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Clarke knows that Bellamy is elated to be back. She sees it in the confidence in his step and in the smiles that unfurl their way across his lips and brighten his face. But it also has just been a lot for him. For over six years, he thought she was dead. He mourned her for as long as he could allow before he had to step up and take control in space. And now he’s back and she’s alive and she can tell that it overwhelms him a little every time he looks at her. And then there’s his sister—the girl he devoted most of his life to—who still remains buried underground, with no certainty that she has survived. And she can see the anxiety that still buzzes behind his eyes.
“I can barely sleep,” he tells her, quiet, looking almost guilty for it.
He’s sitting on the end of his bed, the dim glow of candles illuminating him as he tiredly scrubs a hand across his face. He was granted a tent for himself in the makeshift camp set up by the Eligius minors. Clarke had been made the same offer but she’d refused—as much as she wanted to trust the minors, she just couldn’t completely, and she would never put Madi at risk. So, for now, the rover remains her home, but she visits Bellamy’s tent every moment she has spare.
“You’re stressed,” she says simply.
He huffs out a laugh, absent of merry. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“You need to unwind. I—” she stops. What she is prepared to offer is nothing small. It has the potential to tear them apart and break her heart, but if Bellamy needs her—“I could help. You just need to let me look after you.” She says each word carefully, feeling their weight rest heavy on her tongue. They’ve been on the precipice of something big and whole and wonderful since he returned, but neither of them seems to know if the other is ready yet. But there’s no going back now. He knows exactly what she means, if the widening of his eyes and the slight tilt of his head are anything to go by. (It’s Bellamy, of course he knows.) “Would you let me?” she asks, voice going soft as vulnerability creeps in.
His eyes go warm at that and it makes her insides glow. “Let you look after me?” he asks, quiet.
“Yeah,” she says, her hand slowly reaching for his cheek, giving him enough time to pull away. Instead, he rests his head on her palm, looking up at her with big unguarded eyes. She smiles softly down at him, encouraging, as she steps forward so she’s closer to where he sits, finding her place standing between the vee of his thighs with her knees touching his mattress. She slides her thumb along his cheekbone and he closes his eyes at her touch. With her other hand, she first runs her fingertips lightly over the freckles scattered across his nose and cheek before tracing along his brow bone. She then buries her fingers in his hair, scratching along his scalp. He makes a soft sound of contentment in response and leans his cheek more heavily into her palm.
“I want to kiss you,” she tells him, almost nervous. She doesn’t know want the extent of this is, if she will be pushing the boundaries. “Can I?”
He opens his eyes again and the care in them sends butterflies racing in her stomach. “Please,” he begs softly and his voice cracks on that one syllable.
She uses the hand still caught in his hair to gently tug at his curls, tilting his head back. His eyes are still open, watching her with something akin to wonder. He’s gorgeous and he’s perfect and the way he’s looking at her makes her insides nearly burst, but instead she slowly leans down to simply press her lips against his.
The first few kisses are soft, slow, maybe even innocent. But then she traces her tongue along his lips and he grunts before opening his mouth to her, making her stomach curl with desire. The kiss deepens then and she wants to be as close to him as possible. She finds herself in his lap, securing her thighs tight around his hips, as she anchors both hands into his hair so she can pull him close. She pulls back eventually, her hands going to her shirt to tug it over her head.
She’s just wearing one of her ark-issued sports bras—a thick, modest piece of dark grey fabric. She knows what it looks like: the bottom band is covered in holes, little strings of elastic poke through the fabric and one of the straps snapped a year back so it’s just tied together at her shoulder. Even so, Bellamy’s eyes rove hungrily over her and his hands hover over her waist as if he’s unsure of where to put them. “Can I?” he asks, tearing his eyes away to look up at her.
“Of course,” she smiles. “Touch me.” He slips his fingers under the bottom band and runs them along the undersides of her breasts, making her shiver. She holds her arms over her head so he can pull her bra off.
Ever so tenderly he presses his lips against her nipple and she can feel the wetness of his tongue on her skin. He looks up at her from under his lashes, all innocence, and it send hot want straight to her core.
“Bellamy,” she breathes, “I need your mouth on me.”
Confusion flashes across his face for a second before he realises what she means. “Please. I want to taste you.”
She removes herself from his lap. “Take your shirt off.”
He does as she asks and she can’t help but marvel at the movement of tight bands of muscle under his skin. “Nice,” she grins.
The hot tension of the room is broken a little as he ducks his head on a laugh. “All for you.”
“Now lie down and scoot back,” she tells him and relishes in the look of pure desire that takes over his features as he realises what she wants from him. As he lies down on his back, she undoes her pants and pulls them down her legs, before tugging off her underwear. Bellamy watches her, eyes hungry, as she crawls her way up the length of his body. As she leisurely makes her way up, she slowly drags her bottom lip against his shaft, tented painfully against his jeans, but doesn’t offer him the relief of releasing him from his confines.
When she gets to his face, she first kisses him languidly before moving up to position her knees on either side of his head. His hands come up to take a hold of her hips but she swats them away.
“No touching. Only your mouth is aloud. Understood?”
He nods and swallows thickly. “Understood.”
“Okay,” she murmurs and pushes back the hair that flops over his forehead. She gently lowers herself over his face. The first touch of his tongue to her wanting centre sends a shiver up her spine. It’s been years since she’s been intimate with another person, only her fingers have given her pleasure. Probably not the case for him, she thinks with a shameful touch of jealousy. That pulse of jealousy causes her to push her hips down onto his face and he groans with pleasure as he becomes engulfed by her.
He’s good at what he does—his tongue first only lapping at her folds and flicking over her clit before pressing in deeper as she gets wet for him. He pushes in and out in a delicious rhythm that has her hips rocking in time with his mouth. She comes with a full-bodied shiver, her eyes rolling back in her head and her muscles clenching around Bellamy’s head before releasing again. She swings one of her legs over him so she’s no longer encasing him in her thighs and leans down to kiss him deeply.
“Did you like that?” she asks softly as she runs a hand down his stomach. She grips his shaft in her hand, thumb rubbing along the fabric of his jeans.
“Yes,” he croaks, eyes blown wide, and his dick throbs in her hand to affirm it. “Did you?”
She brushes the hair from his eyes fondly. Of course he would ask that—even with her cum on his face he still wants to make sure she is satisfied.
Instead of answering she takes his hand and leads it to where she’s still dripping for him. “What do you think?” she whispers.
He swallows thickly and she can feel his fingers twitch against her as he tries to rub her folds.
“No,” she tells him, drawing his hand away before pinning it above his head on the mattress and his eyes darken. “I’m looking after you, not the other way around.”
He nods up at her so Clarke takes his other arm and pins it in the same position.
“Do not move. Don’t touch me. Understood?”
He nods again and she smiles down at him.
“Good. I’m going to ride you now.”
With that she moves her hands to the top of his jeans. She lightly scratches her nails along the skin of his lower stomach in a way that is maddeningly teasing, if the way he slightly squirms is anything to go by. She pops the button of his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His cock pops up, hard and ready for her and she licks her lips. Bellamy lets out a groan at the sight.
He’s thick, so even with how wet she is, she takes her time lowering herself down on his shaft. The drag appears to be agonising for Bellamy; he bites down on his bottom lip and scrunches up his eyes to try and hold his focus. Once he’s fully inside her, she begins rocking in a slow, steady drag.
“You feel so good, Bellamy,” she whispers. “So good for me.”
“All for you,” he croaks back.
He pumps into her, once, hard. Gripping his hips she stills them by pushing down.
“No,” she tells him. “We go at my pace.”
He nods, looking pained.
Her next few rocks along his cock are slower then before. She wants to teach him a lesson, make sure he knows who’s in control. Taking pity on him though, she picks up the pace soon after, thrusting faster and pushing down deeper onto him.
She kisses tenderly along his jaw and up the side of his face. She then catches his lips in hers, pulling him into a deep, searing kiss. She pulls away, looking down at him. Looking at his warm brown eyes, sex-tousled hair and open face she feels a surge of possessiveness. It’s this deep need to mark the beautiful boy below her as hers that has Clarke moving her lips to the base of his neck where she begins sucking harshly at his skin.
Bellamy lets out a choked, needy sound. “Clarke, I think I’m going to—”
“Wait,” she instructs, before she moves her lips back to his neck and finishes marking him. She begins moving against him in earnest then. “You need to wait for me.”
“I don’t think I can wait,” he manages.
“You’ll have to,” she insists. He feels so good inside her as she continues to rock onto him, so thick and filling. But he’s also looking up at her, her mark on his neck, his lips wet from her mouth and her cunt, and completely at her mercy. He’s beautiful. It’s this thought that has her core growing hot and she pumps along his shaft a few more times before she instructs him to cum and she does the same, shuddering the whole way through.
Her bones feeling heavy and tired, she pulls off him and slumps to the side, completely satisfied. The both of them are breathing heavily, eyes to the roof of Bellamy’s tent. Eventually she feels the bed shift next to her and Bellamy lies his head against her chest, draping his arm over her middle.
“Thank you,” he whispers into her skin.
She says nothing but sinks her fingers into his hair, stroking soothingly. She doesn’t know what this means for them, maybe she doesn’t want to. But here, with Bellamy wrapped over her, the light from the candles casting orange highlights over their skin and her bones humming with satisfaction, she doesn’t think it really matters.