"Up in Flames"
Lucawindmover
Chapter Two
"In the Fire"
Bellamy Blake couldn't believe this was happening. In the little part of his brain that wasn't actually affected by the aphrodisiac-soaked blood rushing through his system, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't reconcile the girl currently in his arms with the one he knew she actually was.
This wasn't his Clarke. This wasn't his Princess. This was the most base and feral version of her, pulled forward by the drugs that she couldn't fight. There wasn't much in this world that Clarke couldn't fight, and he knew it, but this was one of those few things. Her body was no longer in her control.
Neither was his for that matter.
When he'd made his proposal, trying to explain without having to say it, that he would not be the one to get her pregnant, he hadn't entirely expected her to understand his promise, let alone actually trust him enough to accept.
But she'd turned those bright blue eyes on his in the dark, eyes full of heat and desire and trust, with a faith in him that he wasn't sure he deserved, and she'd nodded.
He'd come undone and there was no stopping now.
She pressed herself into his body, bringing her free hand up to grip his neck as she was the one to deepen the kiss. She was all heat and softness and he was lost.
Bellamy had fought very hard not to think of Clarke in this way. Only a blind man could have ignored how beautiful she was. But Clarke was more than a pretty face and she had proven that time and again. She was strong and stubborn and determined. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty when it was necessary. She was capable and trustworthy and could hold her own against an army of Grounders. She was his partner and as soon as he'd realized that, he'd done whatever he could to keep from jeopardizing that relationship. He needed her. And she needed him, too. Neither of them could keep everyone safe on their own. He needed her levelheadedness and she needed his ability to make the hard choices. It wasn't that she wasn't capable of doing it. He'd seen that she was. But he liked being able to take that weight off her shoulders whenever he could. She already carried too much.
And now she seemed weightless, born along by the drug in her veins, pulling her hand from her pants and turning herself toward him so as to further press into the kiss. He was helpless, sliding his hand around to cup her rear and rolling his hips into hers. She moaned into his mouth and he felt his knees weaken. They couldn't stay standing long. Between the overblown lust causing them each to tremble and the fact that until today they'd both been in comas of indeterminate length, they were both about ready to fall over.
He backed them away from the wall and toward the bed. She must have realized what he was doing at some point because the second the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, she was pushing him flat and climbing up to straddle his hips. She never stopped kissing him, her tongue determined to map every inch of his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips in ways that caused his fingers to tighten on her hips.
He broke the kiss for a moment, gasping for air. She stared down at him like a wild thing, possessed. While his body was aching to tear her clothes from her body and have his way with her, his mind still rebelled, knowing without the shadow of a doubt that this was wrong.
They were crossing lines that couldn't be uncrossed.
It must have shown in his face, that indecision, because her eyes seemed to clear for a moment.
"Bellamy," she said softly, pushing herself back up to sitting. She was still straddling him but she was no longer within kissing distance. It was as if she was just now realizing what was being a party to. She reached up and grabbed two fists-full of blonde hair. "What the hell are we doing?"
He sat forward, wrapping an arm around her back so that she wouldn't fall.
He wished he had a good answer but he didn't. "We're doing what we always do."
Clarke scoffed and leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "This is not something we always do. This is something in the category of things we never do," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
He shook his head, wrapping both his arms around her and pulling her closer. He felt her pelvic bone rub across his still-painful erection and barely bit back a groan at the contact. "Who we are and who we have to be in order to survive are two very different things. You remember me saying that, right?"
She sat back again so she could look at his face. He wasn't sure what she was looking for but she must have seen something that reassured her.
"You're right," she said, licking her lips and glancing toward his more than once. "This is not who we are."
"And we will survive this, Princess," he said. "It's Hello high water or something, right?"
And just like that she smiled. It was her real one, the one that he'd very rarely seen and almost never seen directed toward him. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, quite unexpectedly, and he pulled her backwards on the bed, rolling them so that he could have a little control over the situation. If he couldn't control his body's reaction, he was determined to control how he used those reactions.
Clarke was back to meaning business, reaching up to pull his shirt up over his head. Just like that, he realized that the idea of control was only an illusion.
As he leaned down to capture her lips again, she reached between them and wrapped her hand around him. The sensation was so powerful that his mouth left hers with a loud expletive. She moved against him, rocking her hips in time with the rhythm of her hand.
He was done. He'd tried patience but the drug in his system didn't know the meaning of the word. He pushed himself back to his knees and he shed his pants, his eyes glued to Clarke's as she lifted her hips and did the same.
In the space of a heartbeat he went from an agonized ball of pure need to nearly satiated with the simple motion of slipping himself inside her. Clarke's back arched up off the bed as he withdrew and met her, again and again.
Her eyes never left his and he stared her down, telling her with his eyes that this was not who they were, that this behavior due to the drug would not change who they were. This act wouldn't be what defined them. They would survive this as they had survived everything else fate had thrown their way.
The drug made quick work of them and he felt himself slipping toward the edge. When Clarke's fingernails dug into his forearms and her eyes clamped shut, he knew she'd fallen over. She nearly took him with her but at the last second he remembered his promise and he pulled out in time to spend himself across the front of her shirt rather than inside her. It was by no means a perfect form of birth control but it would have to do, given the circumstances.
He collapsed against her, his forehead resting on her collarbone. Listening carefully over the sounds of their labored breathing and pounding hearts, he could detect the absence of the hissing sound. The drug was no longer being pumped in. He wasn't sure if the Mountain people been watching via a hidden camera somewhere like peepshow voyeurs or if they'd just had the gas on a timer. Either way, he knew the air should be starting to clear now.
"I don't know about you," Clarke said, breaking the silence. "But I'm exhausted."
Bellamy would have normally taken this as a complement but he knew that it wasn't the way she'd meant it. He was starting to feel the extent of their exertion so soon after coming out of comas and he had to agree. His limbs felt like lead and his head was swimming. He wasn't sure he could walk a straight line. He turned his head to the side, talking to the soft underside of her chin. "I kind of feel drunk. My head's….swishy."
"Swishy?"
He shrugged and she laughed softly. She'd laughed. He'd actually made her laugh. And then he realized that is fixation on whether or not she'd laughed confirmed the fact that he was not in his right mind. "Side-effects of the gas?"
Clarke yawned loudly, her chin bumping his nose. "Probably."
Neither of them moved for a minute. Bellamy realized he was completely naked as the regular vent kicked on and a breeze caused goose-bumps to pop up along his arms and legs.
"There's a blanket down there somewhere if you can reach it," Clarke said, gesturing toward the foot of the bed.
He groaned and sat up on one elbow, reaching with his free hand to pull up the white blanket. He resumed his place, pulling the fabric up to cover them both.
"Oh," she said, her body tensing up a little. "You're gonna stay there?"
He shrugged, his eyes already drooping. "You want me to sleep on the floor?"
For a second it seemed like she actually considered it. "Well, no. Tomorrow probably yes. But right now…you're kind of warm."
Bellamy felt her relax into the pillow and he let himself finally relax as well. He hadn't realized just how much he'd tensed up until she'd given him permission to stay. He sighed and draped his arm across her.
He was surprised when he felt her arm do the same, tucking the blanket up around him to make sure there was no draft getting in.
It was quiet for a while after that. He knew she was still awake because of the way she was breathing. She might have been relaxed but she was still awake and he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Finally she sighed and he felt her lips press to his forehead. "We'll have to talk about all this tomorrow," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But right now I just want to sleep."
Bellamy was woken by the sensation of falling. He'd had dreams like this before, especially right after Charlotte had died, and they were always jarring. This particular feeling, however, wasn't a dream. He hit the floor on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him, his eyes seeing stars as he realized he'd hit his head too.
"What the hell?" he grumbled, bringing his hands up to his face. He blinked a few times after rubbing his eyes and looked up to see Clarke peek her head over the edge of the bed.
"Oh!" she said, startled. She disappeared and a moment later a pair of white shorts were dropped on his face.
"Sorry," she said, still not visible. "I thought I heard something so I jumped up and….well I forgot you were there."
Bellamy slipped on his shorts and let his head fall back on the floor. From this position, he could see her bare feet traipsing from the other side of the bed over to the door. Usually her skin seemed really pale but in his horrid white room, even her typically fair skin seemed sun-kissed. He shook his head and made himself sit up before he could start having additional weird thoughts about his partner.
"I was right," she said over her shoulder. "I did hear something. There are two big drawers over here that are open."
He stood walked over to join her. "This must be how they give us meals without having to chance opening the door," he said with a frown. There went one of his escape plans out the window.
One drawer held a tray with a morning meal while the other held changes of clothes for them each and towels.
"Why did they give us towels?" he asked, lifting one up and unfolding it. "I don't even see a sink in here."
Clarke lifted a sheet of paper up from the breakfast drawer and started reading the text to herself. She still hadn't managed to meet his eyes yet this morning but Bellamy wasn't going to push it. He wasn't so sure he wanted to tackle the talk he knew they would have to have at some point. She furrowed her brow at something she read and then started scanning the room with her eyes as if she were looking for something.
Bellamy dropped the towel back in the drawer and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "You mind sharing?"
"Oh. Here," she said, handing him the piece of paper and walking over to the far wall.
The page she'd handed him explained that there was a switch that would open a door in the wall to an adjoined bathroom for them and their neighbors. The door could only be open on one side at a time so, in theory, they'd never actually see their neighbors. But from the determined look on Clarke's face, she was already planning a work-around for this.
She found the switch and flipped it and the door slid open. Inside was a regular toilet and sink and something that completely amazed Bellamy.
Clarke's mouth was hanging open. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked. She took a step into the bathroom, her eyes sparkling with amazement.
"Yeah," Bellamy answered with a smirk. "It's a shower. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's a shower."
On the Ark, they'd learned about showers in Pre-war Earth Architecture but they'd never seen one before. The Ark had been forced to conserve water to an extreme degree. Each family was given a hygiene quotient of water to be used out of a tub, and then that water had to go into the backs of the toilets to flush them. Nothing was wasted. The idea of just letting warm water rain down on you until you were clean seemed like a very indulgent experience.
Clarke turned to him with a grin, apparently forgetting her earlier unease. "This I have got to try."
Bellamy backed out of her way as she went back to the drawer to get her clothes and towel. She couldn't close the bathroom door until they were finished using it so she demanded that he didn't peek before ducking into the bathroom.
He decided that while the princess showered, he'd check out their breakfast. Under the domes on the tray was an array of foods he didn't have names for. There was some spongey-looking yellow fluff, some kind of fried meat, and a bowl of various pieces of fruit. He picked up the fried meat and tried it first, finding it crispy and delicious.
While he was looking at the plate, he found a curious empty cup off to the side. It had a cap on it and writing on the side. He picked it up, reading the words. Almost instantly his appetite faded.
"C. Griffin—Test 1"
Test. Pregnancy test. He knew enough from his mother being pregnant that the test for pregnancy was with urine. They already wanted to collect a sample. If they wanted one from Clarke, it was likely they were having all the girls offer up a sample. It meant that they were expecting the gas to have done its job. Some of their people, some of his friends, were likely starting to grow offspring already. Maybe some of them had been able to abstain altogether. A few of them might have had the same idea that Bellamy had managed to think of.
The sound of Clarke shutting off the water in the bathroom made him jump and he dropped the cup in the middle of their breakfast. Luckily nothing seemed damaged. Right then and there, he made a decision. He wrapped the cup in his dirty shirt from the previous day. He took his clothes and towel out of the drawer and dropped in the old shirt and offending cup. She didn't need this. Not right now. Not so soon.
It wasn't as if he was trying to protect her. He knew that she didn't need protecting. And he knew that she could have probably handled it. But she shouldn't have had to. This was his way of telling the Mountain people to go screw themselves.
Clarke came out of the steamy bathroom, rubbing her wet hair with her towel. She was dressed for the day in similar clothes to what she'd been in the day before. Her cheeks were flushed and she was sporting the most mesmerizing grin.
"That was amazing," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "How's breakfast?"
He shrugged, gathering up his clothes and towel. "There's a bunch of stuff in there that I don't recognize. Feel free to eat it though. I'm not hungry."
He didn't stop to see her expression as he turned and went into the bathroom. He just needed a minute. He needed to swallow back the irrational guilt he felt when he looked at her, knowing that the Mountain people already hoped he'd managed to break his promise to her and get her pregnant. He didn't know what he felt so guilty about. He'd held up his end of the bargain. But somehow, now that the drug was out of his system, he looked back on the previous evening and kicked himself for not being able to hold out against the gas.
Bellamy stripped off his shorts and left his towel where he could reach it and stepped into the shower. He pulled closed the curtain and turned on the water, figuring out quickly how to adjust the temperature.
He'd just been standing there in the stream for a few minutes when he heard Clarke clear her throat from the doorway.
"You know I didn't bother you when you had your turn, Princess," he said.
He could hear her step into the bathroom and see her shadowy figure as she sat on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall. "Sorry. Do you mind?"
"Mind what?"
"If I just sit here."
Bellamy frowned. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to just sit there?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Don't tell me you're missing the shower already."
She laughed softly, or at least he thought she had. He couldn't be sure with the sound of the water all around him.
"It's not that," she said finally. "I'm just feeling…off."
He sighed and rubbed his wet face with his hands. "I can relate to that."
"How do we do this?" she asked. "How are we supposed to do this?"
"You know I don't actually have any answers for that, right?"
She was quiet for a minute, thinking things that he wasn't privy to. He went through the motions of getting himself clean while he waited for her to say something else.
"This is going to complicate things," she said finally.
He snickered. "Oh, like it as all sorted out and orderly before, right?"
"That's not what I mean and you know it."
Bellamy sighed. He did know.
He shut off the water. Despite the fact that no restrictions had been put on the shower times, it just felt wasteful to him to leave it on once he was finished. He stood there, drip-drying and waiting for her to either leave or hand him his towel.
She did neither.
"We take it a day at a time," he said softly.
"And we work on the plan."
He nodded, finding strength in the tone her voice had taken. Gone was the insecure girl who had come in to sit during his shower, replaced with his partner, the one who would get them out of this place.
"Damn right, Princess."
"Do you understand that we will never be the same again?"
Bastille "Things We Lost in the Fire"
Edited 6/13/17