Chapter Text
“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy pants, tongue sweet with her name as she presses up to steal another kiss. “Someone’s gonna catch us.”
The strain in his voice makes her smile, half victory-half something she’s not quite ready to name, and she pulls away with a bite to her lip, in the way she knows makes her look all kinds of sexy. “You’re off-duty,” she points out, hands sliding from his shoulders, trailing down the smooth ridges of his chest, to his stomach. She feels it tense under her touch, and her smile turns wicked. “No one’ll be looking for you.”
She lets go of him, only to feel for the handle on the door behind him, push it open and prompt Bellamy to follow.
“Not here,” he murmurs in agreement, rough but teasing as he looks around the crowded supplies closet, and Clarke just shrugs, unabashed in the desperation that’s lead to her lack of care about their location.
“Wherever works,” she says, shutting the door behind her and finding the light switch, the room lighting up dimly — just enough to appreciate the sight in front of her.
She slides her hands back up Bellamy’s chest, curls them into his top to pull him closer, and he takes it as the encouragement it is, moving into the little space she has, backing her up against the door. His hands settle heavy on her waist and the hardness of him presses just slightly above where she needs him, and she feels the heat that pools in her core, the way her pussy is already so wet for him. God, she can’t wait to see his cock. It’s really a wonder she’s held out this long.
“Sure about this?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke’s nodding before he’s even finished the question.
“Yeah,” she says, “definitely,” her eyes again flicking over to the logo just beside her left hand. Bellamy’s grip tenses around her as he follows her gaze, and she sees the realisation there when he looks back to her. Amusement that mixes with the blown desire of his eyes, the smirk that pulls slowly at his lips.
“Oh, princess,” he murmurs, voice dropping low as he gives her another squeeze, as if to let her know he’s only teasing.
And look, Clarke will admit that it is a little embarrassing, that something so simple could have this effect on her. Just a basic emblem and the words Fire Department, red and gold against the navy blue of the teeshirt, and yet the short glance has already sent flickers of heat all the way through her. Add to that the way his top stretches across the broadness of his chest, that it cuts off just early enough to appreciate the curves of his biceps, and the perfection of his ass in his simple navy pants, and it’s really a lot to take in, all at once.
So it’s not really Clarke’s fault that she’s only realising now that she really wants to fuck a firefighter, a firefighter who just happens to be her best friend. Or that her realisation has coincided with her accidentally walking in on said best friend changing twenty minutes ago, catching a glimpse of him as he took off his full gear. She’s not sure how sex would work in all those bulky clothes, but she’s sure she’ll be able to find out another day.
Right now, the basic uniform Bellamy’s got on is enough. Definitely enough.
“Shut up,” she mutters, a little whiny, and when he chuckles she feels his breath on her lips. It’s enough to get her to push up on her toes, make him shut up with her mouth.
He grunts into it, opening for her immediately, and the kiss is hot and desperate from the very beginning: hungry lips sliding against each other, tongues sweeping for a taste and then another. Clarke’s hands find their way into Bellamy’s hair, and his settle on the curve of her ass. Her fingers curl to tug a sharp prompt and he responds by lifting her up, pressing her firm against the door, his hands now on the bottoms of her thighs, rough skin meeting smooth as the skirt of her dress bunches up between them.
He rolls his hips and she feels him, feels the hardness of his cock beneath his pants, the way her cunt pulses hot at the brief moment of almost-contact.
“Fuck,” she breathes out, the curse captured quickly by Bellamy’s mouth, one kiss, then another, and finally the slow, sweet graze of his teeth over her lower lip. She laughs softly, already a little fucked out from the desperation wrapping itself around every single inch of her, and Bellamy’s eyes flash at the sound, hungry in a way she’s never seen him before. “I want it,” she says, curling her legs around his hips, pressing him tight against her. “You. Fucking me for real.”
He pulls back, eyes flicking over her face quickly before landing on hers, a weight behind them that feels heavier than just this moment. “Yeah?” He asks, rough in the best way possible. He rolls his hips again, slower this time, firmer and more purposeful, watching as her eyes flutter just slightly, as her skin grows warm, a pink flush no doubt creeping its way up her face. “You wanna get fucked, princess?”
She sucks in a breath. “Please.”
“Fucked by a firefighter?”
He’s a combination of serious and teasing that makes trickles of need curl hot right at her pussy, makes some unnamed emotion tighten in her chest, and her hands are unbuttoning his pants before she even realises it. “Fucked by you,” she says, nodding towards him in a way he understands means to tug down his pants and his briefs; a moment of balanced coordination between them before his hands are back on her thighs, holding her up and to him.
She doesn’t bother in getting her own panties off completely, too desperate to take ten seconds without the weight of his touch on her, instead simply slipping a hand under her dress to pull them to the side. Another look of heated understanding passes and Bellamy’s lining himself up to her, the head of his cock pressing deliciously between the lips of her pussy. He groans when he feels the hot slickness of her, mutters a curse that makes her smirk, but the expression slips pretty quickly, as he finds the right angle, begins to push into her.
“Fuck,” she murmurs, as he sinks into her fully, the sweet stretch of him so good she can’t breath for a long second, and he’s quick to taste that one too, mouth catching hers in a hot and sharp kiss as he pulls out, fucks back into her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He laughs against her, pulling back for a second, his mouth stretched into a wide grin, lips red and swollen from her. “That is what we’re doing, yes,” he says, punctuating the remark with a hard and fast shift of his hips, cock hitting her just right.
“Ass.”
“Brat.” He leans in, bites at her neck before laving the sting with his tongue. “Be nice or I’ll take the top off.”
The threat is ridiculous, she realises on some level — a shirtless Bellamy is hardly something to be upset by — but it lands nonetheless, and Clarke whines a little, petulant. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she says, tugging at his hair again to pull him back, allow the image of that fucking logo and those fucking words to sink into her mind, blend with the hazy pleasure of his cock.
He chuckles, adjusting slightly with another grin on his face, giving himself more leverage to fuck her deeper, harder, faster. The hot tension at her core begins to coil in a familiar way, a simmering of warmth starting to run under her skin, and she slides her free hand to where they’re joined, finding her clit and rubbing it with tight circles, the sharp pleasure only adding to Bellamy’s fucking. She clenches down on him, his cock hot and perfect inside her, and he groans in response, thrusts going a little desperate as he catches her gaze and holds it.
“Wish I could kiss you,” he grinds out, and she breathes out a laugh, fingers curling tight in his hair, a reminder he obviously doesn’t need.
She wants to see all of him as she comes, and he knows it.
“After,” she tells him, and it’s all the encouragement he needs, fucking her hard and desperate, winding her higher and higher, until it’s too much — the rough grip of his hands on her thighs and the perfect feel of his cock in her cunt, the tingling that spreads from the her clit and the sight of him in that goddamn fucking uniform — and she snaps with a silent cry, pussy clenching around him as she comes.
Bellamy follows only a few strokes after, spilling words of praise into the cradle of her neck and shoulder, lips warm and perfect on her skin, a tether as the hot pleasure of release rolls through her, curls her fingers and toes, makes her tremble against every point of him.
They’re both breathing hard as they come down, and Clarke again uses his hair to guide him up to her, the kiss not much more than the brief slide of their lips between pants for air, but still so good her mind spins a little from it all. She smiles against his mouth, hums when he bites at her lower lip again, a teasing scrape of his teeth before he continues down her jaw.
She sighs, the sound soft and satisfied. “So I think I should drop by your work more often.”
He pulls back, laughing lowly as he looks at her, slow and languid. Curious. A look to find an answer. His eyes go bright when he gets there, a combination of amusement and hunger. “You want to get fucked in full firefighter gear, don’t you?”
Just the thought sends a delicious shiver through her, and she knows Bellamy feels it, feels the confirmation of his suspicion. And she could take it as the easy out it is, but it also feels like the right time to be honest — about more than her apparent uniform kink, at least.
“I want to get fucked by you in full firefighter gear,” she says, and his responding grin is the best thing she’s ever seen.
Maybe second best, after the uniform.
“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss her again, quick and sharp. “But that shit is heavy, princess. I think we better get a costume to fulfil that fantasy of yours.”
“Don’t worry,” she says with a laugh, unable to bite down her smile. “I’ll definitely be googling sexy firefighter costumes tonight.”