It's a normal shitty Monday. Clarke wakes up early, but she's five minutes late to work anyway, because she spends way too long in the shower. She doesn't have time to buy a coffee or make one at home, so she makes one at work and it's awful. She can't be bothered doing any work so she plays games on her phone all morning, only putting it away when Diyoza walks by.
She gets a text from Wells just before lunch.
- I might have to work late tomorrow night so we should go out for lunch instead.
Clarke screws up her nose. Why? He works late all the time and he never suggests having lunch together. Unless… it's a special occasion?
Clarke checks the date on her phone. Fuck. Her stomach drops. Tomorrow is his birthday. She'd completely forgotten. She hasn't even bought him a present.
It's the kind of thing she'd normally tell Octavia or Raven, and they'd give her ideas on what to get him. (What does one get their boyfriend who they're secretly cheating on and might also have forgotten their birthday?) Instead, she finds herself tapping on Bellamy's name.
- I completely forgot it's Wells's birthday tomorrow. I'm a terrible girlfriend.
She hits send, and her stomach immediately churns in regret. Is it really appropriate to be texting Bellamy about this? She's not sure what came over her.
But his response is almost instantaneous.
- Yeah, cause that's the worst thing you've done to him lately.
Clarke flushes, but she finds herself grinning. She immediately taps out a reply.
- What should I get him? What do guys like?
- Sexy lingerie
Clarke snorts. Of course Bellamy would suggest that. Another message comes through before she can respond.
- Actually, scratch that. He won't appreciate it like I would. Get him a tie. Or socks.
- Very personal gift ideas
- You're the one asking the guy you're secretly fucking what you should buy for your boyfriend. Shouldn't you know him better than anyone?
- He's very hard to buy for!
- He hasn't mentioned anything lately? Given any hints?
Clarke bites her lip. She honestly wouldn't know. She hasn't exactly spoken to him a lot this past week. Sure, he was away. But did they bother to call each other every day? Or even one of the days?
Apparently she's taking to long to reply, because Bellamy sends another message.
- What about a book?
- I'm not buying a present for you, remember?
- Everyone likes books. I can give you recommendations.
- Okay, shoot.
He starts sending through recommendations, and it doesn't take long for Clarke to forget what the recommendations are actually for. She puts all his recommendations on her to read list, and then sends through some recommendations of her own. Most of which he's already read. He works in a library after all.
She ends up texting him all day, barely getting any work done. The weirdest part is neither of them mentions sex at all. It's just a normal conversation. Almost like they are actually friends after all.
She's still texting him when Wells gets home from work, half an hour after she does. She's smiling like an idiot at her phone, Bellamy having just cracked an unfunny joke, and she barely notices Wells walk into the room.
"What's so funny?" Wells asks. Clarke looks up from her phone as Wells joins her on the couch.
"Oh, uh… just a meme. You wouldn't get it," she shrugs.
"It's not my fault that memes don't make any sense," Wells huffs. Clarke puts her phone face down against her chest. She gives Wells an affectionate pat on the arm.
"I know, babe," she says.
Wells rolls his eyes. "So, lunch tomorrow?" he asks, reminding Clarke that she'd never actually replied to his text. Or bought him a present, for that matter.
"Of course," Clarke says. "I, uh… I haven't bought you anything," she admits.
"Oh good, so you were listening," Wells says.
"Huh?"
"When I said we should start saving more money and not spending it on things we don't need," Wells reminds her.
"Right, of course. Yes!" Clarke grasps eagerly at his words. She's off the hook. "I thought I'd cook you a nice breakfast instead."
Wells leans over to kiss her softly. "Sounds great." He heaves himself off the couch. "I'm going to take a shower."
Clarke nods, and hurriedly checks her phone as soon as he's gone. She's disappointed to find Bellamy hasn't replied yet.
Her phone doesn't buzz again until she's in bed, Wells scrolling on his phone beside her.
- Sorry, Octavia came over unannounced. Typical.
Clarke smiles, then quickly glances at Wells to make sure he's preoccupied.
- It's okay. I'm going to sleep now though.
- Me too. Goodnight, Princess x
- Night Bell xx
Clarke makes breakfast for Wells the next morning, as promised, and they manage to squeeze in a lunch together on their lunch hour. He works late, as expected, and while she's home alone, Clarke finds herself texting Bellamy again.
- You know what show is overrated? Game of Thrones.
- All TV shows are overrated
- Even The Bachelor?
- Especially The Bachelor
- I know you secretly love it
- Are you with Wells right now?
- No
Her phone starts ringing, Bellamy's name on the screen.
"I hate texting," Bellamy explains when she picks up.
"You texted me all day yesterday," Clarke points out.
"I did."
There's a beat as Clarke digests this information. "What are you doing?" she asks.
"Just relaxing."
Clarke chews her lip. "What are you wearing?"
Bellamy laughs, and Clarke feels her insides turn to mush. "Just sweatpants," he tells her. "What are you wearing?"
"My work clothes," Clarke says.
"Sexy."
"I wish I was with you," Clarke murmurs.
Bellamy hesitates. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"I want you to fuck me," Clarke tells him. Which is true. But she weirdly kind of misses him too.
"You want to come over?"
Clarke shakes her head against the phone. "I can't. I don't know when Wells will be home. It's his birthday."
"How bout you touch yourself for me then?" Bellamy suggests, though it's more of a command than a suggestion. One Clarke happily obeys. She slides her hand into her panties. The sound of his voice has her wet already.
"Tell me what to do," Clarke whispers.
"Take your clothes off," Bellamy growls. "I want you naked."
Clarke hastily obeys, putting her phone down and putting him on speaker so she can unbutton her top and pull her skirt off. She removes her bra and panties, the underwear joining the rest of her clothes on the floor.
"Okay," she says. "I'm naked."
"Play with your tits for me, baby," Bellamy says. "Get those pretty nipples all hard."
Clarke does as he says, twisting her nipples with her fingers.
"I wish it was your mouth," Clarke complains.
"Me too, Princess," Bellamy says. "I want to suck on your nipples, make you moan." She moans. "Yeah, like that."
"Are you wet?" Bellamy asks. "Touch yourself, tell me if you're wet."
"I'm wet," Clarke tells him. She doesn't have to touch herself to know, but she does anyway.
"Where are you? Bed?"
"I'm on the couch," Clarke says.
"Lie back," Bellamy tells her. "Spread your legs. Get your fingers all wet."
Clarke spreads her legs, sliding two fingers along her slit, coating them in her juices. Her clit throbs, desperate to be touched.
"Bell," she whines.
"Go on, touch yourself," Bellamy says, knowing exactly what she wants. "Play with your clit."
She circles her clit with her fingers, moaning softly. She's aware that Wells could come home at any moment and see her fingering herself to the sound of Bellamy's voice. The thought only spurs her on. Her cunt pulses, achingly empty.
"I need something inside me," Clarke pants. "Your cock."
"Believe me, I want that too," Bellamy rasps. "You got a dildo?"
"No."
"Vibrator?"
"Uh-uh."
"No toys?"
"No," Clarke huffs.
"Clarke," Bellamy says, sounding disappointed with her. "Why not?"
"I don't know," she says. "I used to have a dildo before Wells and I moved in together. I thought it would be weird if he found it."
"Wells is an idiot," Bellamy snorts. "Have you even had an orgasm in the last three years? Before me, I mean?"
"Bellamy," she groans. Why he even remembers how long she and Wells have been living together she can't fathom, but this really isn't the time. "Would you shut up, please?"
"Sorry," Bellamy says, sounding sheepish. "You'll have to just use your fingers, baby. How many can you fit in your pussy?"
"Two, I think," Clarke says, her breathing laboured as she curls a finger inside herself, and then another. "It's not enough," she whines. Her fingers aren't long enough. They don't feel the way Bellamy feels inside her.
It doesn't matter anyway, because she hears the key in the lock in the front door, and she knows Wells is home. She sits bolt upright, panicked.
"I have to go," she mutters to Bellamy, and quickly ends the call. She's still naked on the couch when Wells walks into the room. He stares at her, eyes wide.
"Happy birthday?" she says.
Wells seems pleased with his surprise birthday present. But even after Bellamy got her all warmed up, Wells still can't make her come.
Bellamy has apparently decided he's having a Scrabble night. Clarke can't help but roll her eyes when she reads the message inviting her. She shakes her head, smiling. What a giant dork.
Wells says he's busy, but Clarke doesn't know if he's actually busy, or if he's just invented something so that he doesn't have to go and play Scrabble with Bellamy.
Clarke calls Bellamy on her way home from work on the day of said Scrabble night.
"What does one wear to a Scrabble night?" she asks. "And do I need to bring anything?"
"Don't bring anything, and you can wear whatever you like. You're the only one coming," Bellamy tells her.
"Oh. Sorry. Everyone else busy?"
"I guess so," Bellamy says. He doesn't sound too upset about it though.
"Well, in that case…" Clarke says coyly. "I don't think I'll be the only one coming, if you catch my drift."
Bellamy gives a snort of laughter. "I'll see you tonight, Clarke."
Clarke smiles as she hangs up, pulling her keys out of her bag and heading into her apartment. She goes straight to the shower, and by the time she gets out, Wells is home.
"Hey," she greets him, wandering into the bedroom in a towel, Wells buttoning up a clean shirt. "Don't forget I'm going to Bellamy's Scrabble thing tonight."
"I'm going out for drinks with some of the guys from work," Wells tells her. "Just getting changed."
"Okay," Clarke nods. She hesitates. "Um. I'll probably have a few drinks at Bellamy's. I might end up staying the night."
"Okay, sure," Wells nods. He finishes buttoning his shirt and gives her a quick kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow then." And then he's gone, leaving Clarke to get ready in peace.
She takes care in picking her outfit, going with a short skirt but a fairly modest sweater. Panties, but no bra. And heels. Because why the fuck not. They make her legs look great.
She's early, but she figures it doesn't matter when she's the only one going now anyway. Bellamy answers the door wet and shirtless, a towel slung low on his hips. Clarke has to restrain herself from licking his chest right then and there.
Bellamy's eyes trail down her body, lingering slightly on her tits and then her legs. "I feel underdressed," he says, letting Clarke inside.
"Well go and put some clothes on so I can kick your ass at Scrabble," Clarke tells him. "We are playing Scrabble, right? This wasn't some elaborate ploy to get me into bed?"
"I don't need an elaborate ploy to get you into bed," Bellamy smirks.
Clarke presses a finger to his chest, tapping him lightly. "Bellamy Blake," she chides. "Are you calling me easy?"
"Definitely not," Bellamy murmurs, putting his hand over her finger and flattening her hand against his chest. Clarke leans in and presses her lips to his chest. She loves the way his breath hitches when she sucks against his skin.
She pulls away. "Go and put some clothes on," she tells him. Bellamy shakes his head as he heads to his bedroom, and Clarke goes to the kitchen to fix them some drinks. There's wine in the fridge and she pours two large glasses. Bellamy returns, dressed in a form fitting t-shirt and jeans, and holding a battered old edition of Scrabble.
They set the game up on the floor in the living room, despite the fact that there's a perfectly good table only a few metres away. Clarke kicks her heels off and sits cross-legged on the carpet across the board from Bellamy.
She takes a sip of her wine. "Okay," she decides. "If you win, you get to fuck me however you like."
"And if you win?"
"You get to fuck me however I like."
"Sounds fair."
Bellamy, as it turns out, is unfairly good at Scrabble. Must come from working with books. As much as Clarke doesn't care whether she gets fucked his way or her way, she's still competitive as hell, and she doesn't like losing. And it's becoming increasingly obvious that she's losing. There's only one thing for it.
"It's kind of hot in here, isn't it?" she says innocently.
"You want me to turn the cooler on?"
"No, it's okay, I'll just take this off," she says, pulling her sweater over her head. Bellamy doesn't notice for a moment, too busy staring at his tiles, but then he looks up, and his mouth falls open at the sight of her bare tits. It gets her hot, knowing that even after all the times he's fucked her, her tits still leave him speechless.
"Oops," Clarke shrugs. "I guess I forgot I wasn't wearing anything underneath."
"Clarke," Bellamy says, his voice strangled. "You wouldn't be trying to use your body as a way of distracting me so that I lose at Scrabble, would you? Because that would be cheating."
"But is it working?" She already knows it is, from the way he's staring at her now, his mouth practically watering at the sight of her.
His eyes flick back up to hears. "You know it is."
"Come here and suck my nipples like I know you want to," Clarke says. Bellamy doesn't need to be told twice. He shoves the Scrabble board out of the way, scattering tiles all over the floor. Then his hands are on her waist, big and hot against her skin. It hasn't even been a week since he touched her last, but she's been craving him constantly.
His lips descend on her neck, and he lays her down on the carpet, kissing her collarbone, her chest, her breast. He flicks a nipple with his tongue, cupping her tits in his hands and then sucking the nipple into his mouth. He pops the nipple out of his mouth and turns his attention to the other one, using his fingers to twist and play with the newly abandoned nipple. She can feel her cunt throb with every flick of his tongue.
"I think this means I won," Clarke gasps. Bellamy lifts his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised.
"Is that right?"
"Uh huh."
"And how do you want it?"
Clarke catches her bottom lip between her teeth, already turning red, and she hasn't even said the words yet. Bellamy tilts his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"What is it, Princess?"
"Will you… finger my ass again?" she finally manages, and Bellamy couldn't look more pleased with himself.
"You liked that, did you?" he says, smug as hell. Clarke nods, her face burning. She's been thinking about it since the first time he did it, too embarrassed to ask him to do it again, hoping he'd suggest it. But fuck it, she wants it.
Bellamy sits up on his knees. "Roll over then," he tells her. Clarke obliges, rolling over onto her tummy, her tits squashed against the floor. She lifts her hips as Bellamy drags her skirt down her legs, and then her panties, discarding them who knows where.
Clarke looks over her shoulder, making eye contact with Bellamy as he presses two fingers to her slit and lets them disappear into her wet folds. She bites her lip, every nerve in her body on edge at his touch.
"Gotta get my fingers nice and wet for you," Bellamy tells her, and she nods. It doesn't take much for him to get his fingers coated in her juices, and then he's spreading her ass cheeks, giving him access to her asshole. Clarke whimpers as he presses his index finger against her opening, feeling another gush of wetness between her legs at the thought of what he's about to do to her.
His slick finger pushes into her tight hole, his first knuckle, then the second, then all the way in. Clarke moans as his finger stretches her ass. God, it feels so fucking good inside her.
"How does that feel, baby?" Bellamy murmurs, wriggling his finger inside her.
Clarke squeezes her eyes shut, barely able to breathe. "So good, Bell. Oh my god."
"You think you can take another?"
"Yes."
She gasps as she feels the second finger press into her. Maybe she can't take it after all.
"Bell," she pants. "Oh my god."
"Should I stop?"
Clarke shakes her head. "No. Keep going."
Bellamy repositions himself so he's more beside her than behind her, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. Clarke relaxes, and Bellamy continues to move his lips against her shoulder as his fingers fill her.
"Okay?" Bellamy asks.
"Yes. More than okay."
"Good."
He kisses her shoulder again, but his fingers remain still. Clarke squirms, her ass and pussy throbbing. She needs him to do something, or she's going to go crazy.
"Bell," she whines.
"Yeah?"
She squeezes her ass cheeks around his fingers, silently begging him to do something.
"What?" he chuckles. "You want something? Ask me."
"I already asked."
"Beg me."
Clarke groans. "Finger me, please," she begs. "Fuck my ass with your fingers."
"That's my girl," he croons, and then finally he starts moving his fingers inside her, pumping them in and out of her ass. Clarke writhes against the carpet under his touch, the pressure between her legs building as he fingers her ass. She lifts her hips involuntarily, desperately needing more. She slides a hand between her legs, the pulsing of her clit too much to bear.
"No," Bellamy says. Clarke stays her hand, huffing in frustration. "You're going to come just from having your ass fingered, okay?"
"Okay," Clarke nods, her voice strained.
Bellamy's fingers work inside her, stretching her ass like she never knew she needed. He winds her tighter and tighter, and Clarke can feel herself getting close.
"Come on, baby, you're nearly there. You can do it."
"Uh huh," Clarke whimpers. "It feels so good. I wish it was your cock."
Bellamy chuckles. "I don't think you could handle that yet, baby."
He's probably right, but even just the thought of his cock in her ass drives her crazy, and that mixed with his voice, coaxing her on, is what sends her over the edge.
"Bell, I'm gonna come."
"I know."
Her ass clenches around his fingers and she cries out, her toes curling and her fingers fisting into the carpet as waves of pleasure roll over her. Bellamy extracts his fingers from her ass, wiping them on his shirt. He traces his lips over her bare back, letting her catch her breath, though Clarke knows his cock is probably aching from what he just did to her.
"How was that, princess?"
"Baby," Clarke corrects.
"Hm?"
"I like it better when you call me baby."
She turns to him and he smiles. "Okay, baby. How do you feel?"
"Amazing," Clarke smiles. But even still, she needs to feel his skin on her skin, feel his cock inside her. Needs to know she can do to him what he does to her. She rolls onto her side, facing him. She's totally naked while he's still completely clothed. He watches her, almost in awe, as she trails her fingers down his chest, down his stomach, the small patch of skin showing where his shirt has ridden up. Her hand cups the bulge in his jeans and his breath hitches. She likes that. She pushes him over onto his back, rolling on top of him, straddling him. He sits up, his fingers soft on her waist, and she leans in to kiss him deeply, her fingers tangling in his hair. They break apart and Clarke's hands drop to the hem of his shirt, and he helps her take it off.
She can feel his erection pressing against her, between her legs, and she can't resist grinding against him a little, making him gasp in surprise. But as much as she likes teasing him, she's too impatient to keep it up for long. She pushes him back down, and makes quick work of his jeans and underwear, letting his long, hard cock spring free. Her cunt pulses at the sight of it.
"I need you inside me," she tells him. Bellamy just nods, running his fingers up and down her side, sending tingles all through her body. She can tell he's getting desperate, she can see the anticipation in his eyes. She wants to make him beg for it, like he made her beg.
She settles herself back on top of him, his cock between her legs but not inside her. She lets the shaft slip between her wet pussy lips and he grips her legs so tightly she thinks he might leave bruises.
She rocks against him, revelling in the sound of his laboured breathing, knowing he's trying so hard to keep control. Her pussy is slick against his cock, and she slides against him, feeling the length of him against her clit.
"I think I could come again like this," Clarke tells him. Bellamy groans. "But I really want your cock inside me."
She lifts herself slightly, lining her entrance up with the bulging head of his cock, dripping with precum. She sinks onto him slowly, every inch of his cock stretching her further, until he's deep inside her cunt. His hands slide up her thighs to grip her hips. He's still staring at her like he can't quite believe she's real.
"Stop looking at me like that," she laughs. She leans down to capture his lips with hers, dragging her teeth along his bottom lip as she pulls away.
"Can I fuck you now?" Bellamy says hoarsely.
Clarke looks down at him, giving him her most sultry look. She shakes her head. "I'm going to fuck you."
"God," Bellamy breathes.
Clarke rocks her hips against him, slowly, methodically, feeling his cock hit her sweet spot with every movement. Her eyes flutter closed and she picks up the pace slightly. She can feel her tits jiggle a little, and she smirks, knowing Bellamy will like that.
She sets out to take it slow, tease him, hold out on him. But the feel of his cock inside her is too much to bear, and she finds she can't hold back as much as she'd like. Rational thought leaves her, and her thrusts become more frantic, until she's bouncing on his cock, desperately chasing her orgasm.
"Fuck, Clarke," Bellamy moans. "You're gonna make me come."
"Good."
"Clarke. Clarke," Bellamy says, sounding absolutely ruined. Her name sounds so good when he says it like that. "You gotta slow down, baby. Or let me play with your clit."
"Uh-uh."
Bellamy groans dramatically, and his hips thrust up against her. Her walls clench around him and he moans again, gasping for air a second later. He's holding on as best he can, but Clarke knows he's close to losing it. It's exactly what she wants.
She slows down again, reverts to rolling her hips against him. He She leans down to kiss him again, and it's messy, desperate.
"It's okay," she whispers. "I want you to come," she tells him. Bellamy shakes his head.
"You. First."
Clarke kisses him again. "Come on, baby," she murmurs. And that's when he loses it, letting out a wrecked moan as he comes inside her. Clarke's own orgasm takes her by surprise, but something about his voice, his face contorted in ecstasy, the feeling of his cock spurting come inside her sends her over the edge, and she's coming along with him, almost silently.
Bellamy drags his hand down his face, clearly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispers. "Let me—" he starts, already reaching for her clit.
"Bell, it's okay," she says. She's still lying on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest, his cock soft inside her. "I came. I promise I came."
"You came?"
"Yes, baby," she whispers. Bellamy flushes at the sound of the pet name. Clarke eyes him in amusement. "Do you like it when I call you baby?"
He looks at her a moment before he nods earnestly.
"You're so cute," she tells him.
Bellamy raises an eyebrow. "Cute, huh?"
"So cute."
"I got you a present," Bellamy says.
"A present?"
"Yeah," Bellamy grins. "It's a dildo."
Clarke laughs, feeling the vibrations from her own laughter and his deep in her chest.
"So, are you going to use it on me or do I have to use it on myself?"
"I'd like to watch you," Bellamy murmurs. She feels his cock twitch inside her.
Clarke raises an eyebrow in interest. "Nearly ready to go again, are you?"
"Not quite," Bellamy laughs.
She gives him another kiss before she lifts herself off him, his cock sliding out of her, along with his come, sticky on her thighs. She makes for the bathroom to clean herself up, but before she makes it to the door, the buzzer for the front door goes off. She looks to Bellamy, but he seems just as confused as she is.
Bellamy gets up and walks over to the front door, naked, and presses the button to talk down to whoever's on the street. Clarke hovers, not sure if she should stay and listen or continue to the bathroom.
"Hello?" Bellamy says.
"Let me in," comes Octavia's voice. Clarke's eyes widen. She quickly makes a scramble for her clothes.
"What are you doing here?" Bellamy asks.
"I've come to play Scrabble. Since no one else wanted to."
"You hate Scrabble."
"Is that why you picked Scrabble? Because you know I hate it and you didn't want me to come?"
Bellamy glances at Clarke, a little sheepish. Perhaps this was a ploy to get her into bed after all.
"No," Bellamy says to Octavia. Clarke pulls on her skirt, having already found her sweater and put that on.
"So let me in. Unless Scrabble was code for you have a girl over and you're both naked right now."
"Hilarious. Fine, come up," he sighs. He buzzes her up, then grabs his clothes and heads to the bathroom, presumably to clean the come off his dick. Clarke meanwhile, is still on the hunt for her panties.
Bellamy returns just as Octavia starts hammering on the door.
"I can't find my panties," Clarke hisses.
"Too late now," Bellamy shakes his head. He goes to the door and opens it, letting Octavia inside.
"Finally," Octavia says, rolling her eyes dramatically. She stops short when she sees Clarke. Clarke does her best to look natural, but she's sure her guilt is written all over her face. "Clarke," Octavia says. "I didn't know you were here."
"Well… I am."
Octavia turns to Bellamy. "You said no one was coming."
Bellamy glances at Clarke. "I guess a couple of people did."
Clarke bites back her laughter. Octavia stares at the Scrabble tiles strewn across the floor.
"Clarke is a sore loser," Bellamy explains.
Octavia gives Bellamy a look of disdain. "I know. She's my best friend, remember? Now are we playing Scrabble or what?"