This is smut. It's Saturday. I have very little else to say about it.
Thanks to Stormkpr for comparing this to sorbet! Happy reading!
Clarke doesn't quite make a habit of going to Bellamy's room in the evenings, but it's something she must admit she has found herself doing increasingly often of late. There's something about the oncoming end of the world and the uncertainty of their situation which makes her all the more desperate to seek out the safety and comfort of his company.
There's also the fact she fears they don't have much time left, and she thinks it would be good if she could find the words to tell him how she feels about him before the death wave hits.
So that's why she takes this excuse and runs with it – almost literally – tonight. She needs to ask his opinion about whether it would be sensible to reallocate some of the guards to hunting rather than security. There isn't much sign of violence on the horizon, at the moment, but they definitely need more meat preserved if they are to survive here inside the remnants of the Ark for five years. It's a question which could wait until the morning, of course – and a question she could perfectly well ask Kane instead. But it will serve as an excuse to see Bellamy, and so it is that she is striding down the hallway towards his room.
She arrives. She can hear noise behind the door – perhaps talking, or some sort of groaning noise, only very muffled. She knocks loudly, and the noise abruptly ceases.
Huh. How odd.
"Bellamy?" She calls, suddenly nervous. "It's me. It's Clarke."
"Hey. Just – ah – just a minute."
She stands there, outside the door, shifting her weight from foot to foot. What's going on? The strange noises and the -
Oh. He's got company. Damn it – she should have realised that sooner. But she's been so caught up, of late, in her increasingly deep feelings for Bellamy that she's allowed herself to get too comfortable in her daydreams. She's started presuming he isn't hooking up with anyone else, she now realises.
Well. So much for that. She's just interrupted him in the midst of something and now she can feel her face burn.
"It's not important. I can come back later." She calls, flustered.
"No. Stay. It's fine." Bellamy insists. "You can – uh – you can come in now."
She opens the door, tentative. She's probably expecting to see Bree on the other side of the door, she thinks, or maybe Mel. One of the sweet and largely inoffensive girls who used to hang around Bellamy back before the City of Light and the news of the coming Praimfaya. It's been a while since she's seen him take one of them home, but it's all fine. He has every right to -
Oh. Wow. That's definitely not Mel or Bree. That's Miller, laughter in his eyes and dust on the knees of his trousers. Bellamy looks mortified, biting his lip, and the bulge at his crotch tells its own story.
Clarke has to admit that she's stunned. Not because this is a guy – she knows Bellamy swings both ways as she does, although he has more often chosen girls to take home in the past, in her experience. But because this is Miller. This is Bellamy's closest friend – besides herself, she likes to think. If Miller is sucking him off, that might mean something, mightn't it? Miller did break up with Bryan a while ago. Maybe Bellamy has been falling in love with him right under her very nose.
She feels so utterly stupid. There she was, thinking she might be the friend he could fall for. And all this time -
"I'll be going." Miller says brightly, heading for the door.
"You don't have to."
"Stay."
Clarke and Bellamy both speak at once. They both turn to look at each other, and Clarke sees her own shock reflected back at her in Bellamy's eyes.
"I'll be going." Miller repeats, firmer. "Have a good evening, guys. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
With that he is gone, the faint sound of laughter following in his wake.
Clarke wonders what that's all about. Miller doesn't seem phased in the slightest by Clarke's interruption. Is he so confident in Bellamy's affections that he doesn't feel the need for awkwardness or nerves? Is he so positive that he'll be back here tomorrow, and the next night and the next?
Has he tasted Bellamy's dick every night this week?
"Clarke? What did you want?" Bellamy asks, hoarse.
Your cock in my mouth.
No. Probably best not say that. Best not refer to the scene she just interrupted at all. Best not glance to Bellamy's crotch, and notice that he's still at least half-hard, to judge by the size of that bulge. Best not -
"What was that?" She hears herself ask.
"What was what?" Bellamy asks, about as convincing as Monty dressed as a Pauna.
"What was Miller doing here?" She asks, bold and a little too loud. She's put her foot in it now, and she cannot back down. She never does back down, where Bellamy is concerned.
He snorts out an unconvincing laugh. "What do you think it was, Clarke? He was sucking me off. Just a friendly blow job between mates."
"Between mates? You mean – you're not -"
"We're not together." He says, a little too quickly. "He was honestly just doing it as a favour. Just being a good friend. I guess I've been kind of tense recently with everything that's going on, and he's been broken up from Bryan a while and we both thought – yeah. Could be fun."
"Oh. Sorry I ruined it."
"That's OK. We can pick it up another time." Bellamy says, nodding a little too quickly. "It's not a big deal. I'm not starved for sex or something. I had Bree over the other night to help me chill out."
Clarke stiffens further at that. Miller and Bree? Bellamy has a whole list of kind friends ready to help him relax? She's rather hurt that she's not on the list.
She takes a deep breath, gathers her courage. The way she sees it, there is one very elegant solution here. One option which would make a lot of sense.
"I can help you out some time. I could give you a friendly blow job between mates." She offers, carefully light, with a bright smile and a too-casual shrug.
Bellamy stares at her, eyes wide open, as if he thinks she might have lost her mind. "No you couldn't." He snaps at once.
"I could." She insists. "I promise, it doesn't have to get weird. It doesn't have to mean anything. I can just -"
"You can't. You can't because it would mean something to me." He bites out.
It is her turn to blink at him, stunned, and try to keep up. He just said it would mean something to him. She knows, because she heard him say it.
She heard him say it, but it sounds too good to be true.
"It would mean something to me too." She offers cautiously.
His gaze snaps to hers, searching her eyes. "But you... didn't you just say it wouldn't? Didn't you just offer me a friendly blow job between mates?"
"I was lying." She says, not particularly ashamed of it. She's done worse before now. "You made it sound like you had some kind of rota for fuck buddies and I was hurt not to be on the list."
"Well of course you're not on that list." He counters, starting to give way to wry laughter. "You're on a list all of your own."
She glows a little. A list all of her own. She likes the sound of that – it seems like a better list, than the lists she has known of late.
"Good. Because your cock belongs in my mouth and I'm going to get on with that now." She announces, walking over to him.
He grins sharply. "You were hurt not to be on the list? You don't seem hurt. More possessive." He teases.
"I can be both." She tells him, challenging.
He likes that. She can see it in the light in his eyes, in the way his gaze follows her lips as she speaks. She can see, too, that he has started fidgeting a little from side to side, as if his underwear suddenly doesn't fit him so well.
Well, then. If he likes her like this – bold and possessive – she knows what her next move is.
"Get undressed and lie on the bed." She instructs him, brow quirked.
He doesn't hesitate. He gets to work, unbuckling his belt, shedding his clothes, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. She strips herself naked, too, backing away with a pointed look every time he starts to sneak closer to her.
At last, he is naked, and he's lying on the bed. Clarke has to admit, she takes a moment just to stand there and enjoy the view. He's simply stunning, all firm muscle and soft smiles. That's the thing which really gets her – she always knew he would look sexy, but she's a little thrown by how purely happy he looks in this moment.
Then she steps forward. She nestles herself between his legs, gives his cock a considering sort of look. She can hardly believe this is really happening at last.
Then she takes his cock into her mouth. He gasps, loud and higher-pitched than she might have expected. She takes a couple of long, slow strokes, and hears him give a throaty groan.
He seems to be very into this, to say the least.
She quite likes the idea of sucking him off just as Miller was doing only minutes ago. She likes the idea that she's overriding everything Miller did with her own lips, now. That she's replacing him, utterly and completely, and staking her claim to Bellamy.
Yeah. She does seem to have got a little possessive, of late.
And anyway, it's not as if she can taste Miller. All she can taste is Bellamy, a sort of musky, woodsy flavour that matches his scent. A little sharpness, too, the slight tang of precum or of his last lonely wank.
Well, now. He's not going to be needing to do that again any time soon. She'll be here to take care of him until the world burns, thank you very much.
He reaches for her, now. He curls a hand in her hair to encourage her to take him a little deeper. But she refuses, pulls back to meet his eye and speaks in a teasing tone.
"No. No touching." She tells him brightly. "You're just going to lie there and take it. Let me make you feel good."
She expects an argument. Of course she does – this is Bellamy. She expects that affectionate bickering, the rapid back-and-forth they do so well.
She doesn't expect what he says instead.
"You could always tie my hands up." He suggests.
She's a little taken aback by that. She just never thought of it before – never dared to let herself think much further than getting into bed with Bellamy at best. But she can definitely see where he's coming from. It's a good fit for what they're doing here, isn't it? A good fit for the blend of possessiveness and protectiveness.
Most of all, she thinks, it's a good fit for them. A good fit for the way he lifts her up and helps her find the confidence to take charge.
There's that, and there's the fact she is suddenly certain it would be seriously hot. Bellamy's such a beautiful, strong guy. She can just imagine the visual of those thick arms tied down to the bed with soft restraints. It makes her fingers itch for sketchbook and charcoal just thinking about it.
And it makes her pussy crave something else entirely.
She shakes her head, refocusses on her task. She didn't come here today planning and prepared to tie him up – quite the opposite. This has all taken her by surprise. So she doesn't think that's something to try this first time.
"Maybe another time." She suggests lightly. "It's a great idea – I think it would be really hot. But I want us to get comfortable with each other this first time."
"So there are going to be other times?" Bellamy presses, eyes narrowed with a sort of stiff insecurity she doesn't much like the look of.
"Yeah. Of course there are – if you want them. What did you think I meant when I said this would mean something to me? I meant I'd stick around as long as you'll have me."
"As long as we're still breathing." He counters, wry.
"I guess."
He throws her a sad smile. "I guess we should make the most of it and sleep together as much as we can before the world goes up in flames."
"That's the spirit." She agrees. She and Bellamy have a wonderful way of embracing the fun side of not-at-all fun situations like this, she thinks. "But shall I maybe finish this before you invite me into your bed for the next two months?"
"I'll want you in my bed even if it's hopeless." He admits on a laugh. "I've got it bad. So – you know. No pressure."
She snorts out a laugh. She's not intending to be hopeless at this, thank you very much. But it's good all the same to hear that he's head over heels for her.
She supposes she ought to tell him she feels the same way.
"I'm pretty much obsessed with you at this point. Just so you know." She admits, carefully light and teasing. She can't quite manage to tell him such a serious truth in a serious tone. She doesn't have a great track record with love after all.
"I started to get that impression when you looked about ready to throw Miller in the lake." He says brightly.
She narrows her gaze at him. "You do like the possessive thing, don't you?"
He shrugs, evidently self-conscious, his eyes sliding away from hers. "Yeah. I guess. It's good to see you getting worked up and wanting to fight for me after – you know. We've not had great luck, have we? And after Finn and Lexa I guess – it's nice to be your first choice for a change."
She swallows. That was a rather deeper observation than she might have expected, as she lies here, with his cock jutting up towards her face. She doesn't know how to even begin to reassure him, how to explain that she means it when she says she'll be sticking with him until the death wave.
She swallows again. Best just to have a go.
"I did love both of them. I understand why that might hurt you. But – it's different, Bellamy. I loved them quickly and we started with sexual attraction. But you – you're – you're Bellamy." She tells him inadequate and heartfelt. "You're the person I would want to spend my life with, if we had any life left to live. I belong at your side, not just in your bed."
He sits up so quickly she gets hit in the face by his cock. And then he's bending low to meet her in a messy kiss, her back straining so she can reach his lips. It's frankly the most chaotic kiss of all time, she suspects. It's a frankly stupid angle to attempt a kiss.
But then again – what's wrong with a little chaos?
She pulls away after a few seconds, laughing hard, unable to strain her neck to meet him any longer.
"What happened to no touching?" She reminds him pointedly.
"You love me." He bounces back at her. "You basically just said that, right?"
She nods, laughing. "And you love me."
"Yeah. So that's what happened to no touching." He tells her, smirking brightly.
She laughs louder, gets herself more comfortable. She's sort of kneeling before him, now, so she can kiss him more comfortably. And it truly is a comfortable kiss, this one. It's built on a solid bedrock of friendship, as well as a fierce attraction. There's a familiarity to Bellamy's lips even though they have never kissed before tonight.
Perhaps it's all that time spent staring at him, she wonders.
She can feel Bellamy's erection poking rather insistently against her as they kiss, and she thinks that's pretty impressive, really. Even with that long pause to chat, he's apparently still raring to go. She has to admit she's feeling much the same way.
That's why she starts to nudge at his shoulders, tries to imply he ought to lie back down on the bed.
He does as she has silently suggested. But this time, she does not take her mouth back to his cock. No – she wants to keep kissing him. So it is that she straddles him, sits down onto the length of his cock, but then leans forward to kiss him as best she can, too. It's not ideal – she's quite a lot shorter than him, and it's difficult to rock her hips with any real force like this.
But it's worth it, to stay joined to Bellamy at the lips.
He helps her out, anyway. He bucks his hips up to meet her in turn, and between them they get a kind of rhythm going.
"This OK?" He asks, breathless, turning his head just a fraction away from the kiss.
She takes advantage of that short break to sit up tall and admire the view for a moment. He looks stunning, from here, all broad shoulders and broader smiles. She can't quite believe they're really doing this, after all these months of simmering tension.
She always did want to tell him how she feels, before the world burns.
"I love you." She reminds him now. He hasn't heard it from her, after all. She thinks it needs saying for that reason, even though he already knows how she feels.
"I love you too." He gasps back, grinning. "Get back here and kiss me."
She laughs and does as he asks. She hopes he's just as demanding if ever she does try tying his hands. That's what she loves the most about the dynamic between the two of them, she thinks. That easy give and take where they can take turns being in charge, or both be in charge, or neither. The way they are both made for leadership – or more specifically, sharing leadership.
She can feel herself starting to tumble closer to orgasm, now. Bellamy is a determined lover to say the least, pushing all her buttons at once. His hands seem to be everywhere, flitting from her breasts to her hips and back again.
She almost hopes he will try less hard, once they've got used to this. Once they've tried it a few times and explored what works for them. He seems to be reaching for her clit, now, and she bats his hand affectionately away. She doesn't need that or want that, today. She wants to get there in her own time.
"'M close." He warns, and he sounds worried about that.
"OK." She says, breathless yet rather matter-of-fact.
"You first." He counters, trying for a smirk.
She shrugs, more or less. Maybe it comes out as more of an odd lurching motion, pressing her breasts deliciously against his chest.
But either way, she means to show him she's not concerned.
"You can come first. S'OK. Whatever." She manages. It's important to her to get the words out, because it literally doesn't matter to her. And besides which, if he's feeling insecure about it, she figures she can always point out to him that she warmed him up first.
Anyway, she might get there first. She's close. She's -
Bellamy's there, groaning an obscenely loud groan which might be a mangled version of her name. And she's so damn close that she keeps rocking her hips, keeps pressing against him and chasing that pleasure. She just needs a little more, right there, just that spot.
In the end, she comes by grinding hard against his hips with his softening cock still inside of her. She's oddly proud of that, actually. It's like she's got off on the joy of the moment rather than the length of his dick. And she hopes she's shown him that sex doesn't need to be perfectly choreographed for them to have a great time together.
Sure, it wasn't the most thorough and sensational orgasm of her life. But they can keep working on that between now and death wave day. And it was definitely the most sensational sex, over all, because she's so thrilled to have got together with Bellamy at last.
She stays in place for a long time. She likes his hips, likes his softening cock, remember? She simply sits there, smiling down at him or kissing him softly as the whim takes her.
"You good?" She asks him simply.
"Yeah. Perfect. You good?"
She nods. "You're not allowed to apologise or worry or anything. That was great."
He snorts. "I'm not going to apologise or worry. I'm trying this new thing called personal growth."
She laughs. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not going to get insecure, even though you loved Finn and Lexa first. I'm going to take what you said to me just now and put my faith in you."
She smiles down at him, rather moved. She's not sure that's exactly personal growth on his part – it sounds more like he's trusting her rather than himself. But he's trying to set aside those feelings of inadequacy she knows he's been facing his whole life – or at least since his sister was born – and she's proud of him for that.
She shakes her head, somewhat lost for words.
"I love you." She tries. She's already said that, but it's the only thing she feels capable of saying, in this moment.
He smiles at her, heart in his eyes. "I love you so much. And I think maybe I love you most of all when you're lost for words." He teases. "Never thought I'd see the day when Clarke Griffin can only manage to keep saying I love you."
She laughs. "It's all your fault." She accuses him cheerfully.
"Yeah. I know." He's still smiling, soft and almost dazed, she thinks. "You going to sit up there all night or are you coming to lie down for a cuddle?"
She starts a little, feels her face fall into a frown. She is still sitting on him, his cock now limp inside her. She should probably do something about that.
And once upon a time, she seems to remember she came here for a reason.
"I need to ask you about the hunting parties." She says thoughtfully, as she eases off him and settles in by his side for a hug. "Do you think we should switch some of the security forces over to hunting duties?"
She and Bellamy have laughed a lot in bed, this evening. There has been warm, easy friendship, a lot of grins and giggles. They have come a long way from the stiff awkwardness they started out with, when she caught Miller with dusty knees.
But never, at any point this evening, has Bellamy laughed as loud as this.
It starts out as a chuckle, warm and bright. It falls from there into a deep belly laugh, tinged with hysteria, as he holds her close to him and buries his face in her hair.
"I've got no idea, Clarke. I know it's important. I know." He tries, soothing, once he has more or less recovered his composure. "But we're not figuring that out now. I know the world is ending, but for tonight we are just going to lie here and be happy."
So that's what they do. They lie tangled together, wrapped up in each other, holding one another as close as they can. They chat a little, and kiss a little, and simply share space.
Along the way they keep breathing. Light, laughing gasps as they kiss lazily. Long, slow breaths as they prepare for sleep.
And then Clarke falls asleep to the music of Bellamy's gentle snoring – a noise, she decides, which sounds a lot like hope.
Thanks for reading!