Chapter Text
“We’re wolves,” Bellamy uttered, looking away from the woods and to her. “Who else would we marry?” Clarke took his hand and clasped hers in his. They looked to the trees together, awaiting the caravan.
*
Seated in the tall sunlit grass along the coast of the lake, Bellamy rested his forehead against his knees and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes and turned to her. “The marriage-- Do you want to try?”
Clarke paused in sifting through flintstones next to him and met his blank, honest gaze. She shifted, deliberating, then closed her eyes with a sigh, and answered, “This marriage-- it’s probably permanent. It’s not going anywhere. It’s not going to disappear. So… I think we should.”
Bellamy exhaled at her answer, sounding frustrated, and shook his head. “I know we NEED to try. I’m asking-- Do you want to?” At the last sentence, his voice became lower, more intimate and unsure.
Clarke breathed in his words and tamed the terrified stutter in her chest. He wanted to know not if she was willing to make it work, but if she wanted to give this a shot at all for herself.
She couldn’t say no. Could she deny that she was attracted to him? That she wanted this a little, if she had to bear the crown? That if anyone, it was him, only him she wanted a life with? It was now or never when she answered, because there would be no turning back if she lied. She took a deep breath, lifted her head to look him in the eyes, and told him the truth.
“Yes. Yes, I do.” Her attraction to him bled into her words a little, and she tried to rein in her desperation in these precious few moments. “Do you?”
Bellamy’s eyes widened at her response, and he immediately shifted a little, his mouth a small o of surprise. Clarke’s heart dipped dangerously fast before she could catch the cold stone of fear. Then Bellamy breathed, “Yes.” He gave a small laugh of relief, and he tilted her chin up with two fingers to look at her. “Yeah, I do.” Clarke exhaled shakily, mostly relieved, and touched her forehead to his. She lifted her hand, touched his cheek with her fingers fondly. She cupped his jaw, holding his face in a caress. Thank God for Bellamy. They would both try to make this marriage something real, not just for the regime, but for themselves. They would try to love each other as husband and wife. Life didn’t have to be so bad all the time after all.
Bellamy’s hand came up and held her wrist between them, an anchor. As she looked on him, the warm affection in his face made her pulse start to dash again, steadier and warmer this time, a little bit laden. His thumb where it touched the skin of her wrist felt hot. Clarke’s blue eyes began to heat up where they met Bellamy’s suddenly deeper ones, and she wondered if this was the moment they were supposed to lean in and kiss. They should, shouldn’t they? But was she ready for a true marriage? Were they ready for a sexual relationship?
But Bellamy closed his eyes and leaned his head against hers. “Maybe we should do this later,” he whispered. Clarke felt a small whoomph of disappointment in her stomach, but she nodded. She also felt overwhelming relief. Clarke was unsure if they could just jump into a romance.
As it turned out, they didn’t need to. Over the next few weeks, the casual touches Bellamy and Clarke gave each other for support, comfort, or affirmation suddenly became building blocks towards an unwitting, flowering romance.
Clarke’s eyes would follow Bellamy after a light brush on her shoulder as he left the room, and he would notice, catching her stare before stepping out. Clarke couldn’t help herself, and it caught Bellamy’s attention that suddenly the small touches and gestures they survived upon each other for were heating up with more licentious meaning than expected. A simple gesture like bringing her fruit in the middle of the day turned from ordinary affection to overt love. Clarke met Bellamy’s gaze as he pressed an apple into her hand, her eyes feeling like they were lined with thick black kohl of egyptian luxury. A small touch to his waist from Clarke, a guiding hand to her shoulder from Bellamy, tucking Clarke’s hair from her face, taking Bellamy’s walkie from his holster-- Anything was enough to provoke intimate, heartstopping gazes between the two. The immediate bloom of warmth and the soft thrill kept them up at night.
One day in their tent, a gesture solely for the purpose of winding one up had a sharp effect. As Bellamy passed behind Clarke to peer over her shoulder at a map she referred to earlier, his fingers brushed across the back of her neck and collarbone where her shirt exposed her skin. His light touch sent shivers up Clarke’s skin; and as Bellamy sat down on the bed, hair messy, she announced that she would sleep in her own tent for the night, her hands wrapping around herself for the sudden chill.
Bellamy frowned. “But why? The whole point of marriage is for us to be together. And if we’re going to try, that means we should at least sleep in the same tent if we can.” As he spoke, he used her hand to pull her back to him, to the bed they shared. Bellamy and Clarke had already been sleeping in the same tent since signing the contract, but this was the first time Clarke said anything about not staying.
Clarke gave a small frown, conceded, and, warning herself to put a muzzle on her urges, followed Bellamy into the bed and let him curl around her protectively. But even as Bellamy’s breaths relaxed, she couldn’t sleep. Having Bellamy around her while she was turned on was much worse than being turned on and in the same room as him. She just wanted to crawl up his chest and start kissing him all over, meld her body into his curves and envelop herself in him. Fill herself up with him-- she stopped herself, tried to get her bearings. Pressed against his hard, warm chest, she tried to shut her mind, tried to slow her breathing. Peace just wasn’t coming to her; all she could feel was the slowly building adrenaline.
Clarke pushed the hair out of her face, breathing heavily. She was sweating as her body heated up. Clarke shifted, and finally gave up. She shrugged out of his hold and headed to the center of the tent where her day clothes were tossed. She grabbed a jacket and struggled to pull out the arms. Bellamy stirred, opened his eyes, sat up on the bed and watched her in puzzlement and mild alarm.
“Clarke.... Clarke! What’s going on?”
“I can’t be near you, okay?” Clarke finally burst, dropping her jacket to the floor and turning to him. “I just want to jump on you, I can’t sleep, I can’t relax. I know it’s not the time, so I’m just going somewhere else til I can sleep.” She sighed in defeat and turned away to stare at the brown canvas walls of the tent, angry with herself.
After a few moments of tense silence, Bellamy spoke slowly. “Clarke…. It’s good that you’re attracted. That’s a good thing for us, for our marriage. Especially because we actually like each other as well.... It’ll happen when it happens, okay? Don’t stress out about it.” Bellamy’s voice was calm, soothing, and Clarke looked at him. He met her gaze steadily, confidently, and held out his hand to her. “And just so you know-- you must know-- I’m attracted to you too. It hasn’t been easy for me either.” Clarke took his hand, and he pulled her to sit by him on the bed. Bellamy fingered a strand of her golden hair, pressed a thumb gently into her cheek. “Look. We’ll take things slow, but you don’t have to resist your feelings. It’s progress, that’s for sure. We’ll make this marriage work yet…. Just let it happen.”
By the end of his speech, Clarke was in his arms, leaning against him as he stroked the back of her head. She looked up at him and straightened a little, giving him a soft, brief smile. “Okay.” She took Bellamy’s hand into hers, laced her fingers through his. “We’ll do it together,” she said with more confidence, meeting his eyes. Clarke closed her eyes contentedly as she leaned against his chest, grateful. “....Thanks, Bellamy.”
After a period of silence, Clarke lifted her head to look at him. He was watching her softly, a small smile at the corners of his lips. Clarke met his eyes and then her gaze unwittingly darted to his lips, red and full. When she looked up again the heat in his eyes was different, more concentrated. She felt her body flush when she remembered his words earlier. “You must know- I’m attracted to you, too.”
Clarke glanced at his hanging hair, his freckled cheekbones, his brown, dark eyes, and she lifted a hand to touch his face. Her fingers fluttered along the outside of his face, brushing his profile. She rose up underneath him and tilted her head slightly, a hand resting on his chest. Bellamy’s grip tightened around her waist, and he leaned down to meet her lips as her eyes shut close. This moment felt right.
They didn’t kiss right away, just hovered above each other for a few agonizing seconds of hesitant tension. Clark felt his puff of air on her lips and restrained herself from crashing her mouth to his. Bellamy’s breath warmed her lips, tickling her tingling nerves.
Finally lips met in a brush of unconfident lust but certain love. A second brush, a third. Then Clarke’s fingers tightened along his face, her pointer finger tracing the outline of his cheek and then turning in a slide to make way for her thumb as she brought his face down to kiss her fully, to completely inhale his scent.
Bellamy’s lips met hers completely, working against hers as they began to kiss truly. His lips felt soft, but insistent, over her eager, consuming ones. His hand was on her jaw, thumb dipping under bone, feeling along the junction of muscle and vein. He kissed down the other side of her throat, rose back up to kiss her lips again while she gave short, quick gasps of delight.
“Okay, okay, okay okay okay,” Clarke gasped out, withdrawing herself. She unwrapped her hands from around Bellamy and put them both on his shoulders, stilling them both and steadying herself. “We have to go slow remember? We’re just kissing, we’ll save the rest for later.”
“Does that include kissing in other places?” Bellamy asked, catching his breath. His eyes were dark and blown, his cheeks flushed, lips lush and full, brown hair mussed. His freckles twinkled.
Clarke hesitated for a second, before replying, “No.”
They grinned before melting into each other in a dance of love.