Chapter 2
The drive to Eligius Bar & Grill only took Clarke fifteen minutes. In fact, driving anywhere in Arkadia only took fifteen minutes. Which meant Clarke only had that short amount of time to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen. In her head, she still had visions of high school Bellamy, all fit and toned and effortlessly smoldering. What if he'd gotten out of shape over the years, like so many boys in her graduating class seemed to have? And what if he didn't find her as attractive as he used to, either? Not that it really mattered. They were just hanging out tonight. Nothing more.
When she pulled up outside the bar, she immediately scanned the small parking lot for his old red truck from high school. That thing had seen better days even five years ago, so she wasn't surprised not to see it now. He probably had a new car, a better one. Probably still a used one, though, if his financial situation was still . . . the same.
She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves and reminded herself that this was someone who, at one point in life, had pretty much been her closest companion, the only person to know her better than her own best friend did. Even if things were a little awkward between them at first, hopefully that awkwardness would just melt away and take her nerves right along with it.
After checking her makeup and hair one more time in her rearview mirror, she got out of the car, taking only her wallet and phone with her because she wasn't in the mood to be encumbered with a purse all night. She locked her doors and then crossed the parking lot, trying to spot him through the window.
A horrible thought occurred to her as she reached for the door handle. What if Bellamy wasn't alone when she showed up? He knew a lot of people in this town, and in particular he was a big hit with the women. What if he'd found someone, either an old fuck buddy or someone new, and was striking up a conversation with her right this very moment?
All those worries vanished at once when she caught sight of his familiar frame sitting at a table for two. With an empty chair across from him. His back was to her, but there was no way she wouldn't have recognized him. His broad shoulders looked even broader, his muscular stature still muscular. His thick, dark hair was still all over the place, but it looked slightly longer, the perfect length for her to run her fingers through it. Not that she was about to do that.
Here goes nothing, she thought, bravely weaving through tables towards him. She wasn't sure what to do or say, so she just tapped his shoulder and said, "Hey, stranger."
He looked over his shoulder, revealing a brand new beard and an instant smile on his face. "Clarke," he exclaimed, standing up. "Hey." He hugged her right away, almost as if no time had passed, and when his arms were around her . . . it kind of felt like they were right back in high school for a second. His hugs were the same as she remembered—strong and amazing, just like him.
"Hey," she said, breathing in the familiar scent of him. Cologne, but not too much of it.
"Damn," he said, slowly letting go of her. "Time warp. It's been a while."
"Yeah," she agreed, then she pretended not to know exactly how many years it'd been since they'd last seen each other when she asked, "How long now?"
"Five years."
"Wow." It really had been half a decade, hadn't it? Half a decade, but he still looked so good. If anything, he looked even better than he had in high school, and she hadn't thought that was possible. But this facial hair . . . it was really working for him.
"How you been?" he asked her. "You look great."
"Thanks." She tried not to blush. "Yeah, I've been—I've been good," she replied. "What about you?"
"Oh, it's been crazy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Here, sit down." He motioned to the empty chair across the table, and she took a seat with him. "You want a drink?" he offered.
Normally, she would have, but not tonight. "No, thanks. I'm good," she declined. "So . . . this is unexpected. What brings you back here?" She knew that he'd come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas years ago, but . . . well, she'd gone out of town for the holidays.
"I, uh . . . I moved back actually," he informed her.
"What?" Her mind instantly started to spin. He'd moved back? As in . . . for good?
"Yeah, just got in yesterday," he went on. "But I was with my mom and my sister, so . . ."
Of course he had been. Bellamy and his family were super close, even if he hadn't seen them much the past couple years. "Right," she said, still trying to process this. Five years ago, Bellamy had moved away. And now . . . now he'd come home.
"Anyway, I heard you were in college here," he said, "so I thought I'd . . . you know."
"Yeah." So he thought he'd send her a Hey, Princess text that would make her completely forget about everything else in the world. "I'm glad you did," she told him. "I wasn't really having the best day."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he sympathized.
"No, it's okay. It's better now." She really didn't want to sound like a crushed-out high schooler, even though that was the Clarke Griffin he knew, so she simply said, "It's really good to see you, Bellamy."
"Yeah, you, too," he agreed, smiling at her. "Like I said, you look great. I like the hair."
"Thanks." She touched her shorter locks, so far not at all regretting her spontaneous decision a few months ago to chop most of her hair off. "And I like your beard."
"Is it rugged? Is it manly?" he asked. "That's what I was goin' for."
"It's very manly," she assured him. Normally, she wasn't a big fan of facial hair on men, but Bellamy really pulled it off. Hell, Bellamy could pull anything off: a football uniform, a tux, that ridiculous crown they'd made him wear at the homecoming coronation.
"So catch me up," he urged after he took a drink of the beer in front of him. "What've you been up to?"
"Me?" She was less interested in talking about herself and way more interested in hearing about him. "Well, college, mostly."
"Music or art?" he asked.
She made a face. "Biology."
"Ah." He nodded slowly.
"Yeah, and that keeps me pretty busy." She was planning to graduate with honors in the spring, so she studied a lot, but that wasn't exciting. "Let's see, what else?" She wracked her brain for something even somewhat interesting. "I still hang out with Raven. She's still my best friend. But she has a different boyfriend now. Murphy. He's such a kook." She shook her head, laughing as she thought about him. He definitely wasn't Raven's type, but they sort of balanced each other out. "And . . . I don't know, I guess that's pretty much it."
"How are your parents?" he inquired.
"They're fine," she answered, but their relationship had changed pretty drastically in the years that he'd left, so she added, "They got divorced a couple years ago."
"Oh, sorry," he apologized. "I didn't know."
"That's okay. It was for the best." It still saddened her to think about it, and it got harder around the holidays, usually, but she was coping. "And my dad moved, up to Baltimore, and my mom has a boyfriend. They've been dating for two years now."
"Hmm." He took another drink, then stared at her intently and asked, "What about you?"
"Do I have a boyfriend?" Was that what he was asking?
"Or a girlfriend. Whichever."
She smiled, loving that he was still so casual about her bisexuality. "No, not right now. But I did finally come out my freshman year of college."
"Nice," he said. "How'd everyone take it?"
She shrugged. "It was mixed. Raven kind of suspected, but my parents had no clue. I mean, they weren't thrilled, and I think bisexuality confuses them because they don't understand why I don't just pick a team, even though I've tried to tell them it doesn't work that way. But it could've been worse."
"Good," he said. "I'm glad you finally told everybody."
"Yeah." It'd been nerve-racking as hell, probably one of the scariest things she'd ever done in her life. But nowadays, it felt good to just be honest, to be herself. "For a long time, you were the only one who knew," she said, so grateful to have had him in high school. It hadn't all been sex between the two of them. There had been countless hours of conversation, too, some of it the more serious kind. And coming out to him had been a big first step in coming out to everyone else. "What about you, though?" she asked, still eager to hear what he had been up to. "I'm sure your life's been much more exciting than mine."
"Oh, it's been a whirlwind," he said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "How much do you know?"
"Well, your lack of social media makes it hard to keep up," she said.
"Hate that shit."
She laughed. "But I did watch a couple UCF football games, just to see if you would play."
He shrugged modestly. "Just a couple snaps. I was the backup."
"And then . . ." She hesitated, not sure if she should admit that she knew anything more than that. "Then I heard you quit after your freshman year. Dropped out."
"Yep," he confirmed, nodding. She wasn't about to be nosy and ask why that was, but luckily, he summed it up with, "College just wasn't for me."
She understood. College was expensive, so time-consuming, and sometimes a pain in the ass, even for someone like her. Classes had always been a breeze for her, all her life. But they were harder for Bellamy, just didn't come quite as easily. "So where'd you go then?" she asked. He hadn't come home, so he must have either stayed in Florida or relocated somewhere else. Most of what she'd heard from people over the years were probably rumors.
"All over the place," he answered. "Drove out to California, stayed there for about a year. Then I went to Canada."
"Canada, eh?" she teased.
"Yeah." He chuckled. "Canada was cool. Then . . . where'd I go after that? I was up in Alaska for about a month, but that was way too cold, so then I moved to Mexico when I was twenty-one. Stayed there for a couple months, and then I went across the pond."
"Europe. Wow." She felt her eyes bulge as she drew out this mental map of all of Bellamy's travels.
"Yeah, all over Europe. Started out in London, then . . . I can't remember where I went after that. Maybe Germany? I don't know. Either Germany or France."
Maybe the rumors hadn't been all that exaggerated after all then. She'd heard people say he was working as a male model in France. Maybe the modeling part wasn't true, but . . . it could have been. Bellamy was good-looking enough.
"But that was just for a couple weeks," he said. "Then last year I ended up in Italy."
"Italy?" God, she was envious. All that good authentic Italian food? The closest she'd ever gotten was the Epcot World Showcase in Disney World. "So you just kind of bounced around, huh?"
"Yeah. It was fun," he said. "I saw lots of cool stuff."
"Like the Eiffel Tower and the Leaning Tower of Pisa?" she asked.
"Yeah. I didn't climb up in either of 'em, though. But I got to see a lot of stuff. Lots of historical sites."
"Right up your alley then." Bellamy had always liked history.
"Mmm-hmm."
"So what did you do for work?" she asked, curious to find out if the modeling stories were true. "Or did you just, like, find random people to live with?"
"No, I worked," he said. "I, uh . . . I was a waiter out in California, but I did do a couple amateur strip nights to pay the bills."
"Oh my god." She laughed just picturing that. Bellamy had below-average rhythm, so his dancing had probably been horrendous, but she felt certain he'd put on one hell of a show.
"And I learned to snowboard up in Canada, so then I gave lessons a while," he said. "And Mexico . . ." His sentence trailed off, and he made a face. "I don't really remember much of Mexico. I think I partied a lot there."
With beautiful Mexican women, no doubt, Clarke thought. Bellamy had probably added a lot of people to his already long list of sexual partners these past few years.
"I worked at a pub in London," he went on. "Then I was a gondolier in Venice."
"Shut up, you were not."
"No, I really was."
What the hell? She had an easier time picturing him up on a stripping pole than she did standing on the back of one of those little boats in the Venice canals. "You, like, rowed a gondola?"
"Yeah. That was my job."
She laughed. "That's so random."
"It was fun. I liked it," he said. "That was my favorite job, actually."
"Oh, wow." He'd really done a lot of different things since moving away then, and here she was, hadn't moved at all. Although she hadn't lived at home for a few years, that house was still only a few minutes' drive from here, and the only job she'd had was working at the library on campus. Meanwhile, he'd been out there as a freaking gondolier. "So you've been out there doing all that, and I've been here studying biology," she recapped, shaking her head at how boring she sounded. "God, I feel so lame."
"No, college isn't lame," he assured her. "My sister just started this year. I hope she does half as well as you."
Yeah, she'd done pretty well, but that didn't exactly lend itself to any rich storytelling experiences. "So you've really been living your best life then, haven't you?" she said, a bit envious.
"I don't know about that." He finished what was left of his beer, then held up his empty bottle to signal the waitress over.
"No, seriously, traveling all over the world, having all sorts of adventures . . ." she said, wondering what other things he'd done that he hadn't even scratched the surface of yet. "These past couple years must have been the best years of your life."
"Not really," he said, pausing to thank the waitress when she set a new beer down in front of him. He took a swig, his eyes locked onto hers, then revealed, "That was my senior year."
Her breath hitched for a moment as she allowed herself to get lost in his dark, inviting eyes. His senior year. Yeah. She had fond memories of that year, too.
...
"Defense! Defense!" the crowd chanted as Polis lined up for the next play. "Defense! Defense!"
Clarke felt like she was in a bit of a fog. Try as she might to concentrate on the game in front of her, she was really only interested when Bellamy was out there leading the offense. When he came over to the sideline, her eyes went there right along with him.
Beside her, Raven yelled, "Come on, let's get a stop now, Rockets!" and she didn't need one of the megaphones for her voice to carry. "Clarke," she said, shooting her a sharp look.
I'm not cheering, Clarke realized. I'm supposed to be cheering. "Let's go, Big Green!" she yelled, ruffling her pom poms together. Polis ran their play, but they were well short of the first down. As they lined up again, she took another peek at Bellamy, and this time, he was looking back at her. She could barely make out his face beneath his football helmet, but he definitely wasn't watching the game, either.
Clarke smiled at him just slightly. She knew she looked cute in her cheerleading outfit, and the skirt was short enough to make her legs look longer than they really were. She didn't want to be a distraction, but at the same time . . . she liked that he was distracted by her.
"Fumble on the play," the announcer declared when Polis lost control of the football on the next play. "Rockets recover!"
The crowd erupted, and the guys on the Rockets sideline started jumping up and down excitedly, howling with excitement. Bellamy, Miller, Zeke, and the rest of the offense darted right back out there on the field to take over just beyond the fifty yard line.
"Let's go, Bellamy!" Clarke heard someone yell, a female voice blasting out above all the others. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Bellamy's mom, Aurora, in her usual position, standing up at the top of the bleachers with all the football dads. She had on her number seven jersey and a green Rockets hat.
"Hey, what's up with you?" Raven asked suddenly. "You're spacey."
"No, I'm not," Clarke denied. It was just that . . . this was her first game cheering since she and Bellamy had slept together. She wasn't quite sure how to act.
Raven gave her a look, and much as she often did, she understood what Clarke was thinking without actually having to hear it. "Come on, Clarke," she said. "If you had sex with the guy, the least you can do is cheer for him."
So far, Raven was the only person she'd told about hooking up with Bellamy, so Clarke was grateful her friend hadn't blurted that out too loudly. And Raven was right. She was a cheerleader at a football game. No need to act any different than she normally did. "Let's go, offense!" she yelled. "Woo!"
Although she didn't understand every aspect of football, like all the different kinds of plays or positions or anything like that, Clarke had been to enough games last year to know that Bellamy played the key position. Every play ran through him. And he was the shot-caller out there a lot of the time. The coaches would tell him what play to run, but sometimes it looked like he switched it up midway through, to avoid getting tackled or losing yards or something like that. And that was exactly what happened on the very first play they ran after the other team's fumble. The center snapped the ball to him, and it looked like he was going to pass. Zeke dashed down the field, but he had a defender on him and wasn't open. So instead, right as he was about to get sacked, Bellamy took off on his own. He slipped in between two huge defenders and just ran. First down. Then farther than that. Ten more yards, and then ten more after that. The crowd cheered so loudly, Clarke thought she might go deaf, and she and all the cheerleaders jumped up and down excitedly as he ran all the way to the end zone.
"Blake in for the score!" the announcer boomed. "Touchdown Rockets!"
Raven practically pounced on her, squealing excitedly, and Clarke did the same. She'd never been quite so excited about a football game before.
The other team couldn't get anything going after that, and the rest of the game was pretty much a blowout. In the fourth quarter, the Rocket coaches even put in the backup quarterback, just to give him some playing time and protect Bellamy from unnecessary injury. Clarke tried to keep her focus on the game, she really did, but . . . that was hard to do.
After the game, as the guys headed into the locker room to shower off, all the students meandered towards the parking lot for what was an Arkadia high school tradition: a parking lot party. Every time they won a home football game, which was often, they all loitered around afterwards, blasting music out of whoever's car had the best bass and inconspicuously drinking in backseats. Nothing could get too wild, not with the school having cameras on. But even if it did, Clarke suspected they'd turn a blind eye to it. The football team was Arkadia's crown jewel of achievement. Those guys could get away with so much, and everyone knew it.
Clarke sat in the bed of Raven's truck, feeling a bit unsure of what to do. Last year, because she'd been dating Wells, she hadn't gone to most of the parking lot parties because they'd hung out a lot on Friday nights after she got done cheering. Plus, she hadn't had her license then, so her parents had often insisted on coming and picking her up from the game. But this year, now that she had some more independence, she wanted put herself out there and be more involved in all of the bigger social events.
"You did so good," Raven told Zeke in between kisses. The two of them definitely needed to get a room, as they'd been right up there by the front of the truck making out for about ten minutes now.
"I only caught four passes," Zeke said.
"Yeah, but one of 'em was for a touchdown," Raven reminded her boyfriend.
"True. I scored."
"And you're not done scoring." She laughed and kissed him again.
They were cute and everything, but Clarke felt like such a third wheel being around them right now. She thought about going to see what some of the other cheerleaders were doing, until she spotted Bellamy emerging from the school. His hair looked damp, and he was in jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt now. So damn hot.
Trying not to be too obvious, Clarke watched him out of the corner of her eye. He got a lot of fist bumps and bro-hugs from guys, and the girls, including many of the cheerleaders, all just flocked to him. He was like high school royalty or something.
And here I sit by myself, she grumbled internally. It wasn't that she was unpopular; no, she had friends. But Bellamy's popularity was at a whole different level. People were drawn to him like bees to a honey jar. It'd always been that way, Clarke assumed, or at least it had been since she'd moved there last year. But she'd never paid as much attention as she now was, because now . . . now she knew what Bellamy's lips felt like against her own, knew how good his hands felt on her hips. She knew what his dick felt like when it was inside her, and that was still head-spinning to think about.
Bellamy stopped and talked to Miller for a minute, grabbed a drink, and then, much to Clarke's surprise, he started coming her way. She purposefully averted her eyes until he said, "Hey."
Snapping her head towards him, she smiled and said, "Oh, hey. Great game."
"Thanks," he said, taking another drink before he set the can down on the bed of Raven's truck. "You, too."
"Me?" she echoed, perplexed. "I didn't really do anything."
"You cheered," he reminded her. "That's not easy. I could never do the splits, let alone splits in the air."
It was so refreshing to have one of the athletes actually acknowledge that what the girls on the sidelines did wasn't as simple as one might think. "It's called a toe-touch," she informed him. Her toe-touches sucked, but Raven's were beyond parallel.
"Yeah, that." He grimaced, as if he were imagining it. "That would hurt."
Oh, it did. Especially when she was still a little sore from her first time.
"So you ready for the dance tomorrow night?" he asked, shuffling from side to side in front of her.
"Kind of," she replied, wishing now that she hadn't taken pity on that freshman named Miles and agreed to be his date. "I'm on Stu-co, so I have to help set up."
"Fun," he said.
"No, not really." It was going to take hours to transform their dingy gymnasium into an interstellar paradise. Because that was the theme of their dance: space. She wasn't sure why. Some kind of correlation with their school's mascot, maybe. "What about you, though?" she asked him. "You ready to be crowned homecoming king?"
"Ah, who knows if I'll win?" he said.
She gave him a look. "Bellamy. Everybody knows. It's just a formality. And Bree's gonna get queen, because everyone assumes you guys are, like, a couple or whatever."
"We're not," he denied. "We're just friends."
"With benefits?" Bree wasn't a cheerleader, but she'd flunked Algebra II one too many times, so Clarke had the 'privilege' of sitting by her in there. The girl was a complete ditz, but she was pretty.
"Sometimes," Bellamy admitted. "You know what, though?" Leaning forward, he placed one hand on either side of her hips, bending down so his face was mere inches from her own. "Tonight, I'd rather be friends with you."
She inhaled sharply, mind already racing with the possibilities of what that might entail. "What do you mean?" she asked.
He grinned, suggesting, "Let's get outta here."
"And go where?"
"To my place."
"To do what?"
His grin transformed into a full on mischievous smirk. "Something fun."
That had to mean sex, right? Sex was probably the only thing that Bellamy enjoyed as much as he enjoyed football. "I thought you'd wanna stay here," she said, tilting her head to the side flirtatiously, "celebrate your victory with all your friends."
"Nah," he said dismissively. "I can celebrate with you."
Eager butterflies danced in her stomach as her mind flashed back to being pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and desperate. And she remembered that he'd promised her an orgasm next time. So maybe next time was tonight.
Half an hour later, she found herself once again lying flat on Bellamy's bed, experiencing something she'd never felt before. This time, instead of climbing on top of her, he got her undressed, made out with her mouth and her breasts for a bit, and then went down on her. Like . . . all the way down.
"Uh!" she moaned, trying to keep quiet in case his mom or his little sister came home unexpectedly. He'd assured her his mom would be out at Eligius with the football dads for a while, and his little sister was at a sleepover. But if they did happen to walk in the front door, she didn't want either of them overhearing all the sounds she was making.
God, it was impossible to stay quiet, though. Bellamy was doing some incredible things down there. She wasn't sure what, exactly, but it felt so damn good. His tongue licked up and down her pussy, zig-zagging all over the place. And when he flicked his tongue against her clit . . . she saw fireworks.
"Uh!" She lost total control of her volume when he pressed a finger up inside of her and began to move it in and out. "Oh god . . . oh!" Something was definitely happening, or at least starting to happen. She felt warm and a little bit dizzy, but in such a good way. She kept arching up off the bed, trying to push her pussy even harder against his mouth, and when he inserted a second finger and concentrated his licks on her clit, everything felt nuclear.
I'm gonna die, she thought as her breathing became more labored. I'm gonna die because of Bellamy Blake's tongue.
He murmured something against her lower lips, something she couldn't quite make out, but she thought she heard the word 'cum,' and that was all it took for her to do just that. Ripples of pleasure shot through her, spreading out from her stomach into every limb. Every single inch of her just tingled and sizzled, and her stomach fluttered as she rode the wave of it. "Ahh!" she cried out, scrunching up the bedsheets, curling her toes into the mattress. Good god, this was ecstasy.
She wasn't quite sure how long it lasted, or what she looked like as it was happening, but she didn't care. It felt so good, and it was over all too fast for her liking. She felt wet and slippery between her legs, and Bellamy was still licking at her, almost like he was tasting some of the stuff that may have come out.
"Oh . . ." She relaxed into the bed, dazed and satiated, and enjoyed the final flicks of his tongue before he lifted his head up, gave her inner thigh a kiss, and then crawled up on the bed to lie down beside her. His fingers looked shiny, as did his lips.
"Oh my god," she whispered, feeling like she barely even knew her own name right now. How was she gonna drive home after this? How was she gonna walk up the stairs to her bedroom without drawing the suspicion of her parents?
"Did you like that?" he asked her.
"Yeah." It wasn't an exaggeration to say that she'd loved it. When he'd first started kissing his way down her body, she'd been a little self-conscious, but he'd put her at ease; and once he'd started, there'd been no stopping. "That was amazing," she told him, so impressed with how skilled he was.
"That was an orgasm," he said, sounding a bit proud. "Your first, I presume?"
"Yeah." Another first with Bellamy Blake, and she didn't regret it one bit. She'd heard girls on the squad talking about how incredible he was at oral sex, but experiencing it for herself was something else entirely. "You're really good at that," she said, as if he didn't already know.
"Years of practice," he responded. "I like doin' it. So whenever you want, I'll do it to you again."
Whenever I want? she thought, trying not to read too much into it or make this whole thing between them into something it wasn't. But it sounded like an open invitation.
...
"Your senior year was pretty good," Clarke agreed, trying not to lose herself in the multitude of memories she still cherished from that time. "I had a lot of fun that year, too."
"What about after I left?" he asked. "Did you ever date anyone else?"
She'd been wondering if he would broach that topic at all. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he'd probably slept with lots of girls all over the world, but her sexual habits were different. She favored real relationships over one-night stands. "No, not until college," she replied. "I dated a girl my freshman year, and . . . a guy after that." The girl, Lexa, was still her friend, but the guy was someone she really didn't feel like talking about, so she quickly changed the subject. "So why'd you come back, though?" she asked him. "I mean, you've gone all over the world. Lots of big cities, interesting places. Why come back to Arkadia?"
"Well, it's home," he answered without hesitation. "And truth be told . . . I'm kind of ready to settle back down."
Well, he'd picked the perfect place for it then. Arkadia was a pretty sleepy town. If it wasn't for the college and the high school, nothing would happen there.
"I'm tired of moving around all the time," he went on. "That was fine for a couple years, but now . . . I wanna be back here. Octavia's in college now, and I wanna be around for that."
"You mean so you can keep an eye on her?" she guessed.
"Possibly, yes."
She smiled and rolled her eyes, not surprised that he was still the same protective big brother he'd always been. Without a dad around, Bellamy had grown up as the man of the house, and Clarke used to get a kick out of how fatherly he acted with Octavia.
"I missed her a lot," he admitted, "and my mom, too. I only got to see them a couple times a year, and that wasn't enough."
Did you miss me? she wondered. But there was no way she was gonna ask that. Instead, she inquired, "So who else knows you're back?" thinking of a few people who would be beyond thrilled to see him.
"No one. I called Miller, but that's it."
Her eyebrows shot upward. So . . . so he'd really met up with her before meeting up with any of his friends from high school. Okay.
"Like I said, I spent all day with my mom and O yesterday," he said. "Now I'm here with you."
Holy shit, she thought. He really had made her this much of a priority.
"You sure you don't want me to buy you a drink?" he offered again.
No drinks for her tonight, but she did want to spend some more time with him. Eligius was going to get crowded, though. On a Thursday night (Thirsty Thursday among the college crowd), it actually tended to get too crowded in there. "Let's go for a walk," she suggested. She liked the thought of getting to roam around town with him instead of just sitting there struggling to hear him once more people came in and it got loud.
Bellamy finished his beer before they left, and though they did contemplate driving around for a minute, the weather was nice and comfortable, so they opted to go on foot. They walked down the main drag, and Bellamy reminded her of the state playoffs parade down that very street. She'd fallen off a float in the middle of a cheer, and it'd been so embarrassing. She laughed about it now, of course.
They strolled past the movie theater, where he nudged her side and reminded her about Jurassic World. That movie . . . she couldn't recall one second of that movie, because she'd spent the entire duration of it up in the top row of seats with Bellamy, making out with him and even giving him a hand-job. He claimed that it was his very favorite movie ever now, for reasons.
The high school wasn't so much within walking distance, otherwise they probably would have ventured there, too. Instead, they walked across campus, where she pointed out all the buildings she had classes in, as well as her freshman dorm room. He wasn't sure what dorm Octavia was staying in. All he knew was that she hated her roommate and hated college so far in general.
They walked for over an hour, and by the time they made it back to the bar, the sun was setting. It'd gotten more crowded in there since they'd left, and the table they'd been sitting at appeared to have been taken over by three frat guys.
"Well, here we are," she said as they stood outside, "right back where we started."
"Yep."
She wasn't ready for the night to end yet, so she quietly mumbled, "I don't suppose you wanna come see where I'm living now."
"Sure," he said without pause. "I'll follow you."
So he got into his car—used but new-ish, as she'd expected—and she got into hers, and they drove out to her place. She wasn't sure what they were gonna do one they got out there. She wasn't a whiz in the kitchen by any means, but she could probably make him a little something to eat.
When they arrived at her house and he got out of the car, he looked at the place in awe. "A beach house," he remarked. "Nice. You own this place?"
"No," she admitted. "But my parents do. Remember how they always wanted to get one?"
"Oh, yeah, I remember them talking about it."
"Well, they did. But then they divorced before we ever actually got to spend any time here, so now I live here. Alone." She wasn't sure why she added that last word on there, maybe just to emphasize that she didn't have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Not that that mattered. She and Bellamy weren't . . . it wasn't like they could just pick up right where they'd left off. "This is lame, isn't it?" she said, shaking her head.
"Are you kidding?" he spat. "Look at this place."
"Yeah, but it's my parents'. I live in my parents' beach house." She'd be twenty-two soon, and no closer to being fully independent.
"So?" he said. "I'm living with my mom."
"Do you have to pay rent?" she asked.
"No."
"Oh. I do."
"See, does that make you feel better then? You're more of an adult than I am," he joked.
She couldn't help but smile. God-dammit, Bellamy always knew how to make her smile.
"Come on," he said, climbing the front steps, "show me the inside."
The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside, but she'd never really shown it off to anyone except a few friends before. "Ta-da," she said as she unlocked and pushed open the door.
"Holy shit," he swore, looking around in amazement. "This place is nice."
Yeah, it was. The bottom floor was just one big open space, a living room complete with an electric fireplace, a flat screen TV, and two couches that were more comfortable than most beds. To the right was her kitchen, fully-equipped with all the most recent appliances. Her mom and dad had decided to renovate that when they'd purchased the place. And before she'd moved in at the start of the summer, her mom had gone out and gotten her a brand new table and chairs. It was the perfect place to sit and eat breakfast and gaze out the floor to ceiling windows at the ocean.
"You got a back porch, a whole beach," he noted, walking around the living room. In the middle of taking everything in, he stopped, picked up a beige blanket off the back of her recliner, and studied it closely. "I remember this blanket," he declared.
"You do?"
"Yeah. I remember we were on the couch, under this blanket, and then your parents came home . . ."
"And you were fingering me under the blanket!" she recalled. "Oh my god. And you didn't stop."
"No, you just had to pretend you were watching the movie." He laughed as he reminisced.
"We were so horny," she said, amazed that neither of her parents had ever walked in on the two of them.
"We really were," he agreed.
Thinking about sexy times made her start to actually feel a bit horny, and she wondered if he felt it, too. She noticed that his eyes weren't completely focused on her face. He seemed to be glancing down at her hips and her boobs a bit—Bellamy used to be obsessed with her boobs—and her mouth felt a bit dry as she struggled to fill the intense silence.
"So what's the upstairs like?" he asked.
"Well, follow me and find out," she invited, leading the way up the staircase.
"Déjà vu," he teased from behind her.
"What?"
"You, leading me up to your room."
Oh, he was definitely not helping the horniness issue when he said things like that.
At the top of the stairs, she motioned to the open door that led to . . . the guest room? Maybe it was supposed to be a guest room, but right now, it was nothing. "That's just an empty room," she said. "I don't really know what to do with it."
"Art room," he suggested.
"Hmm." That'd be nice. "And here's my grandma's piano back here," she said, leading him down the back hall where a beautiful grand piano sat beneath a big double window. "You remember this?"
"Oh, yeah, I remember you trying to teach me how to play once." He pressed down on one of the keys and chuckled.
"Didn't work out so well," she recalled. He'd gotten halfway through 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' and declared himself unteachable.
"Do you still play?" he asked her.
"Once in a while." She didn't have much time for it anymore.
"And your guitar?"
"Yeah, that, too." Maybe, just for the heck of it, she might pull her guitar out of the back of her closet tonight and play something for him. Just for a throwback.
"And this is my room," she said, pushing open the door to her bedroom. It was a big space, probably bigger than his mom's living room. With pretty mauve walls and matching white furniture, it was very relaxing and mellow in there, pretty but a little less girly than her high school bedroom had been.
"Wow," he said. "This is really great. Your bedroom TV's bigger than my mom's living room TV."
Yeah, she was very fortunate to have all the material possessions that she did. She hadn't even paid for the furnishings in this house. Sure, her clothes were her own, and when she'd moved in, she'd brought a few things with her, but most of the house's décor was courtesy of her mom's good taste.
Bellamy roamed around the room a bit, sitting down on the foot of the bed and testing out the comfort level. He nodded his head as if he approved, and she felt . . . a little turned on for some reason. Seeing him here in her bedroom, on her bed . . . it just made her think about being with him in bed. Without clothes on. All night.
"You wanna go out on the balcony?" she asked him, feeling like her mind might venture too far into the gutter if they stayed in that room much longer.
"Sure," he said, getting to his feet.
They left her room, and she unlocked and slid open the door that led outside. Her balcony stretched the entire length of the house, just like the back porch did. It was gorgeous out there. A sunset would have been really pretty, but the moon was already out now, its reflection shimmering on the water.
"Damn, now that's a view," Bellamy said in astonishment. "Mom and I just have a view of our neighbor's trashy backyard."
"I know, I'm pretty lucky," she acknowledged. "I wanna put a table and chairs out here so I can just come out and relax sometimes."
"Relax and de-stress," he said.
"Yeah, I could definitely stand to do that." She let out a heavy sigh, wishing . . . wishing her whole day had been like this. Bellamy just made her feel blissful sometimes. Even after all these years, that didn't seem to have changed.
"It's really pretty out here, Clarke," he said.
"Yeah." She sensed that, even though she was looking out on the water, he wasn't, and when she glanced over at him, he was looking straight at her.
"Really pretty," he said again, and this time, he took a step towards her and began to lean in. His hand came up to cup the side of her face, and before she even had time to really process what was happening, he kissed her. It was a lot different than their first kiss—softer, slower—but it felt amazing all the same. The only thing that felt different was his facial hair. An excited tingle raced up her spine, and when their mouths parted, she kept her eyes closed, hoping for another kiss. And that was exactly what she got. It was as if the first one had been his attempt to test the waters, and since she hadn't objected, he went for it again, more insistently this time.
Reaching out, her hands found his sides as their mouths continued to mate. When she felt the tip of his tongue brush against hers, she thought about how good his tongue felt everywhere, and she moved in closer to him, moaning softly into his mouth as she pressed her chest into his.
One of his arms wrapped around her back, and the other brazenly reached down to cup her ass. He pushed her hips forward, into his, and she felt a slight bulge against her lower stomach. He wanted her, and he wanted her to know he wanted her.
You shouldn't do this, she thought, but it passed quickly when he lifted her up and began to back towards the door. Her feet barely grazed the floor as he hauled her back in the house, and she barely had the chance to reach behind herself and shut the door before he carried her in the direction of the bedroom. Since he was walking backwards, too busy kissing her to check where he was going, he ended up running into the doorframe. Then he set her down on her own two feet again, and together they stumbled and tripped their way to the bed.
Clarke practically fell down atop it, then scrambled to get closer to the top as Bellamy climbed on top of her. He kissed his way down her cheek to her neck, and she rolled her head to the side to give him better access. His mouth on her skin was like a hot suction cup, and as juvenile as it was to hope he'd leave a hickey there . . . that was exactly what she was hoping for.
Through her shirt, he palmed her breasts, hands getting greedy as he tried to pull the material of her top and the cups of her bra down. He growled frustratedly, then stopped touching her as he sat up and peeled off his own shirt. She did the same, lifting her torso up just enough to yank it off and toss it on the floor. She unhooked her bra, too, and discarded that eagerly.
Like a man on a mission, he wasted no time latching his mouth onto her breasts. While sucking one fervently, he kneaded and squeezed the other with his large, rough hands. He alternated back and forth between the two of them, and if it hadn't been five years since they'd hooked up, she would have encouraged him to stay and play with them a little longer. (Bellamy had actually once managed to give her an orgasm before just by paying attention to her tits, and she'd never forgotten a second of it.) But the ache between her legs was so powerful and so real. She felt like her pussy was throbbing, begging for attention, so she tugged on his hair and got him to lift his head.
They were still so in sync that words weren't necessary. He seemed to know that she wanted to cut straight to the chase, because he slid his arms underneath her and flipped them over so that now she was on top.
Sitting up, she took a few seconds to admire his toned chest, abs that looked better than they had even in high school, and the thin trail of dark hair leading down into his jeans. She massaged her hands all over his exposed skin while circling her denim-clad groin around his. He was definitely getting harder, and his cock was too big to be confined.
She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, loving how eagerly he squirmed out of them. He pushed them and his boxer briefs down over his hips at the same time, and his cock sprang free, almost right into her hand. She gave it a few good strokes while he kicked first his shoes and then his pants and underwear off. With Bellamy Blake completely naked underneath her, she smiled excitedly and used her thumb to smear his pre-cum around the head of his cock. God, he had a nice dick. And he was definitely still good about man-scaping.
"Your turn," he growled lowly, slipping one hand down the back of her jeans. His middle finger slid ever so slightly down the crack of her ass, and she gasped. Why the hell did she still have clothes on? She needed to get naked, too.
Swinging one leg off of him, she sat beside him and was so not graceful as she maneuvered out of her own jeans. Before she could take her panties off, he reached over and rubbed her pussy through them. She moaned, feeling like she'd soaked through them. He had to feel that. That was like her way of showing him that she wanted him, too.
Once she'd shed her underwear and was as naked as he was, they reversed positions again, and she happily settled beneath him again. He resumed kissing her, but now his hands were in on the action, his agile fingers continuing to slicken her up between her legs. If he kept doing that, she was going to cum before they even got to the main event, and she so badly wanted to cum when he was inside her.
"D—do you have a . . ." she asked, trailing off since the question was obvious.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do," he said, looking all over the bed for his jeans. They weren't there, so he leaned over, picked them up off the floor, and rummaged around in the pockets. If he didn't have one, she did, but it was fun to watch him look for his. She wondered if he always walked around with a condom in his pocket, or if he'd slipped one in there just because he'd been hoping this would happen tonight.
Finally, he found what he was looking for, and his face lit up with excitement when he pulled out a small foil package. He tore open the wrapper with his teeth and sheathed himself swiftly. Momentarily, she flashed back to putting a condom on him for the first time, not knowing what she was doing, listening to him walk her through how to do it.
Moving forward on his knees, he pushed her legs back a bit, not to the point of being uncomfortable, but definitely to the point where she was very spread open to him. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her folds, teasing her entrance, driving her wild. "You sure?" he asked quietly.
She wasn't sure of much of anything right now, but she was sure that she couldn't stop doing this with him now that they'd started. "Mmm-hmm," she said, nodding eagerly.
Gripping the base of his shaft in one hand, he steadily guided himself into her, eliciting a loud, breathy moan from her lungs. Good god that was tight. It'd been a long time since she'd had to open up this much. Her ex's dick had been average-sized at best, and dildos just didn't feel the same.
He didn't push as far into her as he may have at the height of their sex lives together, but he didn't take it easy on her, either. She felt a slight pain, nothing like she had when she'd lost her virginity to him, but it was gone in almost seconds. They probably could have used some lube for this first time back together again, but she was so wet that, when he started moving, her juices must have just coated his whole cock, because the more he moved, the easier it became.
He lay down atop her, his bigger, heavier body fully encompassing hers, and she gripped his arms and shoulders, digging her fingernails into his flesh. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and their stomachs slid together as he thrust in and out of her. He kept a steady pace, but they were long, full thrusts, the kind that moved the whole mattress. They'd actually broken his headboard once in high school, but this bed was too big and too sturdy for that.
"Oh, fuck," she swore, and that seemed to spur him on. He started to move faster, really screwing her now. Yeah, this wasn't the slow and tender kind of sex. This was straight up fucking, the kind of sex that had kick-started their whole relationship in the first place.
She loved it. She loved it so much.
He pressed his face to her neck and let out a huge groan as he slammed his hips into her. Her whole body jolted with every one of those thrusts, and she wondered how deep inside he was. He probably wouldn't try to bottom out, but if he did . . . it'd be like they were just two pieces of a puzzle again, like they still fit together so naturally. Even if he didn't bottom out, this felt incredible. Bellamy made missionary more enjoyable than anyone else she'd ever been with.
"Put your legs around me," he told her huskily, and he stopped moving for a moment.
She coiled her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass, and then he sat back, lifting her up along with him so that his cock didn't slip out of her. She sat upright in his lap, excited for the change in position. As much as she loved having him on top of her, sitting like this gave her an opportunity to ride him a bit, to fuck him the way he'd been fucking her.
Bouncing up and down, tossing her head back, she closed her eyes and just surrendered to all the sensations. His hand on her ass, the other one coming up to squeeze her breasts. The graze of his lips against her cheek, and the warmth of his breath in her ear. But mostly, she got lost in the familiar, never-forgotten feeling of being joined with him, his thick, hard cock fucking into her so good, making her see stars.
"Come on, Princess," he urged as their pelvises smashed together. "Come on."
She laughed a little when he called her that, but it wasn't just a cute nickname; it was sexy as hell, too. She knew he was trying to get her to cum because he was close. And honestly, so was she.
"Mmm," she purred, squirming and circling her hips around, trying to create the perfect friction around her clit. Although Bellamy liked to give her hands-free orgasms whenever he could, he didn't hesitate to reach down in between them, give her little bundle of nerves a few good rubs, and get her there. She fell apart right there in his lap, her pussy clamping down around him, almost as if it were trying to pull him in even farther. Her thighs quivered as she came, and she felt like she had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling backward. His hips stilled as her orgasm ripped through her, and he waited a moment as she came down from it to start fucking her again. She felt like a limp blob in his lap, just a mess of sexual satisfaction, but he didn't seem to mind. All it took was a few more thrusts for him to cum, too.
Afterward, they sat together, both of them momentarily exhausted but not at all done for the night. He didn't make any effort to slide out, and that was just fine with her. She liked feeling him in her.
He was the first to speak when, after finally managing to catch his breath, he rasped, "I missed you."
She'd known that, of course, but it was still nice to hear him say it out loud. Years of travel and odd jobs and beautiful women from other countries, and yet he'd still missed her.
The feeling was mutual.
"I missed you, too," she told him, happy to be back with him right now, even if it was only for a night.
