Hello, lovelies! A second installment for this series. There is a moodboard for this across on my twitter if you would like to go and have a look at that! And the title of this chapter comes from Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons.
[Also, I have had some people contact me to say they would like to commission me for work but that they aren't sure of a plot or what specifics they want. I just wanted to add that you can also commission me to add onto any of my prior oneshots or completed works if you have a favourite you'd like added to. Okay, on with the fic!]
Bellamy Blake's lips were pursed as he looked around the space he was in. It was crowded—there were well over sixty people there—but it was a blonde on the far side talking to his sister that caught his attention. He hated having to open up his home and grounds up to people that he didn't trust, but three days ago, James Blake had died. Bellamy's father had been sick for a long time and had stepped down over a year ago for Bellamy to take his rightful place at the head of the Blake household, but it had only been the past Thursday that he had died.
And when someone has as respected and feared as James died, someone who had held such an important position, there was always a big farewell.
So some of the most dangerous people in the country were now gathered under a big marquee that was set up on the lawn outside of his home. They had caterers and wait staff moving between the kitchen and the marquee, making sure that the bar was kept stocked and the empty glasses were being whisked away. He had a few of his men on his security, making sure that none of the guests went into the house, and he was keeping an eye on the security cameras on his phone, but he had to admit that most of his attention was being split between Clarke Griffin and Cage Wallace.
Several months ago, the body of Jasper Jordan had been found in one of the public parks, mutilated and barely recognizable. Jasper was only twenty-three, he was one of the youngest people that Bellamy had in his employ, and it was only because he was best friends with Monty Green that Bellamy had been willing to take him on. But he had proved himself, over and over again, when it came to computers and loyalty, and Bellamy knew that his sister had gotten close to him as well.
He knew that Cage Wallace had something to do with his death.
Cage had taken over his fathers household nearly three years ago, and he had been slowly loosing grip on his territory ever since. His people were leaving him, there was disloyalty in his ranks, he wasn't being paid for protection in the same hundreds of thousands that his father was, and people didn't respect him.
He didn't deserve peoples respect, from everything that Bellamy had seen.
They had crossed paths several times over the years, but it hadn't been until about six months ago that they had actually collided over something, and it had happened hard.
Bellamy wasn't a good guy, and he was okay with that. It was all that he had ever known, it was what he had grown up in and it was how he had been trained for as long as he could remember. But there were lines that didn't get crossed, and as someone with a sister and a woman that he loved and perhaps one day a daughter, he could not stand by when there was someone dealing in underage girls.
His hands weren't clean when it came to prostitution, because he oversaw a lot of the sex work that happened in the city, and he got a cut of the profits. But they were people of age and who chose what they were doing, not twelve year olds who had been stolen from their homes. When he had found out, he had taken John Murphy, Lincoln Whittle and Zeke Shaw, and there had been no mercy shown when they had found the warehouse where they had been holding the newest lot of children, and they had slaughtered all of Cage's men, leaving a clear message. Shaw had been given the task of getting the children back to their families, and Jasper had been helping, his computer skills easily helping identify them and match them to missing posters, reuniting them with their families as quickly as possible.
Obviously Cage had someone on his payroll who was good with computers as well—which was to be expected—and they had identified Jasper as the one who was helping to reunited the children, which had easily pointed to Bellamy as the one who had made the move against them. It wasn't as though Bellamy was trying to hide it, but he hadn't quite been prepared to declare full out war.
A few short weeks later, Jasper's body had been found.
Bellamy knew it was Cage.
And now, the man was here, and as Bellamy followed his eyes, he could see that they were on Clarke, a glass of expensive whiskey in his hand, tacky rings on his fingers, and Bellamy was barely managing to keep his temper under control. He looked back over at Clarke, who was completely unaware of the attention that she was getting from either male, still talking to Octavia Blake.
Cage wouldn't know that Bellamy was with Clarke. Even though their relationship had stretched over several years, it wasn't one that was known by many people, and that was on purpose. Clarke wasn't yet ready to accept Bellamy's full protection, move onto the estate and have a bodyguard, which meant that if she went to work and just carried on her normal life and people knew that she was Bellamy's lover, her life would be at risk. People knew that they were friends, but not just how close they were. So Cage wasn't looking at Clarke in a way to get to Bellamy, it was just because he was interested in her. He would know that she was important in some way, since she was here tonight, but he wouldn't know that it was directly because of Bellamy.
Bellamy swallowed hard.
"You know what it means if you go over there, right?" Raven Reyes voice was low and amused next to Bellamy and his eyes flicked to her before looking back over at Cage.
"Yup," he snipped.
"And anyone with half a brain looking at you would be able to put two and two together right now," she added and Bellamy ground his back teeth together.
"No they wouldn't," he grunted. "They would just think I hate Cage. And they'd be right." Raven didn't say anything else, which he was grateful for.
The evening carried on reasonably peacefully. Dinner was brought out, and people sat and ate, in the places that they had been assigned to, which had been diplomatically plotted out. Afterwards, people continued to drink and mingle, a lot coming up to Bellamy, giving him their sympathies for his father and pledging their allegiance to him once again, just like they had a year ago when he had taken over from his father. Bellamy wasn't always been good with words, but he could keep an impassive expression and shake hands, and Octavia was at his side, playing the role of the dutiful younger sister, even though anyone who knew her knew she was anything but.
Abby Griffin arrived late, since she had been working long hours at the clinic recently, and Marcus Kane had immediately gone over to greet her. Marcus had been one of Bellamy's fathers closest friends and confidants, his second-in-command, so he was someone that he had grown up with and respected for as long as far back as he could remember. When it had been Bellamy's turn to learn the ropes properly, Marcus had been more than happy to step down, not feeling at all threatened. A lot of times, it was the second-in-command that was set to take over for the head of the household, although obviously if they had a child, then things were a little different. It had worked well, though, because it was when Marcus and Abby had first started getting serious, and so Marcus had enjoyed being able to focus on his new relationship, and it had also meant that he got to spend more time with James as he was sick.
"I'm so sorry, darling," Abby murmured as she gave Bellamy a hug. Bellamy hugged her back, letting himself take in a deep inhale of her familiar perfume. It was always nice getting a 'mum hug', given Aurora Blake had died when he and Octavia were young. "How are you holding up?" She asked as she pulled back, making sure to keep her voice low, only heard from Marcus who was standing just behind her, and Raven, who was beside Bellamy.
"I'm okay," Bellamy replied quietly. And he was, because it had just been a matter of time before his father passed, and in a way he was glad, because seeing his father withering away in a bed was nothing like the strong man that he had once been, and it had been hard seeing him like that, and even harder for James being in that position. "It'll be harder tomorrow," he answered honestly, and Abby nodded.
Tomorrow was the actual funeral, which was only going to be for the immediate family and friends of the household, but Bellamy was trying to push those thoughts to the back of his head, focusing on getting through this evening first.
It was nearly two in the morning before people began to disperse. It was slowly, just a few at a time, and Bellamy knew that it was going to be at least four before everyone was gone. Lincoln had come over about half an hour ago and said that he was going to take Octavia home, which Bellamy had agreed was a good idea. Lincoln was his second, and it had been both surprising and unsurprising when things had clicked together between him and Bellamy's sister. He was one of the only people that she would actually listen to and show respect to, and they were a good match.
Octavia had gotten drunk, even though Bellamy knew Clarke had been trying to get her to slow down, but he didn't blame his younger sister.
It had been a long few days.
Raven and Murphy stayed near him as people continued to come up to say goodbye and pass on their well wishes, and Cage was one of the last ones. Monty Green stiffened from where he was standing a few metres away as Cage approached Bellamy, with three of his own men as guards behind him. Bellamy knew that more of his people would be watching them, given the history between, and he was glad to know that he had the back up, squaring his jaw as he met Cage's eyes.
"My sympathies for your loss, Bellamy," Cage began, his voice coming out all suave and just a little bit too slick to be sincere, stretching out a hand toward Bellamy. Bellamy took it, because he couldn't just ignore the hand being reached out to him, even though that was what he wanted to do. "I know my father and yours had a history that went back before we were born."
"Yes, they did," Bellamy nodded, because they did. He remembered Dante Wallace from when he was a teenager. The man was quite a bit older than his father, and he had had cold eyes, something that he obviously shared with his son, but he had had a strong alliance with Bellamy's father.
That wasn't something that was going to continue with the next generation, though.
They both knew it.
"I wanted to ask about the blonde in the blue dress," Cage continued, not bothering to lower his voice out of respect for the woman that he was asking after, obviously not caring if people overheard. "Who is she?"
"She's the daughter of a family friend," Bellamy replied evenly, his hand twitching at his sides. He felt Raven shift beside him, and he knew that she wanted to punch the man in the face almost as much as Bellamy did. Thankfully, they both managed to keep their tempers under control.
"She's incredible," Cage smiled, eyes looking calculating. "She was telling me that she was a nurse, someone I imagine that would be handy to have around." Bellamy didn't reply to that, just pursed his lips and continued to meet Cage's eyes. Cage gave him an amused look before nodding at both Murphy and Raven before turning on his heel and leaving. Bellamy couldn't help but look toward Clarke, and she was looking back at him, and it was clear that she wanted to come over and talk to him, but she didn't. She just gave him a gentle, knowing look before turning back to her mother and Marcus.
The sun was only a few hours off rising when Bellamy walked back into his house, most of his people going home except for Murphy, who was crashing in one of the guest rooms, and Shaw and Monty, who lived in the house. Bellamy was pretty sure he had also seen Raven go down the same bedroom as Murphy, but that wasn't something he was going to concern himself with. He went upstairs to the second floor, to his study, eyes flicking to the large screens on one wall which were from the cameras all over the estate and in the manor before walking over to his desk and sitting down.
He poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and took a step before looking down at the papers that were spread out in front of him. They were surveillance photos from Raven and Shaw, from the past week when he had sent them to tail Cage and his people. He preferred the photos printed out so that he could hold them and study them, rather than looking at them on a screen, and he pursed his lips together as he came to one of Cage right here in his city, where he shouldn't be without asking Bellamy's permission.
Of course, Bellamy had known that he was there, in the city, he just hadn't done anything because he wanted to know what Cage was up to, that was why he had sent Raven and Shaw to tail him.
"Bell?" Clarke's voice was soft from the doorway as she stepped into his office, closing the heavy door behind her. Bellamy put down the photos but kept the crystal tumbler in his hand, taking another sip as he watched Clarke walk over to the desk. She was wearing a dark blue dress, it looked like it had hues of black in it as well, short with a deep V in the cleavage, with her hair teased into waves. He remembered when her hair was longer, it used to be wavy all the time, but now that it was short, it seemed to fall pretty straight most of the time.
"Hey, princess," Bellamy gave her a small smile as she reached the other side of the desk, laying her hands flat on the surface. Clarke didn't say anything else, giving him the lead of the conversation. She had been with him practically constantly for the past couple of days, since he had called her from the expensive hospice care where his father had been staying the past six months or so to let her know that his father had passed. He had appreciated her quiet strength, just like he always had. She always seemed to know just what he needed, even if that was her just being in the same room as him as he made arrangements with the funeral director or sorted through things with Lincoln and Murphy, not saying anything, just existing in the same space as him. "Cage likes you."
"I gathered that," Clarke's upper lip curled in disgust as she straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. "He was getting a little handsy." Bellamy hadn't noticed that, but Cage had probably been checking in with him, making sure that Bellamy wasn't watching him when he was getting closer to Clarke. There had been more than once in the past couple of hours when Bellamy hadn't been able to focus on them because of people coming up to him.
"I will kill him," Bellamy said bluntly and the corners of Clarke's lips turned up in a little smile, which didn't reach her eyes, completely cold and matching Bellamy's expression.
"You will," she answered smoothly. "But not for this." Bellamy let out a heavy breath through his nose, because she was right. He had to be careful, with a lot of things, and Clarke understood that. He was so lucky that she did, because some women wanted men to be jumped to their defense, to stand up for them, to defend their honour, but Clarke knew that would expose their relationship, and she also didn't want that. She was strong and independent, and could look after herself. "You know I wouldn't let it get too far." Clarke pulled up the hem of her short dress, revealing the knife strapped to her inner thigh, an expensive silver one with a beautifully carved grip that Octavia had brought for her birthday last year.
Fuck, Bellamy loved her.
Bellamy turned his chair to the side, holding out one arm to her by way of invitation and Clarke came around to his side of the desk, sitting on his lap and leaning against his chest. They were quiet for a long time, Bellamy finishing his whiskey and then putting the tumbler down, both of them lost in their own thoughts and definitely more than a little tired.
"I can't keep doing this, Clarke," Bellamy said, his hand tightening on her hip. Clarke tensed on his lap and she didn't reply for a moment before he saw her head dip in a nod. He let out a shaky breath that he didn't realize that he had been holding, utter relief at the fact that she knew that this was going to have to be established sooner rather than later.
He had been patient—they both had, in their own ways, given how different their lives had been.
It had been over ten years since the first time they had slept together.
That was a long time for a relationship not to be known to the public.
It was an incredibly long time.
Admittedly it hadn't always been a constant, especially in the first five years, but definitely in the past three years, they'd been pretty steady.
In Bellamy's life, sometimes it did take a long time. Marcus and Abby took several years before they were happy with things being public, and even then, they were careful. There were so many security cameras in Abby's clinic and apartment it was ridiculous, GPS in her car and her phone and someone who kept an eye on her if they had any threats against the household and their threat level was raised.
It could be invasive, and Bellamy understood that it was an adjustment for someone who wasn't used to it, but Clarke had known that it was coming. The more time that went on, it was only heading in one direction, and that was eventually Clarke taking her place at his right hand. She already helped him so much, in so many ways, and he loved her so much and things felt as though they were becoming more dangerous than Bellamy had dealt with before, and so he didn't see the point in putting it off any further. It was dangerous, for both of them. For him, because he was worried about her but he respected her privacy and so he didn't have any extra security for her, because that was what she demanded. And for her, because someone connected to Bellamy—someone he cared about—was already dead. Murdered. And the man who he knew was responsible for it was still walking around.
"Okay, Bell," Clarke whispered, turning her head around, looking over her shoulder and back at him, her eyes understanding, because she knew if they were to stay together, it was inevitable.
Bellamy gently lifted his knees a few times, indicating that she get up, and Clarke lifted herself up, turning around and resting against the edge of the desk. Bellamy turned his seat and tugged it forward on its wheels, nudging her thighs apart so that he was between them. His rough hands ran up her bare legs, leaning forward to start at her calves and then make their way up behind her knees and then to her thighs. He stopped when he came to her the knife and its sheath, undoing it easily and put it down on the desk before returning his hands back to her thighs.
Clarke shivered, and Bellamy loved who responsive she always was.
It had been years and she was still so responsive.
Bellamy could feel himself getting harder in the pants he was wearing, pressing against the zipper of the suit pants, and he reached down with one hand to undo his belt and awkwardly flick open the button. Clarke leaned forward, helping him with the zipper and then she was slipping her own underwear off and straddling him, and he could feel her warmth press up against him as she settled herself down.
"I'm yours," Clarke whispered as she pressed kisses against his cheeks and his lips before moving to his neck, her hips rolling forward so that she was grinding down on him. "I've been yours since I was nineteen, Bellamy. I'm always going to be yours." Her teeth pulled on the lobe of his ear and his cock jerked underneath her, and she rolled her hips again, and there was a slick feeling as her lips pressed against him. Bellamy's hands scratched lightly down her back as he tipped his head backwards as Clarke's mouth kissed her way back down his neck, sucking firmly against his tanned skin. His fingers found the hidden zipper at the back of her dress, tugging it down, and the straps of her shoulders fell, and she was only wearing a black, strapless bra underneath, which pressed her cleavage together nicely. Bellamy forced his head back down, angling his hips forward pointedly.
"C'mon, princess," he grunted, his voice coming out rough. "Fuck yourself down on me." He saw Clarke's throat contract as she swallowed hard, and she lifted herself up and then sunk back time, this time taking him inside her heat. Bellamy's eyes rolled back and he loved the way that her breathing hitched. After a few moments, Clarke started moving, and Bellamy's hands came up to tug at her bra, pulling it down to reveal her breasts. His hands cupped them both, tugging at her nipples, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he heard her groan.
She came first, he felt the warm liquid around his trimmed pubic hair as she ground herself down, rubbing her clit down hard on his pubic bone, chasing after her orgasm, and then Bellamy took after, gripping her hips and fucking up into her. Clarke wrapped her arms around him, sucking a spot into the sensitive part where his neck and shoulder met. Bellamy groaned as he came, fingers curling into her hips through the material of her dress that was bunched around her waist. They stayed where they were for a minute before Clarke pulled back and yawned in Bellamy's face.
Bellamy snorted lightly.
"Given it's nearly five in the morning, I won't take that as an insult," he said and Clarke rolled her eyes but gave him a soft smile. "Let's get you to bed." Clarke narrowed her eyes at his words, pursing her lips together.
"You too, Bellamy," she told him softly. "You've barely slept in the past few days." Bellamy opened his mouth as though he was going to protest but Clarke just arched an eyebrow at him, and there was an almost dangerous glint in her eye, one that Bellamy had seen several times now, and it usually ended in a fight if his woman didn't get her way. "Your fathers funeral is in about nine hours. You are going to get at least three hours sleep before then." Bellamy met her stubborn gaze and nodded when he realized that she was right.
"Alright," he told her. Clarke nodded, sliding off his lap, making a face at the stickiness between her leg. Bellamy stood up, adjusting himself in his pants, although not bothering to zip and button himself back up. As they started walking back toward the door, he paused.
"I was serious, Clarke," Bellamy's voice was low. Clarke turned back and looked at him, and she met his gaze, chin held high, eyes a little red from the lack of sleep but confident and sure.
"So was I, Bellamy. I'm yours. I'm ready to make this official."
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