Four
The words linger in the air, leaving her lips in a gasp. It's as if he inhales them- letting them squirm and wither in his lungs, before exhaling them with a relieved sigh.
His tense shoulders sag, a pleased smile quirking the corners of his soft and inviting lips, as he leans away from her neck, and gazes tenderly at her.
She feels a weight she didn't know she had to lift off her chest, and she with a dawning realization; she knows the reason he wanted her to say those words.
It wasn't to inflate his ego or to heat the already simmering arousal, no, it was something entirely different.
It was his way of asking permission.
She diminishes her fretful bones, lying still underneath his outrageously warm and looming body, permitting a moment to pass while just embracing his stare, a wordless reassurance sashaying through a glance.
They've always had that almost telepathic ability to read each other's minds.
So in sync that neither one knows who initiates it first, but she simply guesses it's him; by the way his lips crash and collide with hers with a brewing urgency. His lips moved in a searing hot and feverishly livid kiss, his tongue prodding out to taste the tender pink flesh of her bottom lip, trying to gently pry its way into her mouth yearningly.
She wastes no precious time, parting her lips and allowing his tongue to tangle frenziedly with hers, her back arching up and pressing her breasts up against his chest, humming lightly into his mouth at the feel of cloth tickling her susceptible dusky pink nipples.
Her fingers don't hesitate to comb through his untamed coiled locks, swirling her tongue around his as they form their own strange, new language. Her hips lift in urgency, wanting to relieve the hungering ache nested between her legs, the friction of his own arousal against her causing a gasp to pass through her lips and be muffled by his. He tears his lips from hers, panting for air as he lunges forward and attacks her neck, this time not caring to be gentle with his nips and sucking, littering the flesh with his mark, each one a reminder of her want for him.
Her need for him.
"Bellamy," she coos, enchanted by the suction of his mouth and the brushing of desires below her waist, her voice so low and helpless with lust that it causes a feathery, bubbly feeling to heat up in his lower stomach. Bellamy mutters her name just as low, like a whispered chant of promises, dispersing any reluctance that remained.
Her desperate hands pull from the tangles of his hair, instead plunging underneath the bottom of his flimsy shirt craving to touch his skin. Her cool fingertips splay out over his well-sculpted abs, admiring and memorizing each dip and turn, taking in the stretch of muscles and the outline of scars. He grunts into her skin, the sensation of nails dragging against his chest and traveling towards his naval spiraling his blood in a whirlpool and sending it to places farther south.
Her restless fingers hover over the button of his jeans, ghostly touching the skin of his hips before tucking halfway underneath his waistband, dragging his erection to be fully pressed into her quivering wet heat. He bites back another groan at the increased contact, her arousal so close yet too far, as he whips his head back to glare at her.
"Such a tease." He mutters, his hands feeling the sides of her hourglass frame, running over her curves, and then exploring the underside of her milky breasts. For the first time, he fully allows himself to look at her, all of her, writhing beneath him, shyly glancing away at the heat of his prolonged stare. A rosy hue creeps back up her neck and he admires in awe the way her blush spreads to her cleavage.
"I learned from the best." She mumbles, feeling a bit self-conscious at his ongoing expectation, her heart hammering inside her chest, the hot surge of heat making her a bit lightheaded.
The severe depth of his licentious eyes makes her core tremble, and she tries frantically to distract him.
Clarke leans up and grips the bottom of his shirt and tugs it upwards, finding it slightly difficult to do with being straddled by his weight. His fingers brush her own as he motions to help pull it up and off, flinging the shirt halfheartedly over his head, the action shielding his line of view from her breasts.
The thought of being shy disassembles and withers away at the glorious sight of his tan, muscular chest. She grazes the pads of her fingers against his abs, her eyes committing to memory what her fingers already had before. He crookedly smiles at her determined expression, her enticing ocean eyes bright with wonder, and he feels a flare of pride. He traps her wandering hands in his suddenly, smiling gently at her look of surprise.
He takes her hand close to his face, their eyes locked as he peppers dawdling kisses against her fingers and places a kiss on her palm, before repeating the action with her other hand.
Even though they had done a plethora of other things at this point, she finds with a tightness in her chest, and a cocooning of lightness swelling in her tummy; that this was the most intimate.
She also knows this goes further than acting out of lust, that this would be more than casual sex. This means something more, and the thought both invigorates her- and terrifies her completely.
He lets her hand slip from his, her eyes wide and sparkling with mesmeric emotions underneath the shadow of dark eyelashes, her lips plush, parted and swollen from his kisses, her chest heaving from the stolen breaths he took from her. He thinks, no, he knows, that she is the most glorious thing he's ever and will ever experience.
He leans back down to capture her lips in a slow, chaste kiss, pouring all his uncertainties and want for her into it, all of his feelings of restraint and loyalty, all of it consumed by her tender mouth.
He trails more kisses down her jaw, his hands wandering to the place above her belly button, fingers barely brushing the underside of her breast.
He feels her shiver beneath him, and he motions to brush his lips against her earlobe, trapping it in-between teeth, a very indulgent and consoling voice lulling her quickened breath.
"You're so beautiful."
He feels her exhale shakily, as she takes her own hands and guides him to cup her awaiting breasts, before letting her hands slip back down to her sides.
"Please…" Clarke whispers pleadingly, a recurring blush blossoming her usually pale face.
She'd always been so confident with her looks and her body, but with Bellamy it was different.
She wanted him to accept and even like all the flaws and imperfections, she wanted him to think she was appealing to the eyes, which was a silly thought of course since he wouldn't be touching her like this if he didn't find her attractive.
But then she hears his reassurance and all her doubts flutter away, and she melts against his massaging fingertips.
He kneads her breasts in his calloused hands, the rough patches scratching against her smooth skin in a pleasurable way, and she sighs at the bittersweet sensation.
He drags his tongue from twirling around her earlobe to the dip of her collarbone. He shifts, moving slightly down so he could press the pad of his tongue to the mounds of her left breast, ghosting the tip teasingly around the outline of her hardened nipples. She bites her lip impatiently, beginning to subtly grind her bundle of nerves against his throbbing heat, egging him on.
He groans, before latching his mouth around her nipple, encasing it in a hot wet suction. His tongue lavishes it with a quick swirl, his teeth sinking in just a bit, and he smirks at the breathless gasps he receives. He flicks the tip with his tongue repeatedly, before claiming it with a harsh suck.
"Ah...," She sighs, throwing her head back against the pillow, dragging her fingers roughly through his mess of curls, scratching at his scalp. She arches her back to press even more of herself into his mouth, muttering his name uncontrollably.
She's unknowingly persistent in her grinding now, her fingers releasing the grip of his hair to move back to the place of his waistband, fumbling hastily at the button of his jeans. He latches onto her other neglected nipple, his fingers pinching and rolling the one he just abandoned, giving attention to both, smugly appreciative of the way it caused the spew of moans to run off Clarke's tongue.
She finally manages to pop the button with trembling fingertips, pulling down the zipper immediately after, before letting her curious hand grip the outline of his cock through his boxers.
"Fuck." He mutters against the tender flesh of her breast, his arm going out to pick up his weight as he shifts up off her, backing up on his knees to let her slither out from underneath him. She smiles innocently as she moves with him, sitting up on her knees in front of him, her hair clinging to her neck and shoulders.
She tugs eagerly on the fabric of his boxers, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as she pushes the material down, his erection practically flinging out from the confines.
She stiffens a giggle, as he furiously tries to kick off his jeans and boxers, grumbling at the heat threatening to redden his cheeks as the clothing drops discarded onto the floor, next to the forgotten blankets.
This was different, so personal, and with anyone else, Bellamy is anything but shy. But underneath her curious stare directed at his pulsing and nearly throbbing cock, he began to feel a fluttery, butterfly-like sensation fluctuating in his stomach.
She's seen only one other in her life, which is quite surprising with her mother being a doctor and having to deal with problems revolving around that area, but she had never witnessed any of those since her mother would never in a million years let her see one, let alone cop a feel or explore the mysteries about it.
As silly as it sounded, she had only a quick glimpse of Fin's before he was rummaging his indecency into her, and that wasn't much.
It's only natural to be curious, so when she inspects the throbbing vein underneath the mushroom head, it's completely innocent. She doesn't mean to tease.
She lightly traces the dark head with her index finger, tilting her head to the side in wonder at the moist tip. She trails her fingers down the thick length, absentmindedly wondering how it could be so soft yet firm.
"You're killing me, Princess."
She flicks her gaze up at Bellamy, her eyes meeting his tense face, realizing too late that this was probably torture for him.
His eyes were exceedingly murky and lustful, his jaw tightening and his hands clenched at his sides to stop them from fisting her sun-kissed hair and pulling her head down onto him.
She blushes, yet oddly enough another dose of magma swelters over her and practically consumes her. The thought of making him squirm at her will cause her thighs to clamp tight to relieve some of the overwhelming pressure building there. Surprisingly she doesn't stop, can't stop, her eyes still locked with his as she motions downwards, her lips barely being pressed to the head of his cock.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat that causes her to experimentally dip her tongue out and taste him for the first time.
"Agh... Clarke…"
This only encourages her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she begins to slowly take him into her warm mouth, her tongue swirling around the side of his length, the wetness coating the head in its embrace.
Instantaneously he can't handle it anymore, his hands lunging into her golden chaos of hair, gripping at the strands in a contest of self-control as he shakily pushes her head down, yet not with much force.
"Suck harder." He grunts, her cheeks hallowing at his command and adding more suction, her head bobbing up and down with the guidance of his hand.
Clarke feels heat rush down between her legs at the sound of his primal tone, one of her hands creeping in between her legs, rubbing her finger along the tender skin of her outer lips, moistening the digit while plunging it inside her.
She moans against his cock, the hum sending vibrations around him and he presses her further down his length, motioning his head to the back of her throat. He can't see her touching herself but knows she is just by the way she keeps moaning around his sensitive head.
"Fuck… you naughty girl."
He growls out, thrusting his hips towards her mouth with a grunt, the coil inside him threatening to snap underneath the strain. He knows he can't hold out much longer.
"Clarke…C-Clarke wait." Bellamy feebly tries pushing her shoulder, so she'd stop, but it was a weak shove, and she barely moves, determinedly taking all of him down her throat and moving at a quicker speed, her own hand brushing against her nub again and again, as she feels so terribly close as well.
Just as her cry becomes muffled by his cock and her fingers still inside her, the walls clamping down tightly and refusing to let go of the digits, his head throws back as he moans her name, releasing it into her willing mouth helplessly. She quickly tries gulping it down and shivers at the unfamiliar taste.
She sits up, wiping the drip of cum of her chin with her finger, and brings it into her mouth, tasting the unique salty flavor once again.
He almost comes again at the sight of this erotic display, her eyebrows furrowed and her pretty face set in a distinct look of inquiring. She pulls out the finger with a 'pop,' and glances at him embarrassed; blinking at the way his murky eyes churned with a desire to consume,
"It tastes sort of sweet."
If there's any hesitance to kiss her, he doesn't show it, as she doesn't have a moment to think before he lunges at her, his mouth latching onto hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth and tangling with hers frantically. He pushes her back down underneath him, nestling himself in between her legs. She willingly submits, hungrily tasting him back, her hands crossing behind his back and pressing him closer. Bellamy has both of his hands beside her head, holding his weight up as he pulls back and detaches his thirsting lips from hers.
He manages to keep his weight off her as he moves one hand to wrap around his shaft, positioning his head to hover above her already raspberry-plush lips, nudging himself against her clit, before rubbing his head against her weeping wet and ready slit. He listens approvingly to the mews of the girl beneath him, a slyness in his clicking tongue making her arch her hips upwards just a bit.
He lets out a little grunt of his own as he glances at her, his eyes searching frantically for approval as he murmurs, "Are you sure?"
She tries to speak but has been hindered from the ability to do so by the way he keeps grazing his throbbing cock against her core. Instead, she nods, trying at least to force out her reply through a mumbling mouth.
"Yes, I... I need you..."
He smiles an immense toothy smile, like seeing a bloody sunrise after a long night of restless turning— he makes her hands feel clammy and her toes curl. Had she ever seen him smile like that? No… at least not to anyone else. Only her.
When he presses the thick head of his cock into her wet, velvet seal with a slowed eagerness, she realizes she's greedy for more than just this. She wants all of him, all of it. She wants it to be hers.
She exhales, her hips pressing down to greet his, her legs tangling behind him to push him further into her. They're completely intertwined, and even if it hurts a little bit her to try to adjust to his girthy size pushing deeper inside of her, she feels complete, her body boneless and vibrating with anticipation. She clutches tighter onto his shoulders, and she rises to rid the space between their lips, mouth almost coy as it presses to hers. Stilted whines linger on her lips as he inches into her delving heat with a gradual pace that threatens to drive her insane.
She mews helplessly into his mouth as he pulls completely out and swiftly thrusts back in, her fingernails creating half-moons onto his shoulder blades and her walls clenching tightly around his throbbing length. He pulls back and nuzzles his head in the crook of her neck, grinding out through clenched teeth, "you're so fucking tight," and "feels so good."
He repeats the process of slowly motioning out and snapping his hips back towards hers, plunging himself deeper and deeper inside her pulsating heat. His eyes squeeze shut and eyebrows prickle, practically mindless in sensations— how fucking wet is she? Is this all because of him? The sound of slapping skin echoes about the room, a delicious sound intertwining with her meowing of his name. He'd never want to hear his name said any differently— the syllables stretched, contorted, slewed—
"Bellamy, Bellamy, Bell...!"
He traps her earlobe between his teeth, encouraging her voice to reach new peaks as he strings more dirty talk, "I fucking love hearing you say my name… you're so fucking perfect, god—" his thrusts punctuate each word, quickened in pace steadily as he slightly shifts, only to hit a spot inside of her that makes her mind blank, her core to tighten, just on the brink of falling apart.
"Bellamy! Oh god!" She practically screams, thrashing her head to the side, rewarding him with more access to the flesh of her neck. The wired tension in her snaps, and she unravels around him, her orgasm wracking through her body like crackling electricity. Specks of black flicker behind her eyelids and frizzles of light coat her senses, and it's almost too much— too much—
Her walls flutter and clamp snugly around him, seeming to pull him in deeper while her nails scrape down his back, leaving trails of pink against his tan broad back that makes shiver shoot down his spine. He puts an arm underneath her back and pushes her flush against him, her hard, dusky nipples grazing his bare chest as he groans deeply into her neck. The tightness of her clutching around him only increases his pace as he shoves it in deep and pulls back out…, again, again, and again.
Clarke's rocking her hips with his, meeting him beat for beat, while he manages to hit that same spot over and over, her eyes half hooded as they open just a bit to take in his tense expression and the drip of sweat cascading down the side of his cheek. Feeling watched, he opens his eyes suddenly, peeking at the sultry gaze directed towards him as he jerks forward, the pressure of an impending release weighing in his chest.
"I... I can't hold out much longer."
He groans out thickly, his eyes glazing over as his movements become less and less thought-out and deliberate, transitioning to that of sloppy and increasingly quick thrusts.
She leans up next to his ear, her teeth nipping at the tip of it, little moans and whimpers roaming past her lips as she teases breathlessly, "you don't have to."
At the arrival of her words, he groans low in his throat, burying himself deep inside her as he releases, his pulsing cock encased in the constriction of her walls, his arm still wrapped around her waist crushing her to him as he collides his lips against hers once again.
The feeling is indescribable, and he's never felt so alive, so devoid of fear or worry or anything else, his only focus being the exhilarating woman underneath him and the way she feels closer than anyone has ever been to him before, in more ways than one.
It's only seconds later that he collapses on top of her, yet Clarke doesn't really mind his weight. It's just another reminder that he's here and he's been here with her for as long as they have known each other.
She never wants it any other way.
He finally slips out from her with a cut-off sigh, and lies beside her panting for air, chest heaving and heart thundering. She trembles at the loss of contact, curling up right next to his side, them both trying to steady their breathing as she presses her head to his chest.
Bellamy's staring at the ceiling with his hands threaded in her locks absentmindedly, a bit astonished that everything that just occurred even took place. Clarke begins to come back to reality too, but she refuses to look at him, instead closing her eyes and listening to the thumping of his heart as it begins to gradually slow.
"Clarke."
She knows he wants her to look at him, for her to accept what they have just done and to figure out what to do, but for the first time she doesn't want to negotiate, she doesn't want to solve the 'problem.'
She just wants to stay like this for a while.
Which is completely selfish, and the thought of him feeling like he had an obligation to do this pass through her mind. She bites her lip, not knowing what to do with these sudden feelings for a man she had spent the majority of knowing…, hating.
For the first time in a long time, she doesn't know what the fuck to say and what to do. She always has the answers, and always thinks everything through.
But this is different, things are different now.
Should she savor the feeling of contentment, or simply be afraid of it?
Can't she be selfish and just want Bellamy?
"Clarke I… listen that was just— I don't know what came over me."
She closes her eyes tightly and sighs, trying to ignore the sting of his remorseful words. Inexplicably she's angry, and he notices it immediately by the way she tenses and moves to get up. He scrambles into a sitting position, watching helplessly as she gathers her discarded clothing, slipping it on one piece at a time.
She feels the prick of tears behind her eyes, which fuels her frustration, as a heaviness weighs her heart to the pit of her stomach.
She denies sparing him a glance as he flusteredly follows up on his indecisive words.
"You took that the wrong way."
She ignores him while hastily pulling up her pants, buttoning them up with trembling fingers as she tilts her head down, letting her blonde untamed hair act as a curtain, shielding his view from her vulnerable expression.
"Clarke, I—"
She throws her head back and tries to smile at him, yet instead, it contorts to more of a sneer.
"Knocking helps."
With the last word, she whirls around and flings the door open, slamming it behind her, leaving a very naked and very disheveled Bellamy atop her bed.