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"We need to study."
Bellamy could easily point out that he had been studying, hunched at the little desk he’d shoved into a neglected corner of his apartment. He could also point out that studying was easier when his thesis notes weren’t trapped under a certain someone’s ass.
(Even if Bellamy were holding those notes in his hands, he wasn’t confident he’d be giving them his attention. Not with Clarke Griffin perched before him on his desk, leaning forward enticingly. The heels of her hands sat on the wooden surface, fingers curling over the edge between her spread thighs. The position did wonderful things for her already impressive breasts. That he even got to consider things like how Clarke’s breasts were currently looking was baffling to Bellamy. He tried to roll with it.)
He could tell Clarke those things. He wasn’t going to, but he could. What he did do was let his hands continue their path up those legs and under the hem of the sundress that covered them. (Rather inadequately, he might add. A reality he was more than pleased to take advantage of.)
The skirt did manage to hide what he was really after, so he pushed it up a little impatiently. Normally, he’d be more concerned by the sounds of crinkling paper as Clarke shifted her weight, but really. There were more important things to focus on at the moment.
It was an indication of how little Clarke believed in her own reminder when she huffed and pulled the dress up and off entirely.
Bellamy leveled a lazy smirk at her, hands curling around her thighs to pull her closer to the edge of the desk. Obligingly, her legs fell open even wider. "I am studying," he teased, trying not to be overwhelmed by the miles of Clarke's skin on display.
"Oh, yeah," she snarked even as he nosed along the elastic edge of her underwear. She propped herself up with one hand and let the other tangle in his hair as she watched his progress. "I'm sure your professors will really appreciate the excuse, 'Sorry, I couldn't finish my chapter. I was too busy going down on my girlfr—'" she cut herself off, eyes wide and mortified.
He grinned and Clarke tried not to shudder at the stretch of his lips against her skin. "My what, now?" he asked, his words almost lost in the crease of her hip.
After everything, Clarke and Bellamy were still almost frustratingly casual, each too wary to put a name to their relationship. They were more afraid of pushing the other too far than never moving forward. He tried to content himself with what Clarke gave, but he couldn't deny that he wanted more. Someday. He could live with what they had for now.
Especially when what they had now involved her nearly naked on top of his desk. Yeah, he could definitely live with this.
She flushed in a way that even having his head between her thighs hadn't managed to elicit. "Shut up," she demanded, though the sting was mitigated by the caress of her fingers through his hair.
So he did. He mouthed along the insides of her thighs, every so often grazing against the increasingly damp fabric of her underwear. It wasn't until Clarke whined and shifted against him that he relented, tugging down the bit of lace. The sight of Clarke wet and wanting, spread before him, was too much.
Without thought to teasing her more, he leaned in to savor her taste. The sound she made at the first contact of his tongue should have been criminal. He could feel the shudder that ran through her body, accompanying the breathy moan. Bellamy couldn't help but groan into her himself, relishing the velvet warmth. His tongue and lips and teeth steadily worked Clarke into a froth.
A glance up her perfect body and Bellamy watched her fingers pluck desperately at her nipples, bra discarded in the heat of the moment. He was a little disappointed. He still couldn’t get over Clarke’s tits or their heavy bounce when they first were released. Bellamy gave her thigh a quick nip in retaliation, soothing the mark with his tongue. The chuckle that followed her surprised gasp told him Clarke knew what was on his mind. She pressed her breasts together and let them bounce back, her chuckle turning to true delight as Bellamy growled against her.
She slumped against the wall, paper crinkling under her ass as she searched for more friction. Her hips shifted insistently against his mouth, so he gave her something to work against. Two fingers slid easily inside her dripping cunt, the sigh she gave nearly enough to unravel him. Thumb strumming against her clit, Bellamy pressed his mouth to the slight curve of her stomach. When he pulled away, the smear of her juices on her skin sent a visceral heat scorching through his body.
"Uh huh!" It wasn't until Clarke gave an answer that Bellamy realized he'd been running his mouth. Which wasn't that unusual. Just, Clarke didn't always give the most coherent of responses.
"Are you mine, Clarke?" He heard himself growl, his fingers driving into her as he felt the telltale tremors in her thighs. More words spilled from his mouth, almost before he knew what they would be, though Clarke didn't seem to mind. He kept up his steady stream filth, mouthing at her thighs and stomach as he used his fingers to coil her pleasure tighter and tighter.
Clarke could only grunt in response to whatever nonsense he came up with, her shoulders hunching forward as her orgasm tore through her. Bellamy slowed his ministrations to a gentle rub, just enough to help her ride out the aftershocks, but Clarke, it appeared, was having none of that.
She pushed his hand away even as she leaned down from her perch to kiss him fervently, feverishly. One hand cradled his jaw, gentle compared to the lash of her lips against his. The other flashed down to his pants, wrangling them open in a few quick maneuvers. Almost before he could realize what was happening, Bellamy had a lapful of Clarke, her gorgeous tits pressing against his chest as she lowered herself onto his straining erection.
They'd been together for months now and sleeping together for almost as long. (It was maybe not the healthiest of arrangements, especially when neither of them had even really admitted to dating, Bellamy could admit. At the same time, though, neither of them were willing to pretend they didn't want to sleep together, regardless of official relationship status.)
Still, that first slow slide into Clarke always left Bellamy feeling a little shell shocked. The fact that this woman had chosen him, in any small way, it was more than he could have dreamed.
Purposefully, Clarke rocked against him, her arms draped around his shoulders as she continued to lick the taste of herself from his lips. Bellamy's own hands settled at her waist and ass, helping to guide their rhythm until she got frustrated and started tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Offoffoff," she chanted into his mouth, only pulling away to whisk the offending item over his head. Skin to skin, Clarke sighed, her lips finding the bold, dark letters running just below his collarbone.
The touch sent Bellamy's hips jerking up, an automatic response to the touch of his soulmate against his voxnota. The sharp thrust made Clarke moan into his skin in response. Almost on auto pilot, one of his hands cuffed the back of her neck, covering the words that traced her hairline. Give her a taste of her own medicine. Clarke’s head tipped back, pressing those words into the palm of his hand. She keened as she ground down into his lap, rhythm stuttering to the heady call of pleasure. Missing the feel of Clarke's skin against his Bellamy turned and tried to nudge her arm from around his neck with his nose.
"What are you doing?" she laughed after watching him nuzzle at her for a few moments.
Huffing, Bellamy used his free hand to unwind her arm from around his neck and position her fingertips over the words scrolling under his collarbone.
"Oh," she breathed and the quiet awe in her voice was almost as good as the insistent clench of her walls against him. Her thumb rubbed over the question mark trailing his words. Bellamy mustered all the leverage he could and drove up into her. Her breath stuttered out and those soft fingertips curled to show off blunt nails. Blunt nails which were still entirely capable of digging deep crescents into his skin.
Bellamy hissed and leaned in to return the favor. His teeth dug into the straining tendon running down Clarke's neck, only letting his tongue lave against the abused flesh when she whimpered above him. All the while, his fingers traced the words he'd never expected to mean so much.
Any day now, princess.
Clarke insisted that the words themselves hadn't affected her soulmate reluctance. Bellamy mostly believed her, but still wished he'd said something better. Wished he'd left something on her skin that didn't make her doubt.
So, he concentrated on sucking another hickey onto her neck. She always pretended to be annoyed, but Bellamy saw the way she traced her fingers over the marks when she thought he wasn't looking.
Bellamy managed another two before Clarke's fingers in his hair tugged him away from her shoulder.
"Enough of that," she murmured, leaning in and capturing his lips as she rocked her hips insistently. Fuck, she felt good. Her walls fluttered and clenched around him and the sounds dropping off her lips were her tell. Clarke was well on her way to her second climax. He wanted to lick the sounds out of her desperate mouth, fuse lips together as they frantically fucked each other at his untidy desk.
Too bad it was pretty hard to build up any kind of leverage in his dinky little desk chair. Well, that was an easy enough fix.
Gathering Clarke securely in his arms, Bellamy heaved himself upright. Clarke let loose a peal of breathless laughter, wrapping her arms and legs around him. She didn't let him go, not even when he'd laid her out on his desk. His notes were going to be a total mess, but he was pretty sure it would be worth it.
Bellamy turned his face to the beautiful girl below him, kissing the giggles off her lips. He added a pointed thrust and those giggles dissolved into a satisfied groan. Clarke's arms loosened and Bellamy drew back just enough to take in the sight.
He would never say that the sight of his dick disappearing into her clinging pussy wasn't amazing, but Clarke herself was even better. Flushed and panting and looking at him like she didn't want anyone else. That was the best thing Bellamy'd ever seen.
There was a familiar tug at the base of his spine, his stomach clenching. He'll be damned if he finished before Clarke, though.
Bellamy leaned down and tugged a flushed, pebbled nipple into his mouth. Clarke keened and shifted restlessly on the desk.
"C'mon, princess. Touch yourself for me," he urged against the skin of her chest. Somehow, her flush deepened, even as Bellamy felt her arm move and her cunt tighten as her fingers found their mark. He picked up the pace, practically slamming inside her on every thrust.
As the tremors around his cock started to come in earnest, Bellamy was reasonably sure he heard Clarke mumble something. Something that sounded suspiciously like, "Yours, yours, yours." Then, her climax took over, robbing her of speech, the hot, tight pull of her pussy sending Bellamy over the edge, too. He did his best to keep up some kind of rhythm to stretch Clarke's out, but was never sure of how successful he'd been.
Clarke sighed above him and Bellamy raised his head for another kiss. Then, he straightened and pulled the blonde upright so they could go clean up.
Later, when they were both cuddled on his futon, pretending to watch something on Netflix but really dozing off, Clarke pressed a firm kiss to the ball of his shoulder. When Bellamy glanced down, she propped her chin against the spot and frowned.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" he asked, honestly thrown for a loop.
Clarke's frown deepened and it took a lot of willpower for Bellamy not to smooth the lines on her forehead away. "For not calling myself your girlfriend."
"It's fine, Clarke," Bellamy reassured her, wishing he could wrap his arm around her without dislodging her chin from his shoulder. He settled for squeezing her knee.
"It's not," she pressed. Her fingers tangled in the hem of the shirt he'd offered her after it became clear they weren't going to spend the rest of the afternoon naked. Clarke looked away and stared intently at the way she'd wound the fabric up around her digits, tight enough to start cutting off circulation. Gently, Bellamy reached over and loosened her grip, brushing his fingers over hers as blood flowed back into them. Clarke sighed and met his gaze again. "It's not fine. I want to be— Why is this so hard?"
Bellamy shrugged, trying to tamp down on the bloom of hope somewhere behind his sternum. "Just is. You don't have to say anything you don't want to, Clarke."
A huff of laughter colored her next words. "That's the problem. I want to say this. I just can't get out of my own way."
She looked so serious, so disappointed in herself, that Bellamy couldn't resist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Well, I'll be here when you do."
He would have pulled away and left it at that, but Clarke's eyes flitted up to his, something like surprise written all over her face. That shock was replaced by a look of flinty determination. It was a look Bellamy knew well, though he'd never seen it directed at him. Mostly, that look came out in Wallace's lectures when Clarke decided that enough was enough and it was time for yet another professor-student throwdown. Or when she was three cups down in beer pong and had to buckle up or never live down the loss. It was a look that normally inspired confidence, but that wasn't when he'd basically just told her he was in this for the long haul.
This is it, Bellamy's brain supplied helpfully. This is where she tells you she's done, this whole soulmate thing isn't worth overcoming her weird emotional baggage.
Not that he begrudged her the baggage. He had more than enough of his own.
Clarke took a deep breath, licked her lips, and opened her mouth. Bellamy just did his best not to let the hurt show when she inevitably decided he wasn't worth the trouble.
"That's what I want. You to be here when I get over myself. I want you to be here all the time."
"Here," Bellamy repeated, more than a little lost. This did not sound like the beginning of a breakup, but there was time yet. "As in my apartment?" While you run very far away?
"No," Clarke narrowed her eyes, like she thought he was joking. Still, her lips twitched, a smile threatening to take over. "Here. Next to me."
"Oh," he breathed, incapable of saying much else. That was quite the departure from where he'd thought this was going. Bellamy felt an uncommon sympathy for yo-yos, constantly jerked up and down as they were.
"Yeah," she replied. Her bottom lip was wedged between her teeth as it always was when Clarke was feeling particularly self-conscious. Without thinking, Bellamy reached out and smoothed his bottom thumb over the spot. Her tongue darted out, too, curling around the tip before disappearing again.
When he spoke, his voice was rough, but he couldn't care less. "I want that, too. I want us to be at each other's sides for as long as we make each other happy."
"Not forever?"
Bellamy was shaking his head even before Clarke finished her question. He couldn't say how he'd known what she'd ask, but that didn't matter. What he did know was how long he'd been thinking about this very problem. How to formulate a response that wouldn't send her running for the hills. Bellamy gave Clarke what he'd come up with. "Forever isn't real. It's a promise no one can keep. I can promise you today."
Clarke arched a brow. "Just today, huh?"
"Yeah, and you can ask me again tomorrow." His fingers wriggled into hers, curling around them loosely. "Take this thing one day at a time."
She studied him for a long moment, blue eyes shining. Finally, she nodded and pressed another kiss against his shoulder. "I like the sound of that."
Funny. He did, too.