It was dark when I left Monty's, even darker when I got to our place.

Bellamy was waiting for me inside. He stood when I came in, and for a moment neither of us said anything.

Was it awkward? Maybe. We were facing down a life changing event. Most people would be scared.

The thing was, most people weren't Bellamy Blake. He was scared, sure, but he also had the heart of a lion. He would stare down anything if that's what it took to get what he wanted.

"So," I said after a minute. "I'm pregnant." I tried for cheerful but it came out nervous.

We had prepared ourselves for this moment. It shouldn't have felt so...profound.

A little smile quirked his lips and he nodded. "Yeah, Princess. You're pregnant."

I didn't know what to do with my hands. "No going back now. I already told Monty I don't want to abort."

"You keep talking like I don't know all of this already."

"Sometimes I find comfort in repetition. Keeps me sane." Was that weird? It was probably weird.

"I love you."

What? I looked up at him. "What?" I said again, only this time out loud.

"Are you surprised?"

"You said love was just a nice word."

He shrugged. "When they come up with something better, I'll start using that instead." Gaze warm, he looked me over. "Come here."

I didn't know I was waiting for him to call me over until he did, and then suddenly I was in his arms and there was nowhere else I wanted to be. "This is crazy," I sighed.

"Our whole lives are crazy, Clarke," he said against my hair where his chin rested. "What's one more thing?"

I once told him that strong girls only needed themselves. I still believed that. Still, there was no denying that having him with me to share all of this made me feel so much better.

I wanted to show him that, so I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. Then again. And again.

Then I really kissed him, the way I'd wanted to do for ages.

All of his excuses were gone now.

He pulled away from me. "Are you sure?" His heavy breathing rushed over my cheeks. He cupped my ear.

"I'm not going to let you say no this time."

This was it—the course we'd set. I was going to see it through.

Because I loved him. Because he loved me. Because this was Earth and it wasn't safe. We didn't know things like where or when or how, but we knew each other and how short life could be here. Nobody was going to stop me for reaching out for the person I wanted. Not even Bellamy.

I reached up and pulled him back in for another kiss.

The way our mouths melded was something I could never stop being surprised at. It was like coming home to a place you didn't know you lived.

My hands got tangled up in his wild hair—have to do something about that soon—and held on tight. It was me that was in control, not Bellamy, and I took that for all it was worth. I was vaguely aware that he was holding onto me back, but I didn't know where or how.

I sank into feeling, but it was just the beginning. This was all the anticipation of our time together, love, relief, and a deep seated need that had nothing to do with circumstances and everything to do with Bellamy Blake.

I dragged his jacket off of his shoulders and yanked it down to his elbows, then pushed him back until his calves hit the bed. He kind of fell back with a grunt and a crack that almost broke the frame. "Easy there, Princess."

"No." I threw off my own jacket without looking where it landed, then threw myself at him a second time. He caught me by the hips as I kissed him again, bearing us both back until he was flat, arms trapped by the elbows.

I straddled him and rained kisses over his throat, then retraced the path with my tongue.

"Fuck," he hissed. Big hands held my hips in place, trying to get us closer through layers of fabric. He kissed my temple and my forehead. "Let me up, Clarke."

I ignored him and pulled the collar of his shirt down, sucking on the skin I found there.

My hair was everywhere, so I absently pulled the mass over one shoulder while I left little marks in my wake. Here, there, anywhere I could reach, and all the while Bellamy was moving under me like he was in torture. The temperature of our waginogan had shot up about ten degrees. I loved the sound of his breathing and the way he held me so tight, like he wanted to take over but needed me close.

Good. That was just the way I felt about him.

I went back to his wonderful mouth. While he was distracted I slid down to straddle only a thigh. He followed me a bit, unwilling to stop kissing me, so it wasn't until it was too late that he realized what I intended. "What the hell..." he murmured, dazed.

I pulled his shirt up and mouthed his stomach.

He hissed. He started to pull his arms out of his jacket sleeves, but I grabbed onto them and laced our fingers together. This was my territory. I was going to explore it.

"Dammit, Princess," he gritted through his teeth when I swirled my tongue around his belly button. "I said I would make it worth your while."

"You made me wait too long." I sucked on the bit of hip peeking out from his pants. Hard.

He bucked. "Okay. That's it." He yanked his hands away and threw off the sleeves. "We're doing this-"

Thinking fast, I pulled his pants open and mouthed his cock.

He stopped right there and then and shuddered, his face a configuration of shadows and heat.

There was nothing but a flimsy pair of underwear between him and me, and an incredible surge of power made me feel almost light headed.

This was my man. Handsome, intense, loyal, incredible Bellamy Blake.

Time to lay claim.

I barreled ahead, grabbing the edge of the underwear and pulling it down. My first sight of him in all his glory was amazing and strange. I still wasn't used to the sight of a man fully aroused, and it was doubly fascinating for me because of who I was with. This was all for me. The shaft, the length, the width, every bit of it. I marveled at him.

I wasn't exactly experienced, but I wanted it, and so I didn't think much about technique when I took hold of Bellamy's cock and licked the tip. Curiosity prompted me to do it again, and again, and I wondered what it would be like if I took more of it into my mouth, going down slowly.

Bellamy had frozen, his breathe shuddering out of him.

I think he was afraid to move.

When I read my tiny, secret stash of romances on the Ark, I never realized going down on someone could be erotic—the tension between the two of us was so wound up it was almost painful.

I wanted him. God, I wanted him.

I watched him with every bob of my head.

He stared right back, his mouth parted, little gasps coming out.

His shoulders shuddered.

He smelled so good. Tasted good.

A hand came up and buried itself in my hair. "Clarke."

I came up for air—this was harder than I thought, trying to remember to breathe through my nose while my heart pounded against my rib cage and just in general not being overwhelmed—and ran my tongue his cock from root to tip.

"Fuck." He sat up and then he was kissing me hungrily, holding my face like he never wanted to let it go.

My brain short circuited. Wow.

Oh right, I still had him in my hand.

I ran my palm up and down.

He groaned and raised his hips, going from my mouth to my jaw and then down my neck. Instinct made me pull back but he followed—oh, did he follow—wrapping his arms around my back and holding me still while he sucked on my collarbone. I couldn't stop the breathy moan that tore out of me, my head tipping back.

Wow, I thought again.

His hand hooked under my thigh and pulled me in close. It was so awkward and so good at the same time and our clothes were still on. Why the hell were they still in the way?

Bellamy suddenly cupped my nape and made me look at him. "You and me," he panted, staring hard into my eyes. It sounded like a vow.

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. "You and me always," I promised against his mouth.

He'd fought for me and I'd fight for him, no questions asked.

Saying it out loud kicked something in Bellamy into high gear. He flipped us over until I was on my back, kneeling and pulling his shirt over his head.

I'd never forget that sight for the rest of my life—Bellamy Blake's beautiful chest and torso, pants undone, his cock hard for me.

Then he was throwing that t-shirt away like he couldn't stand it a second longer and he was back, yanking my pants and panties down my legs and straight up in the air. They went sailing after the t-shirt.

His mouth was all over my belly in the next second. All I could do was bury my hands in his hair while he licked his way up to my chest. My skin felt more alive than it ever had before, all the nerve endings twitching under his tongue.

He reached my bra and pulled me up to get it and my shirt out of the way. Did I say I was in charge? I was wrong. He definitely was, and I had no urge whatsoever to change that.

He took over the way he always did—totally and completely. He pushed me back on the bed and suddenly got out of it, pulling his pants off the rest of the way.

I thought he'd get back in bed. I wanted him back in bed.

He didn't move, standing stock still, looking down at me.

Thick lashes framed hot, intense eyes. They started at my hair, which must have been a mess, then drifted down my face to my kiss-swollen lips. He drifted down my neck to my chest, already peppered with his marks, down my ribs to the hair between my legs. He lingered there, licking and biting his lip like it was the best thing he'd seen in his whole life and he couldn't wait to explore it.

My hands clenched in the covers. How was I supposed to breathe, again?

Then he moved on, down my legs and to my feet. I didn't think there was much interesting down there, but he wasn't in any hurry when he retraced his path, back up my legs, to my thighs, my hips, my stomach, my breasts and my lips.

Bellamy had the lean, easy grace of someone who had to carve his life out of wilderness. His narrow hips, wide shoulders, and easy stance. His darker skin, his cute freckles, that wild mop of hair. Every single part of him was sexy.

He looked into my eyes, a smile lighting up his face. He looked happy.

I had never been so turned on or content in my life.

Words utterly failed me, so I help up my arms.

He came into them as easy as breathing because he belonged there, on top of, mouth on my nipples and sucking as hard as he could over my heart. I rained kisses on his temple and arched my hips into his, rubbing against his cock until he was slick from me.

He rocked with me, hand under my thigh, the other palming my breast so that he could lave it all he wanted.

He wouldn't let me touch him, not really, driving me crazy with how few places I could reach this way. I wanted my hands on every single part of him, but all I could do was grab his hair and dig my fingers into his shoulder blades.

He breathed out a chuckle.

Thought that was funny, did he? I rolled my hips extra hard that time.

He stopped laughing in a kind of adorable hitch.

Next thing I knew his fingers were around my clit and he was kissing my neck. "Tell me exactly where you want me to touch," he commanded me softly.

Was he serious?

"Now, Clarke. And don't be nice about it."

It was his voice that ripped up my resistance. He didn't think I'd do it? I'd show him.

And I did, describing in explicit detail where and when and what pressure to put while he followed my orders. If I didn't like what he was doing I told him, and he seemed to find that so sexy he couldn't stop humping me.

Fine, I was humping him back, riding his fingers when I told him to shove them into me and how, feeling that pressure build up. It was his panting on my neck, the damp on my skin where he'd kissed me with an open mouth, his fingers, his smell, just everything Bellamy that sent me over the edge.

I clenched up with a groan, overcome by the orgasm, holding onto him for dear life.

"Come," he was chanting in my ear. "Just like that, Princess. Keep coming."

Oh god, I needed to stop. I needed to catch my breath.

No chance. No sooner had I sagged in relief than he was there, grabbing me by the thigh and opening me wide so he could position his cock. First it was just the tip, then the rush of pressure, and he was there, all the way in.

He stopped.

Was he kidding me? Stopping? Now? Confused I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I was arrested.

It was all there—lust, love, possession, adoration.

He flexed his hips, pulling out and pushing in.

I bit my lip to keep the moan back.

He did it again, and again, and again, hard and steady, sometimes fast and slow, watching me the entire time. I fought the urge to close my eyes. Some things were just too intimate. He was staring into my soul. He could see all my secrets.

I could see his too, so I kept them open.

I angled so that I could meet him better, slipping a hand over his nape and holding him to me, kissing him with an open mouth I could barely suck air into.

He shifted until he'd propped himself on his forearms, hands in my hair, framing my head.

He was so big.

So beautiful.

All mine.

His expression was tightening. His thrusts were going faster. He was getting close.

"I want you to come in me," I told him. "Really deep. Don't hold back."

"Shit," he muttered, sinking into me, the bed was creaking. He was biting his lip so hard I thought he would hurt himself.

I had no mercy. "Come in me, Bellamy. Come on, I want to see it. I want to watch your expression."

"Oh fuck-"

I burrowed my fingers deeper in his hair. It was going to happen. It was going to happen- "Right now, Bellamy. Come!"

"Oh sh-" he took my mouth like he needed it to live, but I tore away and watched him shudder, mouth open, bliss and pain on his face.

It was gorgeous.

"Holy shitballs, Clarke," he gasped in utter amazement.

I laughed. "Exactly."

"You wrecked me." He still sounded stunned.

Wait. "Why are you surprised? You told me it would be like this."

"Not like that. Like...wow." He eased down next to me, hand in my hair. "I've spent a lot of time fantasizing about us, Princess, but nothing came close to what just happened."

"Is that a compliment?" I teased.

"That's a benediction."

For a guy who claimed he wasn't very good with words, he had a way of saying things that poked me right in the heart.

Our bodies were cooling and our breathing evening out, but I didn't want to move. I wasn't sure I could. Bellamy wasn't in any hurry either, stroking the side of my face while I hung onto his wrist. Outside the camp had settled down, letting in the natural sounds of the woods.

It made me think of the Ark. How much I didn't miss it.

"I should have made you come twice," Bellamy said suddenly, looking annoyed with himself.

I burst out laughing.

He raised up a little. "What?"

"Only you."

"Hardly, but thanks for the compliment, Princess." He studied me. "What were you thinking about?"

"Statistics."

He blinked. "I definitely should have made you come twice. My girl should not be thinking about math after sex."

I turned more on my side. "Up on the Ark we probably ran across each other at least once or twice. Maybe more. We were trapped in too small a space to rule it out."

He hummed, not adding anything.

"What we did up there...it was living but it wasn't thriving. I would have been dead if they'd never put me on that ship. Our lives were so radically changed by coming here that I can't ever imagine going back. I wouldn't, not even for a second." I ran my finger down his chest. "It's brutal but at least it's real."

He caught my hand and brought it up to his mouth, pressing his mouth lazily to the skin. "I'm going to build you a house, Clarke. I'm gonna make us a life."

My heart squeezed. "It's not just you. I'll be right there with you, making it happen. Don't forget that."

"How could I?" He kissed me.

There was a lot he wasn't saying. There was a lot he didn't have to say. I understood. Not a single day was guaranteed. There was a lot of hard, dangerous work ahead. There would be losses and heartbreaks.

I still wanted to try. With Bellamy.

Part of me wondered is something between us would change once we'd had sex.

It did.

Some unsettled part of my heart had found what I could only call peace. It was a weird word to use down here on Earth, but it was true. I had a fixed point. His name was Bellamy.

Octavia's project was done within a week. It wasn't the same thing as building the pyramids, but it might as well have been. The first night we were in there, every single person that remained in the hundred was high on accomplishment. Octavia's Great Hall was the pinnacle of our achievements so far. It was more than just surviving. It symbolized what we were capable of.

Bellamy gave a speech, but Octavia was the girl of the hour. She was being recognized for planning and executing a project none of us thought was possible a month ago. Alcohol flowed and the patting of the back never stopped.

I honestly did not know who was prouder: Octavia or Bellamy.

The second highlight of the night was Peter. We'd gotten used to his stories around the camp fire, but nothing could have prepared us for the tale he'd apparently been holding back.

He climbed up on the raised platform, brushing his long black hair behind his hair nervously. We all sat on rough benches that would be replaced soon, drinks I wasn't allowed to touch resting on even rougher tables. None of us cared.

"Shh!" Jasper hissed at a couple of people who didn't realize it was starting.

Peter's hands flexed at his sides. Then he squared his shoulders. "This is the tale of Nanabozhoh, son of the West Wind, grandson of Nokomis, teacher of humanity. The man who brought fire to his people, whose brother became chief of the dead, whose virtue cannot be surpassed."

A hush fell over the crowd. The sound of the snapping bonfire was the only noise.

"After a long, wearisome journey that took Nanabozhoh across many miles and through many tribulations, he came upon a pleasant, lush valley filled with life. Here he heard the sound of a drum, and the voices of people singing. It was after dusk, and though tired, Nanabozhoh came closer. He saw people dancing in a lively fashion, their head feathers bouncing in every direction. He recognized no one. He received no friendly greeting, no invitation to dance with them."

Bellamy sat forward next to me, propping his elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his hand as he listened.

Whatever else Peter could be like during the day, in moments like these? He was king.

I could picture it so clearly. I could almost hear the beat of the drum as I stroked my hand up and down Bellamy's broad back.

"Nanabozhoh was a good dancer, and he longed to join in the fun. He asked and he asked, but no one invited him. Finally Nanabozhoh decided to dance by himself, his feet finding the familiar patterns. He danced and he danced, enjoying himself despite the cold welcome, when suddenly the bright moon burned away the night and Nanabozhoh saw that he had been deceived."

Peter paused.

"Nanabozhoh, son of the West Wind, grandson of Nokomis, brother to the chief of the dead, teacher of humanity, had mistaken the wispy heads of reeds for the feathers of eagles, and the singing of his people for the whistling of the wind."

Bellamy chuckled and I laughed.

Peter smiled. "Even the teacher of humanity can sometimes make mistakes. Nanabozhoh put down his blanket and his knife, and lay himself down for a good, long rest."

We clapped. It was a good story. "Do you think he was talking to us?" I asked.

He looked at me warmly. "Maybe. There's always a moral somewhere."

"Make your own party when nobody else will invite you?"

"That, or don't expect to be perfect."

Drinks clunked down on the table in front of us. "Alright, you two, enough of that," Octavia said. "Bell, I need you to explain to these doofuses who Sir Walter Raleigh was."

He groaned. "Why can't you ever argue about something like the Holy Roman Empire?"

She snorted. "Like that's ever going to come up in conversation." Her hand pounded the table. "Come on!"

He glanced at me. I shrugged. He was on his own.

No sooner had he vacated his seat then Raven slid into it, angling her body my way and nodding at my drink. "Gonna take that?"

"Little bit out of my diet right now." I pushed it her way.

"I heard." She took a deep drink. "Repopulating the Earth and all that. You okay with it?"

Not too long ago I wouldn't have known how to answer that. Now it was easy. "Yeah," I said softly. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Hmm." She drank again, only this time she stared into the bottom of her cup when she put it back down.

The back of my neck prickled.

It came out on the backend of an exhale. "Is there something you have to tell me, Clarke?"

I stilled.

Nobody had ever said Raven was stupid.

She swallowed and looked at me. "I mean...you know."

There were a lot of ways I could respond to this. Tell the truth. Let that drop on her. Suddenly I was back at the beginning, struggling whether to admit what had happened between me and Finn. I thought she had the right to know.

This time? What would the truth help?

Nothing.

It had already been decided.

I reached over and took her hand. "It's Bellamy's, Raven. He's the father."

She didn't quite believe me. Or maybe she didn't want to. "Oh." Her shoulders sagged. "Oh." This time it was a little softer, full of resignation.

She didn't let go of my hand.

"Were you hoping otherwise?"

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" She ducked her head. "You're sure?"

"Yes. No doubt in my mind." I wanted to take away the fresh wave of pain I knew she had to be going through. Some things, though, just didn't have a cure.

Raven's eyes slid closed. She inhaled. Exhaled. Swallowed.

When she opened her eyes again, they were wet but calm. "Congratulations."

A spark of happiness caught in my chest. "Thanks."

"Bellamy excited?" I shot her a look, brows raised, prompting a laugh. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Does your mom know?"

All my mirth dried up. Mom. I'd have to tell her eventually, if for no other reason than to get her medical opinion. There was so much to do. So much to learn. We had to prepare ourselves for the best and the worst.

Mom wasn't the only doctor on the Ark, but even if I asked someone else, word would travel.

She'd have to hear it from me. Even with everything that had happened between us, some part of me felt I owed the woman that had raised me that much.

"Hey."

I looked up.

"You'll be okay, Clarke. We'll figure something out."

We. Now there was a word that had come to mean a lot to me lately. There was power in the collective. There was relief knowing there was a support system behind me, even if none of us actually knew what the hell we were doing.

Bellamy's mop of hair made him easy to spot in the crowd. He turned his head and his eyes caught mine. He didn't smile, but he might as well have.

We could do this. We could definitely do this.