The girl – or rather, woman – was taller than Clarke, seemed to be their age, had brown hair and her posture had something pleading. She was kinda hot. She stood close to a grumpy Bellamy and looked at him with an ailing expression. When Bellamy spot Clarke, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and, for a moment, he looked at her seeking help, before pulling a joyfully excited face.

"Hey, baby!", Bellamy shouted across the hall.

Clarke cringed. He never called her "baby", never ever, because she didn't want to be put on a level with a toddler and they also didn't had that kind of a relationship. The girl turned around hastily.

And then she realised that it was their code. The code their friends agreed upon for club and bar nights to get out of uncomfortable situations. Away from people who only accepted a No from an apparent, usually heterosexual, partner. It usually worked, sometimes with a bit of PDA, and once, even Murphy put an arm around Clarke's shoulder and asked a shady boy if everything was alright with him and "my girlfriend". But Bellamy didn't use their code normally.

Her feet were already carrying her to him. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind within split-seconds. She didn't know the girl and she didn't know what kind of relationship she and Bellamy were having. The girl wore an estimating expression, slightly haunted and possessive. But Bellamy, who respected and honoured people and their sentiments, wouldn't ask her for fooling that girl if he couldn't help it. He trusted her and she trusted him and he needed help right now.

That's what allies were there for, right?

And that's how Clarke replied "Hey, babe!" with a huge smile across her face, ignored the shocked girl and didn't stop when she stepped into Bellamy's personal space. She stretched herself, held Bellamy's collar and pressed her lips onto his.

Suddenly, everything exploded. Every part of her body trembled. She probably crossed a line right now, but Bellamy put his arm around her and dragged her closer, heat radiated from his touch and ran through her whole body, a hand of hers found its way to Bellamy's neck and pulled him down, her legs shuddered and her breathing was fast-paced and irregular –

They parted and shared a quick smile which ripped right into Clarke's heart, caught their breaths and turned around as if a quick, intense hello kiss like that was nothing new to them. They expectantly looked at the girl.

She closed her opened mouth and looked kind of sickened. "That's – … is she – … you have a girlfriend?!"

Clarke's mind zoomed. Girlfriend. This kiss had shocked her as well, her body's reaction wasn't really planned to be like that, and it sunk in that she really, really, really liked standing to close to Bellamy, so tall, protective, safe –

"I told you there's nothing from my part", said Bellamy matter-of-factly and Clarke shivered at his deep, hoarse voice.

The unknown girl looked from Bellamy to Clarke and back again and tried to form a sentence.

Bellamy laid his arm around Clarke's shoulders. The unexpected touch hit her heart, deeply, and she nearly let go a sob. But she managed to play along and smiled at the girl. "Bye then", said Clarke, while Bellamy guided her through the open door into his flat.

With a last look at the girl Bellamy said "You find the way out yourself?" and shut the door with a bang.

"Whoa, we were evil", said Clarke and pressed her face and hands on Bellamy's door in order to look through the spyhole. On the one hand, she wanted to see how the girl left but, most importantly, she wanted to give herself the ability to gain control over their facial expressions again. According to how her cheeks burnt, she was pretty sure they were red and she could imagine quite well that the emotional roller-coaster was represented in her features very well. Bellamy could use this moment as well – maybe – hopefully – most likely … not.

"Hey", Bellamy said in a low voice next to her. "O isn't home."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see you.", whispered Clarke back, eyes glued to the spyhole.

"What is she doing?", Bellamy asked quietly, meaning the girl. He was much closer than she thought he was and Clarke jumped a little.

"She's, eh, she's still standing there", Clarke whispered slowly. "Ah, now she's going to the elevator … she steps inside … and now she's gone." Clarke smiled and turned around. "Hey Bellamy."

"Hey. So, thank you", Bellamy said in normal volume. "I met her at work and … well, it's a bit embarrassing, but she wanted to walk me home and I couldn't shake her off. I think I just smiled at her too often … well. Sorry for using the code. I didn't know what to do, she didn't let go."

Instead of listing some of the things he could have done instead like a normal person (he was standing in front of his own flat after all), she muttered:

"To be fair, your smile does have some persuasiveness." She nearly swallowed her tongue after she realised what she had said.

"Guess I should keep you around then", Bellamy said with a smirk. For fuck's sake. It looked good on him.

But this was too much. She was way too depleted of the hormonal cocktail called emotions in her body and the kiss and its resulting affection had left her totally confused and puzzled. She wanted to laugh so bad, to straighten up and start new, but this flirting now didn't help her emotional state at all and all exhaustion, emotional and physical, filled every cell of her body again, rushing over her, forcing her to lose control and there was a pressure behind her eyes and tears –

"Whoa, Clarke, what's going on?" Bellamy's body language switched in an instant. Where he had been tall, bantering and dominant, he was now soft, peaceful and caring.

That didn't really help either.

"I just ..." But her voice broke and she tired to pull herself together again, distorted her eyebrows, wrinkled her nose, forced the tears back, breathed, found her voice again. "It just all added up, you know." And she had to roll her lips and nod pleadingly because now small sobs really forced themselves out of her.

"Clarke!" Bellamy came closer and put a hand on her arm.

"It's just", she interrupted him. "It's just that this week hasn't really been nice, you know, emotion-wise and …" She had to look away for a moment and breath. "I haven't slept enough and didn't eat well and I remembered all the things which had happened to me in my life and –" She shrugged slightly as a sniff caught her again. Her voice broke but she kept talking. " – how I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to survive, you know."

She couldn't bear looking into his observing eyes so she watched away. Her hands were clashed before her stomach and something in her shook, making her uneasy. "And my mother hasn't called me back."

"Okay, you know what?", Bellamy said. "You'll stay. I actually would have had to work tonight but no way you'll be alone now."

"No, Bellamy!", Clarke burst out. "We can do this –"

"No", he said determined and pulled out his phone. "Go make yourself comfortable. I'll be there in a minute."

Clarke sat down on the long side of Bellamy's bed. When Bellamy's attention was away from her, Clarke realised that all her sorrows, problems and confusions built a tight, tight nest in her chest and attracted every muscle around them like a black hole. She dropped her head and put her elbow on her knees. Her mind rattled and twisted and behaved really unhealthy.

Bellamy came into the room with his hands on his waist. "I switched my shift with Miller. Need to work on the weekend then."

A tear fell on Clarke's cheek and now she couldn't stop, her mouth distorted and she swallowed hard and she shakingly said: "I think I've ruined it with my mum completely."

Immediately, Bellamy was in front of her, cowering, holding her hands. She couldn't believe how small her own fingers looked in his. She looked up and saw the worry in his eyes.

"She hasn't reached out for me in a week. A week, Bellamy."

He stroke her knuckles and kept his eyes on her. "Have you tried calling her?"

"I did!", Clarke cried. "I did, but she didn't pick up. I can't do it any more. Anything", she said, all energy removed from her body. She let her head drop again and tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry, running down her nose and dropping on their intertwined fingers. Her throat tied up and suddenly she got the sniffles. "This week was so bad."

Bellamy, still stroking her hand, waited and Clarke swallowed. She had to tell him everything, he needed to understand. "I felt so good on the weekend but then, on Monday, it just went downhill. The lab report is total rubbish and I had to work way too much and nothing worked out and now I hate my fellow students and I probably failed an important test."

Bellamy swallowed and Clarke continued. "It sounds so pathetic, I know, but it really dragged me down. It's so grey outside, Bellamy. And then I seriously miss my mother and I'm afraid I've went too far and when I was tidying up, I've found a drawing of Lexa and …" She had to stop because now her body flinched with snobs. But Bellamy kept moving his fingertips in a calming, simple movement. "… and I remembered how every good thing got ruined or was fake and god, Bellamy. This feels too much for me. I feel like everything is so hard and I'm left alone to deal with it."

Suddenly, his sweet movements turn harsh and he squeezes her hands. "You're not alone, Clarke."

She sniffled and tried to blink her tears away to see normal again. It didn't work.

"Clarke, seriously, look at me", Bellamy ordered.

Clarke found his eyes. They were full of serious worry. He looked as if he was about to cry himself.

"Don't go. You've done incredibly brave things, okay? Turning away from your mum?" He shifted his weight but kept sinking into her eyes, looking up to her in wonder. "You had everything, you – you didn't need to think about where you should get your next meal from, you had a warm and clean home, you didn't need to worry about your school fees. But you didn't want to be depending on your mum any longer, you wanted to be responsible for yourself, and you were so brave in leaving that behind, and Clarke …" His eyes were huge in wonder and admiration and she stopped breathing – "You are doing so well. You reconcile your university and house work so well, you manage to have a social life and you look healthy. I have so much respect for what you did and how well you cope with it."

Her wet cheeks were forgotten. Clarke looked at Bellamy with an open mouth, flabbergasted at the veneration in his eyes. She tried to find her voice again and swallowed hard. "You … I never knew you thought that way." She cleared her throat and squeezed his hands. "I mean, I always thought you hated me for my privilege." More silent, she added: "And I still live off my parent's education fund."

"Well, you'd be totally mad if you didn't. When you were moving out, I thought you were totally crazy for turning your mum's support down", Bellamy said, looking down on their hands. "Even with all that trouble going on in your family. – O told me some of it", he said at her startled expression. "But believe me when I say it only made you stronger. Gosh, Clarke, you step into a room and everybody dances to your tune. People look up to you and I … I trust you, Clarke."

Clarke watched his face. It was so open, so unlocked, so faithful. She chocked up a bit.

"And I think you should call your mum again", he said. He stroke her knee and stood up to get her some tissues. Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. After blowing her nose, she reached out for her phone and settled back onto his bed, back resting against the wall.

"Thank you, Bellamy", she said silently to him standing next to her, looking up through her eye lashes.

He nodded shortly. "Want me to leave?"

"No, please, stay here." She patted the space on his bed next to her and when he sat, she reached for his hand. And his big, rough and warm fingers folded around hers, and a breeze of relief, unity and hope rushed to her. Suddenly she thought she'd be able to go through anything as long as Bellamy hold her hand. She pushed that childish (yet very pleasant) thought away and called her mum.

Abigail picked up after the fourth signal.

"Clarke!", she said, excitement in her voice.

Suddenly, all her chains bursts and her throat closed off again. "Mum?"

She barely registered how Bellamy reassuringly squeezed her left hand. All she could focus on was her mum's voice in her phone. "I'm so happy you called again, I was in a meeting and this place is like hell right now. There is a charge against the clinic and Marcus is running his feet bloody, trying to negotiate a way out of it. – No, no, go ask Jackson, …" As her mum gave commands to a staff member, relief flood through Clarke's veins and she closed her eyes to sink into the feeling. "Plus, a doctor can't be found and seems to be sick, too, so I barely get a free minute." Clarke hears how a door was shut and abruptly, there were no more hectic noises of a clinic but only her mum.

"Oh, Clarke. Hope you're well."

Clarke cleared her throat. "I sent you a mail", she said quietly.

Abby hesitated for a moment. "Yes, you did." Then: "Look, Clarke, I never thought you felt that way. I just wanted to help."

"I know", Clarke said, new tears filling her eyes. "But this is working, okay? I'm all good, you don't need to … "

"I will always feel the need to protect you, Clarke", Abby said rationally. "You're my daughter." Then, after a moment and more hushed: "You're the only one left."

Clarke sniffed. She whispered, "I know." She swallowed hard and then silently said: "Mum, I miss him."

She heart how Abby took a deep breath. "I miss him, too. This is not very easy, still. I miss him every day."

It's been two years and for the first time, they did something close to talking about it.

"Oh, Clarke, I wish I could hug you right now."

Silent tears run down Clarke's cheeks. Abby's love for her seeped through the phone and she realised that loving her mum and working with her … it was way more easy and rewarding than arguing with her.

Violently, Clarke brushed the tears away and grabbed Bellamy's hand again right after.

"Don't worry, I'm at the Blake's right now."

"Good", Abby said delighted. "I don't want you to be alone."

Clarke turned her head and looked into Bellamy's face. Smirking a bit, she replied: "I'm not alone." And she couldn't quite read Bellamy's expression first – was it goodness, pride, affection? – but he hold her hand tight and pulled it into his chest. She could feel his heart beat and breathing and she nearly missed Abby's question.

"… meet on the weekend?"

"What? Yeah, sure!

"How about brunch on Sunday?"

Clarke tried to remember her calender. "Should be fine. Yes, let's do it."

"Great, I'll pick you up at eleven?"

"Deal." She grinned into herself. Then, she tensed and sat up straight. "So, mum."

"Hm-mh."

"I'm very grateful for your financial support, it's helping me so much, really. But can we agree on the fact that you let me study and as soon as things don't work out, like, I don't know, I fail in too many classes or get shitty grades or just need some help, I reach out to you and we talk through it? And apart from that, you let me be in charge?"

Abby chuckled a bit. "I hope you reach out to me a little bit before you fail classes."

"Okay, all right."

"Then it's settled. I'm sorry, Clarke, really, I just need to get used to you being away from me … but being still there, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean", Clarke said honestly. "I love you, mum."

There was no moment of hesitation when Abby answered: "I love you, too, darling."

"So, tell me about that charge and how Marcus is all haywire."

Abby laughed and told Clarke about a difficult patient with an even more difficult operation. Bellamy, who understood that the intense part of the conversation was over, moved to stand up. Putting all thankfulness into her eyes she could collect, Clarke smiled at him and let him go.

"I'll make dinner?", he mouthed.

She nodded and whispered: "I'll help you."

"No, stay here." And he walked into the kitchen.

As Abby told Clarke how she eases Marcus down, Clarke changed into more comfortable pants and cuddled herself onto Bellamy's bed. The fabrics were incredible soft and the pillows big and crushy. She tucked her feet under the quilt at the end of the bed and felt like she could stay there all night.

"Okay, my break is over. I need to see what my patients are doing."

"Sure. Take care, mum."

"You too. See you on Sunday."

"See you." She hung up and looked out of the window.

A storm seemed to come, the branches danced more hectic and sudden, the grey sky turned dark. Now that she had ended the call, dark spirits started to slowly creep out of their niches once more, approaching and cornering her. She felt being watched, but Bellamy was still working in the kitchen and O wasn't home. She pressed a small pillow into her stomach, hoping it would help and release the pressure and nausea. It only made her face tense up again.

Bellamy walked into his room with a tray in his hand. "Figured we could break all the rules now anyway and eat on the bed. Whatever the hell we want." He chuckled.

Clarke looked at him with a mocking shocked expression and laughed. He walked around and balanced the tray on the bed.

"Thank you, Bellamy", she said earnestly.

He smiled into himself and Clarke actually had to look at it in wonder. The way his outer edges curled up and his eyes squeezed shut were really unmatchable.

Clarke let her eyes drop to the tray. Noodles with tomato sauce and cheese were served in two white bowls. Her stomach tensed in a bad way and she had to swallow. Suddenly, she was very cold.

Arranging the silverware, Bellamy babbled about how that dish had always helped him and Octavia to feel better. Clarke tried to pull herself together, because Bellamy did not deserve her sickened expression. He had helped her, had told her nice things, had comforted her and now even made her dinner. He deserved to see a happy Clarke.

She quickly grabbed a bowl and forced a smile, saying thanks. They made themselves comfortable and Clarke forced herself through eating from the bowl. The food was delicious, it warmed her from within, but it did not help to let the memories disappear. When she had eaten half of it, tears started to drop into the sauce, again, and she was so sick of it. She put her head back and let out a frustrated "damn".

Bellamy looked up and saw her tears, his expression alarmed immediately. Clarke didn't react and blinked, trying to force her tears back again.

"I'm sorry, Clarke."

His voice was so miserable and so dark that she had to look at him. He sat cross-legged, the bowl in one of his large, dark hands, but his shoulders sunken and head dropped.

"Why are you sorry?", Clarke asked silently, pushing the tears away.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he looked up at her and his expression startled her. The tension around his eyes, the grimace around his mouth, everything of him, even his nostrils, screamed at her what a fool she was for not realising how bad he was in truth. It shocked her because she couldn't think of anyone who cared more about his people than Bellamy.

"I told you to tell your mother to leave you alone. Look at what it got you."

She groaned in her head and got defences up. "Yeah, I see what it got me. It got me a long-overdue talk about my life, about my mum's support and about the death of my father. Bellamy, it was right." And with underlining force she put her bowl onto the tray.

He still looked at her doubtingly, searching for a hidden drawback. With as much assuring force as she could handle, she said right into his face: "I need you, okay? I wouldn't got this far without you." Then, warmer: "You're forgiven, okay?" And she reached to knee and squeezed it softly.

His eyes flickered over her face, down her body, to the tray, to her eyes, disbelieving, seeing glory, soft. There were some tears in them and the sad sparkle they created made Clarke's heart ache. Then, Bellamy took a long breath and focused on her. "But you don't seem really happy."

Clarke dropped her head. All of the misery in her body was there again, poking her, making her sick. "Because I'm not." The palms of her hands were pressed together between her tights, tears started to emerge once again and she was so, so sick of it. Because now, some long buried ghosts came crawled up again.

"Tell me", Bellamy said softly and put the tray away.

Her throat hurt and her head ached from all the sniffle. "No."

"Clarke ..."

"No, Bellamy, you don't need to do this. You don't need to sooth any more crying."

"God, Clarke, don't abandon me here. Talk to me … please."

But she couldn't because she had put up her legs and now covered her face between knees and hands. Heavy sobs shuttered her whole body. Bellamy crawled closer and stroke a hand up and down her back.

Desperately, Clarke shouted: "I want it to stop, I want to stop crying, I want to stop feeling weak, but, but when I was sick, I always got noodles in a bowl from my dad and it just –"

Suddenly, Bellamy was around her. He embraced her back and knees, pressing her against his front and her body was shaking with sobs. As the emptiness she felt after her father's death crushed her again, he held her together, and he was keeping her. He slowly put his head next to hers. He soothed her with his presence and Clarke's lungs worked easier with him around.

"I'm so sorry", he breathed close to her ear. "I didn't know –"

"You couldn't", Clarke interrupted him, the effect of her stuffy nose destroyed by her fierceness. She moved so she could see in his face easily and Bellamy gave her some space. Lost in thought, she said: "You'd think it gets easier at some point. But it probably was obligated to come up, now, too. That whole week, and my mum …" Her voice broke. "We haven't talked about it like that in … ever, I think."

Bellamy looked at her, searched her eyes, a thumb rubbing slowly over her shoulder where he held her.

"I think about my mother a lot", he said softly. "What she'd do, how she'd lived. What she'd think about O and me. And I have so many things I'd like to tell her and show her and I …"

They looked at each other and understood. The things they experienced and the feelings which came with it, they were so similar. They were in the same boat. There probably was no-one who could relate to them the way they could relate to each other.

Clarke leaned into him and dumped her nose to his shoulder.

They sat like that for a long while, legs next to each other, arms wrapped around, heads close. Clarke didn't have to express her emotional state to Bellamy, he knew exactly what thoughts crossed her mind. And by her presence, by her seeking comfort from him, Clarke could let Bellamy feel worth, good, enough. The grey clouds outside turned darker, the lamps in Bellamy's room lighter and their food cold.

The same mute way they had leaned into each other earlier, they now leaned away. They looked each other in the eyes and saw the peace, the relief, the melancholia, and knew: They had overcome this wave of depression, hearts not fully healed but pasted. They had done this together and there was hope.

They were surrounded by a strong, comforting bubble of trust and closeness. And Clarke rested one hand on Bellamy's tight, and Bellamy lazily played with one of Clarke's strand of hair.

"What would you like to show your mother?", Clarke said quietly, eyes fixed on his incredible long lower arm.

Bellamy's voice was dark and harsh. "You, for starters."

Clarke's gaze hushed over Bellamy's strong torso, his curly hair, his sharp jawbone and caught his burning eyes. Their eyes locked intensely for a heated moment until his gaze dropped to her lips.

And suddenly, everything was there again. How they had kissed in front of his door, how his lips had felt under hers, how he had pulled her into him, how her breath had stopped and now her breath had stopped, too, and the only logical thing was to clinch to him –

And she moved forward and Bellamy's hand moved from her strand to her neck and as if they'd already done this a thousand times, their lips met.

He was so warm under her, moving with her, embracing her. She grabbed his shirt to pull him closer, her stomach flipped and she felt incredibly light and his breath and smell and body was everywhere. She could not see another thing, she couldn't hear another thing, she couldn't sense another thing than Bellamy all around her, taking up her vision, rustling, hugging her whole back. And she didn't want to.

As her tongue flipped over his lips, he let go a heavy deep groan. The noise rushed through her whole body, making goosebumps, and she slit her tongue between his parted lips. The hot wetness made her shiver and she desperately needed to move. The way they sat half next, half behind each other created a difficult angle and she couldn't feel as much Bellamy as she wanted to. She had been pressed into him earlier by the door, whole body to his side, and gosh, she wanted that again.

So she clasped her other hand on his shoulder, reinforced her kiss, trying to stable herself before moving her hips but before she could do anything more, Bellamy gave into her pull and pressed her back down on the mattress.

Deep sensation rushed through her veins and Bellamy was everywhere. His torso shielded most of the light in the room, took up most of her vision and she felt his heat radiating from him. Their bellies didn't touch, but Bellamy hovered over her, his head in the crook of her neck, kissing and licking lines and Clarke stretched her head to give him more room. He arranged his legs so that one lay by her side, the other one between hers. Every touch ran right to her belly and when she could feel his tongue behind her ears, she let go a shattered groan.

She grabbed his head, tried to find a hold between his dark curls, and pulled him back to her face. She copped his jaws with her hands and stretched upwards to meet his lips when Bellamy stopped and slowly pulled away. Really away. When he sat up, his expression clearly indicated he thought this was a bad idea. He stared into emptiness and the room between them was incredibly big, cold and empty. Rain drops clashed against the huge windows.

She swallowed. She tried to throw the feeling of rejection far out of the window and followed him, sitting up too. "Spit it out", she said in a slightly annoyed tone. She tried to cool down again, slowing her breath and blood.

He looked miserable. He pressed his lips together in a small, long line, clenching his jaw. "I'm not doing it." He didn't look at her.

Her expression faltered. Numerous thoughts rushed through her brain, setting it on fire, panicking her, but she needed to stay calm and untroubled. She was a grown-up and could handle this.

"Okay", she said and then her voice was croaky. "Why?"

Bellamy sat at the opposite corner of his bed – as far as he could get, a shrill voice screamed in her mind, and they didn't touch anywhere any more and she felt incredible cold and her breath went fast. He still didn't look at her.

"I'm not taking advantage of …" He waved around her. His voice was hard and hurting, relentless, cold. "... of your emotional state."

Something in her shattered.

Bellamy cleared his throat. "You obviously don't have a clear head right now. With everything going on." He turned away from her. And that movement, that putting down on leg to the ground, that showing her his back, that made her snap.

"Don't you dare to speak for myself when it comes to my feelings for you."

It sounded way harsher, more bitter than she had wanted and he yanked his head up. His eyes carefully, closely flowed around her face, trying to read her and what she meant. If he'd got a clue, he didn't seem to comprehend it.

And Clarke sighed. "Oh, Bellamy", she said, getting on her knees and crawling towards him. She was aware how she showed off her boobs by that and when she saw how Bellamy swallowed, she silently hoped that if she couldn't convince him with words or heart, maybe her body could. She craned and halted inches before his head. Their eyes were on the same level and she could see the three moles on the bridge of his nose. Seriously, she said:

"I came to you because I needed you. You, no one else. Doesn't that mean anything?"

His mouth was distorted, his eyes haunted. He didn't believe her. She cupped his jaws and held his gaze. "I needed your head, your brain, your spirits. I didn't need your body." She chuckled quietly. "Although it's a nice addition, to be honest."

He covered his face in the crook of her neck.

"Clarke", he breathed.

She closed her eyes. When he whispered, his lips brushed across her naked skin, his warm breath made her shiver and she nearly let go a moan. "I don't want this to be a one time thing."

She smiled. "Then I bet you're lucky. Because me neither."

"Really?"

"Really."

He raised his head and one large hand of his found her knee, the other one rested at her waist. His head hovered over hers, curls, amber skin, elegantly curved lips. She looked at him and there was his scar, his hollow in his chin, his prominent philtrum between mouth and nose. Shadows of beard, shadows under his eyes, moles and wrinkles. Everything was at its place and deep sensation rushed through her heart. She smiled at him and he chuckled.

Bellamy leaned forward until their noses softly bumped into each other. With closed eyes, they let their noses explore; they inhaled their closeness, their longing, their trust. Bellamy opened his mouth and out came a hoarse, throaty question:

"Together?"

And Clarke's hand reached for his chin, embracing his jaw and while she perceived the contrast of her small, light fingers on his strong, dark skin, she nodded and let go a smile. "Together."

Important note: The original version of the next chapter begins with an explicit part (1,2k words). Due to the community guidelines of , I have chosen to not upload that part of the chapter - and taken care that the story still makes a lot of sense without it. So, no intense love-making in the next chapter here. However, if you want to read it, head over to ao3 where you can find the story under the same name (both title and author). Hope you understand my reasoning and have fun reading it nevertheless.