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Chapter 6:
Her eyes lashes quivered as she sensed the irregular tickle of an assertive biting chill. Cold- something she hadn't been all summer, yet she was absolutely shivering against her warm-blooded, possibly sweating, pillow. She shifted as covertly as possible, prying herself from his somewhat wet skin. Clarke glowered as she brought a hand to the back of her shoulder, her fingers sliding through the specks liquid-water. She peered up at the tent netting in time for her nose to be hit with two or three stay droplets. "Bellamy..." Clarke cleared her throat as her eyes wandered over his bare skin trying to disguise her initial breathy pronunciation of his name. He was strikingly beautiful as the dim, pale moonlight flittered across he relaxed chest venturing down his abs all they to his- Why am I even here? I should have left...why can't I look away?
Bellamy grunted in response, attempting to roll over on his stomach to block out the sound of her voice and conceal his sudden excitement to find that she was already saying his name in her intriguingly feathery voice. Clarke impatiently let out an aggravated groan, jamming her finger into his shoulder blade with every ounce of strength she'd received from her short nap. He turned his face towards her naked body, finally opening his eyes just to watch her breasts rise and fall with her excessive huffing, "You want to fuck again or something? Because honestly baby, I'm tired..." He was supposed to sound arrogant but his tone was sweeter than what he was implying.
"It's raining." Clarke informed him with a sly grin on her face as if she'd won when it came to the better come back. In truth, she had because he was hoping she'd mount him and do all the work. A man can dream, can't he? He lifted himself from the ground slowly, hands searching for any and all abandoned material. He found her bra and raised a suggestive eyebrow, the curve of his lip telling it all, as he held it by the strap. She roughly exhaled, snatching it from him as she found the rest of her clothing where she left it. "We have to collect it because-" She went on to explain what he already knew. He only let her continue to ramble because he was too tired to tell her to stop talking and too tired to make her stop talking. He was in a bit of a haze and it wasn't because of the physical strain the last two days had been while they hiked-it was all her. He was entranced by her natural beauty, the way she was so enthralled by the micro-droplets dripping from the semi-protective netting.
They were victims to the darkest moments before the radiant dawn touched down on their tenuous camp, the depleted material of their boots sliding across the unfamiliar dampness of the foreign territory as they exited his—their-tent. He offered her his hand and she declined in a typical Clarke fashion as they simultaneously took a few wary steps forward. She whistled in a sort of contentment as she noticed they were still alone, not a single person aware of the miracle that graced the land.
Clarke giggled transiently before placing a hand over her mouth to conceal the most amicably harmonious sound he'd ever heard her make. It struck him for a second, leaving him speechless as he looked over her in wonder. He asked himself succinctly, is this the same Clarke I've known for a better part of a year? Or has she somehow undergone metamorphosis, transforming into the most irresistible person I've ever met? He arched an eyebrow in response to her muffled spurts of joy, "What in the hell is so funny?" He couldn't hide his own amusement, a comfortable smile touching his lips at the sight of her.
"Nothing, nothing..." She waved her hand dismissively, turning her head to the sky before bringing her attention back to him. He never stopped watching her play the role of an innocent teenager. "Fine," She surrendered with a small huff mixed with the remnants of her giggle fit. "I was thinking about something Raven and Octavia said…"
He shifted his feet with a heavy sigh, the anticipation of her hilarious joke causing him to become irritable. He wanted to know what made her make that enchanting sound. He demanded to know how to make her do it again. "Spit it out, Clarke!" He had to physically reign himself in from taking it too far, or leaking too much emotion into the exclamation.
She blushed slightly—a really beautiful tint spreading down her neck like a neon sign. "They refer to my lack of sex life as a dry spell. I was thinking that both of the dry spells are over."
"Oh." Bellamy wondered if he was he wrong to feel slightly smug. He wiggled a finger at her and started to chuckle lightly before he launched into his own joke, "Wow, you made it rain."
"Coincidence." She crossed her arms as the ever-so-rational person she strove to be broke through the moment. He thought all hope of making her smile again was gone—that is, until her lips turned up slightly, "...Correction: we made it rain." He stepped closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She tensed, clearly not expecting the action. "What are you doing?"
"Continuing to make it rain." He said matter-of-factly as if their promiscuous actions were the root of their salvation. Bellamy may have been a god in bed—even thinking that made her want to choke, but it was true—but their sweaty moans didn't entice the rain to suddenly fall from the sky. The man had a few talents, she would admit that to herself and only herself…sure, but they hadn't done a sanctimonious rain dance within the confines of the parachute material. He released another small laugh as he moved his nose into the back of her neck, "I don't want to be responsible for another dry spell, do you?"
She thought about what he was saying; his implication. He wanted to have sex again. She couldn't blame him, she wanted it to. She wanted to feel his body on top of her, beneath her, behind her—whatever, wherever because she wanted him and rightfully only him to continue to make her feel so alive. If he wanted the same as her, she couldn't say no. It was rare to experience a moment of bliss, no matter how ignorant it was, and she wasn't about to pass up the rare occasion. Clarke nodded slowly, her misty hair clashing with his shirt in the process, "I certainly don't want to be responsible for another dry spell, Bellamy Blake."
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I actually really liked this chapter when I wrote it but seeing as I'm sort of sleep-deprived, it might not be as good as I thought. Thanks for reading! Thanks for the reviews!
-Brooke