Archive of Our Own

Clarke was sitting at breakfast alone, absentmindedly picking at the still full plate of pancakes in front of her. Her eyes searched the room, noting where all of her people were and the fact that they all seemed happy. Her eyes briefly stopped at President Wallace, who was at his own table surrounded by his family. He looked up at her then, smiling and nodding in her direction politely. She gave him a smile she knew had to look fake before turning away from him.

They’d been there a week now. Fifty of them had been rescued— or taken— from the drop ship. Including Raven and Bellamy, they were originally one hundred and two, and now they were fifty. Clarke pushed Raven and all the others out of her mind; she had to focus on the ones still alive.

The Mountain Men had treated them all well, given them clean new clothes and brought them into their home, but there was something wrong about it all. When Wallace had asked to speak to Clarke and Bellamy, he was too kind to them. The clothes these people wore were too nice. There was just too much good here, and Clarke couldn’t bring herself to trust it. It was too easy. From the moment she’d woken up in that room, she’d felt it. Bellamy said that he felt it too, though nobody else seemed to.

The first time Bellamy and Clarke had tried talking about it, they’d been at dinner and Jasper had overheard them. He started by saying that he couldn’t believe they weren’t happy to be there and eventually it was an argument about overstaying their welcome and the two of them not being grateful for all Wallace had given them. Later that night when they thought they were alone, Clarke had tried to bring it up again but Finn had walked in on the conversation and gotten on their case about them being rude to the people who had saved them.

The idea for how to be inconspicuous while planning their escape was Clarke’s. They’d be able to whisper to each other in public and sneak off together without people following them if everybody thought they were dating, Clarke reasoned. It was the perfect cover, and it’d help give them privacy.

When she’d suggested the idea to him, Bellamy had smirked and laughed and agreed that it was just the sort of thing that would work. Just as he’d said he would do it and they gave each other full permission to do whatever they needed to help keep their cover, they’d heard someone walking around the corner and he’d pulled her to him by the waist and started kissing her neck. Clarke had looked out of the corner of her eye and saw a wide-eyed Harper slowly turning around and leaving, and she’d known that everybody would know about the two leaders within the hour. To completely sell it to all of their people, they’d walked into the large room they all shared hand-in-hand that night, and the hickey on Clarke’s neck proved to be the most scandalous bit of gossip the others had for the next few days.

When Bellamy had given her the hickey, Clarke could barely keep herself from laughing the whole time. The whole thing had seemed so ridiculous to her in that moment, and Bellamy had to keep stopping and waiting for her to calm herself.

“Stop, it’s for our cover,” he’d insisted, barely keeping himself from laughing too.

Clarke thought back on that with a smile, her hand skimming the area of her neck that still had a light bruise.

As she was getting ready to stand up and leave breakfast, the seat across from her was pulled out and a smiling Finn sat down. He’d yet to bring up her and Bellamy’s relationship, and Clarke was dreading whenever that was going to happen. She didn’t put it past Finn to try to fight Bellamy for her honor or something ridiculous like that.

“Morning,” he said happily, starting in on his food.

Before Clarke could respond, Bellamy sat in the seat to her left, spreading himself out in a relaxed position and putting his arm lazily around the back of her chair. He gave Finn a not-quite confrontational look and Clarke watched as the two had a silent conversation; Finn seemed confused as he looked from her to Bellamy, and Bellamy responded by cocking an eyebrow.

“Morning,” Clarke said to Bellamy, giving him a small smile and pulling him out of whatever he was currently doing with Finn.

Finn seemed chuffed by the whole situation, which made a petty part of Clarke beam. Finn’s lack of honesty about Raven, while she understood it, wasn’t something she was willing to just forgive and forget. That, in addition to Finn’s apparent lack of grief over Raven not being with them at Mount Weather, was enough to keep Clarke from completely trusting him.

The room seemed more abuzz now, and Clarke noticed the glances from their people around the room. They were whispering amongst themselves and smiling knowingly and she figured with an internal sigh that there were worse things about Mount Weather than people gossiping about her and Bellamy Blake.

“So,” Finn said, breaking the silence at their table. He looked from Clarke to Bellamy, smiling weakly and waiting for one of them to say something.

Bellamy, effectively ignoring Finn’s attempt at conversation, leaned over until his nose was touching the skin behind Clarke’s ear. He put the hand that wasn’t on the back of her chair on her thigh, his fingers splaying out. Finn’s eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his head and Clarke swore she heard someone gasp at a nearby table.

“I think I found a way for us to get guns,” he whispered against her skin so quietly she could barely hear it, even at his close proximity. “We need to talk in private.”

Clarke smiled at the intimacy, pretending he’d said something funny or cute. She ignored all of the eyes now on them as Bellamy pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss where he’d just whispered, hitting their cover home for anybody watching them. Clarke smiled and looked down at her lap where his hand squeezed her thigh.

Ten minutes later and they were in a supply closet discussing Bellamy’s plans to steal guns and regain the support of their people.

“I saw a guard go into a room this morning, and before the door shut I saw a whole armory, just an entire wall covered in guns. If we can get ahold of a keycard, we can get in there and take what we need. Once we’re armed we’ll need supplies to make it back to the drop ship, plus almost everything we had was burned with the ring of fire, so we’ll need to take everything we can,” Bellamy said.

“When do you want to talk to everybody?” Clarke asked. “Not everybody is going to want to leave what we have here.”

“Once we know what we’re doing with the gun situation, we can have a meeting with our people.”

The noise of someone messing with the door interrupted them, and before Clarke could think Bellamy was kissing her and had pulled one of her legs up to wrap around him. He pushed her back against the wall and slid his tongue into her mouth, and when her brain caught up Clarke wrapped her other leg around his hips and he supported her by moving both hands to her ass. Her tongue swirled with his, and he groaned into her mouth. As the door opened he rolled his hips against her.

Whoever was in the doorway sputtered out an apology before leaving them. Bellamy pulled back from their kiss and looked at the door once it was closed, but neither of them moved out of the position they were in until they heard the footsteps leave.

Standing on her own two feet again, Clarke wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

“Good job,” was all she could think to say.

“You- you too,” he stuttered. His voice sounded about an octave deeper than usual, and he wouldn’t look at her. Clarke chose not to think about what that meant.

Later that day they were back in another supply closet, this time looking over a map of Mount Weather and where Bellamy thought the weapons were kept.

He was standing behind her and looking down at the map in her hands when they heard someone at the door outside. Bellamy pushed her forward so that her stomach pressed against the wall and her body hid the map, and he pulled her hair to the side with one hand and moved her shirt off her shoulder with the other. He began kissing the skin he’d exposed, and Clarke closed her eyes when she felt teeth.

Her head fell back on his shoulder as Bellamy brought his leg between hers, and when the door opened she let out a low moan that seemed to not only shock her and the person at the door, who quickly apologized and left, but Bellamy as well, who froze as soon as the sound left her mouth.

“Nice, uh, nice acting,” Bellamy said once the door was closed and he’d stepped away.

“You too,” she said in a teasing echo of his earlier words, hoping he didn’t notice the deep blush she knew was on her cheeks.

He smiled in response, but Clarke thought saw something else in his eyes.

That night before lights out, Clarke and Bellamy snuck away from the group and met outside the large room Wallace kept thousands of old paintings in. Clarke had stolen a keycard off of Maya, and she let them in and slowly shut the door behind them.

They made their way to the back of the room and began their planning again. They were thinking of ways they could convince their people to leave, and who the key people they had to convince would be. They agreed that if they could get Miller, Monroe, Monty, and Jasper on their side, most people would be willing to join them.

The door they’d come in through opened suddenly, and they both turned and looked that way. They were trapped in there, but they most likely had at least a minute before someone would find them. Clarke had chosen their meeting place for that reason specifically.

“Quick, take off your shirt,” she whispered, doing the same.

Bellamy pulled his off and threw it behind him before she’d even finished saying it, and helped her get hers off as well. Once her shirt had joined his, he took her face in his hands with a surprising gentleness and kissed her. It was sweet and gentle and Clarke would even go as far as calling it chaste if he wasn’t also backing her up until she was pressed against the wall.

Still connected at the mouth, Clarke felt Bellamy’s fingers skim up her arms, raising them above her head. He took both of her wrists in one hand and held them in place, all while slowly beginning to rock his hips against her.

She felt his tongue slowly move across her bottom lip, as if asking for permission. Clarke opened her mouth for him, but he pulled away and kissed her neck instead.

Before she even knew she was doing it, Clarke moaned his name, and Bellamy responded with a deep growling noise against her neck. The hand not holding hers above her head was on the small of her back and he pulled her up toward him. He held her there, her feet barely on the ground, and his mouth moved to the skin between her breasts and began sucking.

As the guard walked around the corner, Clarke tilted her head back and Bellamy licked a wide line straight up her neck, starting at her sternum and ending at her chin. It was intimate enough for the guard to apparently decide to leave them there without saying anything, and they heard hurried footsteps leaving them to it.

The sound of the door falling closed echoed loudly through the room, but Bellamy didn’t move away from her or release her hands. He just watched where the guard had been and listened for the door opening again, just in case. Clarke could feel the evidence of his arousal against her thigh, and the thought of that made heat pool in her belly. They were both breathing deeply and her skin felt flushed. Bellamy’s lips were slightly swollen, and she was sure hers were as well.

“Nice thinking with the, uh, with the tongue thing,” Clarke said. Bellamy looked at her and she saw that his eyes were dilated to the point it looked like they were completely black.

“You’re getting better at acting,” he said, his eyes not leaving her lips. She licked them and Bellamy nearly whimpered.

“You too,” she said. There was silence between them for a moment, and Clarke was sure Bellamy had to be able to feel her entire body throbbing.

“They might come back,” Bellamy said then, his grip on her wrists tightening just slightly.

“We shouldn’t blow our cover,” Clarke agreed, nodding.

His mouth was on hers again, and he let go of her wrists. Both hands moved to her ass and he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around him out of instinct. He moved against her and she braced herself on his biceps, reveling in the feel of his muscles moving under his skin.

Bellamy’s tongue slid in her mouth and he made that growling sound again, and Clarke swore she felt her heart skip a beat. He pulled back some and bit her lower lip, gently pulling on it playfully. Clarke dug her fingernails into the skin on his arms and dragged her fingers down, nearly making Bellamy’s knees buckle.

He set her down suddenly and began pulling her pants and underwear off, and Clarke had only gotten one leg free before his own pants were around his knees and he was picking her up again, kissing her neck and pressing his body against her like he couldn’t get close enough.

“I’ll do this better some other time,” he said against her ear, and then he rolled his hips and was buried in her and he paused to let her adjust to his size.

Bellamy moved against her slowly and she met each of his thrusts. Encouraging him to move faster, she moved one of her hands to the back of his head and knotted in his hair, pulling just slightly.

“Faster,” she managed, and Bellamy picked up the pace and force to the point Clarke knew she’d feel it later. He pulled her legs up to a higher angle so he could hit deeper, and each thrust hit a spot inside her that made her see stars.

He pressed his face into the side of her neck and whispered unheard praise. Clarke only caught a few words, one of them she was sure was ‘princess,’ but she was distracted by Bellamy’s increasingly erratic and fast thrusts as he seemed to near loosing complete control. He was holding back, waiting for her, she realized, refusing to finish before she did.

He licked two of his fingers and reached between them, rubbing quick circles around her clit and pushing her those last few inches over the edge. Clarke came with a small scream she didn’t know she was holding in, and Bellamy followed her nearly immediately.

They remained unmoving for a few minutes as they both regained their composure. Clarke refused to think about anything— what this meant for them, their plan to escape, anything— except how Bellamy felt in that moment.

Bellamy seemed to recover faster than she did, and he began kissing her neck slowly, moving to kiss her cheek, her temple, her forehead; anywhere he could reach, he pressed light, gentle kisses into her skin, never kissing the same place twice or for longer than a second. The sweetness of it made Clarke’s heart ache, and she closed her eyes lightly and smiled lazily. He moved to her mouth and pressed his lips there, and she could feel him smiling as well.

When he pulled back, Clarke opened her eyes and looked up at him. He didn’t seem to be putting her down any time soon, apparently pleased with just holding her for the time being. Not that Clarke was complaining.

“Well, if that didn’t completely convince that guard, I don’t know what will,” Clarke said, and Bellamy smirked in response.

Eventually the two of them made their way back to the room most of their people spent their free time in, their sex hair and handholding and general disarray bringing many turned heads and whispers. Clarke thought she saw Finn storm out of the room, though he was gone before she could see if it was him or not.

“You’d think they’d never seen two people holding hands before,” Bellamy said into her ear as they walked.

“You know, I think there was something we forgot to talk about,” Clarke answered, and ten minutes later they were back in a supply closet, Bellamy on his knees in front of her and one of her legs thrown over his shoulder.

Nobody walked in on them that time, but Clarke thought it was probably better that they’d done that, just in case. They did have a cover to keep, after all.