Bellamy is pretty sure that's going to be the end of it. He's still disappointed of course, and the small taste of Clarke he got was never going to be enough, but he can live with it. She'd been perfectly clear from the start. It was a one off, and both of them got what they wanted and now they can go back to being friends. Bellamy is pretty sure he's capable of doing that. At least, he hopes so, because he's not about to lose his best friend over it, despite how much he wants her to be more than that.

So he tries to go back to normal, the way Clarke seems to do easily, but he's secretly glad he doesn't get to see her much in the week following, if only so he can try to get his head on straight. Maybe some time apart will allow him to forget the whole thing.

He never gets the chance to find out, however, seeing as she invites him over on Saturday night "to watch Netflix and drink wine" and seeing as how he actually doesn't want to spend any time away from her, he agrees.

He shows up with a bottle of wine, and he's fully intending to just try and forget about the whole sleeping with her thing. Or at least, put it out of his mind enough so he doesn't think about it while he's with her (when he's alone with his thoughts is an entirely different matter). As soon as she opens the door he knows he's fucked, however. She's wearing a low cut dress and it appears no bra, again. It's as if she doesn't remember the disastrous effect her tits had on him last time.

He manages to get it together enough to look away from her chest and into her apartment. He can't bring himself to actually look at her face, he doesn't want to know if she'd noticed him staring.

"Oh good, you brought wine," Clarke says, taking the bottle from him.

"You did tell me to," he reminds her as he follows her inside. "Uh, Clarke?" he looks around. Her apartment is a complete mess. And not the kind of mess where she hasn't been bothered to clean up for a couple of weeks, but the kind of mess where it seems like she's dragged everything she owns out into the living room and dumped it in haphazard piles all over the floor and furniture. "What happened to your apartment?"

"Oh, that," she shrugs. "Spring cleaning."

"It's summer," he points out.

"So I'm a little late," she shrugs again.

"Maybe we should go to my place," he suggests.

"No, it's fine!" Clarke assures him. "It's not that bad." Bellamy would beg to differ but he shuts his mouth and follows her into the kitchen where she pours them both a glass of wine.

"Is there even anywhere to sit?" Bellamy presses. It's not like he's a clean freak or anything, it just seems like the piles of clothes and books and god knows what else seem to be in the way a little bit.

"Sure, there's one spot on the couch. I'll just sit on the floor," Clarke says uncaringly. She hands Bellamy his wine and heads back towards the couch.

"You should have the couch," Bellamy sighs, resigned. He follows her to the couch where she's gesturing for him to sit. "It's your house. I'll sit on the floor."

"But you're the guest," Clarke counters. "I'll sit on the floor."

"I don't mind, really."

"Neither do I."

"Maybe we should both sit on the floor."

"Or," she pauses, considering him. "You can sit on the couch and I'll just sit on your lap." Bellamy knows logically he should refuse. For the sake of his sanity and his self control. But in the moment he can't really think of a good reason not to have her in his lap.

"Fine," he agrees and Clarke grins. She gestures to the couch again and Bellamy takes a seat warily, sitting his wine glass on the coffee table. Clarke puts a movie on and then settles into his lap.

It's nice, having Clarke in his lap, but it's not exactly conducive to him paying any attention to the movie. He's more focused on how soft her skin is and how her perfume smells like candy and how he's desperate to put his mouth on her. He's already semi hard, though thankfully he doesn't think it's noticeable. Which means he needs to start thinking about something else before it does become noticeable. He makes a conscious effort to focus on the movie, though he's already missed the first ten minutes and it's already hard to tell what's going on.

"Who's that guy?" he asks Clarke, fully expecting her to scold him for not paying attention.

"What?" she says, startled. "Oh… umm," she shrugs. "I'm not sure."

"Did he just get introduced?" Bellamy asks. Clarke shifts uncomfortably, her ass pressing against Bellamy crotch and he has to stifle a groan.

"I…" Clarke trails off. "I have to confess, I haven't really been paying attention," she admits.

"Oh," Bellamy says, swallowing. "What are you thinking about?" She pauses and Bellamy waits for an answer.

"You," she says eventually. "I was thinking about how you fucked me. And how I really want you to do it again."

"Fuck, Clarke," Bellamy groans. "Is that a good idea?"

"Don't you think it is?" she asks, turning her head towards him slightly. Bellamy watches with baited breath as Clarke pushes the straps of her dress down, pulling at the dress until her breasts spring free. He tries to move so his hard on isn't pressed against her ass, but it only serves to thrust against her, making her gasp.

"Shit, sorry," he says, embarrassed.

"God, Bellamy, stop being such a gentleman and touch me," Clarke demands. Bellamy gives in then, despite his better judgement. She's sitting half naked on top of him, it would be rude to decline (or at least, that's what he tells himself). He presses his lips against her neck and brings his arms around her so he can cup her tits, finding her nipples and tweaking them gently while he sucks at her neck, his restraint totally dissipating. Clarke rolls her head to the side, allowing him better access while one of her hands drops between her legs. Bellamy can't see exactly what she's doing, but he knows he wants to be the one doing it, so he removes a hand from her breast and brings it down to her thighs, pushing her dress up and her hand out of the way.

"Let me," he says, letting his fingers trail across the material of her panties, feeling how wet they are already. "God, how long have you been thinking about this?" he asks her.

"Since before I invited you over," Clarke admits.

"Was this a booty call?" Bellamy asks, rubbing her clit through her panties. He can hear her breathing get more laboured as he gets her worked up.

"Maybe a little," Clarke replies. Bellamy slows his fingers and Clarke whines, wriggling in his lap, making his cock twitch. "Are you going to finger me or what?" Clarke huffs.

"Are you going to ask me nicely or are you going to keep pretending you don't want this as much as I do?" Bellamy chuckles, removing his fingers completely.

"I'm not pretending."

"You are a little. You set up this whole charade instead of just asking me to come here and fuck you. Were you hoping I'd ask first?" Bellamy guesses, and when she doesn't respond he knows he's right. "But you just couldn't wait, could you?" he goes back to stroking her through her panties. "I know you're horny and I know you want me to finger you right now, so how about you ask me nicely and we can both get what we want."

"Bellamy," Clarke whines, but he's not giving in. If she's going to use him for sex, she can at least give him this one thing. Plus he knows it's going to be hot as hell to hear her beg for it.

"Clarke," he says expectantly.

"Please," she begs. "Finger me. I need you to fuck me with your fingers, please." The desperation in her voice gets his cock throbbing, and he finally gives her what she wants, pushing her panties aside and sliding two fingers into her hot wet centre. She moans as he enters her and even as he's pumping his fingers into her, she's thrusting against him, fucking herself on his fingers, her fingernails digging into the arm that he has wrapped around her torso.

"Yes, right there," Clarke pants. "Oh, oh, oh." She's obviously about to come, so Bellamy rubs his thumb against her clit for good measure, and then she's crying out in a shuddering orgasm, her fingernails leaving even deeper marks in his skin. Bellamy slips his fingers out of her and brings them up to his mouth, licking her juices off with his tongue. Clarke has barely recovered from her first orgasm and she's already standing up, pulling off her dress and underwear until she's standing naked before him.

"Take your clothes off," she demands and Bellamy hurries to pull his shirt off, then stands up to rid himself of his pants and underwear. He's barely removed them when Clarke is pushing him back onto the couch, climbing on top of him, her knees on either side of his thighs.

"So much for it being tacky to fuck on a couch," Bellamy says and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Shut up," she says exasperatedly. He doesn't get the chance to say anything else anyway, because then she's kissing him, sweeter than he expected, and slower and he almost forgets that this is just sex for her. But then the moment passes and she's kissing him harder, using too much tongue and too much teeth. He can forgive her for that though, when the next thing she does after she pulls her lips away from his is settle herself above his cock, letting the tip brush against her clit. She rocks back and forth a little, letting his cock gather her wetness before positioning the head at her entrance. Bellamy watches her, holding his breath in anticipation as she bites her lip and slowly lowers herself onto his cock, her pussy stretching to accommodate his girth. They moan in unison as he fills her, and Bellamy grips her hips tightly. It's all he can do not to start thrusting into her immediately, but it's obvious she wants to take the lead so he has to hold back.

Clarke drops her head to his shoulder, pressing herself against him, but not making any move to fuck him yet.

"You okay?" Bellamy asks gently.

"Yeah," Clarke breathes. "It feels good. I'm just not used to it yet. I forgot you were so big."

"I didn't go all the way in last time," he admits. "I didn't know if you could handle it. I know you're not used to… men."

"You can say cock, Bellamy. After all, it's already inside me."

"Sorry," he grins. "Finn's the only guy you've been with though, right?"

"Yeah," Clarke agrees. "He was definitely smaller."

"… how much smaller?"

"This isn't a competition."

"But I win, right?"

"You definitely win," Clarke laughs. "Now can we stop talking about Finn? You're killing the mood."

"Sorry," Bellamy says, and he's cut off mid chuckle when Clarke starts moving her hips against him. Bellamy keeps his hands on her, steadying her as he gently rocks with her, thrusting against her. It takes him almost no time at all to reach the point where he's about to come, but he manages to make himself hold out a little longer until he can feel Clarke coming apart above him, her walls clenching around his cock as he finishes with her.

"We should keep doing this," Clarke says, breathing hard.

"Just give me a few minutes, will you?"

"I don't mean right now," Clarke says, repositioning herself so she's curled in his lap, her head against his chest. "I mean… other times. Whenever we want sex."

"Are you suggesting a… a friends with benefits type situation?"

"I guess so," she shrugs. Bellamy doesn't really know how to feel about the proposition. On one hand he absolutely wants to keep having sex with Clarke. On the other hand he definitely wants more than sex, and he thinks he might just be setting himself up for heartbreak in the long run. He's still thinking it over, and Clarke must think he's going to say no, because she quickly starts explaining herself.

"I'm not saying you can't have sex with other people," she says, as if that's the problem. "It's just that we're both single and my hand is not always as satisfying as I would like."

"So I'm better than your hand. Thanks for the high praise," Bellamy jokes.

"I'm just saying it's easier than finding someone else and better than doing it alone," Clarke explains further. "And you're kind of good at it."

"Kind of?"

"Okay, you're really good at it. Happy?"

"Sure," Bellamy replies. "You're not so bad yourself."

"So what do you say? Do we have an agreement?"

"Whatever you want, Clarke."