Chapter 84
The vacation had gone fast. Out for dinner with the whole group on the last night, Bellamy couldn't quite believe how fast it had gone. He wouldn't have minded a few more days away, but at the same time, he was grateful for what they'd had.
"Here we are at the last supper," Murphy said as he panned his phone around the table. He'd decided to do an impromptu livestream, and apparently hundreds of people were already watching.
"You're so dramatic," Raven muttered.
"Here's my beautiful, brilliant girlfriend," Murphy said, focusing on Raven. "Who I'm hoping will have some airplane sex with me on the flight home."
She crushed that dream for him right away when she said, "Not gonna happen."
"Damn," he grumbled. Then he resumed showing off everyone at the table, going next to Avery, who was securely nestled in blankets in her carrier, perched on the chair next to Clarke. "And here's baby Avery," he said. "Or . . . Bavery."
"What, what, what?" Clarke squawked in outrage. "No, you're not calling her that."
"And Avery's mom, Clarke, who's probably really annoyed with me by now," Murphy said. "And Bellamy, who's just . . . stroking his beard."
Bellamy couldn't suppress a grin as he sat there just feeling the pelt on his face that he was still so damn proud of.
"How're you two crazy kids doing?" Murphy asked.
"Good," Clarke replied.
"Tired," Bellamy added. He and Clarke hadn't fucked so much since high school.
Murphy snorted and mumbled, "I wonder why."
"Oh, please, that isn't all we've done," Clarke said. "We've done other stuff, too."
"Yeah," Bellamy agreed, and then just to be a smartass, he added, "For a couple of minutes." That earned him a playful whack on the shoulder from his wife, but he just smirked towards the camera, because . . . well, it was the truth, wasn't it? "I got a question for you, Murphy," he said, redirecting the conversation to get himself out of trouble.
"What?"
"Being here with me and Clarke," he said, "feelin' that whole newlywed vibe . . . does it make you wanna propose to Raven?"
"Hmm." Murphy rubbed his patchy beard, looked over at his girlfriend, and seemed to think about it. "You know what, now that you mention it . . ." He handed Bellamy the camera and said, "Hold this, will you?" Then he slid out of his seat and bent down on one knee.
"Oh my god, what're you doing?" Raven gasped, turning pale. Bellamy made sure he could get both of them in the shot, just in case this was the real deal and not just a prank.
Of course it didn't end up being real, though. Murphy pretended like he was reaching into his back pocket for a ring, but at the last second, he lowered his hands to his shoelaces instead and said, "Just had to tie my shoe."
"Fuck you," Raven said. "You're such an asshole."
Murphy had a satisfied smirk on his face as he sat down in his chair again. "An asshole you love."
Raven rolled her eyes, but she didn't dispute that.
"Oh, man, all these comments . . ." Bellamy said as he read through what everyone was saying in the chat. Things like DO IT and FINALLY. "Everyone wishes it was real," he said.
"Oh, please," Raven scoffed. "If he proposed to me on a YouTube livestream, I'd kick his ass."
"It'd make some money, though." Murphy took his phone back, watched as more comments rolled in, then chuckled and said, "Hey, man, someone asked how you proposed to Clarke."
"Which time?" Bellamy asked.
"Yeah, there was . . . more than one time," Clarke said. "But maybe we shouldn't divulge all of that."
"Yeah, that's kinda private," he agreed. Considering the fact that one proposal had gone horribly wrong and resulted in the worst night of his entire life . . . yeah, he wouldn't be sharing all of that with the hundreds of viewers he didn't even know.
"Fair enough," Murphy said. "Oh, hey, someone else here says they really like the series I did on you two."
"Oh, well, thanks," Bellamy said. "We haven't even watched it yet."
Murphy gasped in mock outrage, over-dramatically bringing one hand to his chest. "You haven't?"
"No," Clarke said. "It's weird watching yourself in a video."
"No, it's not," Murphy claimed, focusing the camera on her. "I do it all the time."
"Well, it's weird for me," she said. "Like hearing my voice on an answering machine."
Bellamy didn't mind watching or hearing himself, but . . . he just wasn't sure what it would be like to watch that video, knowing that Clarke had been keeping a huge secret from him the whole time they'd been filming it.
"Some of these people want a sequel," Murphy said.
"A sequel, huh?" Bellamy glanced at Clarke, not quite sure if they were up for that.
"I don't know," she said skeptically. "We'll see."
Murphy turned the camera back on himself and said, "That'd be a ways down the road, probably, if ever. I got some new stuff lined up for the channel now. Involves this one here." He panned over to Raven, who barely glanced up from her menu to look at him.
"She looks so enthused," Clarke remarked sarcastically.
"Tell 'em what we're doin', Raven," he urged.
She groaned, shaking her head. "Couples reactions. To something."
"To cringey Tik Toks. To memes. To reality TV compilations. Anything, really," Murphy elaborated excitedly. "With her smarts and my sarcasm, we can't go wrong. We're actually gonna film one later tonight."
Raven closed her menu, set it down, and folded her hands atop the table. "I feel like I don't even need to ask, Mrs. Blake," she said to Clarke, "but what are you gonna be doing tonight?"
Clarke smiled, so fucking obvious, and blushed when she stole a glance at Bellamy. He grinned back, because he knew exactly what they were gonna do. Last night of their honeymoon and all . . . it was kind of a no-brainer.
...
Holding tightly to her husband's shoulders, Clarke gasped as he thrust his cock up into her. "Oh, god, Bellamy. Oh, god." His pace was a rapid one, and since she still hadn't completely come down from her previous orgasm, she was really feeling it. In a good way.
Bellamy was halfway sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, and had his hands on her hips as he pounded her. The sweat on his skin was a clear sign of his exertion, and eventually, he had to stop thrusting just to catch his breath. His hard cock still filled her up, though, still stretched her, and he never stopped moving completely. Even if his pace was slower, he kept sliding in deeper.
Leaning forward, pressing her head to his shoulder, she made a quiet request of him. "Switch it."
"What?" he said, rubbing her sides. "You want me to be on top?"
"No, just . . ." As much as Bellamy was a missionary master, that wasn't what she was wanting right now. It was hard to tell him, though, when she felt so breathless. Words were hard to come by in the throes of passion, but she did manage to clarify what she meant when she told him, "Put it somewhere else." She lifted her hips enough for him to slip out of her, but since it was still hard, it stood straight up against the crack of her ass.
His eyes widened with intrigue, and he reached around to give her cheeks a good squeeze. "You wanna?"
"Yeah." They'd been a bit messy with the lube earlier, with plenty of it ending up on her ass, so she was choosing to take that as a sign that it was time for him to enter through the backdoor. They hadn't had anal sex in months, and while she was fine with it being a sporadic thing, she also yearned for it.
Of course, despite how tired he must have been, Bellamy didn't need much convincing. "Okay," he said, sliding his cock up and down along the crack of her ass. "Yeah, we can do that."
Even though the impatient part of her would have loved to just sit right down on him and start bouncing up and down, the logical part knew that she'd need a bit more lubrication. So she reached down in between her legs to gather up some of her own juices and then reached around behind herself to smear it all over her ass.
"Yeah, get it wet," Bellamy encouraged her.
When she felt like everything was slickened up enough, she told him, "Ready," and lifted up her hips so the tip of his cock was pressing against her hole. He held it steady while she sank down on top of it. She was always struck by how different it felt to have Bellamy in her ass instead of her pussy. The fullness was mind-blowing, and coupled with the clitoral stimulation he'd undoubtedly give her, it was sensory overload in the best way possible. "Oh . . ." she moaned, closing her eyes, momentarily losing herself in the sensation. It definitely hadn't felt so good back in high school when they'd first tried it, but nowadays, it just made her feel so close to him.
"Can you take it?" he asked almost teasingly.
"Yeah," she assured him. "I can take it." He'd probably start out slow, but if he wanted to get faster, to the point where he was really drilling her, she'd be fine with that, too.
They'd only just started to move when a loud knock on the door interrupted, disrupting everything. "What's that?" Clarke asked, halting all motion.
"Probably the pizza we ordered half an hour ago," Bellamy said.
Damn, she'd forgotten all about that. "It hasn't been half an hour," she said. "Has it?"
"Yep. Just a minute!" he called. Reluctantly, he slid out of her and moved her to the other side of the bed. "Time flies when you're having fun fucking." He swung his legs over the side of the bed but didn't stand up yet.
"Can I just lay here and keep going?" she asked, reaching down to rub her pussy.
He looked over his shoulder at her and said, "No."
"No?" She really didn't care about the pizza anymore, though.
Grinning mischievously, he said, "No, I got a better idea. Come with me," and grabbed her hand, pulling her up off the bed with him and leading her towards the door.
"What are you doing?" she yelped as the pizza guy knocked on the door again. "We're not even dressed."
He went back to the bed, reached underneath, and pulled out one of his shirts, which was more of a dress on her. "Here you go," he said, putting it over her head for her.
"What about you?" she said, although it wouldn't surprise her if Bellamy was willing to just answer the door without a stitch of clothing on.
"I'm fine," he claimed, his voice quieter now as he approached the door. Oddly, though, he stood behind it, and motioned for her to handle it. "Well, go ahead," he said. "Open the door. Not too far, though."
"What're you gonna do?"
He smirked. "You'll see."
Oh, he definitely had something up his sleeve, probably something sexual. "Bellamy."
"Clarke," he mimicked.
She had a feeling she knew what he was going to do, but she went ahead and played along anyway. He came in close behind her and grabbed her hips while she unlocked the door, and when her hand was poised on the handle, he lifted the shirt she was wearing up a bit so her ass was completely exposed to him. She didn't know if he was going to finger her, eat her out, or start fucking her again until she slowly and carefully pulled the door open. Right as she did that, he pressed his cock against her hole, and automatically, she bent forward to allow him entrance. "Mmm!" she moaned a bit too loudly, peering around the door to smile at the delivery guy. "Hi," she said to him, trying to look and act as natural as possible. As if there wasn't a huge cock in her ass.
"Hi," the guy said, holding up a flat box. "I got your pizza."
"Uh-huh." She held tightly to the door as Bellamy began to thrust. Not too fast, because that would make their skin slap together. Instead, he rolled his hips against hers gently.
"One medium," the pizza guy said, reading the receipt taped to the lid of the box, "half pepperoni, half sausage."
"Great." The pepperoni had been for Bellamy, the sausage for her. But right now, she only cared about one sausage.
That poor delivery guy had to be wondering why she was acting so strangely, why she refused to open the door all the way and why he could only see her torso. But to his credit, he just kept going about his job. "That's thirteen bucks," he said.
"Oh." It suddenly dawned on her that she didn't have any cash in hand. And her purse and wallet were not within reach. "Okay," she said, struggling to keep her whole body from moving forward as Bellamy fucked her. "I have to get money. Just wait here." She shut the door, slumping forward a bit as her husband pressed his full length into her. "Oh my god, Bellamy," she whispered, hoping that door was thick enough that the guy outside couldn't hear her.
"We got this," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her stomach. Somehow, he lifted her up while staying inside her and carried her over to the small table next to the TV, where her purse was halfway unzipped. When he set her back down on her own two feet, he started thrusting again, just not even giving her a break. Not that she wanted one.
"Oh, god," she gasped, fumbling around for her wallet. "How much did he say it was?"
"Thirteen dollars," Bellamy answered. "Plus a tip."
A tip? She wasn't even about to try to do the math on that right now, so she grabbed a few extra bucks and said, "Okay, take me back over there. Stay in me." As raunchy as all of this was, she fucking loved it. It was a rush, a thrill, something different.
"Don't worry, I will," he assured her, lifting her up again. And indeed, he did. It was a snug, tight fit, after all, and he was very careful.
When it came time to open up the door again, Clarke couldn't do much to keep her body from rocking. Bellamy had started to move harder and faster, and she wasn't going to tell him to slow down. She opened the door even less than she had last time and reached out to give the guy his money. "Here you go," she said. "Keep the change."
"Thanks." He looked at the barely ajar door, clearly confused, and said, "Uh . . ."
"Got it," she said, reaching for the box. She turned it on its side to slip it inside and quickly said, "Thank you," while she still had the ability to speak. Then she slammed the door shut, dropped the box on the ground, and let out a loud, "Ahh!" as Bellamy thrust into her so hard that he pressed her whole body into the wall. No longer concerned with being quiet, he fucked her hard, his thighs slapping against her ass cheeks, his low grunts and groans mixing in with her breathless moans and gasps. They could eat the pizza later. For now, this was all that mattered.
...
Morning came all too quickly, and when Clarke awoke, Bellamy was already up and in the shower. Their flight wasn't super early, but it was still early-ish. With one layover in between, they would probably arrive home in the late afternoon. And the time change was going to be brutal.
Avery was unusually fussy that morning, and Clarke couldn't help but feel like that was her way of protesting their departure, letting them know she wanted to stay another day. But of course they couldn't, so they packed everything up, sadly said goodbye to a hotel room that now shared so many good—and plenty of steamy—memories, and met Murphy and Raven downstairs in the lobby to catch a cab to the airport. Once there, surrounded by so many other people, hauling her suitcase (which was fuller now than it had been when she'd arrived, thanks to some souvenirs), Clarke's mindset shifted, and she then found herself eager to get back home. The airport was loud and hectic, and the airplane was cramped and uncomfortable. Plus, she still mom-panicked at the thought of her baby girl being thirty-some thousand feet up in the air.
Fortunately, Avery had nodded off on Bellamy's lap by the time they were taxing down the runway, so takeoff would be peaceful. Clarke looked out the window and quietly said, "Bye, California," as they taxied down the runway.
Bellamy reached over to pick up her hand and give it a loving squeeze. "I had an amazing time," he told her.
"Me, too." She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes still aimed towards the window, and let herself feel a little bit sad. Because even though she was eager to get home now, she wouldn't have said no to an extended stay. "I wish it didn't have to end," she admitted, hoping that some of these honeymoon vibes would follow them back home.
...
Clarke knew her feet were supposed to be moving. She had a class to get to, after all, and probably only thirty seconds left in her passing period. She didn't have far to go, though, so she'd just . . . stopped. Right there in the middle of the hallway. Clutching her books to her chest, staring at the girl's bathroom of all things. She'd done her best to avoid that particular bathroom this year, mostly because . . . well, she and Bellamy had fooled around in it last year. She looked at it now and remembered how he'd convinced her to sneak out of study hall one day and meet up with him there. He'd had no qualms about going into the girl's bathroom, and she'd definitely been more nervous about getting caught than he'd been. But of course Bellamy, being Bellamy, had just grabbed her hand and pulled her right in there, stumbling into the biggest stall and sliding the lock into place. He'd hoisted her up into his arms, hiked her skirt up, and just . . .
"Clarke."
She snapped out of it when someone finally said her name. Wells was poking his head out from their classroom, a confused look on his face. "You comin' to class?" he asked her.
Part of her was irrationally annoyed that he'd cut into her memory right as she'd been getting to the best part. But then the bell rang, and she started to function again. He held the door open for her as she walked into the room, and she mumbled her thanks before heading to her desk in the back corner of the classroom. At the start of the year, the teacher had tried to seat her in the middle of the room, probably because she was one of the ones he could rely on to pay attention even when surrounded by many other people. But she'd ended up requesting a spot in the back instead because . . . well, she didn't want to be surrounded by other people this year.
"Go ahead and take out your notes," the teacher said after quieting everyone down. "We'll pick up where we left off yesterday."
Clarke swiftly pulled out her notebook and a pencil while some of the other students struggled to locate the notes they'd taken yesterday. She wouldn't be surprised if she ended up having to run to the office to make a photocopy of hers to give to them.
Since she was waiting, and took her phone out of her pocket when it vibrated, assuming she had a text from Raven or something. She opened up her messages and saw she had one message from a number she didn't recognize, and it was a photo. When she opened it up, her eyes were assaulted by an image she'd never wanted to see: A body part. A certain male body part.
"Oh, god!" she shrieked, dropping her phone in disgust. It was Dax. Had to be. He'd said something the other day about sending her some dick pics, but she'd been hoping he wouldn't actually do it.
Everyone turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden outburst, and the teacher asked, "What's wrong?"
What wasn't? She hadn't had one good day at school so far this year, and shit like this wasn't making her feel any better. "Can I go to the office?" she asked, not willing to accept no for an answer.
Luckily, the teacher didn't question anything. He said, "Sure," and that was that. Clarke picked up her phone and hurried out of the room, feeling quite frazzled. This was it, though, the last straw. She'd dealt with enough of Dax's crap, and she wasn't willing to put up with it anymore.
In her mind, she thought she'd get to the office, tell Principal Sydney about it, and Dax would get suspended or something. But very early on in the conversation, it became apparent to her that that wouldn't be happening. She whipped out her phone and showed her principal the picture, just so she could see for herself how explicit it was. It wasn't like Dax had underwear on or anything. Hell, that would have been bad enough. But the principal almost refused to look at it and even said, "I don't need to see it," a few times.
Clarke launched into a full-on rant about how wrong it was, how awful, how violating. There wasn't any difference between sending someone a picture like that and straight-up flashing them. It was indecent exposure no matter how it had happened. It wasn't something she'd wanted to see, but that fucking bastard had no respect for her or the boundaries she'd tried to put up with him.
Unfortunately, it was Clarke who was doing most of the talking. Principal Sydney took out her student handbook and was looking through that while Clarke made one impassioned plea after another for something to be done about this. But all it amounted to was her principal telling her that she would handle the situation. And Clarke wasn't an idiot; she knew what that meant.
"What do you mean you're not gonna do anything?" she roared angrily.
"I didn't say that," Principal Sydney said. "I'll call his parents, let them know what he sent you. And I'll make sure all the teachers are on the lookout for any inappropriate behavior."
Well, that just sounded like a slap on the wrist. And that wasn't good enough. "This is inappropriate behavior right here. It's already happening!" Clarke yelled. "Ever since this school year started, he's been harassing me."
"Physically?" the principal asked.
"No, but . . ." Clarke stopped for a moment, feeling increasingly frustrated. "That's not the only kind of harassment."
Principal Sydney nodded slowly, pretending to sympathize, and said, "Then I'll definitely have a word with him."
"A—a word?" Clarke shrieked in outrage. "What's that gonna do? He's not gonna stop being an asshole just because you give him a good talking to."
Her principal put away the student handbook and asked, "Did you have any problems with him last year?"
"No, because last year . . ." Clarke trailed off, wishing last year hadn't ended. Last year, Dax had known better than to make any moves on her at all. He never would have been doing this if Bellamy was still there. He would have just left her alone. "You know what? Don't even bother," she grumbled, pocketing her phone as she stood up. "I'll handle this myself." She stormed out of the office, determined not to just be a damsel in distress about all of this. Last year had ended, because all good things came to an end. It was time this year became more bearable.
...
Clarke already felt the effects of jetlag when she and Bellamy finally got home. Neither she nor Bellamy had been able to sleep on the flight, and the second one had been delayed by about an hour, so that'd been one extra hour in the airport, waiting, and just waiting had been exhausting.
"One of these days . . ." Bellamy grumbled as he hauled everything inside, "I swear, my arms are just gonna fuckin' fall off."
"I know," she said, although all she had in her arms right now was her baby and the mail she'd grabbed out of the mailbox. "I feel like we're always lugging so much stuff around."
"Most of it's for her," he said, nodding his head in Avery's direction as he rolled both suitcases through the door.
"Yeah, I kinda feel like the whole world revolves around her," Clarke said.
"It does," he agreed, sounding out of breath when he finally set everything down. "Jesus Christ," he swore. "I'm worn out."
"I'll unpack everything," she volunteered, even though he'd probably end up helping her. "Look at all this mail, though. I feel so behind." She sat down at the kitchen table and spread every envelope out in front of her, feeling overwhelmed.
"Worry about it tomorrow," he suggested.
"I just wanna see what we got." Cradling Avery in one arm, she began to sort through everything with her free hand. "Bill. Bill. Another bill," she noted. "Ooh, look, coupons. Love that for us."
Sidling towards the table, he asked, "Anything interesting?"
"Looks like a few cards." Greedy as it sounded, she really hoped some of those cards had money in them.
"From who?" Bellamy asked.
"Uh . . . my grandma. My aunt and uncle. My cousins."
"Extended family, huh?" he said. "Yeah, I wouldn't know anything about that."
She picked up one smaller card that didn't have a return address on it. In fact, it hadn't been mailed; it'd just been placed in their mailbox. All it had on the front were their names.
"Who's that one from?" Bellamy questioned.
She recognized the handwriting. Sloppy as all get out, and written hastily. "I think it's from Finn," she answered quietly.
Bellamy's eyebrows arched in surprise. "You think?"
"It looks like his handwriting." She was actually sure it was from him. He had a very unique way of writing the K in her name. She used to tease him that it looked more like an H.
Putting his hand on the back of her chair, Bellamy waited a few seconds, then urged, "Well, open it up."
"You sure?" She didn't have to, nor did she want to if it was just going to upset him.
"Yeah, I wanna see it," he said.
She wasn't sure that she did, but she opened it up anyway. It wasn't even sealed, so all she had to do was pull open the flap. The card looked like one of those dollar store cards. All it said on the front was Congrats! And it was blank on the inside except for a little something he'd written. "Congratulations to both of you," she read. "Wishing you all the best. Finn." She fought the urge to roll her eyes and declared, "Well, that's pretty generic." She was actually relieved that he hadn't written more.
Bellamy seemed decidedly unimpressed as he stared down at the card with anger in his eyes. He snorted and wondered out loud, "Why the hell would he even bother?"
"I don't know. Just Finn being Finn," she said. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, or maybe he was trying to be annoying. In the time that she'd dated him, she'd known him to be both.
"Yeah, well, he can stop," Bellamy grumbled, clearly more upset with the card than he wanted to let on. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay." She put the card back in the envelope, making a new pile on the table, not for bills or coupons this time, but for trash. "I just wish we could stay in honeymoon mode," she said, feeling like some of the life stress that had been virtually non-existent in Long Beach was already creeping back in.
"Back to real life," Bellamy said.
"Yeah. But we're still married now," she reminded him, trying to get his mind off of Finn's stupid, meaningless card. "So I'm still happy."
He smiled down at her, said, "So am I," and bent down to give her a kiss.
