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nadvs · 17 days

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watch and learn (part eight)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

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The Sunday morning sky is cloudy, offering hardly any sunlight to shine into your dorm room. Considering the tangled, dreary way you woke up feeling, it’s fitting.

Liv comes over with smoothies from an on-campus juice bar.

“They call this one Hangover Cure,” she says as she hands you a tall, plastic cup. “So I got us both the biggest size.”

You smile and thank her, feeling like you have more of an emotional hangover than a physical one. You sit up in your bed as she sits in your desk chair, swirling the straw in her drink.

“So, what happened last night?” she asks.

You shrug and look down. You’re not sure you should hook up with Rafe anymore. You don’t understand how he can call you perfect and beautiful and baby during sex, but when you’re clothed, he acts casual. At best. At worst, he’s just a jerk.

You did share a tender moment last night at the party, but it lasted mere seconds before he turned the conversation sexual again.

“What always happens. We hooked up and I went home.” You take a beat. “You actually think he likes me?” Your voice is thin as you recall Liv’s text from last night.

“The jealousy on his face when I told him you were with Blake… was something else,” she tells you. “And the way he left with you?”

She gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her drink.

“Do you like him?” she asks. Liv’s already heard all about your arrangement with Rafe, but whenever she hinted that it could be more, you laughed it off. You don’t laugh this time.

“I’d be an idiot to like a guy who tells me from the get-go that would never tie himself down with a girlfriend,” you say. “The jealousy was because he might lose his favorite booty call.”

“If you say so,” she says. You force yourself not to feel any hope from her words.

You think about the way Rafe looked when you asked him about his family last night. It was a small glimpse into a side you hardly ever see.

He does have a heart underneath all the attitude and temper and ego. And it’s clearly damaged. But you’re not going to make a fool of yourself hoping he shows it to you again, let alone opens it up.

“Anyways, look what Blake texted me,” you say. When you hand Liv your phone and she reads the message, she puts her hand over her mouth in shock.

“This is so cute,” she coos. “A man who directly tells you he likes you? That exists?”

“Apparently,” you say. “I think I’m gonna say yes.”

“You should,” Liv replies. “But, and don’t kill me for asking, would you say yes to Rafe if he texted you this?”

“He wouldn’t,” you say confidently, taking back your phone. “Okay, stop holding out on me. You made out with Sam? How did that happen?”

Your friend tells you about the rest of her night and you’re appreciative of the break from your own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Rafe is coming back from the gym when he hears your laugh coming from your room. He can’t pass up the opportunity to pound on your door.

“Too loud!” he calls, passing by. Liv gets startled and you laugh again, recognizing his voice right away.

“Asshole,” you quietly mutter. Liv looks at you for a moment, no doubt noticing the smile on your face.

After she leaves, you look at Blake’s text again.

Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

While you haven’t always necessarily felt an overwhelmingly strong pull to Blake, you definitely have a crush. You wanted him to kiss you last night. Maybe you could make each other happy.

You reply: you don’t have to be nervous :) a real date sounds nice.

When Blake responds, you plan to go out to dinner together on Wednesday night.

On Tuesday, one of your floormates knocks on your door to tell you she’s having a party in the common room that night. Since alcohol isn’t allowed in the building’s public areas, she lets you know the booze will be hidden to give the impression that it’s a dry party.

You decide to take the invitation. It’s nearing 9 pm when you enter the large room, its walls already packed with a crowd of students you’ve seen around the building.

Music is playing under the overlapping conversations and bottles of juice and soda are scattered around the room. You’re sure they’re all made to look innocent but are spiked with booze.

You dive into conversation with a girl who lives a floor above you when you pick up a solo cup and fill it with juice, barely glancing at the table as the overwhelming aroma of vodka hits you.

Rafe will never turn down an invitation to a party. When he comes through the door, he sees you standing by one of the couches and chatting with someone. Like always, you look pretty as hell.

He looks to one of the tables in the room to see stacks of different colored solo cups behind pieces of paper, words scribbled in marker. It must be some sort of party game.

The pink cups are behind a note that says Taken; the purple, Down to Smash, blue, Single; green, It’s Complicated.

He glances at you again to see you holding a purple cup. Down to smash?

You’ve been chatting for a while now, your cup empty and your head already sort of buzzing from how much vodka was in the bitter juice. You look up from your conversation to see Rafe gazing at you from across the room.

You hate how he can be so relaxed, in a simple t-shirt and jeans and messy hair, and still look so good.

He has a ridiculous effect on you. You accept this as a fact when you realize you’re overjoyed to see him. He’s captivating without even trying.

It’s the type of happiness you feel when you see a good friend, you tell yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when he crosses the space, closing the distance between you. You tell the girl it was nice talking to her before Rafe inevitably interrupts you.

He approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Interesting choice,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“That,” he mumbles, pointing to your cup.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh.

Rafe silently nods his head towards the desk by the door. You glance over to see writing in front of each stack of cups.

“Oh,” you say, brushing past him to look down at the spread. “I didn’t know the colors meant anything.”

You can still taste the juice you drank. The vodka was good, but the juice wasn’t.

“Yuck, I hate this flavor,” you say. Rafe looks over at the bottle you must have poured from.

You study the cups, and if you’re really honest, the green cup is the most fitting. It’s Complicated. Because you’re not looking to casually hook up with anyone else, yet you’re not devoted to someone. Single makes you look like you’re hoping to be in a relationship, when you already sort of like two guys at once.

“What’s complicated?” Rafe asks when you pick it up. He wonders if it’s because of Blake.

You give him that look he’s so used to by now, that look that somehow irritates him and turns him on at the same time. At least you didn’t pick up the Taken cup. He can still touch you if you let him.

For a moment, he imagines a world where he isn’t in a frat. Where you two meet like this, at a dorm party, and he doesn’t have to watch you get slowly taken away by a guy he introduced you to.

“I can’t explain it. That’s what makes it complicated,” you flirt with a smug smile. You decide to put the cup back, still holding on to the empty purple one, figuring you’re tipsy enough for a school night.

“Why not?” he asks, muttering his words angrily.

“Is being mad, like your default state?” you ask with a small smile. “Or are you just jealous?”

“What the hell would I be jealous of?” Rafe’s eyes dart away.

“Blake,” you reply bluntly. His blue eyes meet yours.

Does he not know how transparent he is? He was pissed when he learned you were with Blake last night. He basically yanked you out of the party.

“You know you could easily find another girl to fuck around with, right?” you say. “I know of two, at least.”

You think back to the girl he had moaning in his room and the girl he made out with at the mixer party.

“I wanna fuck around with you,” he says. You let out a disillusioned chuckle.

“Charming,” you mutter. The response tells you everything you need to know. He’s mad because he’s losing a fuck buddy.

“Are you with him or not?” Rafe asks sternly.

The conversation has ignited an alluring tension between you. You were considering stopping the hook-ups. But you melt under his gaze, head swimming, core heating.

You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Why not have great sex with a friend while you’re available?

“I’m not,” you say, looking down at your purple cup. “I guess this was the right choice for tonight.”

Despite the irritation and jealousy gnawing at Rafe, he happily surrenders to the rush of excitement prickling his skin.

“Why aren’t we fucking then?” he asks.

“We?” you tease, pulling at the string making him jealous just a little more. “I was thinking I should find someone else and put all my practice to the test.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a lazy smile, taking the empty cup from you and placing it on the table, replacing it with his hand.

It’s almost funny, considering he was so against holding your hand the night on the boat, but now does it in front of a crowd of people.

His grip is tight as you leave the room together. Pulling you out of parties to get naked with you is becoming a new habit of his.

You’re glad he doesn’t suggest going to your room. It’s easier to leave him after the sex than to be left.

With that thought, a moment of self-restraint hits you when his door slams behind you and his lips are on yours, hands cupping your face.

“Turn on some music,” you pull back to tell him. “Loud.” Hopefully it’ll keep him from talking. His tender words are too much if you want to protect your heart.

He flips on a playlist on his speakers. Of course he has one at the ready. You bet he has turned it on for lots of other girls.

The first few notes play. You love this song. You knew what kind of party music he liked, but who knew you’d have the same taste in slow songs as Rafe does?

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, his tongue swirling gently, his body curving into yours as you stand in the middle of his room, the gentle music filling your ears.

You both have your own pace, so in tune with each other now. He knows where to touch you and when, stripping layers off you between heated, deep kisses.

Once you’re in your bra and panties, you realize this might have to be the last time. Because his lips and hands feel damn near perfect as they roam over you. Because now you can only hope you find another man who can touch you and push you out of your comfort zone like this.

You urgently pull his shirt off and shift to sit on the edge of his desk, pulling him in, cupping his firm shoulders. Rafe smiles, amused by you taking control. You really aren’t shy anymore.

“You want me to fuck you on my desk?” he mumbles against your ear over the music. He spoke, but as long as it isn’t misleadingly romantic, you’re okay with it.

He unhooks your bra, squeezing your chest tenderly.

This is just sex. And with the confusion and uneasiness you’ve been feeling, you desperately want to get lost in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Be rough with me,” you urge. Rafe’s stunned by your words, feeling himself throb with need.

“Look at you telling me what you want,” he praises in your ear, unbuttoning his jeans.

Once his pants and boxers are off, his hands grip your knees, aggressively pulling your legs apart. He presses over the dampness in your panties with his fingers, watching you through hooded eyes as your breath hitches.

“You wet for me?” Rafe mumbles. The moistness between your legs is palpable without you even needing to touch yourself.

“Might’ve made a mess,” you answer, looking down as he stimulates your clit, brushing over your moistened panties. Your words are so hot to him that he almost feels dizzy.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs.

He pushes your knees apart again, even rougher this time, massaging your bare pussy, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You’re so wet, so sticky, that his cock is aching at this point. He’s so glad you want it rough tonight.

Rafe finds the small of your back, nudging you forward so you’ll tilt your hips up how he wants you to. He takes a condom out of his drawer and you grab it out of his hand, ripping open the wrapper and holding his cock as you roll it down.

It’s intoxicating to him, seeing how bad you’re craving him. How’d he get so fucking lucky to be wanted like this?

Once he can guide his tip into you, he shifts to hold your hips down and look you in the eyes as he jerks into you hard.

The sudden jolt causes you to hit the back of your head on edge of his top shelf and while you giggle, his brows furrow in concern. He brings his hand up, resting it where you hit your head, thrusting into you again and letting the shelf dig into his skin instead.

The gesture is tender but then again, almost everything Rafe does during sex is tender. Why can’t he be like this all the time?

His other hand cups your cheek, pulling back and pushing into you hard again. Your breath hitches at the pressure of him curving up into you like this in the new position.

His thrusts start quickening, the desk rattling against the wall, the music throbbing within the walls of his room. Your pulse is skyrocketing as you take in his aggressive pressure.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, lost in the pleasure, eyes rolling. He gently tugs at the roots of your hair, coaxing you to tilt your head back and look at him with your eyelids half-closed and lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he whispers. “Like you were made for me.”

This is the shit that brings your heart into something that is only supposed to be about your body.

You press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up, but he takes the opportunity to shift and kiss your palm as he pushes into you.

“Don’t say that stuff,” you mumble.

“What?” he whispers with a mocking chuckle. “Thought I taught you to take compliments.”

“Just don’t,” you urge, leaning in to meet his lips again. Rafe kisses you hard but pulls back, forehead pressed up against yours.

“You still don’t think you’re perfect?” he rasps.

“It’s… it’s not that,” you say. Fuck. He’s just making it worse.

“I thought talking was good,” he says, almost in a whine.

“Just stop,” you tell him, kissing him again.

Rafe hates being told not to speak when all he wants to do is tell you how good you feel, but he gives into the confusing request when he hears the desperation in your tone.

Hell, he’d stop talking for days if it meant he could have you like this.

He deepens the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. You groan at the sweet pain, shifting to wrap your arms around his body.

This position isn’t enough. You want him to be able to thrust into you as deep as possible.

“On the bed,” you say urgently. He hates pulling out of you but follows your instructions, watching you drop your feet to the floor.

When you sink onto the bed, your ass in the air, your pussy glistening, his stomach rolls with excitement. He settles behind you, propped on his left knee and his right foot, guiding into you again, watching his cock disappear as you swallow him.

You arch your back and groan, your pulse hard in your ears as he goes balls deep into you. He starts to go so hard that you feel like he’s splitting you open with every frantic thrust, your fingers bunching into his pillow.

The music is too loud. He wants to hear your pretty moans. He shifts off of the bed and you look back in confusion, watching as he shuts off the music and comes back, burying into you again.

“I wanna hear you,” he says. You rest your forehead onto the bed, pushing back onto him as he slams into you. Admittedly, you want to hear him, too.

Your breaths are shallow with his fast pace, sweat coating your skin. His stomach is starting to ache from how hard he’s working his muscles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Cum with me.”

You shudder as you find your swollen clit, rubbing just the way you like while he pounds in and out of you. Rafe loves the way his hands look gripping your hips, your ass recoiling with every move.

“You take it so good,” he says, voice ragged. “This pussy is mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You hate that his possessive words sound so nice to you. A deep pleasure starts to roll through you, your orgasm slowly reaching you. He can tell with the way you’re tensing that you’re close and he goes even harder, your skin slapping.

You moan and shudder through your peak, clenching around him. Rafe’s groan is deep as he feels his cock swell and tighten, releasing and spasming with hard jerks.

His chest is heaving as he pulls out, watching you limp to your side, your face soft and satisfied.

Rafe doesn’t bother to stand and clean up yet. He’ll worry about it later. He gives into the impulse to lie down behind you, his body curving against yours, arm wrapping over your chest.

Your eyelids are heavy as you come down from the high, thinking about the things he said.

“Turns out you need more pointers,” you say between heavy breaths. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl when you don’t mean it.”

“Like what?” he says into your ear.

“You know what,” you say. “I’m not yours.”

Rafe knows he fucked up by saying that. That’s the kind of shit a boyfriend would say. And he so clearly isn’t the boyfriend type and you so clearly see him as just a friend.

“Why are you so mad, huh?” he says, trying to dismiss the tension. “You’re acting like me in… what’d you call it… my default state?”

You laugh despite yourself. He feels an overwhelming sense of pride from making you smile when you’re clearly upset.

You try to sit up, but his arm is locked around you. His breath is warm and comforting on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t understand where you’re rushing off to. You told him aftercare was important. And for fuck’s sake, now he actually wants you to say and let him hold you for a little while.

You don’t like this. You two are getting dangerously close to cuddling. It’s like he’s trying to make you catch feelings for him. Just because he can separate affection from emotion, doesn’t mean you can.

“Hate to make you sad but I gotta go,” you quip. He exhales mockingly.

“I don’t get sad,” he says bitterly. This makes you still.

With those simple words, Rafe has said so much. You knew he was emotionally unavailable, but the clear disgust he has with the possibility of feeling sad is telling.

“Everyone gets sad,” you say. You think back to his father’s cruel scolding. “And if anyone makes you feel like you’re wrong for being sad, they’ve got their own issues.”

Rafe can’t wrap his head around this. He’s been told to man up all his life.

“Did you fall asleep?” you ask with a chuckle after he doesn’t reply.

“No,” he says quietly. “You honestly believe that?”

“What?”

He’s silent again.

“That it’s okay to be sad, you mean?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” you say. “What, you don’t?”

“It’s weak.”

You stare ahead at the wall opposite his bed, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can feel his heartbeat against your back. It’s gotten faster.

“Do you really think that? Or did someone make you think it?” you ask.

Rafe has never been challenged like this before. Whenever his father berated him for simply getting close to crying, he was told to grow a backbone. To stop his whining. His whole life.

“I really think that,” he finally says. If sadness wasn’t weakness, why did it always make him feel like he was breaking from the inside?

His coldness makes so much more sense to you now. It seems Rafe doesn’t allow himself to feel anything but anger.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the relationship type,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Some advice, though? If you ever find a girl you want to be serious with, don’t make her feel shitty for being sad. It’s not weak to have feelings.”

Rafe wants to know if you said he’s not relationship material because he told you himself or if you really think it.

Then he scowls to himself. Why the fuck does he care?

“You’re just full of advice tonight,” he says with a smirk, his hand running over your ass.

“That’s why we started this, isn’t it?” you reply, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Speaking of, consider therapy.”

Rafe playfully and gently slaps your ass and you giggle, squirming out of his grip. When you try to get up again, this time, he lets you.

His eyes take you in as you pull your clothes back on, his head propped up on his hand, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. You look at him, noticing how flushed he is from how hard he went.

Normally, being watched like this would make you nervous, but you’re fine with his eyes on you. You actually like it. You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe or if you’d feel this way with any guy now.

Rafe watches you as you get dressed, getting deep in your thoughts like you do sometimes. How are you so damn cute?

You’re reconsidering your idea of if this should be the last time having sex with him. It feels too good. You’re still buzzing. While you’re single, why can’t you casually hook up with him?

“Fuck, you’re fun,” Rafe says, his bright smile and deep dimples melting your heart.

Okay. This is why you can’t. You started this because you basically hated him when you decided on it. Now, you can’t imagine hating the sweet, complicated man lying in bed watching you.

Maybe this was the last time.

“I know,” you respond with a smile, copying his cockiness. You finish dressing yourself and rush out to take a shower, wishing the water could wash away the complicated feelings bothering you.

The next night, an hour before Blake said he’d pick you up, you’re getting ready, music playing loudly from your computer.

Rafe is trying to make sense of a syllabus as your music floats into his room. He thinks of last night and immediately wonders if you’re hosting someone. And having sex with them.

As you try on your third outfit, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: loud af… do i need to tell on you

You smirk.

You: dude it’s not even quiet hours

You calling him dude reminds him of the way you called Blake babe the other night. He forces away the memory.

Rafe: partying by yourself?

You: yup getting ready for a date

Rafe looks up from his screen, disappointment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket he can’t shake off.

His stomach sinks hard. Harder than it did the other night at the ABC party when he heard you were upstairs with Blake.

You’re slipping away from him. Anger pools in his stomach but he tries to act casual, teasing you like he always does.

Rafe: who tf would date you lol

You roll your eyes at the text.

You: people with taste… jerk

Rafe: just kidding

You: hate u

Blake pulls up in front of the dorm building ten minutes late, apologizing profusely for his timing. You laugh and forgive him, sliding into his car to see he got you a bouquet of flowers.

He takes you to a restaurant off-campus, pulling out your chair. You sit across from him, taking in the way he’s sitting up straight.

“You look cute,” he says.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too,” you say. “Compared to the plastic bags you were in the last time I saw you.”

Blake’s smile is big, his laugh gentle.

“You have fun at the party?” he asks.

“I did.” And after it in Rafe’s dorm.

“Cool,” he replies. You nod, looking down at the menu. The way conversation between you moves reminds you of your study date. It’s not painfully awkward, but it’s not seamless.

You figure it’s nerves.

When your food arrives, Blake takes a picture of the table. Once you start eating, your discussion starts to flow a little easier, making jokes and pulling from topics you’ve discussed over the phone since you started texting.

Blake’s a gentleman, parking to walk you up to your door after he drives you home. His hand ghosts over your shoulder as you walk through the hallway, his touch warm.

When you stop in front of your door, Rafe can hear you talking. He saw Blake’s Instagram story. It was just a photo of food at a restaurant, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he was with you. The date you had was with him.

“You really liked the food?” Blake asks you for the third time. You chuckle at his nervousness.

“You picked well,” you reassure. “And thanks for the flowers.”

How original, Rafe thinks. He got you flowers.

A group of fellow residents pass by laughing. If Blake tries to kiss you, you probably won’t like it in such a public space.

“That was fun,” you say, stepping back a little, hoping he gets the hint that this isn’t the place to make a move.

“It was. Oh, we’re going to the beach on Saturday,” Blake tells you. “Not everyone, just a few of us. Bring Liv. Between you and me, Sam likes her.”

“Yeah?” you say with a laugh. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll invite her, too.”

“Great,” he replies, nodding.

“Good night,” you say. Blake gives you a tight grin and echoes the sentiment, stepping back to give you the space to open your door.

Rafe finds a text Sam sent him a few hours ago.

Sam: you alive?

Rafe hasn’t been to the frat house since the party last Saturday night. To be honest, he’s not sure how he can handle being around Blake. He can’t exactly lose his temper on his brother. His future at the frat will be shot.

But he wants to be at the beach if you’ll be there.

Rafe: yes lol whats the move this weekend

Thankfully, Sam mentions the beach plan Rafe overheard about. Maybe he loves to torture himself. Or maybe he just wants to take every opportunity to see you.

You pull up to the beach in Liv’s car on Saturday. The boys picked a good day to swim. It feels like a heat wave.

When you find the group of six guys, you’re happy to see that Rafe is one of them. He’s in his swim shorts, his baseball hat on backwards like usual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say when he notices you. “Gross.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a smirk, flipping you off. He takes in how good you look in your dress, eager to see the bikini underneath. “Why the hell did you come? Brothers only.”

“Am I not basically one of you now?” you say, leaning over to greet Blake with a side-hug. Rafe’s smile disappears and he looks away.

Blake hands you a bottle of flavored seltzer and you look down at it, cocking your head, trying to figure out how to kindly turn it down. It’s the same flavor of spiked juice you drank last night.

“She doesn’t like that flavor,” Rafe mutters.

Blake meets his gaze, pulling the drink back towards his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. Funny enough, you actually mentioned not liking it on your date when you were swapping hangover stories. He looks at you. “I knew that. Sorry.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “What else you got?”

Blake leads you to the large cooler in the sand and you steal a glance at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched tight.

As the afternoon goes on, you realize Blake is less nervous talking to you when other people are around.

The eight of you play a game of beach volleyball. Rafe considers Blake lucky that he’s on the same team as him. He’d whip the ball at him every chance he got if he were on the other side of the net.

At one point, Sam serves it so hard that you have to duck onto the sand, the ball bouncing off your arm, leaving a stinging feeling.

“You trying to kill her?” Liv scolds her teammate. You feel a hand cupping your forearm.

“You good?” You look up to see Rafe leaning over you, his voice deep.

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe is pissed off beyond belief that Blake is just standing there like an idiot, watching you instead of making sure you’re okay.

“You alright?” Blake asks from his place on the court in front of you.

“Yellow card worthy,” you joke, getting up on your feet.

When the game wraps up after you all decided to stop keeping score ages ago, Blake approaches you, looking down at you with a shy smile.

“You wanna swim?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say.

The water is so cold that it feels sharp, leaving you and Blake to laugh together with every step into the sea.

Rafe is sitting in the sand with his buddies, watching Blake’s hand find yours. The view makes his stomach turn.

It seems natural between you two, the way you touch, the way you splash each other and laugh together.

He gets the same feeling he did the night of the mixer party, when he felt like his anxiety over losing you wasn’t just because he was losing great, casual sex. It’s not only that. It’s more. And that fact makes him uncomfortable.

But that shit just doesn’t come naturally to Rafe. Affection is like a foreign language to him. He’s not into the boyfriend stuff solely because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s also because he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

Buying flowers, planning dates… he’d feel totally lost. He can’t compete with Blake. Like Rafe always says, doing something serious like dating in college is a waste of time. Maybe he believes that because he didn’t think he’d meet someone like you. And because he doesn’t want to fail at it.

You and Blake stop when you figure you’re deep enough in the water, the sand soft beneath you, the sun shining down.

“I keep messing up today,” he says.

“What?” He looks down, shaking his head, lips twisting adorably. These cute, little moments remind you of why you have a crush on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Blake asks.

You smirk, relieved that you can finally do this and feel if your physical chemistry is there like you think it is.

When Rafe sees two figures join in the distance, his heart drops.

(part nine)

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 8 months

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pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?

warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging

note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.

word count: 16.7k

“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.

Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.

He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.

What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.

“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.

Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.

“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”

You smiled, humming in agreement.

“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”

You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.

In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”

However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”

Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.

And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.

You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”

His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.

Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.

He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.

It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.

He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.

You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.

Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.

His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.

He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.

Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.

“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.

Now he knew.

Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.

After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.

You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.

“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”

His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.

“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.

“Who said I was?”

“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.

The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.

“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”

Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.

“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.

“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”

He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.

You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.

He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”

Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.

Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.

**********

It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.

There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.

Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.

Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”

With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.

He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.

“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.

“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”

There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.

They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.

You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.

Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.

You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”

And so, you did.

Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.

All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.

An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.

“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”

They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.

You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your–”

He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”

That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.

Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.

Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?

Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.

Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”

She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.

You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.

“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”

His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.

The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.

“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.

“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.

Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.

Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.

He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”

The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.

As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.

Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.

His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.

The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…

“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.

Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.

You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.

Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.

**********

The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.

Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–

A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.

To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.

You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Something on your mind?”

He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.

More like ‘someone’, you thought.

“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”

Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.

His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”

Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.

“Bellamy,” you warned.

He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.”

The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.

Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.

“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”

“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.

He nodded.

Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”

As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.

Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.

The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.

“Without…?” you coaxed him on.

You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.

God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.

By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.

He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”

Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.

“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.

Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.

Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.

“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.

“Um, winning?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”

You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.

“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.

You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.

Something was missing.

You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Ow!”

Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.

Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”

“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.

It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.

“Some bug.”

That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.

Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.

The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.

“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.

As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.

“Swarm.”

“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.

You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.

Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.

“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.

Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.

After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.

You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.

“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.

Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.

“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.

He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”

Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.

Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.

“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”

Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.

“Clarke, wait!”

“Get back here!”

To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?

You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.

“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.

Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.

“It’s down! Come on!”

Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.

No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.

Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.

He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.

“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.

**********

Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.

The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.

You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.

Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.

Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”

Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.

If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.

Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?

“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.

It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.

You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.

“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”

“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted

You raised your hands in faux fear.

Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.

You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.

“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”

He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.

“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”

He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.

Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.

You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.

You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.

(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)

However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.

While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.

You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.

As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.

At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?

After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.

Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.

The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.

And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.

Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.

Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.

You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.

Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.

That son of a bitch.

Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.

Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.

“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.

Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.

Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.

You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.

Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.

Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.

He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…

So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.

Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position.

Bellamy.

“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.

He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.

The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”

He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.

You moved onto your knees as he got closer.

Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.

For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.

When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.

You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”

He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”

The game. You had almost forgotten.

Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.

“Don’t think that will work, princess.”

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.

He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.

“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.

Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”

“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”

I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.

“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”

Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.

“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”

Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”

He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”

You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”

Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.

To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.

In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.

You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.

His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.

Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.

He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.

You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.

Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.

You wiggled against him, but it was futile.

“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”

He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.

“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.

“Just touch me,” you pleaded.

A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.

Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.

Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.

His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.

He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.

All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.

And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.

Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.

It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.

Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.

He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”

His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”

He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.

Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.

His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.

Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.

Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.

It all happened so fast.

“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.

Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.

Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.

You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground

Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.

You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.

He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.

His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.

He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.

If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.

“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.

His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.

“You still lost, remember?” he added.

As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”

His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.

“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.

Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.

He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”

His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”

“A man would take these chains off me.”

“You think taunting me will get me to break?”

Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.

Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.

You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.

And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.

You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.

Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.

His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.

He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.

Come on. Come on, you thought.

“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”

That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.

Weak point four—check.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.

And five. Check yes Juliet.

Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.

Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.

Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.

He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.

You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.

His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.

Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.

He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.

Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.

You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.

A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.

He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…

No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.

His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.

He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.

Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.

Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.

That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.

He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.

And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.

His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.

The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.

You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”

A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.

Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.

It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.

Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.

Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.

He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.

You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.

And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.

Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.

A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.

The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.

His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.

Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.

He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.

“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.

Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”

His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.

Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.

Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.

“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”

You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.

He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.

Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.

You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.

In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”

He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.

Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.

Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.

“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.

His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”

He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.

His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”

You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.

It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.

“Lean back,” he said, and you did.

Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.

“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.

You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.

He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.

He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.

Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.

His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.

The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.

You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.

His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.

Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.

His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.

You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.

“Bell, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”

Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.

He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.

The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.

Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.

His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.

Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.

You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.

Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.

The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.

You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”

“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”

You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–

“Oh, come on!”

You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.

Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”

“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”

His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.

“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”

“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.

“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”

You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”

Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.

It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake drabble #bellamy x clarke #bellarke #bob morley #bob morley smut #the100edit #clarke griffin #john murphy

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liebgottsjumpwings · 1 month

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AUGUST AFTERNOON | FAYE FISCHER | MASTERS OF THE AIR

Summary: Faye Fischer and her newly acquired friend Ken Lemmons spend a sunny afternoon at Thorpe Abbotts, Faye thinks about the past few years and is then (not so) rudely interrupted by a certain curly haired pilot. Who had managed to make her blush several times some days ago.

Warnings: general war violence, implied minor (and not canon) character death.

Word count: a bit over 2500

Note: this was meant to be a little less than 1k word blurb, turned into way more. I hope it isn't too boring as most of it delves into Faye's experiences before the mota canon. That is also because I use my ocs to study certain historical events, so this really is just self indulgence. Please pretty please let me know what you think of it! (This fic is also posted on AO3)

AUGUST 21, 1943, 16:32

“What kind of name is ‘Just-a-Snappin’ even?” Faye Fischer wondered out loud, only half expecting an answer from the man in front of her as she came to sit up from her lying position in the grass. She squinted, just about able to make out the text on the B-17 Ken Lemmons was working on. Her squint disappeared as he came into her sight, blocking the warm ray of sunshine she had been enjoying moments prior, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re gonna have to ask Blakely that one,” answered the curly haired man standing in her sun. Looking at him, she wondered why he would hide those curls under that beanie. Probably so all that working grease wouldn’t get into it.

Faye shrugged, letting herself fall back into the grass. “Whenever I ask Blakely a question, the man answers with a goddamn riddle,” she let the end of her sentence continue into a sigh. Ken just laughed, his hands firm on his hips. The sun made the edge of his curls shine, almost like an aureole. Visually, him standing in her sun wasn’t so bad, it looked quite pretty. Her skin was starting to miss the warmth of the sun rays, though. Faye’s fingertips tapped on the cap of her camera lens, the Contax II had been laying on her stomach, under one of Ken’s work rags, to shield it from the sun. “Keep standing like that,” Faye ordered him as she removed the cap from the lens, turning on her camera.

“Aren’t you only supposed to use that for… you know… work purposes?” she heard him ask as she fiddled with the exposure settings. A scoff escaped past her lips as she lined up the viewfinder with her left eye. “Shut up, they made me pay for my own film rolls when I arrived in England, so they’re mine technically anyway” Faye deadpanned in response, snapping a photo of Ken. “Besides,” she continued, putting her camera back under the rag again, letting her head fall back into the grass, “don’t you think the photo I just took wouldn’t go over well with all those war bond leaflets?” She held up her hands, reading an imaginary leaflet “Purchase a war bond so our curly haired cuties can maintain our bomber planes!” she sarcastically called out. It earned a belly-laugh from Ken, who then turned around, readying himself to get back to his maintenance work as he continued laughing, “I hope to God not.” Faye smiled in response, “Yeah, well, I’ve taken more leisure photos on this camera than the OSS would be comfortable knowing. It is only fair because nearly all film rolls were mine anyway,” she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the warm August sun blanketed her.

The warmth took her back to August, nearly three years back, 1940. To the emerging hills behind Mulhouse, in the occupied region of the Alsace in France. Back then, she too had snapped a photo that the OSS would turn their noses up at. She couldn’t help it, though, the sleepy little cottage the, back then, above ground resistance she was attached to used as their base of operations was too pretty against the sunny hills. Plus, the whole rule against taking photos that do not directly aid the war effort was bullshit anyway. They increased her morale, no? Surely a heightened sense of morale would aid the war effort. Just like her friend, and resistance member Isidore was aiding the war effort by developing the photos Faye had taken recently. His girlfriend, Julienne, a distant cousin of Faye’s neighbors back in Louisiana, the Klotz family, laid next to her in the grass, yelling at her sweetheart to stop working so hard and join them in the warm sum. She still remembered the minty smell of the Ground Ivy that tickled against her cheeks in the field near the cottage as she watched Isidore exit the cottage, some of the successfully developed photos under his arm, he dropped them above the two women. The photographs whirled softly down onto them, like those propaganda leaflets that had recently been dropping from planes over the region. The association made her chuckle. She much preferred these photographs over those leaflets.

Oh, how she longed back to be in that sleepy little field just behind Mulhouse. Unknowing and indifferent to what was about to wash over her. Over her dear friends. Over her distant relatives, up north in Sélestat. How she wished to gain that sense of unknowing and indifference once more. The fleeting feeling of walking back home from the shul on those warm August evenings, taking the train from Mulhouse towards Sélestat, being greeted by her grandmother’s second brother, the one who stayed behind in Alsace. Being taken in to his family, learning about their extensive history and connection to this land. It made her feel proud, like her family here. All of that despite the impending feeling of calamity. That feeling grew more and more with each news item about the Germans inching closer. Forcing themselves back into the territory they’ve claimed as theirs for eras. This time, it came paired with a terrifying venom against a group of people so deeply rooted in this region.

After the annexation of the Alsace into Nazi-Germany, the resistance group Faye had been attached to by the OSS was forced to go underground. Her work, instead of reporting back to the OSS on current events in the border region between France and Germany, became a high-risk operation that aided the Alsatian resistance in its activities against the Nazi occupier. When it happened, the OSS had forbidden her to associate publicly with her family and the community she had built up. They deemed it ‘too riskful’. And because Faye had no choice, she listened to those orders. And just like that, her growing connection with her ancestral home region, her family, the core of her very identity was snapped away. Just as quick as it had flourished. She watched the treatment of her people become more and more dire every day. She watched and she could do nothing but watch. Nothing outward anyway. In secret, she was doing more than she ever had done. Risking everything to make it harder for the Nazis to spread their hatred and evil. In return, she got the gnarly gift of having to distance herself from the recently cultivating bond with her family that lived halfway across the world from her.

Yes, she still had Isidore, Julienne and the rest of their group. Though, as they were forced to become underground, a painful strain started to form on their friendship. Understandably so, tensions were high, risks were always there and the imminent feeling of doom never stopped looming over the group.

Which ended up being for good reason. Come the early February days of 1943, Faye found herself with her left cheek pressed into the cold ground where the minty Ground Ivy once grew. The barrel of a Karabiner 98A straight against her right cheek. She still wasn’t sure who gave up their activities to the SS. She wasn’t sure if she cared enough by then either way. Or now, for that matter. In the two and a half years that spanned from that first summer in Alsace to February of 1943, Faye had grown disillusioned to the point that she wasn’t even sure if she cared about living, or dying. Maybe it was for the better that death seemed so close. That it came to her in the form of a German rifle.

That was until she remembered why her family decided to migrate to the United States. Back in the late 19th century, the Jews of the Alsace were already facing hardships. And it was those hardships that made her grandparents decide that from there on out, their family line would not suffer under those hardships anymore. So they set sail to Louisiana, because their children, and their children, and their children (and so on), deserved a life of flourishing. So it was there, February 1943, with the cold barrel of a Karabiner 98A pressed to her face, that Faye decided that she would honor that wish. She would not die at the hands of those who wished her dead.

She wasn’t sure how, but she ran, she ran until her feet gave out and Isidore made them duck into a dense shrub. His face stained with dirt, much like hers. And through the dirt on his face, tears traced their paths. Then it dawned on her that Julienne hadn’t made it out with them. Faye hoped with everything she had in her dear friend wasn’t left out, alone in that cold field. But there wasn’t much time for hoping. They had to make it to safety. To a place where they couldn’t be reached by those who were looking for them.

Switzerland. Within a few days of frantic fleeing, both of them somehow made it to Basel, just over the border. Isidore’s previously tear-filled eyes had turned empty by then. And Faye feared for him. She feared for everyone they had to leave behind. The fear didn’t leave her when she walked away from the hospital she had helped Isidore to, so his wounds could be looked at. Not caring much for her own, and after the OSS had been made aware of her whereabouts, they had arranged a route to England for her. To ‘escape’ the risk she found herself in, according to the OSS. She still scoffs at the mention of ‘risk’, the OSS would never fully know. And so, after a goodbye ‘for now’ and a promise to keep in touch, she departed for the train station of Basel, on towards Bern, and from there, hopefully England. She watched the fields roll by, they were barren, empty of life. She tried to not let it remind her of Julienne too much. Hoping that her friend had somehow made it to safety, like her sweetheart and Faye.

Her memories were disturbed by the warm sun once again being taken away from her. This time, it wasn’t because a certain crew chief by the name of Ken Lemmons was standing in between her and her blanket of warmth, it was because Faye hadn’t noticed the time pass by and the sun having moved behind the officer’s buildings on the air base. She let out a groan at the feeling of her back cracking as she sat up, her camera falling into her lap. Slowly opening her eyes, to her surprise, ‘Just-a-Snappin’ had been exchanged for a different airplane. Though, her eyes were too blurry from the sun shining onto them, to make out the name. These damn pilots and their airplane names.

What she did make out was Ken and what seemed to be a pilot, standing by the plane as Ken pointed out several things on the wing. The pilot nodding, seemingly intently listening to Ken. Faye, after rubbing her eyes intensely, was able to make out more of the scene in front of her. Her sight darted towards the plane again, reading. ‘Rosie's Riveters,’ she mouthed the words. Way better name for a plane than whatever Blakely was thinking with his one, Faye thought. Her gaze moved over to Ken and the still unknown pilot again. Squinting, she could make out the brown curls, kept small and neatly arranged on top of his head. The 100th and their tendency to hide their gorgeous curls irrationally annoyed Faye to no end. She eternally cursed Ken for hiding them behind his beanie, too. She looked back to the nose of the plane, ‘Rosie’s Riveters.’ Oh. Robert Rosenthal. The man that had made her blush the other night without even knowing he had. Robert Rosenthal had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts some two weeks after Faye herself did. She had been sitting with Helen and the other women as she watched him come into the officers’ club, his feet carrying him, dancing towards his crewmates. It was his little twist and the way his jacket moved in the air flow created by it; itt had been the first time she smiled that day. And Helen noticed. Sending Faye a teasing look as she dug the nose of her shoe into Faye’s shin. The action made Faye’s cheeks turn bright red, sinking deeper into her seat, disappearing into the shadow of the curved wall as she let out a soft, intoxicated giggle.

It wasn’t much later, after Nash had successfully achieved a dance from Helen, that Rosenthal’s eyes locked with Faye’s. The same red from before creeping up from her throat to her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile. His returning smile was beaming, like a direct ray of sunlight across the room. She would receive a few more of such smiles from him throughout the night.

Now, with his pilot’s hat snug under his arm, Faye could see him smile at Ken, a thankful smile. And who wouldn’t be thankful for Ken Lemmons. The man worked tirelessly to send them up safely into the air. But, oh she was sure it was Robert Rosenthal standing there, alright. Yeah, that smile, of which she had been on the receiving end several times now, she recognized it. The familiar, uneasy yet welcomed feeling creeped up in her stomach again. She could feel the flush in her throat. Combined with the hours of direct sunlight she had received over the afternoon, remembering their shared looks made her slightly lightheaded as she rose to her feet. Hoping to quietly leave, as to not gain the perception of both men standing some feet away from her.

Mission unsuccessful, though, damn it. “Fish!” she heard Ken call her. Her arms dropped beside her body as she turned around, her camera swinging with a little delay. She caught it, so it wouldn’t hit her on her stomach. For some stupid reason, her breathing increased in frequency as she watched the two men walk over to her. She had to consciously try to not take a step backward everytime they took one forward. She tried to keep her eyes strictly on Ken.“You think that is a better name for a plane?” he asked, pointing towards the B-17. Her eyes followed his pointing, reading the text on the nose of the plane for a third time. Before she realized, she already voiced her opinion. “I think naming anything but a pet or a human is a weird thing anyway,” she retorted, eyes dead set on Ken. Next to him, she heard a chuckle. “I’m actually quite proud of ‘Rosie’s Riveters’” she heard the curly haired brunette next to Ken say. There was no fighting it anymore, she had to actually look at him now. And she was sure you could compare the color of her cheeks to the apples they served in the breakfast hall, bright red. Still, like she always did, she came up with a retort; “Well, it’s better than Blakely’s, I guess,” she said, a sly, yet slightly shy smile appearing on her lips. The brunette in front of her let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. It tugged at Faye’s heartstrings, “Yeah, I’ll take that.” he said. And there it was again, that goddamned smile.

#masters of the air #robert rosenthal #ken lemmons #hbo war #oc: faye #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal #mota #my writing

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