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blu3haw4 · 1 month ago

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Hi, hello, remember when i posted a little fic two years ago called 'loved your parting gift (dead people are my favorite)' and then last year i talked about how that world lives in my mind rent free and how I've imagine that very cathartic scene of Lexa bleeding at Clarke's place and her calling Anya to watch Lexa while she feeds from countless people because the sent of Lexa's blood makes her incredibly thirsty? Do you remember?

Well i didn't write that scene (actually i did but it's not edited and I'm not sure i want it to be precisely like that so) instead I wrote a little night months after, a little look into their abettor-ship.

I feel like in the first installment it looks a little like these two are pretty serious, but in my head this fic is a little cracky. Like sure Lexa is Commander of the 12 clans full of werewolf packs (this isn't abo btw) sure she's the most powerful alpha of her people, sure she can control other alphas as though they were her beta's. But also she's just a girl. She's practically 21yo (210 in reality (215 actually, which makes Clarke want to celebrate her sweet (2)16's) but she's a wolf so its the same) and she just really likes this very pretty girl, mysterious and possibly incredibly dangerous but also just a girl who with all her power (and years on earth) is actually just chilling.

So here's that little night

For Clextober 2024, Idea 16 (already on ao3)

The Halloween Party

“A Halloween party? Seriously?” Lexa deadpanned.

“A custom party” Clarke clarified, covered excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, I got that part”

“Don’t sound so excited” She rolled her eyes.

“Of course I’m not excited Clarke, I’ve seen enough terrible representation of my kind? Don’t you hate those of yours?”

“Why would I?” Clarke laughed “few are exaggerated versions the fictional character created about us, and most are pretty simple and very accurate representation of how we really look like... humans with fangs and blood dripping down our mouths. And, by the way, I think the latest tv shows have done a pretty good job at representing your kind”

“When was the last time you saw a werewolf?” Lexa narrowed her eyes, she can’t remember the last time she saw a werewolf custom or tv show, but they were never flattering, and the few movies she knew about weren’t great either.

“I’m standing right in front of one!”

“Before that” Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Irrelevant, trirku, I’ve seen you fully and partially wolfed out as well as human size, you’ve got to admit they’re getting it right -finally”

“Trikru is not-“

“Your last name, I know, but you don’t have one, so suck it up” Clarke interrupts, with that sweet, little flirty tone she used to mock her -and to calm the bad guys she dried to feed- “You’re the one who rejected Woods”

“Because that’s just stupid-” before Clarke could jump with some retort again, she railed the conversation back “Why is it necessary? To go to this party?”

“Because!” Clarke rolled her eyes sighing, it had been an intense few months since they met, what started as just tense avoidance quickly turned into a series of unfortunate events that landed them on a weird abettor-ship. The vampire had to get used to sharing a city with a huge clan of werewolves’ packs, all the while making sure they weren’t sniffing around where they shouldn’t, whatever that’d be other super-natural creatures’ business or outright hunter houses. She hadn’t done the best job at it from afar, hence their fragile alliance.

“You said you wanted in on the majority of non-humans around here, this is your way of mingling”

“But why a Halloween party?”

“Because it’s fun! Because we hide every day, most have a lot more covering up to do than you and I. Halloween is the perfect opportunity to hide in plain sight, is the one occasion they get to be themselves around those they call friends without any judgment”

‘Do you have friends?’ Was the question in Lexa’s mind, but she kept it there, the line between professionalism and friendship or whatever with Clarke were blurry enough already. She’s made enough mistakes the past six months that led her down dangerous paths, she owed it to her clan to stay focused, to mend those mistakes, no matter how much she just wanted to get to know Clarke.

“You sure it’s a good idea?”

“Yes! For one you’ll get to do something fun, and two, how else will you know who’s pissed that you and your clan are here and who doesn’t give a shit?”

“Isn’t that the point of our agreement?”

“I agreed to help you, not do you binding” Clarke deadpanned “Look as far as I’m aware there hasn't been a pack around for about fifty years, most witches I know don’t care about you, but there’s plenty of vampires around who love to feed into our animosity. This party is your chance to check the field, some ghouls hide perfectly and won’t care that you pissed off hunters, there’s fairies though I’m sure would love to help them, there’s a variety of chimeras that-”

“Okay. I get it. Plenty of creature, perfect night, perfect chance”

“Exactly. Efficiency” Clarke winked at her.

With a sigh Lexa stood up “Fine, I’ll be here at seven”

“You better be in a nice custom!” Clarke called after her “You don’t want people to think you’re a boring ass human!” Lexa rolled her eyes yet started to plan her outfit for the following night.

She showed up at seven sharp, in simple black jeans and a white shirt, cut and styled to look worn, her hair braided and held by a bandanna at the top of her head, her make-up was exaggerated, all meat to portray a pirate. She thought she complied to Clarke’s petition, yet her hopes for a compliment fell when the Vampire opened the door.

“You didn’t come as a were?!”

“No! I am one!” She huffed.

“That’s the point!” Clarke chuckles turning around, in her plain fitting black dress, black high heels and… a cape. Because of course she was a vampire. “Such a wasted opportunity” she rolled her eyes, cheeky grin fangs out and all, clearly pleased with her own ‘custom’. Lexa felt a little silly, knowing she spent all day crafting hers.

“I mean don’t get me wrong-” Clarke cut her train of thought, looking her up and down, still grinning, licking her left fang -it was always the left one, same side where that beauty mark sat atop her lip- not that Lexa paid attention or anything. “This fit is… damn, hot as fuck, Trikru, you really leaned into it” And okay, Lexa wasn’t expecting that, so who could blame her if she blushed a little.

“Well, you… said to make it nice”

“It is nice… very nice” Clarke nodded, looking her up and down again as she kept licking that damn fang, how was Lexa supposed to focus on the mission. And okay, it wasn’t really a mission, but she was still supposed to focus on making connections not on… well. Clarke.

They left shortly after, and Lexa was informed on the way that this Halloween party was, actually, several parties. A few different parties they would go to through the night.

And so, they spend about an hour -and a half sometimes- at each party, Lexa meets all of Clarke’s contacts -all witches- and learns to recognize the faces of few vampires who don’t seem to like her. She asks how come they don’t approach them and seem to back away from Clarke, but she deflects, says she’s not sure and bets they’re just smart enough to not mess with Lexa. But she knows it can’t be just that, she doesn’t push it though, just hopes Clarke will trust her enough one day to tell her, after all their relationship at the moment pretty much consisted of exchanging information.

By midnight Lexa had a pretty clear idea of how most creatures felt about her and her clan, she met a few chimeras that lived with packs and seemed to hope that they’d protect them from the hunters, while lone ones kept their distance from her. Ghouls and fairies alike seem all over the place, some wanted to meet her, some seem scared of her, others just outright grossed by her presence. It gave her a good feeling of what she would be dealing with for the next few years of their stay.

So, with her mission accomplished, she finally listened to Clarke and agreed to have fun. With the elixirs provided by Clarke’s witches friends, the pair was able to enjoy the nice numbing of their drinks -not that Clarke wasn’t already a little drunk and high from the few humans she fed from.

Lexa learned over the course of the first two months after her arrival that Clarke had a method of feeding that didn’t involve drinking them dry, and didn’t even leave a mark. The watching had begun with Lexa following her after their first face-to-face encounter, feeling the need to check that Clarke’s victims were in fact the predators she claimed them to be.

That’s how she found her flirting with people at bars and promising a good time, offering them a vape and saying it had weed to cover up the later dizziness, taking them a out to a more private corner and making out with them, Clarke would kiss their necks, nibbling and licking to activate the sedative from her saliva and then biting them to drink from them, they would think she was leaving a hickey when in reality she was only drinking a little of their blood -the equivalent of two exam doses, she would later learn- before licking the wound to heal it close. She’d take them back inside and leave after a while.

Lexa had memorized the pattern, Clarke would drink from four different people per night, and she would skip three nights if she drank someone dry. She wasn’t sure if Clarke was aware of it, she had an idea that Clarke could scent her every time, but she had stopped following her after the first time they spoke. Falling to the conclusion -and promptly ignoring it- that her obsession with the habit had come from wanting to be a part of the rotation of… donors.

-It meant she didn’t realize when the pattern changed, after the night she bled at Clarke’s place, the vampire started to feed every night even if she dried someone, the number of doses per night increased and even some were taken during the day. Clarke didn’t tell her, afraid to accept the reason of her newfound insatiable thirst-

And so, she found herself at the last party mildly drunk, doing everything in her power to keep Clarke’s focus on her, because her inhibition was low and her instincts her directing her more than her conscious, and Clarke kept looking for humans to woo and drink from, not because she need it -or so Lexa thought- just because she wanted to, because she was having fun and she wasn’t -technically- hurting anybody. And Lexa didn’t really want to stop her, she just… wanted her to not kiss other people.

And Clarke kept telling her that she was no fun, that she should let loose and enjoy the night, and Lexa was really trying, but she didn’t know how to without completely exposing herself. Because even her wolf wanted Clarke to bite her, her big bad alpha soul wanted to be bitten, and how was Lexa really supposed to deny that.

So, she showed her she could be fun, she drank and danced with Clarke, and she did her best at flirting, and she noticed when Clarke noticed. She noticed when Clarke stopped looking around for humans, she noticed her flirting turning up from her natural, and she noticed how she danced differently with her. She noticed the way she wouldn’t stop licking her fangs and biting her lips.

She noticed she was breathing heavily “Why are you breathing?” Lexa asked.

Clarke giggled, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together “What?” she sighed with a drunken laugh.

“You don’t need to breath” Lexa hushed, giggling a little too as they stumbled more than danced “Why are you doing it?”

“Oh… well-” and again with the fang-licking, Lexa was sure that a few more time and she wouldn’t be able to hold back the need to capture that tongue “The feeding, y’know how I get drunk because they’re drunk?” she asks, motioning vaguely with her hands and chuckling when Lexa pulls her back to her after she stumbled back.

“It happens because… I kinda… absorb a little of their life. Not like… take from… their time, just-” She tasked, and Lexa couldn’t decide if she should fixate of her mouth or her eyes, bluer than she’d ever seen them “like the blood makes me… alive, for however long it takes my body to… fully…” another giggle, another misstep “absorb it”

“Oh yeah?” Lexa nodded, unable to contain the smile on her face, she bumped her nose with Clarke “Sounds fun” she hushes, because if they stop talking, she might end up kissing her.

And okay, it was what she wanted, but she knew it was a bad idea, and she didn’t want to initiate it anyways.

“It is” Clarke nods, grinning widely “It’s why my eyes are lighter… or bluer… I guess”

“Really?” Lexa leans back, wanting to get a better look, and Clarke unconsciously leans forward, almost chasing her.

“Yep” she sighs this time when their foreheads press together again, there a slumber looks in her eyes now “You know how they’re… black, before I feed?” Lexa only hums her agreement “That’s the… monster”

“Hey, no, don’t call it that. That’s the hunger” Lexa says, and she’s had both arms around Clarke’s waits this whole time, so she lifts one up to cares the side of her neck. “You’re not -We’re not monsters” Clarke eyes her, not buying it.

And Lexa knows, she knows that this is not a worry Clarke carries every day, she knows the vampire is self-aware and has probably lived longer than Lexa is capable of wrapping her head around. She knows these are drunk insecurities that won’t be there in the morning- or in a few hours- but she needs to calm them, because she also knows that is a worry that comes from deep, deep down in her core.

“You are cable of feeding without killing. And even if you had to kill to do it, you wouldn’t be different than an animal. You wouldn’t be different than a werewolf. We’re not that much different than humans”

Clarke’s hands have moved from Lexa’s shoulder to her arms, up her neck and into her hair in a sequence since they started dancing. In the breath after Lexa finishes speaking, one hand moves back into her hair and the other stays holding her arm, a subtle tilt of her head it’s all that’s needed for the lips to connect as she pulls Lexa closer in every way.

Lexa’s breath catches in her throat as her arms instinctively wrap around Clarke and she answers the kiss eagerly. It’s slow for a second, they adjust to the press of Clarke’s fangs in a tight press of lips. Then it intensifies, there’s a brief separation before they both lean in again, stronger, deeper. They pull each other close and sigh into each other’s mouth, Lexa gasps and Clarke smirks every time her fang nibs Lexa’s tongue or lips, and they absently move out of the makeshift dance floor.

They don’t bump into anyone, their super senses kick in and helping them navigate the crowded room without even looking. Clarke sucks on Lexa’s lower lip with a softness that makes Lexa forget there’s sharp fangs behind those lips. She licks into Clarke’s mouth anyways, learning each time where to go and how to enjoy it, Clarke’s tongue guides her too, she absolutely enjoys that part the most.

Lexa is leaned against the hallway wall, the window beside them is open and the breeze is a nice contrast to the warm of their bodies pressed against each other, hands pulling and wandering as they exchange heated kisses.

Lexa gaps and turns her head away from the kiss suddenly, her reflexes kick in when Clarke leans for -a kiss to- her neck and her arm goes up to grab Clarke by the throat. She pauses, confused, still holding Lexa close, and then she hears it too, the faith distinguished howl of a wolf; Clarke can tell is a werewolf, Lexa understands the entire message.

“I need to go” she says, still looking out, eyes red now, fangs out.

“Do you need help?” Clarke sobers up, she doesn’t move though, neither of them do.

“No. You shouldn’t come” and finally Lexa pulls away, Clarke takes a step back with her and their arms drop when Lexa moves to go back into the main room “Clarke. I mean it. Don’t follow” she says, and she tries to ignore the looks on her face, tries not to read too much into the flash of darkening eyes, and leaves without looking back.

#Clextober #Clextober24 #clextober 2024 #clexa #fanfiction #fanfic #clexa fanfic #clexa fic #writing prompt #fic update

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femininenachos · 6 months ago

Note

Thank you so much Queen for the vacation au update, much appreciated 🫡 Clarke is a lot of talk no action w that p eating tho

Ye of little faith…

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Once again, Clarke finds herself led by the hand through a warren of side streets, the irregular-shaped stone paving burning beneath the cork soles of her flip-flops. She’s still flying high from the exhilaration of the boat trip, but between the blistering afternoon heat and the effects of low blood sugar, she feels flushed and a little light-headed.

As though she read Clarke’s mind, Lexa pulls them to a stop under the shaded awning of an unassuming bakery. The aroma of freshly-baked bread, hot out the oven wafts from the open doorway.

Lexa tips her head in invitation. “Want to grab a bite to go?”

“You did make me work up an appetite.”

And if things shake out like Lexa implied back at the cove, Clarke will definitely need to carb-load for what lies ahead.

They trade smirks as Lexa tugs them over the threshold.

If it’s oppressively hot outdoors then it’s like stepping into a blast furnace inside. Even so, Clarke is drawn straight away to the pastries and savoury treats in the display counter. Emerging noisily from somewhere out back, a great, bearded bear of man enters carrying a large tray of bread rolls. He sets them on the cooling rack before ambling over, a broad smile in place.

“Leksa! Ha yu?” He glances between the two of them, a kind twinkle in his eyes. “Chon ste oyu brana lukot?”

“Dishe ste Klark.” Then in English, “Clarke, meet Gustus. My uncle.”

“Aulana?” He scrutinises Clarke for a second, an eyebrow going up. “American?”

What gives it away, she wonders, a little paranoid that she has a neon sign above her head that screams ‘obnoxious Yank’ in star-spangled red, white and blue.

Still, she pastes on her most winning smile, keen to make a good impression.

“Thanks for letting us borrow your boat this morning. We had such a great time.”

He says something in his own language, most of which Clarke doesn’t catch except “sadrona” (which she makes a mental note to look up later online), but she observes with interest that Lexa’s eyes slide away to fixate elsewhere while a rosy tint stains her high cheekbones.

“What can I get for you?” He directs the question at Clarke, his voice a warm rumble.

She adjusts the sunglasses perched on the top of her head and peers at the array of delicious-looking bakes through the glass. “Hard to choose when it all smells so amazing.”

“Try the fleivatous,” Lexa suggests. “It’s a Polisian speciality, and my favourite: a flatbread stuffed with spices, nuts and dried berries.”

“Can’t beat that glowing recommendation.”

Gustus loosens a chuckle. “Lexa has always had a sweet tooth.”

“That’s not all that’s sweet about her,” Clarke says, low enough only for Lexa to hear. Secretly pleased when Lexa’s face reddens further.

To Gustus, Clarke says: “I’ll take two slices, and a couple of...” She points at a stack of parcel-shaped golden pastries with a beautifully shiny glaze. “What are these?”

”Fetabeik. Phyllo pastry layered with cheese.”

“Oh, yum. Yes, please.”

“I like this one, Lexa,” Gustus says with a wink as he boxes the pastries together.

Lexa sends him a forbidding look that only results in a hearty laugh. For her part, Clarke feels weirdly at ease and unflappable in the face of this man’s gentle ribbing. It’s all she can do to stop herself from beaming at the scowl on Lexa’s face.

“How much do I owe?” Clarke asks.

Gustus holds up his palms, backing away. “No charge.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he waves her off, saying, “No, no. I insist. Just be good to my niece and that’s payment enough for me.”

“Uncle,” Lexa says, groaning.

She snatches the box off the counter and grabs Clarke’s hand too. “We’re going now.”

“Bye!” Clarke tosses over her shoulder with a small wave but she’s already halfway out the door, his laughter trailing after them.

“He was nice,” she says with an impish grin as they continue walking.

Lexa’s lips are pursed, but she says nothing. So Clarke bumps their shoulders and squeezes the fingers entwined with hers. Wraps her free hand around the bend in Lexa’s arm, stroking the soft, warm skin beneath her thumb. “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re embarrassed?”

It earns a grudging sigh, but then Lexa glances at her and relents. She rolls her eyes a little.

“Wait until I visit you in DC and the shoe will be on the other foot.”

For a moment Clarke imagines introducing Lexa to her own nearest and dearest and how that might go. It doesn’t fill her with as much apprehension as she might expect.

“No risk of running into my family there. My mom teaches at Cornell in upstate New York and my dad’s in Texas for work. They divorced when I was a kid.”

Lexa offers a soft look of sympathy that Clarke meets with a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. Fortunately, it was amicable.” She pauses. “I mean, it was still confusing and upsetting for me as an eight year-old, but they’re the best of friends now. Both remarried. We spend Thanksgiving and the holidays together.”

“So… what I’m hearing is I should come in late November or December.”

Clarke’s mouth twists. “Do you crack under interrogation? Because my mom won’t give you an easy time.”

“Parents adore me. I’m polite and respectful and very attentive to their daughter.”

“‘Attentive.’” She eyes Lexa amusedly. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

~*~

At the farthest edge of the town new residential developments have sprung up, modern buildings that are more or less in harmony with the surrounding traditional houses: all whitewashed walls and cobalt blue shutters, the flowering hanging baskets that frame the doorways providing vibrant pops of colour in purple and pink. A backdrop of rugged, scrub-covered mountains looms in the distance while a slice of jagged coastline is visible to the west, and it all feels pleasantly removed from the historic quarter where the tourists flock in their droves.

“Here we are. This is my home,” Lexa says, nodding toward a two-storey apartment block.

“Any roommates?”

“No, I live alone.”

“Good.”

The look they exchange makes Clarke’s skin prickle and her pulse kick up a notch.

They climb the stoop and two flights of stairs and Clarke follows Lexa inside. The place is small, the kitchen opening out into a sparsely furnished lounge area, but the high ceilings and sunlight flooding in through the double aspect windows gives it a bright and airy feel. The kitchen window is cracked open, just enough to allow a faint sea breeze in, and the wind chime that dangles above it tinkles musically every now and again.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lexa says, putting the pastry box on the counter.

There’s a solitary coffee mug by the sink with a spoon in it—rinsed out already. Try as she might, Clarke can’t pick fault or see anything else that’s out of place.

“If this is what qualifies as quote-unquote mess then I’m doing adulthood all wrong. My apartment looks like a bomb site compared to yours.”

“Blame military service. Some parts of the regimented lifestyle are difficult to let go.”

“Now you’ve got me picturing you in uniform, and I’m not mad about it.”

A coy little smile sits on Lexa’s lips, and the sight of it propels Clarke forward. She crosses the tiled floor to wordlessly crowd Lexa against the counter and kiss her, both hands gripping the back of her neck as they open their mouths. Warm, sure hands roam down Clarke’s sides to grasp her by the hips and before she knows it, Lexa has her spun around.

Pinned between the counter and Lexa’s frame, back to front, Clarke feels humid breath ghost over her ear, her neck, the join where it meets her shoulder, lips hovering close yet still withholding, and it’s enough to make her knees buckle slightly.

She reaches behind to guide Lexa’s mouth back to hers, greedy for more. A blissful sigh escapes when Lexa runs her palms up, curving around her breasts, only for Clarke to be frustrated by the inconvenient layers of cotton and spandex between them.

They need to be naked. Now.

Driven by that imperative, Clarke twists back around and yanks Lexa’s button-down off her shoulders. The tank top swiftly follows, landing in a heap at their feet, and their lips remain fused while she walks Lexa backwards until they bump into the couch.

Clarke shoves Lexa down and remains standing, gratified by the wide, hungry eyes staring up at her.

Too impatient to put on a performance, she whips off her t-shirt and steps out of her shorts. They’re still caught on her ankle when Lexa grabs her by the waist, pulling Clarke onto her lap and back to her waiting lips.

While their mouths are busy, Clarke lets her hands travel over Lexa’s chest. Feeling her way. Circling hard nipples with her thumbs. A whimper catches in Lexa’s throat and it thrills Clarke to the core. The tugging ache of arousal hasn’t left her since they fled the cove and her belly twists sharply with want as she slips to the floor on her knees between the spread of Lexa’s legs.

Clarke kisses down Lexa’s abdomen, smirking as muscles twitch and contract under her lips, still able to taste the sun and sea on Lexa’s skin. She doesn’t abandon her grip on Lexa’s breasts until her chin grazes the waistband of Lexa’s shorts and she hears the deep breath Lexa draws in, feels her tense in anticipation.

Hooking her thumbs under the elastic, Clarke looks up the length of Lexa’s body, eyes fastening on her chest and the tempting jut of her nipples. Unable to resist, she leans up and takes one between her lips. Runs her tongue around the pebbled areola. Slow swirls at first then faster as she narrows in on the tip and sucks hard. Lexa’s low groan, how she arches into it, fingers sinking into Clarke’s hair, gathering a fistful at her nape, only adds to her excitement.

She meets Lexa’s lidded gaze and the air seems to sizzle, those darkened eyes burning, hungrily watching Clarke’s every move.

Under that rapt attention, she switches to Lexa’s other breast. Mouths all around, eyes remaining glued to Lexa’s while she licks a wet path to the straining nipple, catching it on the flat of her tongue, flicking the tip before sucking it into her mouth.

For the next long while, Clarke gorges herself on every inch of soft flesh until Lexa’s tits are shiny with saliva and a stream of breathy little moans are dropping from her lips. She keeps moving her hips, rocking into Clarke in the pursuit of friction, sighing heavily when she edges away.

Feeling much too smug about the effect she’s having, Clarke wants to grin ear to ear, but she briefly smothers her smile in the curve of one breast. Flattens her hand between their bodies and slips inside Lexa’s shorts.

They both groan as Clarke skims through the wetness, gliding over Lexa’s clit and making her hips jump.

“What do you want first?” Clarke asks, swirling the tip of one finger at Lexa’s entrance. “This or…?”

Lexa’s throat works before she replies with, “Mouth. Please.”

“So polite.”

There’s a teasing undertone, but Clarke has no desire to drag this out and make Lexa beg, not when she’s so tightly wound herself. It’s for both their sakes that she quickly shuffles to the side and tugs the shorts down Lexa’s impossibly long legs.

Clarke can’t help but stare, soaking up the sight of all that glowing tan skin on display. In the haze of lust, she moves on autopilot. She trails her hands up Lexa’s shins to grip her knees. Gently pushes them apart and situates herself between. Her breath catches when her eyes settle low, on Lexa, wet and swollen for her.

It’s Clarke’s new favourite view this island has to offer.

Lexa opens her legs wider.

All the encouragement Clarke needs to hook her hands under Lexa’s thighs and drag her to the edge of the couch. The air is thick with the heady, musky scent of arousal and Clarke breathes it in, filling her lungs. Powerless not to flow forward, to press her open mouth there and drink from the source.

A shiver racks Lexa’s body and she bites off a curse when Clarke’s tongue eases in. Hands tangle in her hair, winding tighter against her scalp, and Clarke relaxes her jaw to work deeper, curling her tongue to draw more wetness into her mouth, the tang filling every space as she emits an appreciative groan. Maybe it’s a product of the local diet, but Lexa is by far the best flavour Clarke has ever had on her tongue.

Pulling back an inch, she pins Lexa by the hips and licks her slowly, deliberately, dragging her tongue up to trace patterns around Lexa’s clit. She mixes firm laps with gentle suction and little nudges with her nose, sometimes lifting her mouth away just to breathe on Lexa while she strains to get closer.

All the while Lexa is practically writhing on the receiving end, gasping and stifling a moan each time Clarke presses her tongue inside, limited by its reach and the growing ache in her jaw to just a few shallow thrusts that Lexa urgently rocks down to meet.

And when Clarke’s eyes flick up to watch, she’s mesmerised by Lexa in the throes. Her hair has dried into a mass of marvellous curls, and Clarke is wholly infatuated with it. That, and the way the sunlight pouring through the windows paints her golden skin, catching the beads of perspiration that dot her throat and chest as she arches her spine and spreads herself even wider, directing Clarke by the grip on her hair.

Lexa’s calves tremble with exertion as she picks up the pace, her gasping breaths becoming thinner and more ragged as she chases the pleasure.

Sensing the unspoken need, Clarke reaches for Lexa’s clit, using the soft pad of her thumb to rub tight, firm circles while she extends her tongue, pushing in as far as possible. Her jaw has gone numb but she powers through, determined not to falter.

As Lexa rocks her hips and Clarke plunges in and drags back out, their eyes lock and hold. In that moment of connection, Clarke sees her name form on Lexa’s lips before she throws her head back against the cushions and stiffens sharply, shuddering into Clarke’s mouth and flooding her tongue.

Lexa is near silent for the big finish, except for the gulping breaths she pulls in as she clenches and shivers and scrapes her nails against Clarke’s scalp.

After a few more lazy thrusts, Clarke withdraws with a rude slurp and takes her thumb off Lexa’s clit. She bends close again, intending to lick up the spill, but a weak tug on her hair draws her focus up. Lexa looks dazed, her mouth hanging open as her heavy eyes search Clarke’s face.

She doesn’t even get a chance to wipe her chin before Lexa urges her up onto her lap and into a deep and dirty kiss, a muffled groan vibrating between them. Palms scorch up Clarke’s ribs to cover her tits, kneading, teasing her nipples while she shamelessly grinds on Lexa.

It’s good, but not enough.

Breaking off the kiss, Clarke sits back on her haunches and reaches for the top piece of her swimsuit.

“Help me out of this?”

Together, they pull it up and over Clarke’s head.

She almost laughs at the reverential look on Lexa’s face once her tits are freed, like Lexa has been blessed with the greatest gift to lesbiankind. Clarke isn’t so conceited as to believe her breasts are a quasi-religious experience, but Lexa sure makes it seem that way.

After a second, Lexa snaps out of her trance and slips her hand behind Clarke’s neck to reconnect their lips. They both whimper into the kiss as they crush closer. The graze of their nipples feels electric, lighting sparks under Clarke’s skin and sending another jolt between her legs.

The muggy heat inside the apartment is stifling by now. Their stomachs and thighs stick together, slicked in sweat, but neither are inclined to separate, locked in a fervent makeout. Clarke is breathing hard by the time Lexa rolls her over and peels the rest of her swimsuit off.

Unselfconscious, Clarke lets her thighs fall open, and Lexa needs no greater incentive to drop to her knees. A moan slips out before Lexa even puts her mouth on her, so hyper-aware is Clarke of the gentle fan of warm breath over her vulva. But at the very last second Lexa veers away to plant kisses on the insides of Clarke’s thighs and she isn’t capable of containing her huff of frustration.

She feels the stretch of Lexa’s smile, but before Clarke can vocalise any complaints, Lexa turns her face and licks up the length of her. Unprepared for the shock of direct contact when it’s been sorely missing, her hips fly off the couch, almost colliding with Lexa’s nose.

“Oh, fuck,” Clarke croaks, a hand shooting out to clutch Lexa’s shoulder, the other grabbing a fistful of the cushion behind her head. “Fuck.”

“I will,” Lexa says, a glint in her eye when she catches Clarke’s. Then she holds Clarke down by the hip bones and lowers her mouth once more.

Clarke’s breath escapes her in a rush, eyes slamming shut. Her body reacts, engulfed by sensation. All scorching heat and the soft, wet glide of Lexa’s tongue as it weaves up through the slick, circles her clit, before dipping low to drag over her again and again, keeping Clarke squirming for minutes on end, rotating her hips in a frantic grind.

She peels her eyes open to look, craning her neck to witness the complete and utter rapture on Lexa’s face. She’s covered in Clarke, lips and cheeks all shiny. And her tongue... Clarke shivers and clenches around nothing at the glimpse of pink muscle lapping at her with purpose, heat coiling tighter in her gut with each deft stroke. Every now and then Lexa presses inside, just far enough to make Clarke choke on a moan and rut her hips up in a useless attempt to force Lexa deeper. When Lexa retreats she uses a little less pressure on the next lick, too gentle and fleeting to give Clarke what she craves.

“Lex,” she pants, a hint of aggravation bleeding into her tone after the fifth or sixth time it happens. She squeezes Lexa’s shoulder.

“What?” Lexa asks lightly, her parted lips brushing against Clarke so intimately that she feels the question breathed into her body.

She stifles a noise of pure need and grits her teeth.

Nearly howls when Lexa takes her mouth away.

“You only have to ask, Clarke.” Dark, dark eyes hold her gaze. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

It’s clear Lexa isn’t toying now. There’s something in the depths of her eyes that speaks of sincere devotion, like it’s her true calling and sacred duty to surpass herself and give Clarke the best damn orgasm of her life. From anyone else, that intensity might be a little frightening, but coming from Lexa? It’s the biggest turn-on, and Clarke is more than willing to put her through her paces.

She throws down the gauntlet with all the cocky confidence she can muster in her current position.

“Isn’t it about time you brought out the strap?”

~*~

The ceiling fan rattles and whirs overhead, merely stirring the soupy, sweat-saturated air around the room. Despite having all the windows thrown open, the scant through-breeze does little to alleviate the dense humidity or disperse the scent of sex that hangs potent and heavy in the air.

Laid flat on her back on twisted sheets, Clarke sweeps the tangle of damp, frizzy hair out of her face with one hand, still trying to get her breathing under control. Her chest is heaving and her thighs haven’t stopped shaking in the aftermath of their last energetic tryst, the second since Lexa brought out the harness and a sparkly purple dildo and proceeded to screw her into the mattress with smooth, deep thrusts and small, quick jogs of her hips until she came with a strangled shout. Now Clarke’s mind is mush and her body aches in the best way, worn out and thoroughly sated—for the time being, at least.

Meanwhile, Lexa is stretched out alongside, flaunting a lazy half-smile as she unbuckles the harness. The bulbous head of the toy slaps wetly against Clarke’s hip bone before Lexa scoops it up and tosses the whole kit over the side of the bed to be dealt with later.

Propping her temple on her fist, Lexa trails her fingers down Clarke’s side, following the curve of her breast and the slope of her ribs down to the dip in her waist, retracing the same path on the return journey, and Clarke can’t control the way her body responds to the stimulus, goosebumps rising on her skin despite the unbearable heat.

Every involuntary twitch makes Lexa’s little smirk edge wider, like she has a newfound fixation with testing Clarke’s reactions, laughing when Clarke finally squirms away from her touch.

“Are you ticklish?”

“Are you?” Clarke threatens, trying and failing not to be charmed by Lexa’s easy half grin, how she giggles and scrambles backwards when Clarke pretends to lunge. “Don’t make me fight you.”

Then she flops back against the pillows and kicks away the covers. “Ugh, it’s way too hot. I feel like I’m melting.”

“Water?”

“Please.”

Lexa slips off the bed and slinks out the room, fully nude and without a care in the world, and Clarke’s eyes stay trained on that audacious bubble butt as she goes, amazed not for the first time that Lexa is carrying all that junk in the trunk. Really, her perfect tush should be a serious contender for the number one visitor attraction in Polis. Clarke almost mourns its disappearance when Lexa turns the corner.

Left alone to examine her surroundings instead, Clarke lets her gaze drift around the room. Like the rest of the apartment, it’s neutrally decorated and spotlessly clean; everything put away. No ornaments, photographs or other personal touches that reflect Lexa’s taste except for a framed piece of art that depicts a lonely, ruined tower surrounded by lush forest. On the wall above the door hangs a distinctive ward that’s a staple of the island’s gift shops: a hand-painted stone with four concentric circles in the shape of a blue eye.

When Lexa returns from the kitchen with a large glass of water, Clarke levers up on one elbow and takes it from her gratefully. After a few greedy gulps, the cool liquid sliding down her throat, she nudges her chin toward the ‘evil eye’ symbol.

“Are you superstitious?”

Lexa joins her on the bed. Glances over her shoulder and gives a slight shrug. “It’s a peasant tradition going back thousands of years, but it doesn’t hurt to be protected from negative energy.” A faint smile graces her lips. “Especially Anya’s when I do something to piss her off.”

“I could’ve used something similar when I dropped by the taverna yesterday.”

“In her own misguided way, she tries to protect me too.”

“From who? Me?”

Lexa tilts her head side to side, neither confirming or denying. She studies Clarke for a moment, something indecipherable in her eyes. A muscle in Lexa’s jaw tightens, then she smiles again, if a touch more guardedly. “Mm. You have serial ‘heartbreaker’ written all over you.”

Clarke gapes at her, half shocked, half offended. She places the glass on the bedside table before she accidentally spills water on the mattress.

She scoffs, “That couldn’t be further from the truth. One, because I work 80-hour weeks on average so how would I even find the time? And two—which is related to point one—the only people I meet are at the hospital, and since they’re either coworkers or patients under my care, they’re strictly off-limits.”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’re a doctor?” she asks, honing in on that part and ignoring the rest of Clarke’s protestations.

She runs her eyes over Clarke, like she’s the one fantasising about uniforms now, nevermind that a lab coat, surgical scrubs and a stethoscope aren’t in the same league as combat fatigues.

All the same, Clarke wouldn’t be opposed to some steamy ‘on-call’ room role play, which does an effective job of neutralising her outrage.

She reclines again.

“I am. Clarke Griffin MD, vascular surgeon in-training. About to begin my fourth year of residency.”

Lexa’s eyes, which had strayed below Clarke’s neck once more—so gay, so predictable—leap back up, widening a fraction.

“Sha?” Her gaze turns admiring. “Beauty and brains.”

“And a helluva rack, to boot.”

“The full package.”

A flush on her cheeks, Clarke accepts the compliment, enjoying the flattery.

“Sometimes I question my sanity for putting myself through the stress and the endless grind, working nights, weekends, and holidays while getting paid peanuts. Oh yeah, and not forgetting the mountain of student loan debt I graduated with from med school.”

With a doleful sigh, she stares off into space as she contemplates the decade of loan repayments ahead of her. But she snaps out of it and brightens up.

“Being a doctor is all I’ve ever wanted to do, though. Helping people. Making a difference in their lives.”

Silently, Lexa bobs her head in understanding, but Clarke can tell she’s slipped into her own thoughts.

“What about you?” Clarke asks in a softer voice. She picks up Lexa’s hand and plays with her fingers. “After travel and adventure, what do you dream of doing?”

Lexa lifts her shoulder and lets it drop.

“There aren’t many career opportunities here. The economy is shit, so I’d go to Barcelona or Berlin. Maybe Copenhagen.” She purses her lips as she mulls it over. “I’d like to finish my degree in Political Science. I went to university on the mainland after my year in the army, but” — a flicker in her eyes — “I had to quit halfway through.”

Clarke waits for Lexa to go on, sensing she has more to say when her face cycles through a series of complicated emotions.

“My mother got sick and I came home to help my father and Anya take care of her.” Her jaw works side to side in a microscopic movement before she swallows visibly, lashes lowering. “It was cancer.”

Clarke’s heart clutches.

“God, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

During her rotation in oncology, she’d witnessed firsthand the devastating effects of a cancer diagnosis on patients and their loved ones; seen battles hard won and tragically lost. To think of Lexa’s mom going through that same hell, the profound emotional toll it must’ve taken on the family, on Lexa herself… Lacking the words, Clarke gives the hand in hers a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey her genuine care and concern.

It appears to shore Lexa up. Taking a fortifying breath, she lifts her eyes and offers the slightest of smiles.

“She’s better now. How do you say it?” She casts about for the translation.

“In remission?”

A nod.

“All clear for four years. And I remained in Polis. Too much time passed for me to return to university. But… I regret not completing my studies.”

Clarke feels for her. Lexa had to put her education and entire future on hold for her family and now she’s in limbo, her ambitions unrealised, hemmed in by circumstances and an income that’s reliant on seasonal tourism. Polis is a wonderful place, but it’s too small to contain someone like Lexa.

Before Clarke can offer any platitudes, Lexa pulls on their joined hands. “Come. Those pastries are calling to me.”

~*~

Out on the terrace, a fresh breeze brings cooler air down from the mountains. A table and two patio chairs overlook the cliffs and the shimmering expanse of sea, the water lit up in streaks of red and orange as the setting sun hangs low on the horizon, the sky a glorious haze of yellow and gold.

Wrapped only in a bedsheet, Clarke nibbles on a fetabeik, the buttery flakes melting in her mouth. She hums in appreciation.

“Good?” Lexa asks, mid-demolition of her own slice.

Clarke catches a crumb on her lip and licks it off her fingers. “So good. I’m gonna have to go back and get some for Wells and Octavia to try.”

“Your friends, are they doctors too?”

She shakes her head, no.

“I was classmates with Octavia’s brother in pre-med organic chemistry. He had a crush on me, but…” She makes a face, enough to get across it was entirely unreciprocated. “Junior year, I got introduced to O at a party on campus and we just clicked. Instant ride-or-die. Wells? He and I go way back. We grew up on the same street, went to high school together, shared some extra curriculars: mathletes, chess club. I’ve basically known him since we were rugrats and he hasn’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Lexa peers at her, nonplussed. “Mathletes?”

“It’s like, competitive math as a team sport. Facing off to solve equations against the clock.” It occurs to her that she just outed her teenage self as a giant nerd and now she has reputational damage to repair. “We won at Nationals three years in a row. Even got featured on the local TV news.”

The smile on Lexa’s face only gets bigger while Clarke digs a deeper hole for herself.

“It’s cooler than it sounds. We had jackets!”

“I’m glad to see you didn’t let the fame and accolades go to your head.”

She huffs.

Shoots a faux glare in Lexa’s direction.

“And I bet you ruled the school,” Clarke says. “Probably had that effortless, cool, collected, zero-fucks-given attitude down as soon as you could walk.”

Lexa dips her chin, still smiling. She plucks at the hem of the loose shorts that sit low on her hips. “Honestly, I was quiet and kind of a loner. It wasn’t until I joined the swim team that I found my confidence and my people.”

Clarke taps her knuckles on the table.

“So you were a jock. Called it.”

Those abs aren’t the product of a weak workout regime.

“Years ago.” Lexa’s lips take on a proud tilt. She catches Clarke’s eye. “But I still like to stay in shape.”

Brazenly, Clarke lets her gaze travel over a trim, toned stomach up to Lexa’s snug black sports bra and the biteable lines of her collarbones.

She casts her mind back to the two rounds with the strap and clicks her tongue. “Well, I’m no fan of the gym, but luckily sex is great cardio. So, in my professional opinion, we should do more of that.”

“How much more?”

She tilts her head, pretending to ponder it.

“Oh… a minimum of two orgasms at least once a day.”

Lexa looks at her at length.

“And when you go? How am I supposed to cope without my fix?”

Part of Clarke dares to hope Lexa isn’t just referring to missing her body once they’re thousands of miles apart.

A hint of nerves enters her voice. “I haven’t figured that out for myself yet.”

Lexa’s eyes don’t leave hers.

“Will you stay?” Off the flash of alarm on Clarke’s face, Lexa appends calmly, “Here, tonight.”

Right.

Of course that’s what she meant. It wasn’t an invitation for Clarke to fucking emigrate.

It takes several seconds for her heart to stop pounding and the heat to dissipate from her cheeks. She weighs the options: functional air conditioning and the guarantee of a restful sleep in crisp, cool sheets at the villa versus waking up in an unfamiliar bed, sweaty, hair in her face and her nose in the crook of Lexa’s neck.

No contest, really.

“Depends. What are you making me for breakfast?”

#cool for the summer #vacation au #clexa fic #clexa #my fic

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