Chapter Text
Polis avenue is dark, illuminated only by streetlamps when Clarke walks the familiar route over to her boyfriend Finn’s house, heart beating fast as the mailbox numbers go higher and higher up until she reaches 100. His house looks the same as always: a blue, moderately sized two story, with a two car-garage attached and an inground swimming pool in the back — pretty similar to her own house, except her house is white, and has a bigger yard. The porch light is off, and there don’t seem to be any signs of activity going on inside the house. Good. It’s almost 2am anyway; she doesn’t imagine his dad or stepmom would be awake at this hour.
Her and Finn have been dating for a while now — well, to her 3 months is awhile. They’re both seventeen, and so far, Clarke has never dated anyone longer than she’s dated him. She thinks she might even love him. Which is why she’s here. She stands by the mailbox for a minute, body jumpy with nerves before she looks down to her phone and pulls up the message Harper had sent her half an hour ago for encouragement.
That’s my girl! Now go get him blondie and SUCK. THAT. DICK!
Clarke smiles to herself at her friend’s enthusiasm, and then puts her phone away, looking around for the best way to get to the second floor. She’s glad she has Harper for this honestly, because Harper’s done this before with her boyfriend, Monty, and she knows what she’s talking about. It was her idea that Clarke even come here in the first place, after her and Finn got into that argument over how he always goes down on her and she never returns the favor. Which — okay, fair enough. He has gone down on her, many times since they started dating, and Clarke has never reciprocated. She’s thought about it before, and even almost went through with it once, but she chickened out before he even unbuttoned his jeans — which only triggered his frustration with her more. This weekend though, she’s spent hours looking up posts on how to give the perfect blowjob, even sort of practiced on a banana she grabbed from her kitchen, and tonight, she’s ready.
To her surprise, scaling the roof of the garage is not quite as difficult as she assumed. She uses the recycling bins in the driveway as a step ladder of sorts, and from there she just kind of launches herself up. It works on the second try, and Clarke is relieved she hasn’t made too much noise as she climbs the rest of the way up, using the chimney pipe as leverage until she finds her footing. It’s both nerve racking and exhilarating, being high up on a roof like this. She looks around — even pulling out her phone and taking a panoramic picture to send to Harper — and makes sure the neighbors aren’t suddenly awake now, poking heads out their windows looking for anything unusual.
She tiptoes across the roof of Finn’s garage, noticing 3 windows in her line of sight, and instantly she realizes her mistake.
She has no idea which bedroom is his.
It’s stupid really, that Clarke didn’t think of it before she left her house, and now she almost wants to kick herself at how little thought she put into this plan. Because yeah, she’s been to Finn’s house before, but never upstairs in his room. His parents have always been strict about that —she remembers his dad saying something once about how his younger stepsister might get ideas for when she started dating —but the reason hardly matters now. She’s standing here, on the roof of her boyfriend’s house at 2am, with no idea which room is his. Technically, she could call him, but that would ruin the surprise. The whole point of her coming here unannounced was so that she could not only give him a blowjob finally, but so that she could also indulge his fantasy —the one he told her about.
“Fuck, princess, I can just imagine it — you, climbing into my bedroom window, and me, waking up with my cock in your mouth. You with your blonde hair and pretty lips wrapped around me. Fuck. It gets me so hard just picturing it.”
Finn had told her about that particular fantasy almost two weeks ago at her house, while he laid on her bed —cock straining in his jeans, and chin shiny with her juices —and Clarke stayed next to him in her post orgasm bliss, bristling just slightly when he called her ‘princess’. God, she hated that nickname.
Now, she realizes that she should probably just go home and give up before someone catches her. Make some up excuse if Harper asks and try to subtly find out from Finn which room is his, the next time she talks to him, that way she can come back another weekend and do it then. It’s stupid to stay really -she’s dressed in dark clothes in the middle of the night standing on someone else’s roof — it’s reckless and probably a recipe for disaster. But, for some reason —perhaps some form of foolish determination —she stays where she is, zipping up her black hoodie and couching down quietly before crawling towards the windows, seeing if one of them leads to Finn’s room. If she’s wrong, and none of them are his room, she’ll give up and try another time, but honestly, her nerves are like electricity lighting up her body right now, making her skin feel tight and stomach heavy with something she can’t quite name. Something inside her just knows that she’ll never get this kind of courage again if she doesn’t do this tonight. It’s now or never.
She moves slowly, constantly looking around for any onlookers when she approaches the first window. She presses her face to the glass and looks in — very aware of how bad this would look to anyone who happened to be walking or driving by — and her eyes adjust, allowing her to see posters of boy bands, a mirror vanity and an open closet with bright colors inside. It takes her no more than two seconds to figure out it’s his stepsister, Octavia’s room, and immediately she turns her head away to crawl toward the second window —only to see that the young girl’s bedroom has two windows. Which she now realizes leaves her with only one more shot at going through with this tonight —the third window.
“Fuck.” She can’t help muttering, voice just barely audible, even to her own ears. She stops crawling for a moment, just feet before the last window, and breathes.
And let’s see what’s behind door number 3. Her mind comically supplements, no doubt bringing flashbacks to that one neighbor who babysat her as a kid, and always watched those television game shows. “It’s always door number 3.” The woman used to tell her; a knowing smirk etched on her face. For once, Clarke hopes that old kook is right.
She braces herself, fully prepared to go home if this isn’t it, and call it a night. Her breath is harsh, and she starts breathing more slowly just to quiet the sound. She lifts herself up slightly, weight on her knees, as she peeks her head inside- thankful this window is at least open, unlike Octavia’s — and immediately her stomach flips. She peers inside, seeing a queen-sized bed on the opposite side of the room with a green comforter and Finn’s body sleeping under the covers, with only little wisps of his black hair visible. Holy shit. She’s actually going to do this.
Clarke places her hands on the window and lifts the glass just enough so they she can fit through. She keeps her eyes on Finn the whole time, worried that he might wake up at any sudden sounds. They’ve never slept in the same bed before; she doesn’t know if he might be a light sleeper. He doesn’t stir, much to her relief, and Clarke bends her back, hunching over just enough so that she can step into the room from outside the window — incredibly thankful that the floor is carpeted, keeping her landing quiet. She steps through, and immediately her nose is hit with a masculine scent. It’s subtle, but not off putting like she worried it would be. She’s surprised actually- Finn normally smells like axe body spray, not whatever scent is in here. She thinks it’s better, actually, his natural scent that’s permeated in this room instead of his preferred products. It’s not that he smells bad or anything, but something about this scent seems to create warmth in her stomach.
Hmm. Perhaps she’ll tell him to skip the cologne next time she sees him.
Quietly, and ever so cautious, Clarke unzips her hoodie and removes her hair tie, letting her blonde waves fall around her face. On all the websites she searched with her incognito browser, most of them recommended that she leave her hair up, so as not to get loose strands in her mouth —but she removes the black hair tie anyway, remembering Finn’s fantasy about seeing her blonde hair while he looked at her mouth being- occupied.
She folds her hoodie and places it on a chair nearby the window which turns out to go with a matching computer desk — but not before grabbing the bright poppy colored lipstick that she brought with her and carried in her pocket, just for this purpose. Clarke leans over the window ledge, using moonlight to provide her phone’s camera with enough brightness to see herself —and she carefully applies the beautiful red shade to her full lips, a twinge of excitement building inside her at the thought of finally doing something so bold, so sexy. She looks at her work from her phone’s camera, and rustles her hair a bit more, trying to give it a sort of wild, sultry look that she always thought looked hot on girls.
Finally, she pulls back from the window once again, satisfied with her appearance, and places her phone next to her hoodie, before turning to Finn, who’s head is still completely tucked under his blankets, snoring lightly.
She stops for a moment, trying to get a feel for his room. She’s never been inside it before, having always been barred by his parents. She’s surprised however, to see the TonDC Tech poster on the wall near his bed. That’s his dad’s alma matter, and one of the best schools in the region. She knows Mr. Collins really wants him to study there after high school, but Finn always seemed more interested in Ark U. The poster makes sense though, she supposes. She knows his dad has been really pushing this on him for the last few years, mainly because his stepbrother, Bellamy, attends that school, something Finn never seems to stop complaining about. He’s been there for a while she thinks, maybe on his third or even final year. He studies an applied science; she can’t remember which though.
Clarke’s met Bellamy a few times since she’s known Finn, and has heard about him even more, she knows just how much they don’t get along. Finn’s always complaining about him it seems, whenever they hang out over at her house and anything even reminds him remotely of his stepbrother, he’ll go off on a tangent about how much of an asshole he is. She knows that when their parents first got married and Bellamy and Octavia moved into the Collin’s house there were a lot of problems. And she knows that Finn has a lot of bottled-up resentment about his blended family, but to Clarke that’s all it is —family problems. She doesn’t have any siblings herself, and her parents are always working it seems. While Finn goes off all the time talking about how hard it is, she tries to listen, but honestly, she just doesn’t get why it bothers him so much. At least he has siblings to complain about.
But anyway,
Back to the task at hand. Clarke looks over at her sleeping boyfriend while she peels off the rest of her clothes. He’s seen her naked before, and she knows she’d probably be uncomfortable bent over on her knees by the foot of his bed with her jeans still on. She takes off her t-shirt and bra, taking extra care to not mess up her tussled hair, and removes her sneakers and jeans, deciding however, to leave her lacy red panties on — they match her lipstick.
The further away from the window she gets the darker the room looks, and the harder it is to see him. He’s on his back though, she thinks, which will make her job a lot easier. Nervous, Clarke slowly, gently, lifts the comforter where it hangs off the bed by Finn’s feet. Not even breathing, and eyes staring like a hawk, she places one knee on the bed, her face scrunching up with worry when the mattress groans slightly. She stops, one leg on the bed the other still on the floor, and watches. Nothing.
Relieved, and almost desperate to just get it over with, she climbs on the bed completely — only for her heart to stop beating when he finally moves. She’s frozen, panicked, as Finn’s body adjusts itself in the blankets, groaning slightly in that way that sleeping people do. She doesn’t move for nearly a whole minute, too scared to risk it, she doesn’t know why though. He’s her boyfriend, he told her he wanted her to do this. Even if he does wake up, he’ll probably be too excited about having his dick sucked to even care whether he’s asleep or not. He’s been begging her to do this for months, she really doubts it’ll matter if she wakes him up now.
Still though, Clarke is determined to make this good for him, especially since they’ve been fighting about it so much recently. Once she does this, she wants them to go back to how things used to be in the beginning of their relationship — back when they were always happy and never fought. She can do this.
Heart in her throat, Clarke ventures further once she knows he’s still asleep. She ducks her head under the covers, and sees his legs —well, the shape of his legs at least —spread apart just wide enough so that she can fit in between them. It’s dark in the room, and it’s even worse under the blankets. Her fingers touch his skin, barely brushing the hair of his legs as she travels upwards, stopping when she feels what could only be his boxers. She can’t see at all. Really, she’s just going by instinct as she moves her hands towards the center of the fabric, stopping abruptly when she feels him, semi hard between his legs.
Ohhhh.
She’s never touched him before, too nervous to even do that. She struggles to breathe under the blankets —much less keep her breathing muffled —but yet, the feel of him underneath his boxers, warm, and slightly hard, and foreign to her, has her placing her free hand over her mouth so as not to gasp. Her stomach is hot, heavy with a deep arousal she’s not sure she’s ever felt before, and she finds herself suddenly eager to get her mouth on him.
Heart racing, and skin hot, Clarke leans down and puts her mouth on his boxers, placing open mouthed kisses over the fabric covering his cock, trying to be as quiet as possible. Her cunt throbs, and Clarke squirms just slightly, feeling the familiar surge of wetness dripping from her core into her panties. She never realized just how amazing, how fucking hot she would feel, being the one in this position. She’d heard other girls at school complaining about having to give their boyfriends head. Never had she even considered that she might actually like doing something like this.
Blindly, she mouths at his boxers, soaking the fabric with her spit as he gets larger, harder underneath them. She’s probably staining them she thinks, leaving bright red marks the shape of her lips on the crotch, unable to be removed by even the strongest bleach, ruining them forever. Whatever. At least he’ll have something to remember this by.
She likes it, the feel of him on her lips as he swells, standing upright in his boxers. It pleases her, how little time she’s put into this before he’s fully hard, straining against the fabric. She moves her mouth up and down his clothed shaft, relishing in how warm it is, before finally wrapping her fingers around his waistband and gently pulling. She moves slowly, torturously, achingly slowly, before his cock finally comes free. She doesn’t truly remove his boxers, rather she simply pulls the front of them down enough to expose him to her waiting mouth.
Again, she can’t see him, not anything beyond a basic outline anyway, but she can smell him, masculine —almost woodsy— and she can feel the heat radiating off him, the same way it had when she was mouthing at him. She touches him, for the first time ever in their relationship, ever so delicately, and is rewarded with a quiet, breathy moan from somewhere above her. She stills, only for a moment before continuing the light movement, fingers traveling from the base to the head, and marvels at how soft the skin is — how big it is. Her body is warm, both from the blankets and the heat burning inside her, as she finally pulls her hand away and replaces it with her tongue.
And-oh
She wasn’t expecting it —the jolt of hot, searing pleasure that scorches her core, as she finally tastes her first cock. It’s hot, and soft, but firm and heavy as Clarke swirls her tongue around the head, brain swimming with endorphins. She’s doing it, her mind eagerly screams. She’s actually giving her boyfriend a blowjob.
She tries reminding herself to be delicate as she licks the head, and she is for a while, choosing to simply flick her tongue over the slit, slowly, playfully. But her cautious delicacy is quickly replaced with eagerness once she starts hearing Finn reacting above her — maybe even waking up. A flash of heat stabs her core at the thought, and within a split second, Clarke sucks the head completely into her mouth, satisfaction filling her when she feels her boyfriend’s body shifting slightly, a broken moan sounding from his lips, deep and rough and-
“Ohh-”
He groans, breathless, and Clarke brings her mouth further down his shaft — breathing through her nose like all those articles suggested —until she reaches her limit and gags a bit, her mouth completely full of him. And suddenly, he shifts, lifting his torso and forcing her to move up the bed with him, his cock still in her mouth.
“What in the— wait— whoa!”
His voice sounds lower than normal, thick with confusion and tired from sleep. Quickly, she hears the click of a lamp turning on before he pulls the blankets off them and Clarke looks up at him, eyes big, hair down, lips red and wrapped around his cock like he told her he wanted —but then— fuck.
HOLY FUCK.
She rips herself off him immediately, mouth pulling away with a humiliating pop, and she falls backwards, dropping to the floor on her ass with a thud. She grabs the sheet he threw to the floor, realizing that she’s almost entirely naked, wearing nothing but a sopping wet lace thong and red lipstick —the color of which is now stained onto a cock which is most definitely not attached to her boyfriend.
She stares, too dumbstruck to scream, while she looks up from the floor into the eyes of an equally shocked Bellamy Blake, who sits on the bed peering down at her, cock still hard and wet from her ministrations.
Oh GOD.
What has she done?