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Here’s another smutty Bellarke one-shot. You guys aren’t getting sick of these yet, are you?!?
***
The door to the hut is open, despite the rain. It’s boiling hot out, even as the ground gets soaked. The knock is barely heard over the thunder but Bellamy jerks his head up right away. Clarke sighs as he straightens with a groan. After months of negotiating with each other and the Ocean Clan, the plans for their new community are almost complete and this distraction, whatever it is, is not welcome.
“What?” Bellamy barks.
Jasper hesitates, the rain falling sideways pelts his cheek and he blinks the drops from his eyes rapidly. “I have a question.”
Bellamy blows a breath out his nose and Clarke grins to herself as she pictures the tick his jaw makes with it. “I assumed as much.”
“Right, well the thing is…we were thinking it might be nice if we…there’s an occasion approaching that might be fun…”
Bellamy clears his throat and Clarke takes that as her cue to stand beside him to stop any bodily harm he decides to inflict on the rambling boy in the doorway. “Jasper,” she pushes Bellamy aside and grasps Jasper’s wet shoulder, “why don’t you come in?”
She sits him down on Bellamy’s cot and the rainwater dripping from his arms darkens the blankets. Bellamy makes another disgruntled noise that goes completely ignored. Clarke grabs the towel hanging off the end of the cot and drapes it around Jasper.
“Now, what were you trying to say?”
Jasper looks between her and Bellamy several times before he speaks. “Before you guys say no, everyone else wants to do this too and it would be really good for morale and it wouldn’t disrupt the building schedule or the hunting rotations-“
“Jasper,” Bellamy barks.
“We want to have a birthday party for Monty.”
“A birthday party?” Clarke states, as if she’s never heard of such a thing. Life on Earth isn’t exactly conducive for celebrations. She’s been keeping a calendar since the dropship landed but it’s only been used for medical purposes and to monitor the changing seasons. The idea of celebrating birthdays never occurred to her.
The Ark had provided everyone with a small cake on his or her birthday. Party might be a strong word but there was usually a gift or two for her by her bed on that special day and her dad would get off work early and play hide and seek with her before her mom got home and together they’d sing to her.
Bellamy’s grumbling objection breaks into her memories. “We don’t have time for that right now! Winter will be here any day and we need to build more cabins and finish the sea wall. We just negotiated with the Ocean Clan to secure this territory. Now’s the time for us to focus and-“
“I think it’s a good idea,” she says quietly and Bellamy scoffs.
“Are you serious?”
Clarke places her hand on his forearm. “I do. This would be great, the last chance to do something fun before winter comes.”
“You think it’ll be great to use valuable food and moonshine on a party?”
“Yea, I do.” She leans in a little and whispers only for him, “We deserve a drink.” He rolls his eyes. He hates it when she uses his own words against him.
After a moment of apparently great struggle, with a barely detectable shudder, he nods. She squeezes his arm and turns back to Jasper with a beaming smile. “When’s his birthday?”
Jasper bounces up. “Day after tomorrow.” He throws himself around Clarke and she hugs him back before he moves to Bellamy, who claps him on the back while he glares at Clarke.
***
Wick finds speakers and uses some undoubtedly precious components to get them working. Clarke makes the executive decision not to tell Bellamy about that. Raven's radio that was once used to communicate with the Ark now plays a small selection of music that was salvaged from the wreckage of the spaceship.
Clarke allows Miller to take an extra deer from the food bank to make jerky and extra barrels of moonshine have been set aside for the festivities.
It’s only when Jasper and Raven approach with their crude, not-yet-tested fireworks that Clarke puts her foot down.
“Absolutely not.”
“But…they’ll be great. We finally figured out how to add color and as long as the wind isn’t too strong…” Jasper grins at her hopefully.
Clarke gestures around at the entirely constructed from wood community and raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah, okay. That’s a good call,” Raven finally agrees.
***
The moonshine tastes like cinnamon and Clarke’s had a lot.
Her steps go a little crooked, some of the moonshine in her cup splashes to the ground, and Bellamy smirks as he watches her struggle toward him, like a baby deer learning to walk. “You okay?”
She leans next to him against the enormous wall, smiles up at the waxing moon. “I’m great.”
“You’re drunk.”
“That’s why I’m great.” He shakes his head with an exasperated yet fond smile and wraps his arm around her shoulders before she can slip down the dewy wood. “You should be drunk, Bell. It’s great.”
“So you said but someone has to chaperone.”
“It shouldn’t be you. You’re the guy that always wants a drink.” She nudges his side before promptly falling to the ground. Bellamy follows with a snigger and she props her head on his shoulder. The sounds of the party swirl around them and Clarke relishes the laughter skipping through the darkness. “They sound happy.”
“Yeah, well, they’re drunk too.”
“Don’t be so cynical. You have to admit that this was a good idea.” He shrugs and when she glances up, his eyes are far away. “Bell?”
He blinks once before looking down at her. “What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bell-”
“Drop it, Clarke.” She continues to watch him and it isn’t long before he sighs and drops his eyes to hers. “I just don’t like birthdays.”
She huffs a little laugh and he frowns at her. “Sorry, I just…didn’t think you’d care about getting older.”
“It’s not that.” He looks back to the party and when he speaks again, his voice is choked. “I don’t have good memories of my birthday, is all.”
“Yeah, the Ark didn’t do birthdays very well.”
“I know.”
“But we did get that cake every year. I know it was gross and covered in frostbite but-”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You don’t remember?” He shakes his head, swallows and she focuses on the bobbing in his throat as an image forms in her mind: little Bellamy Blake, getting his birthday cake once a year only to turn around and hand it to his mother to give to his sister. She sucks in a breath that almost strangles her. “You gave it to Octavia, didn’t you?”
He clenches his eyes shut and she thinks about all the things he gave up for his sister. “It’s not a big deal. Like you said they were gross.”
“Oh, my god.”
“You can’t say anything. She doesn’t know.”
“How could she not know?”
He looks at her almost cruelly. “She lived in the floor. Literally the easiest person to keep secrets from.”
“But, does she think-“
“My mom would freeze the cake. Our birthdays are only a few weeks apart. She never caught on,” he said shortly.
Clarkes closes her eyes then, imagines her adolescent life in comparison to his and all the ways the Ark tried and failed to ruin him. She thought she knew all his stories but he’s always got another heartbreaking saga around the corner. He gives them to her and no one else and she kind of loves him for that. She’s his confidant, the same way he’s hers and its been years of giving and taking from each other to reach the point they’re at now. She hesitates to call them soulmates, but only because it feels paltry to describe what they are to each other.
He sits up suddenly, pulls something from the inside pocket of his jacket. He hesitates and she sees his hand jerk back involuntarily before he offers her the crumpled, water-stained photograph. She recognizes him instantly. He can’t be more than seven in the picture but those dark, serious eyes are the same: solemnly wise even surrounded by the youthful cheeks and floppy hair.
He’s holding a baby that must be Octavia and they are sitting in their mother’s lap, her arms encircling them as she beams down at their little faces. On the table in front sits a birthday cake.
“This is the only picture we ever took together.” The words brush against her cheek, and then Bellamy kind of coughs and when Clarke looks up at him, he’s wiping his eyes. “I’m surprised my mom didn’t destroy it. She let me keep it under my bed, taped to the mattress.”
She holds the picture carefully on her palm. The fold down the center is so worn that one small tug would rip the image in two. “Octavia looks just like her,” Clarke says softly and he just nods. “How old are you here?”
“Eight. My last real birthday. The next year we gave my cake to O.”
“Was that your idea?”
“Not really but I was kind of a selfish kid.”
She rolls her eyes. “I doubt that.”
He sighs, inclines his head to the cup in her hand. “Is that empty?”
She hands it over. The moonshine burns up some of his tears.
“Better?”
“No.” His jaws ticks and he clenches his thumbs in his fists. “I loved my mom, you know? She was…she was my mom.”
“I know.” Clarke has to look away from his face for a second.
“But, sometimes when I think about what she did to us…” He shakes his head, dispels whatever memory is nagging at him.
“It’s okay to be mad at her, Bell. I still get mad when I think about what my mother did.”
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, you’re not exactly the ‘forgive and forget’ type of girl.”
She scoots closer and places her hand on his chest. His heartbeat is steady, like him, strong and sure and she thinks about how much she wishes life was happy for him, how much he deserves only good things.
“I’m sorry, Bellamy.”
He squeezes her close and his fingers pull through her hair. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You deserve a birthday.”
He breathes out a quiet laugh. “I’ll live without.”
“It’s not right,” Clarke says, her words slurring as she sinks farther into Bellamy’s embrace. “Everyone should have a birthday, especially you…”
Maybe she kisses his shoulder or just passes out but her face is pressed into his shirt, her breath warm as she exhales deeply.
He hugs her briefly and then he’s picking her up and carrying her to her cabin as the sounds from the party fade in the distance.
“What are you-wait just a minute! I want to go back to the party,” she whines but he just hefts her up tighter in his arms.
“You’re going to bed. You’re almost asleep now.”
She nuzzles her face back into his shoulder. “No, I’m not.” She protests, her voice all soft and muffled.
He tucks her into bed and she mumbles something that should be a ‘thank you’ but the world is misting over when she lays her head on the pillow and she’s almost asleep when he kisses her forehead. “Goodnight, Clarke.”
“’Night, Bell.”
***
She tries to forget, and the amount of moonshine she’d drunk should have accomplished that easily, but Bellamy’s confession gnaws at her. She can’t ask him about it again. He’ll play it off like it means nothing that he never got a birthday, never had a day that was all about him. She toys with the idea of declaring some random day in the calendar year ‘Bellamy Blake’ day but she doesn’t want him to kill her.
It comes to her in the dead of night, the perfect idea, something he’ll hopefully love that she can do for him and keep subtle. It’s not hard to find the picture. It lives in the inside pocket of his jacket, which lately, has been living in his tent. The summer temperatures are reaching near the hundreds everyday.
She’s got some paper, crude stuff that barely deserves the name, and some pencils that she still had from the bunker. She only works on it when she knows that Bellamy’s too distracted to notice that she’s up to something. Landscapes have always been easier or her but she’s still talented at sketching faces. There are a few areas where the picture is so worn that Clarke has to use her imagination to fill in the ruined parts.
The proportion is a little difficult for her as well. She’s got a larger canvas to work with than the picture and she wants Bellamy to have a proper image of his family, one he doesn’t have to quint at in order to see every detail.
Maybe she doesn’t get every angle right, and maybe it’s not as complete without the right colors but she masters the expression on Aurora’s face, the look of adoration for her children. She get’s Bellamy’s dimples and huge, black eyes, the depth of affection he has for Octavia in every curve of his smile.
Once she’s satisfied, she carefully wraps it up and hides it in her hut. She returns the photo and Bellamy appears none the wiser to her temporary theft. Then, she plans the rest of her surprise.
***
It’s not cake but Clarke gets some berry wine from Monty.
“What’s the occasion?” he asks with a curious grin.
“It’s a secret,” Clarke answers but she’s kind of beaming and it’s lucky that Monty’s the one to see her so excited because anyone else would blab all over camp about her need for special substances and then her surprise would be ruined.
“Secret’s safe with me.”
“I knew it would be.” She takes the jar but before she can turn to leave, Monty grasps her arm.
“Hey, Clarke.” He smiles shyly, dips his head just a little before speaking again. “Thanks for the party. It was a lot of fun.”
“Jasper and Raven did most of the work.”
“Sure, but I heard that Bellamy was kind of against the whole thing and that you basically got him to agree and I just wanted to say thank you.”
“I should be thanking you. There’s nothing I like more than defying Bellamy.”
Monty wraps her in a hug as a laugh escapes from his chest. “I haven’t had a birthday in a while.”
She squeezes him tight. “I’m glad you had fun.” He draws away with a bright smile and she returns it, feeling even better about her plan after talking to him. “Everyone deserves a birthday.”
***
It’s late and the camp is quiet when she sneaks into his cabin. He’s still on watch so she has the place to herself as she sets up her little surprise for him. The completed drawing is wrapped up with a piece of taffeta and she places it on the table, where she’ll expect him to sit. There’s the bottle of wine she got from Monty and a bowl of fresh, sweet strawberries, probably the last ones they’d have for the season. She figured Bellamy’s birthday was a big enough occasion to warrant their consumption.
Not that this is his actual birthday. She’d asked Octavia for the real date but she had refused to give Clarke an answer without knowing the reason behind her request. She decided to keep it casual, just offer him the gift as a token of friendship rather than as a light attempt to make up for the fifteen or so years that his birth was never celebrated at all.
She’s waiting by the table when he steps inside. He stops abruptly upon seeing her, his eyes bulging slightly as he takes in the spread on the table.
His mouth twitches up in a confused half smile. “Clarke…”
“Happy Birthday!” She whisper-shouts as she hands him a cup of wine.
He sniffs the contents of his cup and then chuckles and takes a small sip. “You know…it’s not my birthday.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re still going to celebrate it.”
She sits down and uncovers the bowl of strawberries.
Bellamy rolls his eyes, ”Clarke, really, you don’t have to-“
“Bell.” She huffs and looks up at him, taking care to make her eyes look particularly big and doe-like. “We can sit here and argue about it or you could just sit down, drink this wine and eat these delicious strawberries, which I know are your favorite, and enjoy it.”
He shakes his head a little but she can sense the hint of affection amid all the exasperation.
“It’ll be over faster if you just indulge me,” Clarke points out and Bellamy caves, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside her.
The strawberries are honeyed and Bellamy and Clarke eat them slowly, savoring the last hint of sweetness they’ll taste this year. Coupled with the wine, it doesn’t take long for Bellamy to sink into a relaxed and happy mood.
“This is nice,” he says and Clarke smiles as she slides his gift across the table. “Clarke, the wine and the strawberries were enough, you didn’t have to make me a card.”
“It’s not a card.”
He taps it once with his index finger and a silly grin, half-drunk, half-giddy, puffs up his flushed cheeks. “What is it?”
Clarke rolls her eyes and leans forward. They’re very close when she whispers, “Just open it, bozo.”
He curls his fingers around the parchment as he smiles back at her and then he says, his rich, warm breath on her cheek, “This has already been enough.”
Clarke bites her lip, almost forgets herself and tips forward even more before she catches herself at the last second and shoves playfully at his chest. “Open it before I change my mind.”
The chair makes a clunk against the ground as he leans back and unfurls Clarke’s drawing. The look on his face morphs from curious to utterly blank in a moment. He just stares at it, his eyes moving back and forth across the parchment slowly, analyzing every detail. She knows that he’s processing it but his complete non-reaction starts to make her panic.
“I should have asked. I shouldn’t have just taken your picture without talking to you about it but it was just so old that I thought it should be recreated before it was too late and that you might like to have something in case-“
She falls quiet immediately when his hand cups her shoulder. “You drew this?” he asks, quietly, reverently. He glances away from the paper for just a second to look at her and then the refabricated image of his family sweeps up his full attention again. There’s a tear in his eye and it makes Clarke swallow thickly.
“Yes,” she whispers.
His jaw ticks as he clicks his teeth together and she knows that he’s trying to keep his emotions at bay. He traces the lines of his mothers face with soft fingers, a look of wonderment overtaking his features before he looks at Clarke again. He’s a little breathless when he speaks. “I don’t know what to say.” He drags his hand up Clarke’s neck and into her hair, traces the shell of her ear with his calloused thumb and Clarke tries and fails to hide a shiver. “It’s amazing.” He sets it on the table, propping it up against the wine bottle so they can both look at it. He takes her hand in his and he brings it to his mouth, kissing the fingers that gave life to his family again.
“I…uh,” Clarke can’t really talk with the way he’s twirling the hair on the back of her neck. “I’m better at landscapes, honestly, and I don’t think I got your eyes exactly right but-“
And then he rushes forward and she gasps into his mouth as he kisses her softly. She kisses him back, mostly out of shock, but then he pulls away and she can sense the apology on his lips, his lips that are wet and the sight of him winded and wanting her sends a jolt of electric lust straight down her spine and she pulls him forward again before he can say a word.
It shouldn’t be difficult, after everything they’ve been through together, and it’s not.
His searing hot tongue licks into her mouth as he brings her close. She slides off her own chair and onto his lap, straddling him like she was born for the task. He’s already growing hard and she can’t help but thrust against him, eliciting from deep in his chest the most gloriously erotic sound she’s ever heard.
“I love you,” he rasps over her cheek. He kisses her jaw, her nose, her closed eyelids.
“Bell.” She wants to say it back; it’s the truest thing she knows and she always imagined the words would tumble from her lips as easily as they had his but they lodge in her throat. Bellamy doesn’t seem to care; he’s too busy tonguing the little crevice behind her ear. “I…Bell…oh, god….”
He pulls away and she nearly whines at the loss of his lips on her overheated skin. “I don’t need to hear it. I just need to know if you want me to stop.”
As if to demonstrate what she might be giving up, he drives himself up against her, hard and demanding and she barely stammers out that she never wants him to stop before he’s gripping her around the thighs and carrying her across the room.
He sets her on the tiny cot and she bounces almost comically but any semblance of a laugh she might have had is gone when he strips off his shirt, revealing a perfectly constructed body that would make Adonis jealous. It’s all heat and skin and sensation when Bellamy settles over her, his body shaking with restraint and his mouth working on hers, biting and sucking and licking until Clarke feels devoured in the best way.
His body is just shy of crushing when he lets his full weight rest on her but she could spend the rest of her life like this, him between her legs, rutting shallowly against her wet heat as he assaults her neck. They’ll be marks on her skin but she doesn’t care. There’s really nothing else happening in the world other than their labored breathing and roaming hands.
He slides his hands up her sides, cupping the outside of her breasts and teasing her nipples until they’re hard. Clarke’s got her hands on his back, dragging her fingers down the impressive muscles to his pants. Her fingers delve deep, gripping the firm planes of his ass and he humps into her more forcefully than ever before. She gets his pants open in a flash, reaching in to trace the shape of cock with her hand. Her other hand goes to his face, to caress with reverence the hollows of his cheeks and the dip of his chin. Everything he owns inside him rings as she strokes him, his cheek and his cock in equal rhythm and he growls, sealing their lips together again, his tongue working on hers tirelessly.
He pulls her shirt off slowly, dips his head down and places open, sucking kisses on her stomach that make her squirm. He strips her bra away, effortlessly, like it was never there at all, and torments her with kisses, pulling her taut nipple into the heat of his mouth and circling it repeatedly with his tongue until Clarke is so strung out on the sensations that she’s rutting against his straining cock.
“Bellamy…come on…”
He chuckles a little and she’s about to scream at him to ‘fuck her already’ but then he slides the button on her pants open and she wiggles out of them and kicks them off. Bellamy shoves his hand between her thighs. Her panties are already soaked and he makes a strangled noise at the feeling of her arousal.
He touches his forehead to hers as he pushes aside the last bit of fabric keeping her from him. “I’ve wanted to do this forever.”
“Me, too,” Clarke rasps. She leans up, sucks his bottom lip into her mouth as he swipes his fingers over her, spreading her wetness around before he slowly eases a finger inside of her.
He jerks into her palm and she strokes him, matching the rhythm that he’s set with his long fingers. He pushes another inside her and she pants into his mouth as the delicious pressure thrumming through her body surges. The friction is so good but not enough. She moans for more and he slips a third finger in.
He works her to the edge, teasing her with more lapping kisses on her breasts and down to her navel. He runs his nose along the inside of her legs.
“Please, Bellamy,” she whimpers. His mouth is so close to where she aches for it.
He bites at the soft, sensitive skin of her thighs, moving tortuously slowly to her center. She leans up on her elbows and the view of herself spread wide for him makes her shudder.
She’s fucking lost to the cosmos at the first swipe of his tongue. The noise his sucking mouth makes is obscene. She tips her head back and reaches for his head, raking her nails on his scalp and Bellamy holds her down when her hips cant up. One of her feet lifts off the bed in utter ecstasy and Bellamy grasps her ankle and slides it over his shoulder. His thumb rubs tight circles into her clit and she cries out his name as the burn that he started rockets through her, melting her bones. Bellamy works her through it, gentling his tongue when she starts to come back down. She collapses in a heap, dazed and sweaty, so blissed out that her vision goes dark for a moment.
Her entire body tingles with aftershocks as he straightens out and lies beside her. His burning hard length presses against the outside of her hip. Clarke opens her eyes just in time to watch him lick her cum off his fingers.
He smiles, humming at her taste like the cocky little shit that he is. She pushes at him but there’s no strength in it and Bellamy just catches her hand and entwines their fingers.
“How you doing?” he asks with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Shut up. My brain is jelly and can’t process questions.”
He kisses her forehead and tastes sweat, brushes a few wayward strands of golden hair from her face. She’s still breathing hard when he lays his free hand over her pounding heart. She curls into him, exhausted and yet still wanting more. Wanting him.
She slips her hand over his erection, letting his pre-cum pool in her palm before she runs down his shaft, lubing him up until he’s slick. Bellamy breathes into her hair, huffing as her small hand circles him and starts to move with purpose. “We should do this more often,” she suggests and it might’ve sounded like an offhanded, joking comment if her voice wasn’t streaked with lust.
“We should’ve done this years ago,” he confirms and then Clarke’s climbing over him, straddling him as she continues to pump him. “You had that shot, right?”
She nods. “No babies for at least two more years.”
He bends his legs to help support her as she positions his huge leaking cock at her equally wet center. She sinks down on him and he thrusts up and she’s full of him in a moment and every inch of her is tight and hot when he sits up and wraps his arms around her back, cradling her against his scorching chest and she kisses him quick and dirty before licking at his neck, tasting sun and wood and a warrior’s sweat and then he cants up into her and she keens as he hits that magic, explosive spot again and again.
Her whole body is a live wire about to spark as they move together, chasing each other to the stars. He whispers things, filthy thoughts about how tight she is, how glorious she looks like this, riding him, fucking him, his voice raspier that she’s ever heard it before and she almost wants to call him a cheater, like he’s trying to make sure that he gets her off first. And he does. She falls before he does, tilting her head back as the fire shatters her. His own release comes with a few more frantic thrusts and he buries his groan in her neck. He holds her tight as he comes back down.
Bellamy lays her back, her boneless limbs slipping easily from his grasp and he’s about to draw away when she tightens her legs around him. “Don’t move.”
He laughs and kisses her cheek. “Clarke, you can barely breathe as it is.”
She wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles her face in his shoulder. “I don’t care. This is a good way to go.”
He rolls to his side, so he’s not crushing her and she edges her way closer, somehow, slips her legs between his, rests her head on his bicep. They’re silent for a while, save for their labored breathing but it’s not awkward. Clarke has this sense of content in his arms and she guesses that he feels it too. He’s idly playing with her hair and dozing, smiling slightly each time his eyes open again and he sees her lying beside him.
“Did I say ‘thank you’?” he mumbles at one point.
“No, but I got it.”
“Good.”
It seems like he falls asleep then. His eyes stay closed and his breaths grow deep and even.
“Did I say ‘I love you’?” Clarke whispers before she shuts her eyes.
Bellamy shifts, tucks her a little closer into his body. “No, but I got it.”