Once Clarke is over the shock of Wells coming home early, she's actually happy to have him home. Yeah, maybe he doesn't fuck her quite as good as Bellamy does. But he loves her, and she loves him and he's her best friend. And as long as he doesn't find out about Bellamy, Clarke plans to keep it that way.

Bellamy never replies to her message, but she can see that he's seen it, and when she and Wells get home from dinner, there is no trace of him in the apartment. She takes Wells to their bedroom and they make love on clean sheets that Bellamy must have changed while they were out. She doesn't come, but it's still nice.

They spend the day together on Saturday, and Wells pretends to be offended when Clarke leaves the house on Saturday night to go out for drinks with Octavia and Raven. But Raven has such a busy schedule that if Clarke doesn't see her tonight, she probably won't see her for another three months.

They meet at their usual hangout spot, and it's been weeks since she's seen either of them, so there's plenty to catch up on. Raven is dating some guy named Shaw, and Octavia is pretty sure there's a woman at work that's into her. But weirdly, Octavia is much more interested in Clarke.

"What's up with you and my brother?" she asks, sipping at her gin and tonic. Clarke almost chokes on her own drink.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

Octavia raises an eyebrow. "You know what I mean. He was at your house, taking care of you. Since when are you even friends?"

Clarke shrugs, swirling her straw in her drink. "We had a good time at Lana Del Rey." An understatement. "He's not as bad as I thought."

"I never thought I'd see the day," Raven laughs.

"So, what? You were sick and you called him?" Octavia presses. And okay, to be fair, Octavia has every reason to be suspicious. Clarke has known Bellamy for seven years and they've never once hung out alone together without Octavia forcing it on them.

"I didn't call him," Clarke huffs. "He called me to… see if I wanted to hang out. Because we're friends. And I happened to be sick."

"If you say so," Octavia says. Thankfully she's satisfied enough to change the subject. But Clarke can't help but feel a little uneasy. Does Octavia know something? Or suspect something? Or does she just think it's weird that after seven years Clarke suddenly decided she likes her brother?

Clarke is up making coffee the next morning, Wells still asleep in bed, when Bellamy rings. She stares at her phone for a moment, her heart thudding.

"Bellamy?" she answers. When he hadn't responded to her text the other night, she thought he might be mad at her, so she's a little surprised that he's calling. Plus, though she'd never said it out loud, she kind of assumed she would always be the one doing the booty calling.

"Octavia doesn't believe me that you and I are friends," Bellamy says.

Clarke grins. "She wouldn't believe me either."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"What are you doing today? We should hang out."

Clarke bites her lip. She doesn't have any plans with Wells today, and her throbbing pussy is currently reminding her she never got her scheduled orgasm on Friday. "Okay," Clarke agrees, already anticipating what he'll do to her.

"Come over to my place when you can?"

"Sure," Clarke agrees. "See you soon," she says, ending the call. She takes the coffee back into the bedroom. Wells groans as she wakes him up.

"Hey," she says softly, handing him a cup of coffee while he squints at her. "You didn't have any plans for us today, did you, babe?"

Wells shakes his head, sipping the coffee. "Why?"

"Bellamy asked me if I want to hang out," Clarke says. Better to go with mostly the truth.

Wells frowns. "Bellamy? You hate him."

"I don't hate him."

"You think he's annoying and no fun."

"I changed my mind. We're friends now."

Wells stares at her a moment longer. "Okay. Whatever. These Blakes keep stealing you from me," he jokes.

Clarke smiles at him. "I'm sure I won't be out long. We can watch the new episode of that doctor show you like when I get home."

"Okay," Wells murmurs. He leans in for a kiss and Clarke obliges, before Wells falls back against the pillows.

Clarke heads for the shower then, and puts on a tiny skirt after towelling herself off, not bothering with panties. Bellamy will probably only take them from her anyway. She gives Wells a kiss on the head before she goes out.

She's already dripping wet when she reaches Bellamy's apartment building, just from fantasising about him fucking her. He buzzes her up, and she's ready for him to grab her and fuck her against the wall as soon as he opens the door to his apartment. But instead he walks out into the hallway with a picnic basket and says, "Ready to go?" He closes the door.

"Go where?" Clarke asks, confused.

Bellamy shrugs. He holds up the basket. "For a picnic."

"A picnic?"

"You don't like picnics?"

"I mean… picnics are fine," Clarke says. "But we're really just hanging out? You didn't ask me here so you could fuck my brains out?"

Bellamy shakes his head. "I'm trying to prove to Octavia that you and I are friends. That means we have to hang out without having sex."

Clarke pouts. "But I didn't put on panties."

Bellamy groans, looking pained. He grabs her hand and pulls her close. Clarke closes her eyes, sure he's going to kiss her. "Don't make this any harder than it is," he whispers. Then he lets her go, and Clarke opens her eyes to see him striding off down the hallway. She hurries to catch up with him. Clarke half expects him to burst out laughing and tell her this is some elaborate prank and then take her to a fancy hotel.

They take his car, and he opens the door for her and then puts the picnic basket in the back and settles himself behind the wheel. Clarke tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She's not even sure why she suddenly feels so nervous. It's just Bellamy. Stupid Bellamy she's known for seven years, who's fucked her too many times to count, and who now apparently wants to be her friend.

"You okay?" he asks, starting the car.

Clarke nods shortly. "Of course."

They drive for an hour, and Bellamy manages to make conversation the whole way. Clarke is sure she must have responded in some way, but she can't remember a thing she said now, as he pulls into a gravel drive that leads to a parking lot. There are a few other cars parked haphazardly, there are no lines to mark the spaces. Bellamy pulls up and turns off the car.

"Where are we?" Clarke asks, unclipping her seatbelt.

"Lake Patterson."

She can't see the lake from here, there are pine trees in every direction. Bellamy gets out of the car and grabs the picnic basket, and Clarke follows.

They walk along a track to the lake, and Bellamy finds a clear spot amongst the pine trees to put the blanket down, with a clear view of the lake and the track around it. They pass a woman jogging around the lake, and a couple of people walking their dogs, but other than that, the place is pretty deserted.

Bellamy sits down on the blanket and Clarke copies, her eyes on him the whole time. She folds her legs under herself as Bellamy starts pulling things out of the picnic basket.

"You want ham or chicken?" Bellamy asks, holding up two sandwiches.

"Chicken," Clarke tells him, though she doesn't really care either way. He hands her the sandwich and starts unwrapping his own. He looks at Clarke, frowning at her as she cradles her sandwich. She bites her lip.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy asks. "You're acting weird."

The truth is, Clarke can't help but think that this whole thing feels like… well, a date. And she knows it's not, because she has a boyfriend and Bellamy doesn't want her like that anyway. It's just sex and friendship. But she's never been on a picnic with someone who was a just a friend before. Friend stuff is going to the movies, or going to brunch, or going to a bar for a drink. And then as she imagines doing any of those things with Bellamy, she realises they would feel like dates too.

Does she want to be on a date with him?

"I'm fine," Clarke says, clearing her throat. "Just thinking about how I would have put on underwear if I knew we weren't having sex."

Bellamy laughs. "I like it when you don't wear underwear."

"Do you say that to all your friends?"

"Good point," Bellamy says. "Comment retracted. I'm not thinking about your underwear or the fact that you aren't wearing any."

"Is that so? What are you thinking about then?"

"I'm thinking about how I wish you picked ham," Bellamy grins. Clarke laughs and hands her sandwich over.

She relaxes a little then, and manages to enjoy her lunch and the company without dwelling too much on how it makes her feel. She doesn't, however, manage to stop herself from thinking about him putting his mouth on her.

They finish eating, and Bellamy packs the rubbish and leftovers back into the basket.

"I'm not ready to go home yet," Clarke tells him. Wells is probably wondering where she is. She hasn't checked her phone since she got out of the car. She doesn't really care.

"We could walk around the lake," Bellamy suggests. Clarke screws up her nose. "Or… take a nap?"

"Nap sounds good," Clarke grins. She lies down, and Bellamy does the same. He scoots closer to her, lying on his side, his body only just touching hers. She can feel his erection pressing against her thigh, and she feels her pussy throb.

"This doesn't feel very friend-like," she murmurs.

"Well, we managed to get through a whole lunch without touching each other."

"Does it count if I was thinking about you fucking me the whole time?"

"I fucking hope so," Bellamy says. "Cause that's all I was thinking about too."

He lifts his hand, watching her as he brushes his fingers up her thigh. She doesn't stop him. He traces circles on her inner thigh, higher and higher, under her skirt, stopping just before he reaches her sopping cunt. Clarke gives him a pained look. The tension between her legs is almost unbearable.

"Bell," she whispers. "Touch me, please," he begs. "You promised you'd go down on me."

Bellamy considers. "I did promise that. But that was Friday."

"So haven't I waited long enough?"

Bellamy smirks at her. "You want me to eat you out right here?" he asks. "Where anyone could walk past and see us?"

Clarke nods and Bellamy's smug look grows. The thought of someone seeing them only makes her want it more. Of course, he knows that.

He glances towards the track to make sure no one is passing by, then he lifts her skirt, bunching it up around her waist so that her bare pussy is on display. He slides his middle finger between her lips, only making Clarke more aware of how wet she is. Bellamy presses his lips against her neck, and then her shoulder, his finger just resting inside her, not moving. Clarke whines, lifting her hips, needing some friction.

Bellamy chuckles. "I love how horny you get for me," he says quietly. He moves his hand from her legs and uses it to push her top up, revealing her flimsy bra. Bellamy pulls the cups down easily, letting her tits spring free. Clarke blushes, feeling totally exposed, out here in the forest. Half of her hopes no one will walk past, and half of her is desperate for someone to see her like this with Bellamy.

Bellamy sits up, pushing himself over the top of her, straddling her body with his without actually touching her. He brings his mouth down on her nipple, circling the hardened peak with his tongue, massaging the other with one hand. As much as she loves it when he plays with her tits, it's not what she really wants.

"Bellamy," she complains.

"Sorry, baby," he says. Her clit twinges, and she hopes he doesn't notice how much she likes it when he calls her that. So not appropriate for whatever they are to each other. "I just can't help myself."

He trails kisses down her bare stomach, finally pressing his lips against her shaved mound, just above her slit, and Clarke subconsciously holds her breath in anticipation. He pauses a moment, and then Clarke feels his tongue glide along her slit from her ass to her clit, and she squeezes her eyes shut. He teases her clit with the tip of his tongue, and Clarke writhes beneath him, despite her best efforts to remain still. Her fingers curl into his hair, and he licks her slit again, before delving his tongue inside her, deep as he can get it. Clarke moans, arching up against him, pushing his face harder against her pussy.

The sensation of his tongue inside her winds her tighter and tighter, until she's whimpering, panting heavily, desperate for release. He brings his mouth to her clit again, and she breaks as he sucks it into his mouth, crying out with her long-awaited orgasm.

But god, as good as it is, it's still not enough. It's never enough when it comes to Bellamy.

"Fuck me," Clarke begs, and she's well aware how wrecked she sounds already. "Fuck me with your cock, Bell."

"You sure?" he asks, lifting his head. Clarke looks down at him, nodding.

"I need you," she says. Bellamy only half suppresses a groan, and then he's up on his knees, undoing his jeans and pulling out his engorged cock. Clarke salivates at the sight of it. She spreads her legs wider, and Bellamy presses the head to her entrance, not bothering to take his pants all the way off. Clarke wraps her legs around him tightly, and he sinks into her. He stretches her wide, her eyes rolling back as he fills her.

"Oh god," she moans. "I love your cock."

"I know you do, baby. I love the way you take my cock. You feel so good," he murmurs. Clarke is almost having trouble breathing.

"Fuck me," she says again, since he seems to have forgotten why his cock is inside her. "Make me come."

"So needy," he chuckles, but he obliges her, rocking his hips against her, ramming his cock into her over and over until she loses her mind. Her tits jiggle with every thrust, and she knows Bellamy is watching them. It only turns her on more.

She has no concern for whether anyone might walk past anymore. They could be in the middle of a crowded street and she'd still beg him to keep going. All that matters is his cock inside her, driving her closer and closer to the orgasm she's chasing.

"Someone's coming," Bellamy tells her, stopping.

"Not yet," Clarke whines. Bellamy laughs. God, how can he laugh at a time like this?

"Not me," he clarifies. "I can hear voices."

Now that he mentions it Clarke can hear them too.

"I'm so close," Clarke tells him. "Please."

"You want them to see?

She hesitates. "No." After all, it could be anyone. They might call the cops on the two of them.

"You think you get there before they do?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay," he says. He quickly pulls her top back down to cover her tits. A precaution, Clarke supposes. And then he resumes his motions, and Clarke is right back there on the edge. She fists her hand in his shirt, closing her eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chants, her voice cracking as she comes again, shuddering beneath him, her pussy clenching down on his cock. He pulls out and turns away just as a couple of women and a dog round the bend, and Clarke yanks her skirt down over her swollen pussy.

The women spare them a glance and a half smile, and Clarke smiles back, wondering if it's obvious that she's just been fucked into oblivion. She grabs Bellamy as soon as the women are gone, and he turns back around to face her.

He still has his cock out, bulging and covered in her come. Clarke leans down, taking him into her mouth, and it doesn't take her long to bring him over the edge, spurting his come into her mouth with a strangled moan.

He drags her up to his mouth, and she barely has time to swallow before he's kissing her messily, and she can taste her own come and his on her tongue.

She pulls away, and he's staring at her, almost like he can't quite believe she's real.

"What?" she laughs, feeling a little shy all of a sudden, despite what they'd just done.

"I—" he shakes his head. He shrugs. "You're amazing."

Clarke shoves him playfully. "Don't be such a sap."

Bellamy shakes his head, smiling. "Ready to go now?"

Clarke nods, and they pack up the basket and the blanket and head back to the car. Clarke isn't entirely sure they achieved what Bellamy wanted them to achieve, but this was much more satisfying. And friendship is totally overrated anyway.