackson won't freak out if he walks in and we're only speaking, will he? And I can drive and talk."
"I'd love that." She tells him at once. An opportunity to simply spend time with Bellamy is a precious thing, and she will treasure it even if they are physically far apart.
"Great. And we can talk later as well. We can call each other all the time until we're back together." He suggests now.
"Yeah. Definitely. We might not be able to do... what we just did." She points out, a slight laugh brewing in her voice. "I'm not sure that would go down so well when you're back in Arkadia using the radio in the guard office."
"Yeah. You might be right." He agrees, chuckling.
She hums a little, wonders what to say next. Just chatting. What should they just chat about, exactly? The state of the roads? The upcoming apocalypse?
Bellamy has a different idea, it seems.
"You know, my mum would have loved you. She always used to tease me that I had a thing for Penelope."
"Who's Penelope?" She asks, wondering whether she ought to be affronted or threatened or jealous.
He gasps. "You don't know who Penelope is?" He asks, all mock anger. "It's just as well I've already fallen in love with you. I guess I can't take that back now. But really – Penelope?"
She laughs and invites him to explain himself. He seems only too happy to agree to that, chuntering on about some mythological character she does not care about in the slightest – or rather, some mythological character she only cares about for his sake.
And while he talks, she listens, of course. But she also thinks. She runs back over the decision she made, scarcely an hour ago, to respect Bellamy enough to offer him some say in his own relationship status.
That was the right decision on her part, she decides, because Bellamy seems rather happy with his choice – and because she thinks he deserves to get what he wants once in a while, when all's said and done.
a/n Thanks for reading!