Chapter Text
Bellamy lets out a sigh of relief as he finally makes his way down the hall towards the bathroom. He just got off of his late shift at the bar and he just wants to shower, dammit. It’s almost 2:30 am and he had a long day that turned into a long night as he tolerated his way through a birthday party for yet another overexcited (and over-intoxicated) 21-year-old. He’s pretty sure he did not get enough tips for the amount of forced flirting he did and some girl in a too tight dress spilled vodka on him over the bar in a clumsy attempt to get his attention.
Bellamy walks into the giant bathroom with his towel and toiletries in hand. The plumbing at his apartment isn’t working, and since the repair guy isn’t coming until next week, Octavia has been sneaking him into her dorm building so he can grab a shower after his shifts. It reminds him a little too much of his college days, being in a communal bathroom again. Bellamy definitely does not miss this. He assumed that no one would be in here, as it’s pretty late at night on a weekday, and therefore no one would question why a 24-year-old who smells like vodka and sweat is in a college dormitory bathroom. But when he first walks in, Bellamy can hear one of the showers running.
Clarke has just gotten back from way too many hours in the library. Normally she doesn’t spend long, late hours at the library sitting in the middle of campus, but she has a midterm coming up and is determined to do better on this one than the last. Not only has Clarke been slaving over her past homework sets, but she even took on some extra ones. One problem has been causing the poor girl trouble all night, as it’s seemingly impossible to solve. No matter how many times she tries, she can’t seem to come up with the right answer (or even a reasonable one).
And this is why Clarke’s taking a shower at 2, or is it 3?, in the morning trying to relax so she can try to get some sleep. She has to get up early again tomorrow morning and make the same tired walk to the library to finish studying. And now she’s thinking about that stupid problem again—so much for a relaxing shower. The blonde can feel her eyebrows draw together in frustration and tries to think of something else, anything else. Clarke feels like her skin is pulled too tightly around her bones, like any more tension might actually snap her in two. She is so stressed she has to physically stop herself from grinding her teeth together.
In an attempt to relax and just get rid of this tension (and forget about this goddamn unsolvable problem), Clarke draws her fingertips across her stomach, her sides, making random, soothing patterns. Her hands slowly descend down her body until they reach her curls, and she physically feels some of stress leave her body, anticipating the flood of relief that shouldn’t be too far off. Normally Clarke wouldn’t do something so, well, intimate in the coed bathroom where literally anyone could come in, but it’s so late and she’s desperate for some kind of release, literally any, just to make it through the rest of this week. And it’s not like Clarke has had time for stuff like this, she’s barely had time to sleep and eat, let alone masturbate.
A small noise comes from one of the middle showers and Bellamy stops in his tracks. A few seconds later, he hears another noise, but this is one is much more pronounced--more like a moan than the sigh he heard before. It takes Bellamy a few seconds to realize what’s happening. He can hear the heavy breathing of whoever’s in there, now that he’s searching for the noise. The dark-haired man contemplates whether or not he should leave right now, come back when they’re done, but he’s pinned in his place by the sounds. The higher-pitched whines are causing images of a hot college student to swim around in his head, imagining exactly what she’s doing to herself behind the flimsy white curtain between them.
Clarke was trying to maintain her public decency and keep her breathing (and volume) under control, but she simply couldn’t. She bite off the first few moans, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but this release was a long time coming and now she couldn’t help herself. Who would even hear her, right? The bathroom was down at the end of the hallway and everyone’s probably sleeping or too heavily concentrated on some late-night binge studying to pay any attention to any sounds they may hear coming from the bathroom. The sound of the running water probably drowns out the sound long before it hits the bathroom door, anyway. If she had any reservations about openly masturbating in the bathroom, they certainly aren’t here anymore, as she tries (and fails) to cut off another low moan as she curls her fingers upwards inside her.
Clarke can feel the pressure build as she speeds up the tempo and presses down more firmly on her clit. She’s so close, she can almost taste it, but every time Clarke thinks she’s finally going to get there, it escapes her, recedes back. To be fair, the blonde hasn’t done this in a while with everything that’s been going on, schoolwork, the internship at the hospital, maybe she’s a little rusty. She just needs a little push to get there, just a little more, so her mind wanders through some fantasy material. Normally she’d have a certain someone to think about, but things are a little weird right now. Clarke’s mind slowly flips through a few options, men with nice hands and fingers, strong arms that could easily wrap around her waist, or lips she would desperately want to feel on her flushed skin.
As Clarke’s hand slowly moves up her chest to tease at her pebbled nipple, her mind drifts to much darker, much bigger hands that could be doing a much better job. She can very vividly remember the tall, dark, and handsome man working at the library earlier that week and the way his incredibly long fingers (not that she was looking or anything) brushed down the spines of the books he was restacking on the shelves next to her signature study table. Clarke sees him around once or twice a week, usually wearing a snug tee that shows off his wonderful biceps and the beautiful shape of his collar bone. He really is very handsome, all lean muscle, olive skin, and dark curls. So excuse her if his hands just happen to pop into her head at this moment in time. She’s spent too many hours in the damn library and if imagining this beautiful (he really is beautiful) man helping her out does the job, then so be it.
Clarke can almost imagine what his fingers would feel like as her hand moves down her torso again. She circles her clit as her other hand continues to pump in and out at a delicious pace. If the hot librarian with the perfectly mussed dark curls were actually doing this, his fingers would be so much longer and hit that spot she just can’t seem to reach, and that thought causes a little moan to escape her lips. Clarke can almost see it, the much taller, darker man crowding her up against the shelf, leaving goosebumps in the wake of the pads of his fingertips as he lightly drags them up her thighs. His hand roams up past the hem of her skirt in the middle of the library, and jesus, Clarke, the library?, while his other arm is braced against the bookshelf behind her, pinning her in place. She imagines his breath at her ear, rolling down her neck, making her shiver. Clarke has to shove her fingers into her mouth to stop a loud unapologetic moan that falls out of her mouth at the thought of him fucking her with his fingers against the shelf, his hand now over her mouth to make sure she doesn’t give them away.
Bellamy is still standing in the same spot, a few feet away from the curtain that’s separating him from the breathy noises and throaty moans that are currently driving him insane. If the girl behind the curtain was trying to keep her noises to herself, she no longer had that much restraint. Bellamy can very clearly hear every noise she makes as she pushes herself closer and closer to the edge. The moans and sighs (and the occasional whine) are causing a bit of a, umm, situation, as Bellamy can feel his erection begin to press up against the zipper of his jeans. Bellamy almost curses in frustration, because shit, Blake, she can’t be much older than O, get it together, but he catches himself before he all but announces his presence to her.
He may be imagining it, but he can almost see the outline of her shape through the cheap shower curtain, and fuck. If he can’t actually see her, well, Bellamy’s imagination is doing plenty for him. He hears a particularly loud moan, although it sounds muffled, as though she clamped her hand over her mouth, and he assumes that she finally came. And he just listened to the whole thing happen. While standing mere feet away from her. And she’s probably going to come out any minute now. He should probably not be here when she gets out, especially not with a giant bulge in his jeans (he’d have a hard time explaining that away). The older man slowly walks away from the stall, in hopes that she won’t hear him, when he hears her turn the water off.
Bellamy manages to slip far back enough into the bathroom when she comes out from behind the curtain in nothing but a towel, and shit, she’s beautiful. Her wet blonde hair is falling down her back in thick clumps that she’s trying to brush through with her fingers. Bellamy can only see her profile, but the blush from the hot water (and probably her orgasm, he thinks) is very noticeable on her cheeks. Bellamy tries not to stare and fails as he admires the soft curve of her neck and shoulders and the small mole on her left shoulder blade that contrasts with her fair skin. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now, imagining all of those noises coming out of that mouth, that soft, pink mouth. He waits and watches her, way to be a creep, Blake, until she finally leaves, with her hair clinging to her shoulders.
And now he thinks about the noises she was making again and damn him if he wants nothing more than to see if he could make her moan louder. So Bellamy jumps into the shower himself and angrily rubs one off thinking about some blonde college student he doesn’t even know after listening to her masturbate herself in the same bathroom only moments ago. A few minutes later, he’s groaning loudly (and still very grumpily) and coming all over the shower wall, placing his forehead against the tile wall, until he remember he’s in a communal bathroom and begins scrubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand.
***
Later that week, when Bellamy finally makes room in his work schedule to finally meet his little sister’s new roommate, he comes face to face with a very familiar looking blonde. He tries to hide his shock with a smirk, as he reprimands himself for getting off to O’s roommate, of all the girls at this fucking university. Bellamy is then once again reacquainted with the pretty girl’s high blush (and he tries not to imagine the cut-off moans she was making only a few nights ago) just as Clarke realizes Octavia's brother is hot librarian guy I fantasized about the other night and she can feel the redness burning at her cheeks and slowly trailing down her neck.