The Monster Within
1: [we are all masters now]
Clarke Griffin winced as she pulled her once white t-shirt off, letting it fall onto the bathroom floor. Resting her head against the wall in front of her she fumbled with an outstretched arm until her fingertips grazed the shower faucet. She turned it on as high as it would go, then sank down to the tile. As hot steam filled the room she unbuttoned her jeans, but kept her forehead pressed firmly to the plaster. It was sometime past midnight and the tequila had turned into fatigue, but despite her body's weight her mind still ran at a manic clip.
Yanking her badge and holster from her waistband Clarke winced at the clatter of them hitting the ground. The sound was enough to jar her back to life. Peeling herself off the wall she tried to ignore the stickiness, telling herself could always clean it up tomorrow. Standing up slowly, she stepped out of her pants, then took a deep breath before stripping down completely. Her wrist was still swollen, her ribs still badly bruised, but Charlotte was safe, and that was all that mattered. Shaking her head to clear it of the little girl's terrified face she stepped right into the spray. Every cut and scrape on her body caught fire, the pain pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Gasping, she gritted her teeth.
"Motherfucker." She whispered out loud.
It took a few minutes for her to work up the nerve, but eventually she got her head under the water. As she clutched at the shower curtain streams of red and muddy brown cascaded, swirling together down the drain. She stared until it ran clear, then pulled herself together and finished up with shaking hands. Not bothering with clothes she wrapped herself in a towel, then collapsed on the couch. Turning the TV on she melted into the leather, wet hair and all.
A late, late show was on, and the laughter of the audience rang hollow in her ears. She set the volume to barely there, then closed her eyes. Behind them all was darkness for a moment, and Clarke almost believed she could drop off this time.
It wasn't long before Charlotte's kidnapper bubbled back up to the surface, an effigy of rage and sickness.
Eugene Murphy, 22 years of age, white male, severe attachment disorder.
"Shut. Up." Clarke tried to get herself to stop. The case was over. He was in custody, and Charlotte was safe from his razor sharp glare.
Exhaling, Clarke eased up into a sitting position. Biting her lip she picked up a little orange bottle balanced on the edge of the coffee table. She shook a few pills out of it and swallowed them dry. Eventually, she slid back into the couch cushions.
*Who the fuck are you?! You stupid bitch!" Clarke felt Murphy's boot in her stomach again, and again, and then she felt nothing.
-/-/-/-/-/-
"Agent Griffin," There was a thud as Blake Bellamy slammed a large coffee onto her desk. She woke with a start, her paperwork fluttering violently.
"Oh my God, thank you." Clarke replied when she came to her senses.
"Meeting with the Chief in 20 minutes. Come on."
Getting to her feet she followed Agent Bellamy out through the back of the building to the designated smoking area. He lit two cigarettes at once, and then passed one over to Clarke, who begrudgingly took it.
"Thanks...again." She took a long haul, then chased the remaining smoke with huge gulps of coffee.
"What's this about? We already did the press conference." Clarke pointed out.
"...seriously doubt it's got anything to do with the Murphy case. Unless we got some more commendations coming our way." Agent Bellamy let loose a rare smile.
"I hope it's some R&R." She replied, her hand flying up to the now healing cut on her head.
"Somehow, I doubt that too."
Clarke sighed, polishing off the rest of her coffee.
"I just hope it's not another kid. Not for a little while..." Her voice trailed off.
"You'll be alright Griffin. You're tough. Unlike the rest of these assholes." He jerked a thumb in the direction of headquarters and Clarke shook her head, putting out her cigarette.
"Don't let me have another one of those." She demanded as they strolled back into work, and then made the journey up to the Chief's office.
The Arizona sun blazed through the windows as they entered the space, and they both blinked into it until Chief Raymond Harris appeared. Strolling in, he shut the door and drew the blinds before taking his place behind the desk.
"Have a seat." He ordered. Griffin and Bellamy obeyed, game-face's immediately on.
"I'll cut right to the chase. There was a body found last night in Lake Washington."
Agent Bellamy looked at Griffin, then back to their commander.
"...not exactly F.B.I. material..." He quipped and the Chief gave him an icy stare in return.
"The body bore very distinctive marks. Characteristics it shares with three other bodies that have been found in the last few years."
"So we've got a serial killer." Griffin leaned forward, adrenaline rushing into her system.
"...it looks that way. All four victims were either worked for or lived within the vicinity of the same country club."
"I guess we're going under cover." Blake brought his hands together, his gaze as close to excited as it ever got.
"This isn't an ordinary operation Agent Bellamy." The Chief's tone cut through, and both Agents fell silent.
"It'll be on a need to know basis only, even for you two. The club that you'll be infiltrating is extremely exclusive. Billionaires, millionaires, you name it, they're there. Politicians from all throughout the whole pacific northwest. Big wigs, you understand? Whatever you do, you cannot break your cover. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir." Griffin sat up straight.
"We need as much intel as you can gather, without fucking it up. These guys have got local law enforcement in their camp. You can trust no one."
"...well, what do we need to know?" Blake asked.
"You'll be living as a newlywed couple. You're relocating to the pacific coast from Miami in order to start a family. You got sick of the party lifestyle, but you still want a piece of the action." The Chief paused. "That's all you need to know for now. Get to the conference room for gear and a briefing with Agent Jordan."
"Yes sir." Griffin jumped up, riding the one high she'd couldn't build a tolerance to.
"I'm putting my trust in you both. Keep up the good work."
As they left the Chief's office they struck up a natural conversation, trying to appear nonchalant to the rest of their fellow agents. They couldn't help glancing at each other though as they strode into the conference room and the security protocols whizzed to life. The heavy metal door locked behind them as the windows dimmed. Agent Jordan manned the conference table, a mountain of paperwork boxing him in. In the corner another figure stood, his arms folded and a scowl on his face.
"What are you doing here Chris? This mission is classified. Or do you get a free pass because Daddy's the Chief?" Agent Bellamy sneered and the man in question didn't move, though his jaw twitched.
"I'm not here for you Blake." He replied and Agent Jordan rolled his eyes.
"Everyone chill out. You two, over here."He said and Clarke and Blake took a seat, each diving into the stack of information in front of them."
"New I.D.'s, passports-" Agent Jordan started and Blake cut him off.
"Looks like we're well traveled." Blake's brow furrowed as he took a look at his new likeness. Clean shaven, a neat haircut. He tried not to groan.
"You'll be going as Ethan and Caroline Forrester. We're placing you in a residence in Rockland, Washington. Average median household income for the area is one million dollars-"
"So, we need to act like rich people," Blake tossed his new I.D. onto the table. "Should be easy for you Agent Griffin." He managed to keep the bitterness to a minimum as he regarded her.
Clarke kept her mouth shut, knowing her partners history.
"You're a good actor Agent Bellamy, you should be fine." Deputy Harris bit out and Blake smirked.
"I mean, as a man, I prefer not to have a silver spoon jammed in my ass but it seems to be working well for you isn't it?" Blake replied.
"Pay attention to the mission guys. You're shipping out tomorrow." Agent Jordan threw his hands up, exasperated.
"What are our objectives?" Griffin jumped in.
"For now, just get to Rockland and get set up. I don't have any more information for you, but your contact in Washington is Raven Reyes, she'll be able to tell you more." Agent Jordan handed them their plane tickets and Blake whistled.
"First class, here we go."
Agent Jordan passed them the rest of their dossier and rose from the table.
"Alright, I've actually got work to do so we need to wrap this up." He announced.
"Wait a second Perry, I'll need a word with Agent Bellamy before he goes." Deputy Harris strode forward as Griffin sighed.
"Meet you back at the office." She squeezed Blake's shoulder, then headed back to their stomping grounds.
"Nepotism at its fucking finest." Blake muttered as he dropped into a chair at his desk after the private meeting, throwing an unsuspecting pen.
"He's just looking out for us, that's his job." Griffin replied, looking up from her folder.
"Yeah well, I'd rather take orders from someone who earned their position."
"What'd he say?" Griffin put her folder down, reaching up to rub her head again. Blake raised an eyebrow.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She brushed him off, her heart jumping into her throat as Eugene Murphy's face morphed into her partners.
"...he just told me to keep an eye on you. So far two of the vics have been blond females, right around your age. You don't enter the club without me and you don't leave without me, got it?"
Clarke shook herself mentally, trying to get it together.
"I'll be a good wife. I always am." She replied with a small smile that Blake returned before diving into memorizing his own new life story.
-/-/-/-/-/-/
Sweat dripped down Clarke's face as she and Blake sat in a stifling town car a few days later, waiting to move forward just a few inches. Traffic was bumper to bumper, and though she was decked out in expensive clothes she didn't feel anything close to glamorous.
"Are you sure the A/C doesn't go any higher?" Blake snapped at the driver, loosening his collar.
"Sorry sir." The older gentleman replied and Bellamy just grunted.
"At least your hair isn't in your face anymore...honey." Clarke patted his arm, enjoying the feral expression on his face. He could be cocksure, and sometimes downright reckless, but there was no one else she'd rather work with.
"It'll be cooler where we're going." She reassured him and he nodded curtly. Agent Bellamy remained silent as they went through their rounds, and only exhaled when he fell into a first class seat. Leaning back he gazed toward the sky.
"Now this, I could get used to." He said and Clarke shot him a look.
"Really Ethan? Whatever happened to earning your way?"
"Well, Caroline, I think I've worked pretty hard for what I've got."
"Riiight. Uh huh." Clarke gave him a thumbs up and then settled into her own seat. She'd yet to get used to her clean and manicured hands, and they were unsettling as she rested them on her thighs. A diamond bracelet wrapped around her wrist, encircling her with status, and the ridiculous engagement ring her beloved Ethan had given her shone. She recited her story in her head over and over, trying to take on the spoiled existence of a princess, but the ghosts of Clarke Griffin hovered in the background, black shadows pressing in on a thin, gilded defense.
She felt a pang, the yearning for peace that threatened to destroy her from time to time. The orange bottle was in her checked luggage, and she wouldn't dare with her partner around, but Clarke thought it would've been nice to be able to sleep on the plane. Blake dropped off quickly, and Clarke settled for watching him and being jealous of the smooth rising and falling of his chest.
A few hours later they swayed in the much gentler sunlight of the pacific west coast, posted up in the driveway of 72 Woodward Drive.
A sedan and an SUV sat placidly in front of the garage, and the trees waved like lazy concert-goers overhead.
"...shall we?" Agent Bellamy held out an arm. Clarke took it, along with a deep breath, and they trooped inside with their luggage.
"Home sweet home." Clarke declared quietly, taking in the high end furnishings.
"It's like a fucking catalogue." Blake's mouth fell slightly open, his eyes wide.
"I can't wait to take a fucking shower." He continued, dropping his stuff and gunning it up the stairs. Clarke laughed and shook her head, retrieving their contact info. She was almost afraid to touch anything as she pulled out her cellphone.
"Hey you've reached Tech Junkies, how can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm looking for Raven."
"Can I ask who's speaking?"
"Caroline Forrester."
"Gimme one second," There was a click as she went on hold and Clarke moved over to the French doors, peeking into the backyard.
"Hello?" A mellow voice floated through the line.
"Hi, Raven?"
"Yup, that's me."
"It's Caroline."
"Oh yeah what's up? How was your flight?"
"Great." Clarke tried to put a smile in her voice, but her cheeks were tense.
"Cool, cool. If you wanna bring that computer down tomorrow around 10am I can take a look at it for you. We can guarantee all your important information stays safe." She replied pointedly.
"Thank you, we'll see you then." Clarke hung up, then got to the business of unpacking.
-/-/-/-/-/-/
"Do I look douchey enough?" Blake walked into the kitchen and spun around.
"Always." Clarke replied, swinging a glittery purse over her shoulder.
"Is that any way to talk to your husband?"
"Obviously I'm the one in charge here." Grabbing the car keys she dragged him towards the door.
"Uh uh." She wagged a finger at him as he tried the driver's side door of the SUV.
"...you always get to have all the fun." He grumbled but took shotgun anyway.
Tech Junkies turned out to be a pretty nice storefront in the town center, and Clarke was immediately struck by the rustic quality of Rockland. Beamer's and Benz's abounded, but they were parked in front of little coffee shops and florists. The inside of the electronics repair shop rocked the same aesthetic, and Clarke felt at ease as a galaxy haired girl led them over to Raven's office. It was a good way to start an undercover gig.
"Hey guys." Raven Reyes slid over to them in a computer chair, wearing a basic red hoodie and a pair of raggedy jeans.
"Thanks Margeaux." She tossed out after her employee as she shut the door.
"So, about that information." Clarke went right to work.
"Yeah I've got a couple things for you guys, hold on." Rolling back over to her desk she picked up two tablets and handed them to the agents.
"These are encrypted, got the best of the best security measures." Raven announced proudly, only to be met with a scowl from Agent Blake.
"...and what do we do with these?" He barked. Surreptitiously Clarke hit him in the leg and his jaw tightened.
"The club you're going to is called The Sign of the Lion. Been in business over a hundred years, and nearly impossible to get into. Here." She handed Clarke an envelope. "This is a recommendation letter. It turns out fixing MacBooks for rich kids earns you a lot of money, and with a lot of money, you can buy just about anything."
Blake dropped the bad cop routine, his face taking on a curious expression.
"On those tablets you'll find the blueprints to the club, the floor plan you know? There's a list of events that are planned for this year, AND all the events that have been held there in the past three years. You can check out former members of the club too, but unfortunately I wasn't able to compile a list of current members. It's well guarded, to say the least. There's some other info in there you'll find useful as well, make sure you take a look at them."
"Are our objectives on here as well?" Clarke held up the tablet and Raven shook her head.
"Negative. Your only objective at this point is to make it in to the club. We've tried to wiggle our way in before but...it just didn't work out."
"Do they do background checks? Hire private investigators? How are they sniffing people out?" Clarke asked. Raven shrugged, adjusting the giant headphones she had around her neck.
"I have no idea, so good luck guys. Oh, and if you don't make it in please come back, I'll need those tablets."
"Right then. We'll be in contact." Blake stood and Clarke followed suit.
"Thanks for choosing Tech Junkies!" Raven called out as they left, waving from the chair that might or might not have been permanently attached to her.
"Wanna get drunk and read through all this shit?" Blake suggested as they got back into the car.
"Sure, let's stop at the Wine Cellar. It was at the top of the street."
"Fuck, yeah." Blake put his shades on and turned the radio up.
-/-/-/-/-/-/
The Sign of the Lion looked as medieval as it sounded. A looming structure made of stone, it sprawled across acres of perfectly manicured grounds. Clarke half expected to see a moat as they rolled up to the front gate. Flanked by two obsidian lions rearing up on their hind legs, the wrought iron fence in front of them reached for the sky.
Hanging out the window Agent Bellamy took a look around, and as he was observing the gates swung open with a loud groan.
Clarke didn't hesitate, driving right past them and onto the infinite driveway. It snaked off into several routes, but Clarke made right for the front of the building. Pulling into a parking spot she cut the engine and took a deep breath.
"...you ready?" Blake asked.
"Yes." She replied
"Let's go." Exiting the car he opened the door and together they ascended the front steps. A posh waiting room greeted them with a huge glass desk, manned by several runway types. Holding the letter from Raven, Clarke strolled up to one, wondering just how much duck face would be enough.
"Hi, my husband and I were interested in getting a membership here." She said in a low voice as Blake leaned against the counter, flashing the girl, who's name tag read "Samantha", a crooked smile that usually worked like a charm for him.
"Oh, well thank you for your interest in us but we're not taking any new memberships at the moment." The girl replied. She looked apologetic, but her voice was firm.
"We actually have a letter of recommendation from a friend of ours. We just moved out here and we're looking to have a little fun." Clarke slipped her the note and the girls lips pursed as she perused the contents. After a few minutes she gave it back to Clarke.
"Ms. Reyes is a great supporter of ours, however our policy is that prospective members need to be sponsored by another club member. We currently only have two members with open sponsorship slots."
"Perfect, there's two of us." Blake slid his arm around Clarke's shoulders and grinned.
"Unfortunately Ms. Woods and Mr. Collins are both very particular about who they'll sponsor. They can be very demanding."
"Well, we aim to please." Clarke gave the girl a wink but she didn't budge.
"If you guys want to try out you can, but I don't recommend it."
Blake raised an eyebrow.
"Try out? For what?" He asked, his usual personality returning.
"Like I said, they're very picky. They may ask you to do some things you're not exactly comfortable with. If you guys are looking for some fun you might want to try the Yacht Club down the road, they're very welcoming." Samantha folded her hands together, giving them a pointed look.
"We're really interested in this club in particular." Clarke retorted, pulling an Amex black card from the depths of her purse. The girl glanced at it, then back at them, and sighed. In a huff she walked away from the desk, returning with two clipboards.
"I'll need you to fill out these release forms before you can enter the club."
"Thank you." Blake snatched the clip boards and they retreated to one of the puffy leather sofas adorning the space.
Clarke flipped through the pages quickly, taking stock of the contents, and it was then she realized that this was not going to be like any other mission they'd gone on before. A non-disclosure agreement and a medical release were part of the package. Suddenly Clarke started to have her doubts.
"...should we...?" She whispered and Blake did a double take.
"We can't abandon the mission." He replied once he'd recovered.
Clarke bit her lip. Reservation was normally not her thing, not even in her line of work. Running into a warehouse full of cartel infantry didn't give her pause, but she had a strange feeling about this place.
"Fill out the damn forms Caroline." Blake hissed and Clarke lowered her head, filling in the blanks at a rapid pace. She was going to have to get over it.
Plastering a smile on her face she handed Samantha their paperwork and the girl glared at them, but didn't impede their progress anymore.
"Ethan you'll be interviewing with Mr. Collins and Caroline you'll be with Ms. Woods. I'll have someone show you over-"
"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second. Is there any way we could flip that?" Blake asked, chuckling nervously, and Samantha smiled for the first time, tilting her head back in an innocent manner.
"I'm afraid not. Ms. Woods only sponsors potential female members. But if you'd rather not go through with it I totally understand."
Blake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.
"That's...fine. Thanks for all your help." He tried to be conciliatory but as usual it came out closer to condescending. Samantha ignored him and hit a button behind the desk, inspiring a small portion of it to come swinging forward, creating a half door.
"Come with me."
Swallowing her rising sense of fear Clarke obeyed, with Blake close behind her. They entered a narrow hallway. The wooden floors shone even in the darkness, and Clarke could make out a few old paintings hanging on the walls.
Samantha led them up a spiral staircase, then stopped abruptly at the top of it. A burly young man was waiting for them there, dressed in form fitting black. Clarke snuck a glance over at Blake, who'd been washed purple by the light filtering in from a single stained glass window beside them.
"There are just a few security protocols. I hope you don't mind." Samantha was the picture of apathy as the young man moved toward Clarke. Blake twitched but didn't move as he procured a blind fold and slipped it over her head. There was total darkness, and Clarke fought the instinct to run as a hand was placed in the small of her back, pushing her forward. She heard Blake's footsteps disappear, leaving her with just the booted thud of the hired muscle. There were a few twists and turns, and then she was led over a threshold. There was a gust of air and a groaning sound as what Clarke assumed was a rather heavy door was swung open.
Her blindfold was removed, and she opened her eyes to meet a pair of striking green ones. Time stuttered to a stop.
Clarke's breathing slowed, her heart beating languidly inside her chest. Like her drug of choice it softened all the edges, and blurred out all the lines. She was transfixed.
"Thank you Declan." The woman said quietly to the young man who'd blindfolded Clarke. He bowed his head, then exited without a sound.
Striding up to Clarke she searched her face, her expression neutral. Clarke had forgotten how to speak. She just stood there.
Her observer was tall, and statuesque. Her features recalling a more classical period, far in antiquity. Surrounded by the equally beautiful vintage furniture of the office they stood in, it seemed to Clarke that they might've been in a whole other world.
"Lexa Woods." The woman introduced herself curtly, an air of impatience about her. Her voice was surprisingly soft and musical, and Clarke struggled to get her own name off the tip of her tongue.
"I'm Caroline...Forrester..." Her voice trailed off as Lexa's brows furrowed.
"And why do you want to join the Sign of the Lion, Caroline?" Lexa folded her arms over her chest, looking Clarke up and down. The agent turned red, stammering out a response.
"It was highly recommended, b-by a friend. We're new here."
"We?"
"My husband and I." Clarke tried to sound normal but her voice caught a little as Lexa's eyes flashed.
"Becoming a probate is very challenging." Lexa replied.
"...I aim to please." Clarke repeated her statement from earlier, forcing herself back into character.
Lexa's full lips twitched, but her expression remained neutral.
"It's not something you should take on lightly."
Clarke tried to look thoughtful for a moment, then looked into Lexa's eyes.
"I can handle it." She replied, determined to do her job and do it well. Many had tried and failed to graduate from her recruiting class, and even agents that had made the cut were now back to civilian life, unable to handle the rigors of the darker side of humanity. Whatever it was, Clarke was sure she could do it.
Lexa took a step closer to her, and Clarke fought the copacetic wave that followed.
She didn't have to fight for very long though, as it dissolved completely when Lexa took her face in her hands. Clarke sucked in a breath, her knees going weak.
"You may audition, if you'd like." Lexa's voice was hypnotizing, and Clarke couldn't have refused if she wanted to.
"I do." Clarke responded and Lexa let go of her, backing away. She folded her arms again and her eyes went cold.
"Strip." She ordered.
Clarke felt her lips part as her mouth fell open.
Slightly panicked, it suddenly dawned on her that the security measures and endless release forms were probably for one very good reason.
Steeling herself she pulled off her shirt, staring a hole into the floor as she took off the rest of her clothes. Vaguely, she wondered if Blake was somewhere doing the same thing.
When she was as naked as the day she came she looked up, sure her cheeks were blazing. She'd been with a woman before, and a man, but that was it. Her work didn't leave her much time for other pursuits, and pleasure wasn't something she usually sought out. Clarke was much more inclined to pain.
Lexa remained inscrutable as she took in the sight of a totally naked Clarke Griffin.
"On your knees." She demanded and Clarke sank down into the plush carpet beneath her, unable to hold Lexa's gaze. Meanwhile Lexa walked over behind Clarke, leaning down to take the blonde's arms and fold them across her own back. When she was done she faced Clarke again and Clarke hung her head, breathing hard.
Taking Clarke by the shoulders Lexa pushed her down further, until her bare ass made contact with her calves, and only then did she look satisfied.
"When I tell you to sit, this is the position you will assume. Understood?"
Clarke nodded, shaking slightly now.
Lexa walked away from her to lean against the huge mahogany desk in the room, then beckoned her.
"Come."
Clarke's nails dug into her own arms as she considered her next move. It was definitely part of the test, and she was used to getting A's. Swallowing her pride she started forward on hands and knees. The air itself was a shock to her exposed skin, and she was threatened with paralysis every time she thought about what she was doing.
Abigail Griffin's daughter would never suffer this position.
But she wasn't Abby Griffin's daughter anymore, and she wouldn't be until this case was over.
Arriving at the slick leather of Lexa's boots she clutched the carpet.
Lexa lifted Clarke's head up with her thumb and forefinger, leading her by the chin to her side.
"Sit."
Clarke obeyed, acutely aware of Lexa's body so close to hers. Lexa's put her hand around the back of Clarke's neck, gripping hard as she forced Clarke to lay her head against her thigh.
"Lean into me." Lexa instructed and Clarke closed her eyes as she did so.
"This is how you will heel." Releasing Clarke's neck Lexa stroked her shoulders, running her fingertips across the perfect, unblemished planes.
Unaccustomed to the contact, Clarke involuntarily moved away. Lexa took her by the neck again, and pushed her back onto her hands and knees.
"Come." Lexa growled and Clarke felt it right in the pit of her stomach. She followed Lexa dutifully as the brunette walked around the room, speeding up and slowing down at her leisure. She made Clarke sit whenever it suited her, and after a few minutes Clarke was perspiring, her skin raw from the carpet. Lexa strode into the center of the room, then made her sit and heel. Clarke took the chance to catch her breath, her body buzzing. It seemed all of her blood was pumping into one area, and she hid her face against Lexa's trousers. It was a new feeling for Clarke, and her head started to swim from all the stimuli.
"Stay." Lexa patted Clarke's head as she gave the command and Clarke made a tiny sound, feeling completely humiliated.
Going to the desk Lexa picked up a small basket. It was filled with ribbons of different fabric, and she scattered them across the room, sneaking an occasional glance at Clarke.
When the basket was empty Lexa took it with her to the arm chair in the corner, a perfect vantage point for her.
"Come." Sitting down she called for Clarke, who tried not to whimper as she executed the command.
When Clarke got to her Lexa reached out to stroke her face, then leaned back with a devilish expression.
"Fetch."
Clarke was frozen for a minute, held in place by the dazzling quality of Lexa's smile.
"You may not use your hands." She added and Clarke stared her down, throbbing all over. Lexa's beauty was criminal. She couldn't look away.
"I gave you a command." Lexa snapped, her smile disappearing in an instant, and Clarke found herself not wanting to disappoint her.
The different textures teased Clarke's mouth as she retrieved them one by one. Lexa held the basket just slightly out of reach so Clarke had to rise to drop a ribbon in, giving her a full view of Clarke's naked form. She was enjoying this much more than she should have been.
As Clarke placed the last ribbon Lexa couldn't stop herself from running her fingers across the sharp angles of Clarke's face.
She put the basket down and pulled Clarke up gently. Clarke was grateful to land in Lexa's lap, her palms and knees burning.
"Heel." Lexa's voice was languid as she slid her palm from Clarke's shoulder all the way down to her ankle. Clarke rested her head on Lexa's shoulder and leaned into her. She felt herself fraying, her soul threatening to come exposed as she breathed Lexa in. Closing her eyes tightly she reminded herself of the mission, of Blake, and Chris, and the Chief, but she still felt cold as Lexa stood up, disengaging from her.
"You can get dressed now." She announced, straightening her own clothes. Dazed, Clarke slowly got dressed. Her brain could no longer process much of anything and she simply stood there swaying. Lexa regarded her coolly.
"You'll receive a phone call from the front office once I've made my decision. You're dismissed."
"...okay." Clarke replied softly, then speed walked over to the door. Declan was waiting for her on the other side of it, and she ended up being thankful for the blindfold as it absorbed the tears that had built up in the corners of her eyes. As Clarke and Blake reunited they faked it as hard as they could until they left the club. After that both agents ran out of words to say.
-/-/-/-/-/-/
tbc
r&r's welcome
thanks for reading
a/n: repost, took down for some admin stuff & working on other websites etc. Updates will be weekly from now on.