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They brought the Grounder in around midday. Her hands were bound, her face showing obvious signs of injury, yet Bellamy and Monroe still had trouble keeping her under control.
"Shit, what's wrong with that one?" Raven asked, raising her brow pointedly as the Grounder howled and bit at her captors, struggling against their hold to the point where Clarke was afraid she'd get loose.
"I don't know."
The woman's face and hands were covered in more blood than actual dirt, though it seemed to be neither hers nor Bellamy's or Monroe's. Clarke wanted to believe it was animal blood, but a part of her doubted it.
She frowned worriedly and followed after Bellamy into the drop ship.
"What are you doing?"
He stopped, gritting his teeth. "I'm getting information."
"By torturing another Grounder?" Clarke hissed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "That didn't turn out so well last time."
"This one's different. I don't know what they did to her, but she's a fucking monster. We found her gnawing on an arm. A human arm, Clarke."
As if to prove his point, the woman in his grip snarled and surged towards her, only stopped from colliding with her by the two sets of hands holding her back.
Clarke flinched and met her eyes underneath the layer of blood and dirt.
They were pretty, a deep green that reminded her of trees and grass, but they were only barely human. There was a hunger in them, a single-minded purpose Clarke had only ever seen before when she'd assisted her mother in treating some of the addicts on the Ark.
"You can barely hold her now, what if she gets loose?"
"We're chaining her to the walls upstairs."
Clarke shook her head. "And how do you expect to get her up there?"
Bellamy huffed in annoyance, but didn't argue. "Miller!"
The man in question appeared at his side, took one look at his predicament and nodded. With a quick flick of his wrist, he crashed the butt of his gun into the wild Grounder's temple.
The woman dropped like a stone.
Clarke grimaced, but didn't argue when they towed her upstairs and closed the hatch.
"You know that's not right." Clarke hadn't seen Finn lurking in the shadows of the ship and winced at the unspoken accusation in his tone.
They both listened to the sounds from the upper level silently for a while. A roar of anger told them that the Grounder had woken up from her impromptu nap and Clarke didn't want to picture what the other sounds meant, the grunts of pain and of metal hitting flesh.
"Clarke," Finn pleaded, furrowing his brows. "Don't let them do this. Not again."
She swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding. "You're right."
The hatch wasn't locked and she pushed it open quickly. Miller stood watch as usual, but one look from her made him huff and retreat to a safe corner.
"Bellamy, stop."
His fingers around the belt tightened, but he obeyed. "It's necessary, Clarke."
"Has she told you anything?"
The answer was obvious. The Grounder struggled, wild-eyed and bleeding, but the insane hunger in her eyes remained, only seeming to intensify as she caught sight of Clarke.
"No," Bellamy snapped, throwing the belt onto the floor. "All she does is scream and bite."
"Then maybe it's time to try something else."
He snorted, but it wasn't in amusement. "And what do you suggest? We need that information if we want to survive and she's not willing to give it to us."
Clarke looked around the room, once again meeting darkened green eyes. The Grounder seemed strangely fixated on her, her laser-sharp focus never wavering from where it was burning a hole into her skin.
Grounders didn't respond to violence, not in the way they should. Clarke took a deep breath.
"Get out, all of you."
"What?" Bellamy seethed, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "You can't be serious. This girl is a threat!" He gestured towards Miller. "She almost bit off his finger, for fuck's sake!"
"The chains will hold her just fine." Clarke threw a disapproving glance at the angry but exhausted woman hanging in her cuffs and breathing raggedly. "She can barely hold herself upright, she won't suddenly break out."
The stubborn set of Bellamy's jaw told her he would continue to argue and Clarke fixed him with a hard stare. "We tried the stick method and it just made her more aggressive. It's time for a gentler approach."
"Look at her!" he hissed. As if on cue, the Grounder lifted her head and snarled, the chains rattling as she tore at them. "She's a beast! You can't reason with her."
Clarke's eyes met wild green ones. She just so kept herself from flinching when the woman snapped her teeth at her and tried to reach for her with another clang of her bonds.
"There's nothing else we can do. Stay outside and be ready to come up if things get serious."
Bellamy gritted his teeth, but nodded. "Fine. But I'm not taking responsibility when she ends up tearing out your throat."
He collected Monroe and Miller and pulled them down the ladder with him, closing the hatch with a last shake of his head.
Clarke was left with the chained Grounder, the room silent except for the woman's angry growling and her own nervous heartbeat. She swallowed and took a step closer.
Immediately, the woman roared and surged forward, shoulders snapping back as the chains stopped her short. Clarke gasped and jerked away.
"I'm not going to try and hurt you," she said, raising her hands placating. She didn't think the woman understood their language, but she hoped her tone would translate.
Clarke changed directions and went to fetch the bucket in the corner. The water inside was cold, but it would have to do.
The Grounder had stopped yanking at her chains, though her crazed eyes followed her every movement and her hands clenched periodically like she contemplated grabbing her again.
"I'll wash the dirt off for you if you'll let me," she said quietly, dunking a rag into the water.
Clarke inched closer cautiously, stopping just outside the woman's reach. Her proximity seemed to agitate her and she snarled, loud and angry, leaning towards her as far as the chains would allow. Clarke forced herself not to flinch back from the teeth attempting to take a bite out of her.
"It's cold, though," she rambled on, observing the chains carefully. The Grounder didn't have enough space to reach for her, but she didn't need her hands to be dangerous. Clarke would have to keep away from her teeth.
The chained woman roared and snapped her teeth again as Clarke raised the rag to her neck, though she couldn't bend her head in such a way as to actually reach her.
Clarke didn't know what she was doing.
The Grounder didn't understand her and wasn't interested in anything that didn't involve Clarke drowning in her own blood. But they'd tried everything else, including Bellamy's questionable method of torture.
The woman still sported bloody welts on her upper body where her bra wasn't covering her skin.
"I won't hurt you," Clarke repeated, like it would settle the other woman down. The wet rag made contact with tanned skin and the Grounder jerked, opening and closing her jaw with a click of her teeth.
Clarke sucked in a sharp breath, but didn't retreat. "It's just water."
Hesitantly, she began to rub at the layer of dirt and blood coating the woman's collarbones, making sure to not aggravate her wounds further and to stay out of reach of her mouth.
Despite her ragged panting and the low rumble in her chest, the Grounder ceased her struggling. Clarke didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief, concentrating on her ministrations.
Once her upper chest was clean, Clarke swallowed. The skin beneath the clothes the Grounder had been wearing didn't require a wash, so that left just one area - the most dangerous one.
"I'll clean your face now, okay? Please don't bite me."
The chained woman merely blinked at her, nostrils quivering as she took in a deep breath. She didn't make for her again and Clarke brought the rag to her face.
She started with the area around her eyes and cheeks, as far away from the dangerous teeth as she could. The woman never once blinked as she was being cleaned up and Clarke shivered. She felt like she was staring into the opened maw of a beast about to devour her.
Clarke hadn't really looked at the Grounder before, hadn't been able to make out much beneath the layer of dirt other than two shining green eyes, and she hadn't expected the face that greeted her now.
She was beautiful, all high cheekbones and full lips underneath a straight nose. And young, much younger than Clarke would have anticipated.
The air of humanity was shattered when Clarke's inattentiveness was punished by a sudden howl and sharp-edged teeth cutting across the skin of her hand.
"Shit," she exclaimed and reared back immediately, looking down to see that the scratch had started bleeding slightly.
If anything, her retreat made the Grounder wilder. The chains rattled as though they would break from their fastings and the woman shook her head, roaring her displeasure.
A pounding came from below. "Clarke? Clarke, are you okay?!"
"I'm fine!" she yelled back, keeping one eye on their prisoner and one on the chains. She threw the rag away. "Calm down!"
The Grounder continued her mad rampage, back and shoulders bending to a near unnatural degree. A smear of blood around her wrists caught Clarke's eye. Whether it was the cuffs or her wrists, something would give sooner or later.
"Stop, you'll hurt yourself!" Without thinking, she grabbed one of the woman's arms and tried to hold her still.
Almost immediately, the Grounder settled down. Not all the way, not enough to relax the tense muscles beneath Clarke's grip, but enough to no longer make Clarke fear for her life.
She breathed out a sigh. "There we go. Easy now."
Clarke hadn't noticed her closeness to the woman until something brushed against her hip. She paid it no mind at first, not until the chained Grounder growled in agitation and tried to surge closer.
"What is-"
Clarke stopped and swallowed as she looked down, catching sight of the telltale bulge in the Grounders pants.
As soon as Clarke took a surprised step back, the woman's eyes widened and her jaw snapped open, snarling at being denied.
Clarke was at a loss.
It was obvious the only reason the Grounder wasn't trying to tear out her throat just yet was because Clarke had caught her interest in another way. However convoluted, that could be used to their advantage.
It was highly immoral, least of all because they didn't know how much sanity was left in this woman, but if it kept her docile, got them information-
If it got them anything at all, any sort of edge against their enemies, anything that might keep them alive...it could be worth it.
She closed her eyes for a long moment and sighed.
"Fine," she said, looking at the wild-eyed Grounder. "I'll get you off, but only if that'll make you calm down."
The hungry glint in the woman's eyes and the demanding cant of her hips made Clarke wonder whether she maybe did understand her after all, at least to some degree.
Taking a deep breath, she approached cautiously, just in case the Grounder decided she'd rather rip her limb from limb after all, but the woman kept still except for her straining hips.
Clarke contemplated starting slow, running her fingers across the taut expanse of the Grounder's stomach and her chest, but the woman's bared teeth and her own thrill of excitement at the thought made her decide against it. This wasn't supposed to be fun.
Instead, she went straight for the button on the dirt-stained pants and popped it open, ignoring how loud the sound of the zipper sliding down was in the quiet upper level.
Clarke didn't have to work to free the woman's erection - as soon as she had tugged the tight pants down around the Grounder's upper thighs, her cock sprung up to slap noisily against the lean muscles of her belly.
A part of Clarke didn't want to look down. To just wrap her hands around it, jerk her off and be done with it without wasting a single glance on what she was touching. She did want it to be over quickly, however, and she wasn't sure not looking would end in anything but awkward fumbling.
Growing impatient, the chained woman gave a threatening growl and a short jangle of her cuffs. Swallowing, Clarke forced herself to take the plunge and lowered her eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat.
It was bigger than she'd anticipated. Not so large as to appear comical or over-sized, but certainly bigger than average. It was a nice size, she supposed.
A drop of wetness gleamed in the small slit atop the swollen head and Clarke's fingers twitched.
Before the Grounder could decide to try and punish her for her hesitancy, she reached out her hand and wrapped it firmly around the hard length. An insistent buck of the woman's hips and a grunt was her answer.
Much of the cock in her hand was covered now, but it didn't lessen the sudden pounding in Clarke's lower stomach. The hot flesh against her palm twitched and pulsed and Clarke took a deep breath to distract herself.
When Clarke's hand began to move up and down, it wasn't gentle and it wasn't careful. It was fast and practical, designed to be efficient rather than pleasurable. If it bothered the Grounder, if she was even capable of distinguishing between enjoyment of the act and simple animal satisfaction, she showed no sign of it, her body straining against her chains mindlessly and saliva dripping from her bared teeth.
Clarke gathered some of the fluid leaking from the tip and used it to make the glide of her hands smoother. She wasn't terribly experienced in giving handjobs, but she didn't think it mattered.
She wanted to get lost in the even rhythm, to disconnect her mind from what she was doing, but she couldn't. Her eyes kept darting down to the swollen member in her hand, to the muscles contracting in the chained woman's stomach, to the wild eyes roaming across her own form.
The wetness building between her legs kept her tethered to the situation at hand, reminding her that she shouldn't be turned on by touching a stranger, much less one with blood on her hands and an inhuman hunger in her every cell, no matter how gorgeous she was underneath all the dirt.
Clarke speeded up her movements, hoping to put this behind her before she had to get any more embarrassed. The Grounder's hips bucked sharply at the new rhythm, the tendons in her neck standing out starkly as Clarke's fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of the head.
She couldn't thrust her hips while she was still chained and the renewed vigor of her struggle made Clarke eye the hinges worriedly.
"Just come already," she muttered, ignoring how her strained breathing made her voice come out husky and low.
Her other hand joined the first, using both of them to jerk her off, and her efforts were rewarded with a rumbling deep in the Grounder's chest and the feeling of the cock in her hands swelling.
Clarke prepared herself for the woman's impending climax by keeping the throbbing length carefully angled away from her. She'd rather not have her clothes ruined by-
She gasped and jerked back when the Grounder suddenly roared and snapped at her, just so managing to jump out of the way before teeth closed around her throat.
Clarke cursed, pressing a hand against where her heart pumped against her ribcage. The woman bent her head back, grunting in exhaustion as her muscles tensed, the joints of her shoulders threatening to pop out of their sockets.
The chains creaked ominously and Clarke took a few cautious steps back. She contemplated calling for the others, contemplated arming herself, just in case, but she was rooted to the spot as the rabid Grounder threw herself against her bonds violently, over and over again.
Clarke saw it coming a split-second before the hinges gave way. There was a sudden, metallic crunching and then the wild woman was free, the restraints coming undone one after the other.
The scream for help never made it out of Clarke's throat. Strong hands grabbed her arms and then her world turned upside down as she was dragged to the floor, her shoulder blades painfully hitting the metal beneath her.
She only got a glimpse of hungry green eyes before her body was whipped around until she lay on her stomach, shuddering at the sudden cold of the floor brushing against her skin where her shirt had ridden up.
Clarke closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable pain of teeth tearing into her flesh, for the feeling of her own blood gushing out of her veins.
It never came.
Instead, strong arms wrapped around her middle and pulled at her hips until they hovered in the air, a hot, half-naked body draped itself over her back and full lips snarled next to her ear.
Clarke jerked beneath the sudden weight when she realized the Grounder's intentions, evident in the pulsing hardness pressing against her ass. The sudden movement caused her to rock back into the woman and a satisfied click of teeth from the body molded against hers made Clarke's insides clench - whether from fear or arousal, she wasn't quite sure.
The Grounder began to rut against her backside with fast, uneven movements, one of her hands scrabbling to get beneath Clarke's shirt and dig her nails harshly into the soft flesh of her belly while the other one slammed down next to Clarke's head for support.
Panting, Clarke attempted to wiggle out of her grasp, to at least get the immobilizing and tantalizing weight off her, but the movements of her body only seemed to encourage the woman. Lips pressed against her neck briefly as the Grounder licked up a wet path all the way up to her ear before retreating.
Clarke froze in fear when she felt the brush of teeth against the flesh of her shoulder where it was exposed by her shirt.
She tried to hold her breath and failed, the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the heat roiling in her belly making the action impossible, too focused on the sharp incisors against her skin to notice right away that the woman's hand had left her belly and was working on the button and fly of her pants.
The sound of ripping fabric caused Clarke's eyes to widen, her breath hitching.
"Wait," she panted as impatient fingers tore at her waistband in an attempt to create an access to what the Grounder so obviously wanted. She tried to reach back an arm to stop her - or help her, Clarke wasn't sure at this point - but the woman's jaw flexed and her teeth pressed harder into Clarke's shoulder, an angry snarl vibrating through her throat.
The next second, the stubborn waistband of her pants slid over her hips and ass only to get caught at her bent knees, keeping her trapped in position. The sudden breeze of cool air over slick, heated skin made Clarke groan in embarrassment.
She was aroused beyond measure by the situation she found herself in, caught beneath a woman who would tear her to pieces just as soon as fuck her, and she knew she shouldn't be.
The Grounder wasted no time. Without a warning, Clarke found herself being spread by the swollen head of her cock pushing against her entrance. She hissed at the mix of pleasure and pain that assaulted her senses and automatically flinched away from the intrusion.
The body above hers pushed down harder, forcing Clarke's cheek against the cold metal floor and her ass to rise even higher, giving the woman a better angle for penetration.
"Fuck," Clarke rasped as the thick member slipped further into her, spreading her legs wider and pushing back into the movement without conscious thought. Her inner walls clenched, attempting to pull the intruder in, and the wild woman grunted her approval, bracing both arms next to Clarke's head.
Being penetrated without proper preparation might have hurt if Clarke hadn't been so wet, wet enough to make it embarrassingly easy for the Grounder to thrust the rest of the way into her with one brutal jerk of her hips.
As soon as she bottomed out, Clarke let out a strained moan. She felt full to the brim, the throbbing length in her causing a delicious kind of pressure that sent sparks of sensation up her spine.
The Grounder pulled out a bit before slamming back in, drawing a strangled 'oh god' out of Clarke's throat and almost knocking her over with the strength of it.
Clarke wasn't prepared for the violent pace.
The snarling woman didn't wait for her to get used to her girth, simply setting a rough, hard rhythm to get herself off. Her hips slapped noisily against the skin of Clarke's ass with every thrust, sweat building in the heat between their bodies.
Clarke would feel much less guilty about letting this happen if she didn't like it, if the Grounder wasn't hitting that sensitive spot with every thrust, if her own wetness wasn't running down her thighs, if she wasn't getting even wetter every time the teeth in her shoulder clamped down just a little harder or her face was pressed further into the floor.
Her shaking hands reached out for support, any kind of support, and gripped onto the woman's arms on either side of her head. The Grounder never once paused in her relentless pounding as Clarke's nails dug into her skin.
Clarke didn't - couldn't - respond to the other woman's jerky movements with anything but weak twitches of her hips; all she could do was relax against the floor and accept the cock spreading her over and over again, the mindless thrusts making her ache in the best way possible and the feminine groans next to her ear causing butterflies to go rampant in her stomach.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Clarke chanted hoarsely, feeling a spark light in her lower belly at the constant pressure against her inner walls. She'd never been one for excessive swearing, but the Grounder was utterly relentless and just wouldn't let up. Clarke could barely draw a breath before the next thrust made her choke on a pleasured moan again.
The teeth around her shoulder suddenly tightened, but the sliver of fear it evoked barely made it through the haze of pleasure in Clarke's mind. The Grounder's movements had become sloppy and Clarke knew it was because she was approaching climax, could feel it in the twitching of the member within her and the trembling of the muscles beneath her hands.
She'd come inside of her, Clarke realized with a sudden clarity. The Grounder certainly wouldn't so much as think of pulling out.
To her own horror, the thought caused a throb of need deep in her belly and pushed her over the edge. Her inner muscles tightened and released, the spasms sending waves of pleasure all the way down to her toes. Clarke groaned long and loud, muttering things she couldn't remember afterwards.
Through the haze, she noticed the body above her giving a last hard push and then stilling. Clarke reached back as best she could to push at the Grounder's hips, to at least make an attempt at getting her to pull out. Or so she'd thought. Instead her fingers curled around the other woman's ass at the feeling of the first hard throb of her cock, digging her nails into the tight muscles to pull her impossibly closer, encouraging her with feverishly whispered words.
"Clarke."
The Grounder pressed out the single, clumsily formed word between her teeth - the first she'd spoken - and pushed into her as deep as she could until the head of her cock rested snugly against the entrance of her cervix.
And then she came, emptying all of herself into Clarke in thick spurts of semen, her hips shuddering uncontrollably and her chest pressing down into Clarke's back until there wasn't an inch of space left between them.
Clarke had been on the tail end of her orgasm, but the warm jets of cum and the feeling of the Grounder clenching and unclenching inside of her, of the muscles of her ass quivering beneath Clarke's fingers, hurled her into another one.
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as white-hot pleasure overtook her once more, even stronger than the last, and she wasn't aware of her grip leaving welts in the other woman's skin or of the teeth that bit down on her already maltreated shoulder just hard enough to draw blood.
An arm wrapping around her middle was all that held her up once Clarke finally dropped after the seemingly eternal sparks of pleasure had let up, relaxed and utterly boneless. The Grounder grunted as the last spurts of cum trickled into her. She didn't pull out, simply letting Clarke's hips sink down and following after her until they lay flat on the floor, pressed chest to back.
She was surprisingly light and Clarke was too caught up in the pleasant after-shocks rocking her body to find the weight or heat uncomfortable.
Every inch of her ached, from her quivering thighs to the shallow bite in her shoulder, but it was a strangely satisfying feeling. A part of her waited for the woman to revert back to a mindless killing machine, to finally rip into her like she'd been threatening to do from the beginning, but it seemed even she could be made docile, at least for the time being.
"Clarke," the Grounder muttered once more, like it was the only word she knew. It sounded strained, awkward, as though she was only just learning to form words. She was asleep before Clarke could further analyze it, her head tucked in the curve between Clarke's shoulder blades and her quiet snoring utterly unfitting for the dangerous creature she was.
Clarke sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position, her breathing evening out. How she was supposed to explain her compromising position later or where they were supposed to go from here, Clarke didn't know and she was content to not think about it just yet.
For now, she'd allow herself to enjoy the warm, solid weight on her back and rest.