"If I'm your girl say my name boy
Let me know I'm in control
We both grown so how we feel we can let it show"
Chapter 4:
A rough jolt woke her from her blissful slumber, her dreams filled with the rough pants and ecstasy. Her eyes slowly opened to take in Bellamy's naked form. He inhaled. He exhaled. She thought he was fascinating—that level of peacefulness across his normally hard features. She realized after a moment of ogling, it wasn't him. The smile that formed on her face had not yet disappeared, though. Her shoulders were yanked again by tiny damp hands. Her bare skin was tickled by the panther fur as she turned her body, hugging the blanket to her breasts. "I need your help." Octavia whispered—small tears in her eyes, "Get dressed and meet me by the gate." Her voice was an indication of her worry, her grief.
Clarke stole a glance, sucking in a nervous breath before she threw the blanket off her body. Pure, fear pulsed through Clarke's system because she was absolutely certain someone was seriously injured. She was quite certain that person was not a member of their camp, either. Clarke pulled her clothes off the ground, noting the dampness of the fabric. She rolled her eyes at her makeshift lock that laid disassembled on the ground.
She bitterly thought, No privacy whatsoever.
Her eyes examined the guard posts—they were asleep. She snorted, more out of fear and anger than actual humor. They would all be dead…they could be under attack right now and no one would know. She thought about leaving a note for Bellamy but her lack of pencils and paper came into play and she hoped she would return before he woke up. What would Bellamy do if he woke up and she weren't pressed into his side, her hand running down his shoulder blades with a satisfied smile on her lips? He would freak out. "Tell me who it is? Is it your grounder…? Octavia, speak!"
"It's Lincoln's uncle…Clarke, it's really bad." She sniffled, her hand swiping away overwhelming tears.
"I need to get my-" Clarke twisted her body, attempting to turn around towards the drop ship to grab some type of meager supplies.
"You can't, we don't have time." Octavia gripped Clarke's wrist, refusing to release it. Her eyes relayed the message that she was not going to let Clarke go anywhere.
"I'm useless without my supplies, Octavia." Clarke explained, her low leader voice coming forward. She cared for her friend…immensely so, but she could not perform miracles. Situations like these made her doubt her abilities.
"They have supplies." Octavia was crying like a scared child, "They just need your mind." And what if my mind is not good enough?
Clarke nodded hesitantly after a few seconds, her lip coming between her teeth as she began to follow Octavia. At first, it was a fast walk but as they neared the grounder village (or so Clarke assumed) Octavia started to run. Clarke followed partly because she did not want to be alone in their territory, partly because she felt the need to protect Octavia.
Branches flew against their bodies, cutting quickly into their skin as they continued to run. Octavia did not pause once they reached a ditch-entrance. Clarke couldn't afford to pause to take in the area. She could only run after Bellamy's sister and pray to god they weren't about to walk into their death. If anything happened to Octavia…
It would be Clarke's fault.
Clarke cared for Octavia. She liked her. Octavia's free spirit was something she admired but her recklessness was absolutely appalling. What was she doing out of the gate in the first place? If Bellamy knew about his sister's late night activities, he would kill her. He would also attempt to kill the grounder that Octavia was preoccupied with. "Bellamy's going to kick our asses, you know that right?" Clarke asked Octavia, her breathless voice being drowned out by the sound of drums. Her heartbeat quickened because she felt the music overtake her ears—overtake her every sense. She forgot how to speak for a moment, how to breathe.
The grounder village was remarkable but still dark—dark, tainted by the rugged beauty of survival. It was also tattered but Clarke was used to tatters and holes from her time on the Ark. Her eyes touched each visible hut, took in the size of them and also the way the grounders built off of former structures. Is that a gym? Her eyes washed over the broken bricks and wood roof tied together by ropes and some other unifiers that she'd never seen before. It was fascinating to her, the buildings and permanence of their lifestyle.
"He's here." Octavia motioned for her to follow, pulling back the flap to a hut made out of sewn animal skins. A rugged man met her eyes, his wrinkles pushing together because of pain and obvious outrage. He turned to Lincoln, barking something in their language. Lincoln responded, seemingly unashamed that Clarke and Octavia stood before them. The man was bleeding profusely, an arrow sticking from his side. They should be able to fix this… Clarke thought, remembering they'd survived for almost a hundred years with crude weapons. "Their healer is not…around." Octavia read her face, "Clarke, please save him."
She let out a long breath and looked between Lincoln, Octavia, and the angry grounder. "It's going to be a long night." She huffed, her eyes finally settling on her angry patient. "Hold him down." She said in a determined tone. The grounder flung around, his arms trying to swing at her but he was too injured to truly hurt her underneath Lincoln's hold.
XXX
The sun was high in the sky, the afternoon pouring down on Clarke's dirty, fair skin. Octavia groaned at the sight of the gate, her mouth opening in protest. If Clarke heard Octavia proposition staying in a bunker until Bellamy's mood switched from angry to simply "relieved we're alive" again, she would choke her. She felt as if the sun were going to cause her to turn bright pink but she was highly satisfied the rain ceased although the mud continued to be a problem. Her body was touched by dirt, smeared with blood—some her own, some Lincoln's uncle who eventually told her was named Roosevelt. Clarke liked their political names, it was quite profound how they valued great leaders and continued to use their names as if a birthright. It made her wonder, really, about what they hoped for Lincoln.
And what did that mean for Octavia? The story of Romeo and Juliet fluttered through her mind for a brief moment but Octavia's loud sigh brought Clarke back to reality. "As you stated all those hours ago, we are in a lot of trouble. What better way to evade than postpone?"
Clarke was exhausted, she truly only wanted to feel the ground beneath her face. The cool nature of dirt, hopefully soothing her in the process. Her hand shook in her pocket as she walked towards the gate. "I want to sleep, Octavia." Clarke told her, "And I'm certain they've seen us now."
Octavia let another sound of discontent fall from her mouth before two guns stopped them, "I know we're filthy, but you can't be so blind that you do not recognize us." Clarke and Octavia exchanged smug looks before proceeding through the gates. It was like a stack of bricks, the pressure of dealing with Bellamy, weighing on her chest. Their sexual relationship did not give her a pardon from his uncontrollable wrath. He would blame her… and part of her knew if something would have happened in the grounder village, it would have been her fault. She could have prevented Octavia from leaving, she could have dragged her palm across Bellamy's chest and told him of his sister's plans. They could have handled it together.
Her only regret was Octavia—she did not regret the events of her night, not a single event. She did not regret saving Roosevelt's life as she did not regret her passionate moment with Bellamy beforehand. Although, she could retract her earlier statement about only regretting Octavia if the subject of her new modification arose in conversation. There was a dull pain in her side, it'd been there for hours although it could not be compared to the searing pain over her eyebrow from the Commander's symbolic slice.
Lexa, that was the brave leader's name, introduced Clarke to grounder tradition. Clarke bowed before her, more in a sacramental way rather than a sign of weakness and let the sharp blade dive into her skin. The entire time, she thought of only the people—only the causalities since their arrival on earth as she agreed to a treaty without her partners help. It was done in almost an instant but the pain and the blood lasted until Lexa stitched the wound. It was supposed to represent tying the knots of their treaty but Clarke felt jilted when she did not get to return the favor. She assumed they were finished but she was wrong. A skinny man, thin and burly moved over to her with a sharpened, thin knife and declared it was time for her to "earn" her mark because she was seemingly "blessed." She was too tired to debate what his words meant. Either way, the treaty and her "blessed" appearance was how Clarke ended up with the lasting pain in her side and fabric sticking to an inky design mixed with blood. She imagined her appearance did not look blessed at all…
Her eyes flitted towards her companion, taking in her stressed features and blackened legs. Dirt extended over her elbows and across her shirt as well as blood that did not belong to her. Octavia was exhausted, the flutter of her eyes touching her sullied cheeks. Octavia was a fighter and Clarke noted she would do well to never forget her determination.
To her surprise, Raven was the first to approach them. Her dark hair in a messy braid while her eyes were dashed with fear and slight stress. Clarke questioned why Raven looked that way…was she friends with Octavia? Or did her worry extend to Clarke? Much like anything currently going on around camp, Clarke did not wish to harbor on it. The concern in Raven's eyes contrasted with the words that she casted towards the two girls, "Where the fuck did you two go?" She stepped back, her eyes washing over them to finally take in their appearance. "What in hell happened to you…is that your blood?" She shook her head, "Of course not…whose blood?" She reached forward to touch the red stain on Clarke's shirt, but Octavia cleared her through mid-motion causing Raven to pause.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you…" Octavia smirked, "Clarke's a badass now…"
Clarke frowned, "I am far from a badass. I did what anyone else would do in my situation." She was not being honest with herself because she could not name one person that would run through the forest for the grounders or get a tattoo in the name of peace or bow before the commander as a sign of respect. "We are at peace for now—" She stopped speaking to pull up her shirt to show Raven rather than wasting her small amount of energy on words.
"A tattoo?" Raven's stunned question caused Octavia's smug smile to widen. Raven stepped forward, her fingers extending to touch the mark but she stopped. "No fucking way this is real." She inspected her side, observing the blood mixed with the bold black. "Damn." A Polynesian sparrow extended from the edge of Clarke's breast almost to her hip bone. "Damn…at least it looks—cool, really." Why was Raven being so different?
"It's for peace." Clarke said grumpily, shifting awkwardly as discomfort rested across her skin. "Not to look…not to be cool." She settled the hem of her shirt over her jeans, a little hiss moving through her lips as the fabric rejoined her skin. Octavia began walking towards her tent, her adrenaline failing her as conversation faltered. Clarke fell into step behind Octavia out of a merciless habit she gained from the night. Her people were giving the two girls sympathetic looks that said "Nice knowing you…" but Clarke never blinked in their direction, she never showed fear. It could have been that Bellamy didn't scare her or the fact she was too tired to be scared… or even that the last few hours had been so scary—so tormenting that nothing else could phase her the way recent events had.
She heard the clattering of footsteps approaching them, her head counting them out. She knew two people were approaching her. She knew one of them happened to be extremely lightweight. Her eyes moved to address the people coming towards her to meet Jasper's relieved smile and Finn's tentative look. Her mouth opened at the sight of Finn, her heart begging her to apologize to him for the sake of their former friendship. Her head disagreed. Jasper was the first to speak, his hand covering his heart as he glanced at Octavia. He appeared breathless, as if the world had been off its axis and now it'd returned and he'd forgotten how to breathe. "You didn't get kidnaped from your tents?" He said with his hand over his heart, slight tears forming in his eyes. "I—we thought you'd be kidnaped for sure."
"Clearly." Octavia grumbled but managed to flash Jasper a friendly smile. Clarke compared him to Paris—the friend of Juliet's that wished to call her his own but would never…hopefully, Lincoln and Octavia would not end up as doomed as Romeo and Juliet. She felt bad for Jasper—"We're fine. We're alive, we're breathing—hell we're more than fine, right Clarke?" Octavia slammed her opened palm into Clarke's back and giggled at Clarke bit into her lips to suppress a small objection.
Clarke groaned as she looked at the crowd around her, "I just want to sleep." They let out small laughs as Octavia went on to over exaggerate their adventurous night with sound effects and hand motions. Eventually, the entire group found themselves in front of Octavia's parachute crafted tent. Clarke thought to herself that it would be more accurate to call Octavia princess rather than her, being the King's sister and all. Although, Clarke was getting comfortable with the nickname as long as it fell from Bellamy's mouth during the throes of passion or in an attempt for passion.
Jasper and Raven sucked in deep breaths, their eyes falling to the ground as the muttered "See you later…" and "Your king, ladies and gentlemen"—Clarke regretted not being able to pinpoint who said what but she was highly distracted with thoughts she should not be having in the moment. Finn remained for a second too long, meeting Clarke's eyes in a begging manner. She shook her head back and forth, rejecting his wants once more. He needed to understand that she did not want him and she would never want him again. Finn stepped away, clearly upset by her lack of apologetic nature. She sucked in a breath and turned to Octavia, "By the expression on his face, he's going to try to be witty."
Octavia tried to conceal a laugh when Bellamy's opening argument followed Clarke's observation. "Rough night?" He asked sarcastically but the anger pooled behind his words like venom. "Where were you two?" He was trying to hide his concern, his worry, and the other emotions that swelled in his chest. She wanted to lie to him so he did not have to feel the momentary pain her answer would cause him.
Octavia shoved Clarke forward, though, like a sacrificial lamb to the hungry lion. She steeled herself, running her hands down her shirt to smooth it out before she lifted her chin and replied. "Grounder village." Her eyes were wide, her breathing labored as she read him. Anger. Worry. Betrayal. Hurt. She watched every emotion consume his brown eyes before she spoke again. "We're alive, Bellamy." Her statement was much softer than before. "I understand that you are ang—"
"A fucking grounder village?" He finally regained himself, his chest becoming tighter and more defined beneath his dark colored shirt. He pointed a finger at her and spoke with a fury that she could not compare to their recent fights. "Are you fucking stupid, Clarke? You went to a goddamn grounder village in the middle of the night, to what? Get hit over the head…" He turned his face away from her, palling his hand into a fist as he faltered. She watched him inhale and promptly exhale three times before he finished. "Irresponsible is one of the words coming to mind right now…" She could not overlook the softness of his words although she desperately wanted to…
She was reminded of the fact that she had feelings for him—feelings she did not want to have and…and he had those feelings as well. Get a grip…dammit, Clarke. Do. Not. Do. This.
"Jackass is coming to my mind." Octavia said, purposely trying to fire her brother up for her own amusement. Bellamy's eyes darkened as he turned to his sister. "What about you, Clarke, do you think jackass fits?" Her voice was cloudy as Bellamy stepped forward threateningly, "Bellamy, you do not scare me."
Clarke interjected, "Bellamy, Octavia…please, let's focus on what is really important." Octavia stepped back, her eyes telling Bellamy that she was not surrendering because he was in charge but because Clarke had something important to say. "Although, I won't lie and say that we departed this camp with starry-eyed dreams of peace but we have returned with it." A small smile played on her lips as she informed Bellamy of their newfound relationship with the grounders.
"You're a damn fool." Bellamy shook his head, agitated. "We're supposed to be partners, Clarke…we're supposed to do things together."
She furrowed her eyebrows, "I thought you would be pleased that our people will no longer be tormented by a possible attack. I would apologize if I regretted it for a moment but I do not. I did what I thought was best…for everyone."
"Please do not come at me with this holier-than-thou routine, Clarke. We both know you are not innocent." Octavia opened her mouth to say something against her brother's angry words but decided to step into her tent instead. He stood there, looking at her with a mixture of anger and desire. "Why did you leave?"
"It wasn't about you." She said with a frown, "Don't make this about you…"
"I'm making it about you and me. Our partnership…our relationship. Trust, Clarke. I should be able to trust that you will come to me with your problems and not sneak away in the middle of the fucking night with my sister—my sister, dammit!" He paused before he moved closer to her, "Do you not understand what you do to me, Clarke? How I have been going out of my mind since I discovered you were not by my side? And my sister…my sister…you left with my sister."
She exhaled, "Lincoln's uncle was dying, and their healer was not there to save him. Octavia came to me. Do you think I did not want to wake you up? I did. I saw you…" She shook her head, "But you would have prevented it. We did well, Bellamy, this is a good thing."
"Somewhere, I know that it is…but it doesn't mean I am happy with it, with your choices." He stepped away, looking around to see if they'd caught any attention. Of course, they had. "We can talk later, I have work to do. You should sleep because I'm certain you will be awake all night."
XXX
The small yawn echoed throughout her tent as she stretched her arms forward, arching her back in the process. Her fading shadow against the walls of her tent told her that it was late evening, the sky had turned a darkish blue and her smile touched her features as she thought about Bellamy's words. She felt the sting of her tattoo but she ignored it as she reached for her muddy boots. At least she had enough sense to clear herself before going to bed. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in hours.
She craved his touch but she knew she had duties in camp that could not be ignored because she was under his spell. Clarke headed towards the drop ship, running directly into Monty. He smiled, "There you are. I was about to search you out. I've manufactured something quite spectacular for your…you know."
Clarke's lips turned up, "Tattoo." She nodded, "Thank you, Monty. Uh…hey, do you know anything about construction?"
"Basics, why?"
She shrugged, "I wanted to run something by you along the lines of building huts and things for permanent settlement." Monty's face could only be described as shocked and slightly confused with her statement. She gave him a moment to form words.
"You don't want to wait on the Ark? They are far more educated…"
She shook her head, "I don't think we'll be needing people that have studied survival in theory…we have people that have survived. I'm heading towards the drop ship now, would you like to hear about my findings?"
He hesitated before nodding in the affirmative.
Clarke stole a glance towards Bellamy's tent, meeting his welcoming eyes. She winked and he returned her wink.
XXX
After discussing her findings with Monty, Clarke longed for something increasingly less boring—more specifically, Bellamy. They were not prepared to build at the moment but it would be an issue she pressed. She had doubts when it came to the intentions of the Ark and she would make sure her people were safe. She would make sure her people survived. She knew that Bellamy would have to approve the plans before she started barking orders but this was something they needed to do…but he was right, before, when he said they needed to trust one another. She would not make another move without his agreement and support.
Bellamy was a sight for sore, restless eyes. He was shirtless, a normalcy she was used to, and absolutely alluring. "Are you ready to accept your punishment?" He asked, his pupils obviously dilated with anticipation for her. It was nice to feel wanted, nice to feel desired by any man…but it was gloriously impeccable to be wanted by him.
"I cannot truthfully say that it has not been the subject of my thoughts and dreams all day." A faint blush touched her cheeks as she looked over the ripple of his skin and his relaxed muscles. "But, before you launch into your plans, tell me about your day. Good?" She stood near the entrance of his tent, tempted by him but willing to wait—willing to make him wait so she would have slight control of his lust, if any.
His fingertips played with the panther fur as he looked at her with hooded eyes, "Progressively getting better, princess." She hesitated before taking a single step closer to him. He smirked, "The rumors are flying, lover...about your treaty. All due to my sister, that is. Morale is better. I've accepted your choice." He beckoned for her to come to his bed but she did not. He looked like he was deep in thought—trying to figure out what to say next. He whispered—sounding like he was begging, "Don't ever do that again, Clarke. You were right next to me and I didn't even know you were gone until morning…"
"I'm sorry that I scared you, I'm not sorry I left. I was out of it earlier so I know my announcement wasn't exactly clear but I'm telling you now that it's the best plausible scenario for survival. I know you don't make peace with your friends but I feel like we can make friends in their community. I like the thought of having friends in the community, at least. I don't want to lose anyone else…I don't want to stitch someone up because they've been hit by a spear or worse. I want to focus on the possibility of settlement. I mean, do we want to be here forever or do we want to search for a different area? And what happens when everyone else comes down, hmm? Are we going to extend our peace to them or—" Clarke knew she was talking too much but she couldn't stop. "With this treaty, we have to start thinking about next week—not just tomorrow."
"Do you really believe that or are you trying to convince yourself?" He asked, his hand extending to her. She refused once more, causing him to smirk. "Princess, you're being cruel."
She shook her head, "I think I want to punish you before you punish me. All of these thoughts running through my head for hours, driving me insane…torture, really." Her fingers played with the fabric of her shirt before she pulled it over her head, her delicate curls falling down her back as she turned her eyes on him.
He smirked wider, a chuckle escaping his lips before his tongue darted out to wet them. "I want you, Clarke." He told her, "I need you. Princess, please put me out of my misery. Be the good doctor, prescribe me my medicine and let me take it."
"Take me, you mean?" Clarke crossed the tent quickly, her legs crossing over his body as he leaned forward to meet her. Their chests were pressed together and his breathing changed dramatically. "Take me…"
His fingertips trailed across the welted skin, causing her to hiss. Despite the look in her eyes, he continued to move his hand down the tattoo. Her lips parted because he knew what he was doing—he knew that she was getting off on the pain and pleasure combination. Of course Clarke was the type that liked the excitement. He could not complain, he enjoyed her reaction—enjoyed the pain as well. "It's beautiful." He said softly, watching her eyes flickering back and forth between his brown orbs and his ready lips.
"It's nothing but a confirmation of our treaty." Clarke said, her palm reaching to touch his cheek. He moved his face into her touch before she cleared her throat as she fought for control of her libido. "I may have helped design it…you know how I like having control."
"You designed this?" Her marveled before the rest of her statement settled in his ears, "Oh princess…I know."
"I altered it." She repeated, "Like I said, it's nothing more but a confirmation of our treaty with our neighbors." A knowing smile graced her lips, "Does it turn you on?"
He nodded, licking his lips once more before he pressed his lips to hers. He pushed his tongue in her mouth, his hand moving up to tangle in her hair to keep her in place while his other brushed across the tattoo. "Very." He purred as he broke their kiss, "Although, I imagine my arousal for your tattoo would lessen if my sister was sporting the same mark…"
Clarke smiled before pressing another kiss to his lips, "She begged. They denied her. Your sister was highly distraught."
"Why did they deny her?" Bellamy snorted, "She can be highly convincing…"
"Because they were adamant that she was not a woman yet... I don't know what defines womanhood in their culture but Octavia and I are only a few months apart."
"Maybe it's because Octavia's a virgin." Bellamy said, satisfied that his sister was proclaimed as a girl. Clarke had to look away from him for a moment because she was positive Octavia was no longer a virgin. She was even more positive that Lincoln's village knew this information. "It probably doesn't help that you reeked of sex…covered in marks and bites, hair tangled by desire…"
Clarke raised an eyebrow, "That makes you happy…the grounders knowing I belong to someone." She pressed a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. "That I am yours?" His breathing hitched as she brought their passion-filled promises into their intimate conversation.
"Yes." He buried his face into her neck, "It makes me extremely happy, princess. Do you want me to show you how happy it makes me? Do you want what I have promised you?"
"How could it be punishment if I want it…if I love it?" She batted her lashes, "Suddenly feel as if I'm wearing too many clothes."
"I agree." Bellamy's hand rested on her shoulder, "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right? That this is only a game…"
"Yes." She said, "Now please just give me what I want."
"Always." Bellamy kissed down her neck, his hands moving up and down her back. "And tomorrow, I'm not letting you leave this bed."
She pulled back, laughing. "I have to meet with the grounders tomorrow. Maybe the next day?" Her nonchalant attitude about her schedule caused his eyebrows to furrow. "Lincoln, the grounder we—uh…yeah, he will be there. Don't worry."
Bellamy raised himself, "Hold on, Princess…You are not going to be meeting with Lincoln tomorrow. No way. Simply forget it." She pulled away from him until she was beside him rather than on him. He looked over at her and scoffed, "You're upset that I want to protect you?" She dragged a hand down his bare chest, using her fingernails in the process. He tightened under her touch and she smiled. She moved her hand down his stomach, down to his growing erection. "This your new tactic?" He breathed heavily, watching her tease him with electric eyes. He attempted to touch her, but she grabbed his wrist firmly. "Okay, message received." He said huskily, his head falling into the pillow as her hands moved between the fabric of his jeans and his bare skin. Her soft hand resting on his hard member. He bit his tongue to contain himself.
"I'm going to meet with the grounders tomorrow." She told him in a serious tone, "Say it, say Clarke—princess, you can meet with the grounders tomorrow."
"And if I don't?" She removed her hand from him.
"Then you will sleep by yourself until I get my way and Bellamy…and I will make sure you sleep alone." She moved over him, holding both his wrists above his head. "Because you are mine." He was growing restless under her touch and he knew that he could easily flip them but he didn't want to interrupt her. This was true torture, but torture that he was willing to accept. "Just say it…say I can go." Her low, sultry voice made him shut his eyes.
"Clarke…" He groaned, "There is no fucking way I'm letting you go and meet with the grounders. I don't care if you never have sex with me again—your life is more important." She released his wrists, only to make him groan again when she unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down his legs. "Fuck me." He said, annoyed that she was making this so difficult. Why couldn't she understand how important her life was to him?
"Say the magic words and I will..." She said, "I can compromise, baby. I'll only meet with Lincoln…" She said mockingly, using his term of endearment. She moved against him, grinding hard. "I'll let you put my knees to my chest like the other night…" Could he even be more turned on? He kept feeling his arousal heightened. "And oh…what my mouth will do to you—you just have to say I can see Lincoln."
Her mouth met his Adam's apple, dragging her sharp tongue across his skin until she started sucking. He moved his hands to her back, rubbing her skin with his calloused hands. "Babbby…" He groaned loudly when she started slipping down his body, slipping out of his grip. She rolled the elastic down on his boxers at a slow pace but stopped to look at him. "No." He told her as a response to the question in her eyes. She continued to roll the fabric down, unaware of how fast his heart was beating. He was aware that Clarke was true to her word, she was going to leave him alone if he did not agree. She made him weak—so weak that he whispered in the lowest voice. "Only Lincoln?"
"Only Lincoln." She smiled before kissing down the V. With a swift tug and a wide grin, he was completely naked. Her thumb moved over the tip of him, her mouth moving closer to his throbbing erection. "That's a yes, right?"
"Right." He said, his body pushing up to her. He wanted her so badly, it hurt. She moved her tongue, trailing up his base, eliciting a moan from him. "Damn…" He felt the heat of her mouth consume him, her tongue massaging him as if she'd done it a thousand times. Such a perfectionist, she was. Such a fast learner… She made eye contact with him, watching his face take in her temptress skills. He moaned her name, called to her until she released him, kissing down his shaft before she stood up to take off her pants. He watched her undress, eyes taking in her body like a camera. He watched as she let her underwear slide down her legs, keeping eye contact with him until a girlish giggle pulled through her lips. He smiled at her, "You're beautiful." He loved her ivory skin, stained with love marks and a hot blush. He'd always seen her underneath him, never witnessing her lovely beauty for everything it happened to be.
And her tattoo…
God, he couldn't even describe what her tattoo meant to him.
She kissed him, her passion for him engulfing her entire heart like a flame. She eased herself down on him, joining her body to him. A harsh rush of breath breaking through her lips, "Okay, princess?" He asked, blinking once while he met her gaze. They held eye contact, unable to pry away from the raw emotion that reflected between them. There was the obvious pleasure, the slight nervousness, maybe a little exhaustion—much excitement. The sensual rhythm, the tantalizingly pleasurable pace causing multiple sounds escape his lips. As well as a few choice words, "Fuck…" He said while his heartbeat became the only thing he could hear. She whimpered when she pushed down on him again, holding her position for a few seconds. "Oh fucking god..."
"Say my name…" She moaned, throwing her head back into his hold on her neck. "Ah…please." She threw her head back when he pushed hard up into her. His head moved down to kiss her breast, to suck on her skin while she started to pant.
"Clarke." He said in her ear, "Baby, Princess… I will say your name over and over for the rest of my life." His heavy kisses trailed down her body as she let his arms wrapped around her back. His rhythm calculated and all his own as he pushed into her over and over again. She closed her eyes tightly, letting him take her. She could feel her orgasm boiling in her stomach. Part of her wanted to cry out but she knew the camp was not ready for that—so, she moaned his name repeatedly. She panted, her head facing the top of his tent while he took her nipple in his mouth.
There was no soft crashing waves—no time for a slow and romantic finish. Her orgasm hit her violently. She felt like she was falling…falling over and over again, for him, for everything as he continued to thrust into her. There weren't tears but she practically cried his name out. Her head falling on his shoulder, her sweat dripping on his skin. He knew by the way she fell on him that she was done—spent. He came easily in her after she let herself go. Her heartbeat was strong against his chest. He brushed her hair over her shoulder, his fingers trailing down her back to her the curve of her skin. His swollen lips connected with her shoulder, hearing her hum in response.
"You were so good, baby…you were so good…" He mused, his fingers coming back to play with the ends of her hair. They stayed in that position for a long time, the vibration of her lips informing him that she was enjoying the moment. "I thought you were going to cry, princess…" He could not hide the smugness in his voice.
"I was very satisfied with you, too." Clarke told him as she unwrapped her legs from around him so she could fall next to him. He covered her skin, watching her tuck her hand underneath her head. "That was…"
"At a loss of words?" He chuckled, reading the expression on her face. She was being bashful, almost modest in her behavior. "You are the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, Clarke…"
"Bellamy…" Clarke breathed. "Do you really mean it when you say things like that? Or is it just part of this…thing? The buildup…the thrill?"
"I mean every word, Clarke. I mean it when I say I'm yours… you have to know that…I'm yours."
"I mean it too, Bellamy." Clarke said after a few seconds, "And if that's what we mean why are we saying this is just sex?"
"We haven't said it today." Bellamy pointed out, "We're evolving. This relationship is evolving like everything else around us…I doubt there is anything we can do about it."
"Are you suggesting we give into…whatever this is?"
"I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to pretend that I deserve you but I want you… When I think about the future I want you by my side, you said we have to start thinking about next week and I want you next week… and the week after that…it just makes sense."
"That's a yes, then?" She mocked him, her fingers twisting together. "How do we make this work? We hardly get along on good days…fighting is a constant thing with us."
"I don't have a good answer for that." He said, "I imagine we continue to do it the way we've been doing it."
"I could be convinced." Clarke giggled, placing a kiss on his chest. "Especially if you can be convinced to go another round…"
"Oh, I think I can be easily convinced."
XXX
Clarke smirked at Bellamy from across camp as she shifted her bag across her back. She winked at him when they met each other's eyes, a wink he returned with a cheeky smile. He looked back at Miller only to meet her eyes again with the same smile. "That's disgusting." Octavia came up behind her, pointing at her brother who promptly looked away from them to actually talk to Miller. Sissy, Clarke thought. "And so against your little sex pact." Clarke took notice of the fading green around her as the weather started to shift. "You two are ridiculous."
"No longer a sex pact." Clarke smiled widely, "We're together. He is mine." She grabbed Octavia by her elbow and led her into the drop ship, continuing to smile.
"Holy shit!" Octavia clapped her hands, "I expected this but I thought there'd be some major meltdown before it really happened." She gripped Clarke's hands and started to gush with excitement, "Welcome to the family."
"A few hours together and I'm part of the family…" Clarke said, eyebrows raised at the mere thought of being in a family. "I think it's a little too soon for that."
"Oh, no…you and Bell are never going to break up. You both are too stubborn to let it end." Octavia pointed out and Clarke couldn't help but agree. "Speaking of relationships, when are we going to meet with Lincoln's people?"
"Today, it'll have to be just Lincoln." Clarke frowned slightly, thinking that she needed to up her game when it came to convincing him of things. "We came to an agreement last night that it'd be just Lincoln for now." Octavia was upset because she wanted her brother to trust the grounders the way she trusted them. "What did you expect, O? He's not going to be their best friends right away, he's hesitant."
"You could have tried to convince him." Octavia scoffed, "I imagine you have a specific leverage skill that can make him do things he normally wouldn't."
Clarke rolled her eyes, "That was me using my specific leverage skills. He won't budge, Octavia. At least you can see your boyfriend."
XXX
Clarke and Octavia walked down a worn forest path near the grounder village until Lincoln appeared. "How are you today?" He asked Clarke, a soft smile on her lips. She told him that she couldn't be better. They talked about the treaty and territorial lines for a good bit until Clarke decided to give Lincoln and Octavia their alone time. She walked over to a large rock and sat down. It was the first time that she could truly relax since landing. No one was going to throw a spear at her. No one was going to shoot her with an arrow. She could take in the scenes that surrounded her.
The way birds swooped down into the water and grabbed fish. The sound of leaves falling down to the ground after large gusts of wind. The bickering between unknown animals around her. She was amazed at everything that made Earth—well, Earth. And then she thought of how cruel people destroyed it. She thought of the poison that filled the skies as bombs were dropped for the sole purpose of killing the human race.
Yet, according to Earth Studies… humans had a long past of destroying Earth. There was pollution, war, political battles and economic failure. There were people killing innocents because they didn't agree with their religion or sexual orientation. How selfish could people be? To kill because of miniscule things such as culture?
Her head tilted towards the sky, letting the rays' blast down on her face. She contemplated the universe… how she'd lived in space her entire life and at a young age- she didn't know any different. She didn't know how the wind could push through every pore and send a shiver up your spine. She'd only known one temperature before Earth.
There was so much she didn't know before Earth. She didn't know what real air felt like when it slipped in through her respiratory system. She didn't know what a man's touch felt like…like the way Bellamy touched her. She didn't know how the rustle of leaves sounded or how a soft moan could make her skin crawl with desire.
Before earth, she was angry. After earth, she was angrier because she knew- god, she knew too much to ever not be angry with her former home and the people that locked her away. She was pissed her dad got floated- now she was pissed that her mom was behind it. She was pissed that she was going to die- now she was pissed her mom sent her to die.
But this darkness- it harvested a light that cradled every ounce of anger because his arms were a safe haven. She had full faith in the fact that Bellamy would protect her. It almost killed him to see her walk out of camp today with his little sister. Clarke liked that…she liked that he gave a damn about her and wasn't all "Let her make her own choices…" because he wasn't going to let her make stupid decisions because he cared.
In this darkness, there was this sense of happiness that boiled over and attempted to set fire to her world. It washed over every single bone in her body and convinced her for long moments that it wasn't so bad here. Today, the moments seemed to last longer because of the peace with the grounders. But she knew—she knew with every bit of her soul that the darkness would return once her mother's feet hit the ground.
Abby Griffin would make her question everything she'd done to make progress. The council would rip away at their leadership skills until they were stupid kids again, fighting a stupid battle against authority. They would say that the balance was restored—the teens would say it was stolen. What about the grounders? They would call them savages because their culture was different and they would degrade them like the people who destroyed Earth in the first place degraded other human beings. Octavia… god, Octavia's heart would be ripped out of her chest if anything happened to Lincoln. If anything happened to Octavia…it would be Clarke's heart being ripped out because Bellamy would seek vengeance and he had the type of will power to achieve it.
She breathed because the fear of the future suddenly consumed her. She needed to take shelter from the paralyzing pain in her chest. There was no time… There was no time… Her breathing picked up because it'd finally settled in her mind that they were pawns in a game she used to play for fun.
Once more, she focused on the nature around her. The water flow, the birds, the critters… she timed her heartbeat and attempted to calm herself before Octavia returned. She needed a plan and she needed Bellamy.
XXX
Clarke was in no mood to talk about her discussion with Lincoln. She considered it concrete whereas the problem at hand was not handled. "Bellamy." She said his name, her head tilting to the side. "I'm scared that everything we're trying to build is going to tumble down."
"I won't let that happen."
"One man isn't going to stop many." Clarke said, "They have an army. We have scared teenagers. They have people with a better education. We have people that minored in areas of study before their lives were ripped away and it's because their lives were ripped away that they will never get along with the council that sent them to die."
Bellamy's muscles were tight, his fist balled up. He didn't like seeing her so worked up. It wasn't good for her. She needed a clear head not a complicated situation. She put her hand on her temples trying to stop the headache forming in the front of her head. "Clarke…" He told her, "We've accomplished too much in these last few days to be focused on that version of the future."
She was on the verge of crying, "I know…" She put her lips together in an attempt to suppress her tears. She cried almost every day this week and not because she sad but because she was getting so angry. Her anger was overpowering her. "I don't want to lose this."
He wrapped his arms around her, "You won't."
"How are you so sure?"
"Because I fight for what I want Clarke." He said, "I will always fight for you." He smoothed her hair down. "I'll fight for what you need, too. It's not time to fight, princess—not yet. Celebrate your accomplishments before calculating your failures."
"Can you keep playing with my hair? My head feels better when you do that." He sat her down on his bed—their bed, he supposed. He let his hand travel through her blonde waves while she calmed. His hand cupped her face, "I need you in my life."
He felt her tears against his hand. "You don't need me…"
"If you think that, you're a fool."