Chapter Text
She really, really hated these things. Didn't understand the point of them, at least as far as her attendance was concerned. As a simple college senior she had no place here, as an art major even less of one. Yet here she was, sat at the bar nursing her second drink of the night and wishing she was anywhere else.
Sipping on her chocolate martini Clarke glanced around the room, fruitlessly searching for someone she knew. "I don't know why my mother keeps insisting that I come to these galas. I know literally no one besides her and Mr. Jaha. And, as usual, she leaves me to fend for myself as she joins the gossip mill high society is most famous for," Clarke mumbles to herself.
"Either that's a really strong drink, or you're just as bored by these events as I am Princess," comes from her right.
Only one person has ever gotten away with calling her princess after her father died. That someone is a person she hasn't seen in years, because he moved across the country to pursue his dream of starting what is now the world's second largest IT corporation. That voice has to belong to the CEO of Exodus Enterprises, has to belong to Wells Jaha, has to belong to her long lost best friend.
Turning towards the direction the voice came from Clarke is assaulted first by arms wrapping around her, then by the comfort and safety only a hug from a best friend can inspire. Sinking into his arms and basking in the warm scent of the cologne he's worn since high school, Clarke returns Wells' hug, "Wells! What are you doing in New York?!" Wells laughs lightly, pulling back from the hug to get a better look at his childhood friend, smiling when he sees that twinkle in her eye, glad to see it hasn't been lost through the years of loss and separation and heartache. "This gala is for City of Light Clarke. You do remember who founded City of Light right? Tall male, late 40s, dark skinned with black hair and brown eyes. Goes by Thelonius, or to me he's dad."
With a punch to his shoulder Clarke laughs, "I'm aware Wells. I know this gala is for City of Light, I also know that Thelonius is receiving some kind of award related to his work. And that there is some kind of announcement being made tonight that no one in the industry seems to want to miss judging by the overwhelming amount of people here that I can't stand. What I don't know-is what that has to do with my best friend being 3000 miles away from his home and why I didn't know about it before two minutes ago!"
Wells grins at Clarke, happy to just be able to look at her and see her smile when he used to wonder if she would ever be able to wear one again. "I'm here to present the award to dad, Princess. As far as the announcement goes-you're going to have to wait just like everyone else. And as for not telling you I was coming....surprise?" Clarke returns his laugh and reaches up to hug him again, glad that in spite of the years and distance that separated them, they can pick up right where they left off. Finishing off her drink, she turns back to the bar to order another and is damn near knocked unconscious by what she sees, or rather who she sees.
She is fucking flawless. Tall and thin but muscled, the suit she's wearing fitted to her frame so well that it leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Clarke can practically see the lines of definition on her biceps through the arms of the jacket. Her hair is draped over one shoulder, a single braid running across the top of her head to corral any strands that might consider breaking free. One hand rests casually in her pants pocket as the other holds a tumbler of what Clarke thinks is whiskey. "Or scotch. Judging by the way she's dressed and the way she's standing like she could own this fucking building it's probably a glass of $1000 scotch," Clarke thinks.
She is conversing with Adam Collins, a Senator and member of the board of trustees of the City of Light; he is also a jackass of the strongest degree. From a distance Clarke can see in the woman's eyes that she's agitated, just waiting for her conversation partner to finally shut up. Glancing over towards the bar their eyes lock and Clarke is instantly drowning. She is drowning in a sea of green, her breath caught in her chest and a flood forming between her thighs. "Jesus fucking Christ," Clarke chokes out around the lump in her throat.
"Clarke. Earth to Clarke. Hey Sky Girl, you want to rejoin the rest of us on the ground?" Wells spits out around a laugh. Clarke barely hears his voice, so enraptured by the captivating woman she can't tear her eyes away from. Finally Wells decides to intervene and steps directly into her line of sight, snapping her out of her trance. "Shit Wells. I'm sorry. What were you saying?" Clarke asks. Shaking his head, her friend responds, "Clarke I just had a five minute conversation with myself because you zoned out. What the hell could have caught your attention in a grip like that?"
He starts to turn around to glance about the room to find the source of her distraction when suddenly a throat clears and suddenly her distraction is right in front of her, holding out her hand in search of another to shake. Before Clarke can even get her brain working again to reach out and take the hand of this work of art, Wells interrupts. "Of course he does. He always did have awful timing. Guess some things never change," Clarke mentally huffs.
"Lexa! This is the best friend I was telling you about on the plane, Clarke Griffin. Clarke, this is Lexa Woods, a colleague of mine from the home base in Sacramento." Shaken out of her stupor Clarke reaches her hand out and meets that of the masterpiece she's just been introduced to. "Nice to meet you Lexa Woods," Clarke says with a smile. Lexa's fingers wrap themselves around Clarke's and the blonde can swear she swoons at the warmth and power simply radiating off of this woman. Then she opens her mouth and Clarke is pretty sure the sound of Lexa's voice alone is enough to power her through three orgasms, maybe four. "I assure you Clarke, the pleasure is mine."
Wells attempts to start conversation but is called away to prepare for the presentation of the award to his father, which leaves both Clarke and Lexa at the bar. Together. Alone. Alone together. Clarke is pretty sure she's sweating by this point and murmurs something about needing a drink. Lexa, charming as ever, signals the bartender for another round before turning her attention back to the blonde before her.
Lexa had seen the girl sitting at the bar by herself. Had been on her way over to her when she was intercepted by that smug asshole Collins and then she couldn't escape. When she saw Wells talking to her blonde her heart raged, possessiveness and anger flowing through her veins. Then their eyes had met and Lexa, much more impolitely than was usual for her, excused herself from her almost fatally boring conversation with the senator and made her way towards the bar.
Now they sat next to each other, close enough that their thighs brushed together, making small talk and sipping on their drinks. Laughing at a tale Lexa was telling about Wells forgetting the code to enter his own office, Clarke misjudged the distance to her mouth when she attempted to take a sip of her drink. This resulted in chocolate across her bottom lip and a small stain on the cerulean dress she was wearing. "Shit. I'm such a mess. This is going to cost a fortune to dry clean. Damnit," Clarke whined.
She was stopped by Lexa's thumb against her mouth, smoothing across Clarke's bottom lip and gathering the chocolate left behind, before moving it to her own mouth and sucking the chocolate off. "Fuck me," Clarke thought to herself. Or she thought she had at least.
With a smirk Lexa took Clarke's chin in her hand and leaned in so close that Clarke felt the words across her lips more than heard them, "You read my mind baby, I want nothing more than to see what you're hiding from me beneath this dress. It's gorgeous, without a doubt, but it would look better on my floor and you, fuck, you will look perfect draped across my bed ready to be worshipped."
With an audible gulp Clarke nodded and moved to meet Lexa's lips with her own. Once again, she was stopped by fingers against her mouth. "If I kiss you right now Clarke, I'll have you naked and laid across the bar with my head buried between your legs before you can blink. And as generous as I can be-I don't share."
Lexa took Clarke's hand and pulled her away from the bar, heading towards the exit in the back of the room. Clarke's legs were so weak they could barely hold her up, let alone handle walking in heels. They had barely made it to the wall in the rear of the room when she pulled Lexa to a stop. "I need a minute, my legs aren't really cooperating right now."
Lexa stepped forward, raising her arms above Clarke's shoulders and resting her palms against the wall, pinning Clarke against it. Breathing quickly becoming a challenge, Clarke raised her head to meet Lexa's eyes and almost collapsed on the spot. Where green once resided, Lexa's eyes were almost all black, pupils so dilated by arousal and desire that the woman almost looked possessed. Smirking down at Clarke, Lexa leaned in close to her ear and softly asked "Are you telling me you're weak for me Clarke? That your legs struggle to support your weight because they ache so bad to be wrapped around my waist as I drive you to the brink of madness? That your legs fail to operate because you are so consumed with desire to feel my hands, my lips, my tongue on your body, inside of you? Is that what you're telling me Clarke?"
Barely containing a groan, Clarke wrapped her hands around the back of Lexa's neck and brought their foreheads together. Breathing heavily she pleaded, "Lexa, you're killing me right now. I can't handle this. Please. Get me out of here." Shaking her head Lexa declined, "We go nowhere until you answer my question sweetness. Are you weak for me? Wet for me? Is there arousal dripping down your thighs as indication of how badly you wish my fingers were filling you?" Delicately spreading her legs, Clarke challenged Lexa, "Why don't you find out for yourself?"
With a growl Lexa reached her hands under Clarke's dress, palms wrapping under the backs of her thighs and lifted. Clarke's legs automatically wrapped around her waist and locked behind Lexa, unable to hold in the soft cry as her center was pressed against what she knew were going to be well defined abdominal muscles. "Lexa," Clarke began, "get us the fuck out of here or you're going to have an audience while you make me scream your name."
"As you wish Princess," was Lexa's reply as she walked them out of the room and towards the elevator that would take them to Lexa's penthouse suite. "Though that doesn't really suit you, not the way I see you at least. You are a goddess, an ethereal beauty to be worshipped and praised, a queen. My Queen. And I have an exquisite throne in mind for you Clarke. I cannot wait for you to claim it so I can taste what I already know to be an addictive sweetness."
Clarke was sure she was going to die. Or was already dying. Or already dead. Somewhere between locking eyes with the fucking Adonis currently supporting her and attempting to leave the room she must have fallen off the bar stool and cracked her head off the marble floor. There was no way this was actually happening. No way she was actually in the elevator of the hotel, being pressed against the wall, trapped between strong arms while an even stronger mouth left a blazing trail of marks down the side of her neck. Things like this did not happen to Clarke Griffin. People like Lexa Woods did not happen to Clarke Griffin.
"How are you even fucking real Lexa? Jesus. I have to be hallucinating. Wells probably spiked my drink," Clarke said. Lexa just bit down a little harder on Clarke's collarbone in response. Hissing at the slight sting Clarke pulled Lexa away from her position and forced her to look at her.
"Am I hallucinating Lexa? Or am I really being pressed against a hotel elevator wall by literally the hottest person I've ever fucking seen?" Clarke asked. Grabbing the blonde's hand, Lexa slid it beneath her suit jacket and vest, resting it against her stomach which was taut with tension. "Do I feel real My Queen? Can you feel me breathing you in? Can you feel my muscles tense in want for you? This is real Clarke. I am real. You are real. So enough about hallucinations and Wells spiking your drink. I promise I will make you see stars, colors bursting behind your eyelids as I bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure to gently coax you over the edge. And the only thing I'm interested in having in my mouth is your wetness when I make you come on my tongue."
"Fuck Lexa," Clarke moaned, "keep talking like that and you won't have to touch me to have me coming." Pushing her hips into Clarke's and starting to grind Lexa questioned, "Is that so Clarke? What would happen if I was to detail every last thing I wanted to do to you when we get to my room? Tell you how I can't wait to have you bare before me, under me, begging for my touch? How clearly I can see you laid out on my bed, legs spread, eyes wide and wanton as you watch me undress? What would happen if I told you that I plan on tasting every inch of your skin, head to foot and everywhere in between? What would happen if I told you that I'm unsure whether or not we will make it to the bedroom? That I might have to set you down on the counter in the kitchen and take you right there?"
And with that, Clarke fell into her first orgasm of the night, without so much as a brush of Lexa’s fingers against her.