#there's stormy clouds outside but so far no rain and quite hot and humid

[raksh-writes]

Ive spent most of yesterday doing all my uni stuff for finals and a couple hours today too, and I should be doing much more, but I can actually feel my brain giving out on me rn. Im starting to develop a headache and that's very much Not ideal. I have A Lot to do and not a lot of time to do it, ughh...

Forcing usually doesn’t work on me though, so even though my anxiety will prob have a field day, I guess I'll try to take a break, maybe play some Skyrim, maybe write a lil' more fanfic if my head feels better, and who knows, if in the evening it feels up to it, I can try to add some more to that big project Im trying to finish or start on a presentation for a different class. Either would be nice, but if its not possible tonight, then I guess I just gotta hope taking a break today will help me get back at it tomorrow.

Here's to hoping!

[thefinishpiece]

Garden In An Hourglass

Mina forgets why she came here.

Something about flowers in rain. Gardens a circus of mist. Clouds hanging on every leaf of every plant. All edges terraced in heavenly gust.

How long had I been gone?

These petals are shades unfamiliar. These green-blades cut in different directions. The maze has shifted somewhere else, its corridors now alternate, its architecture obliterate.

Mina missteps once or twice.

It still smells the same.

Perfumes of nature sprinkling in the air, honed to velvet-scent by the sky’s endless tears. Aroma of raw soil, damp and twisting, blending its earthly flavor with cool-crystal vines of fauna and flora, braided in boundless growth. Fumes of nature, expressed.

So many years since she has seen this place.

Approaching her—a skeleton drenched in veil, blackened to obscure wrath, the whites of bone amplified in the stormy scene. It looks at her, both of its eyes a drained sink, and it stands solid in the grove, replacing gargoyles for this scenery myth.

“You must be who I think you are.” It echoes.

Mina nods, nostrils cleansed.

Everything is hazy and toned. An ephemeral wistfulness surrounds her, with a glaze of nostalgia, the bright smoke of this place cornering her view. She always adored days when it rained.

She make excuses. “I am so awful at keeping track of time. How long have I been gone?”

A reluctant question, certainly—for to be certain of anything relating to Time is to forgo the conclusions of it. Time, the ceaseless glue of space, ripping through dimensions like light through glass. Filtering and untouchable.

It cannot answer. But this does not concern the ghost.

“You always did lose it all the time.” It echoes.

It grins, a pernicious crescent, while she watches every plate of its marrow-shell grind and gyrate on its face, from cranial-cap to cheek-plates to bending-chin. All this clockwork of its frame necessary to perform one single action—something so arbitrary when concealed by flesh.

Mina almost wants to smile herself and see if she can notice the parts in her face moving too, or if her brain only accepts the sequence as a solitary motion. The wonders of face.

Out of a stony path, they emerge to obsidian gates, dazzling in their sharpness, pointed and polished. Roots reviling, afraid to grasp the lifeless metal, avoiding its attractive poles for lesser stones and bricks, defeated by a net of spears.

But the skeleton touches it without recourse, crackling, halting only to brush residue from the shoulder of its ebony-dress. It is dressed for some occasion, but she never bothers to learn the names of such temporal fancies. One occasion for another—they are all strands of grass in a field of roving hours.

Inside, a breath of hotness—of humid contrast between earth’s spit and artifice’s sinew. Air, swollen in plastic pride, hovering behind walls from the pit it was borne, to linger in suffuse misery. A trap.

“Do you happen to know the time?” Mina asks, softly.

Her voice is still liquid from the outside waves. As soon as she says these sounds, she regrets it. Certainty is a vanishing art.

“I have not met it personally, but I hear good things.” It jokes—ha, the skeleton tells jokes!

Mina looks around at glass walls, suffocating in growth. Too many plants; too many plans. No horizon. Back to the garden, they rewind themselves.

“How long has it been?” someone shouts.

There he is, the Gardener. Dressed in dark dream. A fancy suit that appears like frozen lava. No hair, but a nice ash head. Like a pollup of crusty snow.

Tonally, his skin is quite grim. Like a raven plucked of its feathers. So pale, unhuman—a cadaver pulled from space, bleached by the shrillest fear.

The Gardener is a poor gust of gloom. He has time in a basket and all the space to spare. He asks Mina how long it has been since when they never met. She dares not tell him her name, but he figures it out anyway. Eating hours and drinking histories.

“We have been waiting,” the Gardener groans.

Mina shrugs. “Yes, we have.”

They float down a river of sand. Around and around. Come and go. Flurry and dissipate. They only go so far, until their container sends them back to recite and repeat the same motions over and over again.

Though the Gardener and his skeletal companion are unaffected by this place, Mina feels every loop and round.

She grows thirsty. Like a seedling sprouting early, desperate to taste the rain. And though they are in a garden, time’s lashes affect her body more like a desert. Dry seconds.

“Is it time for tea?” she asks, politely.

“It is always time for tea!” the Gardener screams.

They stop their ride. Then they take their positions at the tea-table, a thing overwrought in silver strings attached to a diamond-dazed puck. Porcelain and pleasantries await them. Conversations about the lengths of letters.

The tea is hot—it’s always hot. Mina stares at some blossoms behind her. They are perpetually beautiful. But the Gardener demands her attention; he is a fiery, unforgiving conversant.

“If time is a circle, then what is a square?”

The Gardener is gleeful as he poses his question—he desires to have her answer wrongly. But she does not have time for his ghoulish games.

Without looking at him directly, Mina casually declares, “Circle takes the square.”

He is dumbfounded. Not that anything they have ever discussed has been anything else than nonsense—this whole garden is a monument to nonsense! Fair points decay like unpollinated wombs.

The Gardener turns to his skeletal servant, bewildered. But the Skeleton is picking maggots out of its holes, not actually listening. Yet, it is obedient, and still responds in reverberate tone, “How long is a circle?”

The Gardener shrieks and points at Mina. “Ha! Can you count? Do you know how long a circle is?”

Why is he always trying to prove her wrong? Why can’t they just talk about flowers or something?

While rubbing sweat on her neck, she sweats. “Is the temperature in here bothering anyone else?”

What was once tepid is now arid. Mina almost coughs from the heat. Seconds burned to hours. Burned to days. Burning for years. Epochs.

An endless fire of eternal scorching. Castigating flames casting her in hardened plaster, body melting within like a stew of organs and soul. Hardening—time sharpening the time sharpening the time sharpens the time. Agony.

Dead alive. Forcibly awake.

How long has it been—how long was I gone?

“Such a pain—I am a black-hole burnt piece of toast.” Mina says.

Surprised she suddenly speaks, the Gardener gasps. “It has been a long time...”

“When was the last time someone spoke?”the Skeleton shatters. “When was the last time we had been here...?”

After an intermediate silence, Mina laughs.

The Gardener stares at her, nearly drooling for her to offer just a scrap of something happening. But it isn’t much.

“Nothing too funny, just—” she yawns, dumbly. “I forgot why I came here.”

[delicrieux]

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] pt.8

premise: two students start developing feelings for one another despite having too many secrets to count.

tagging:  @cheshirecatbyul @junieyes​ @whaledenwtf​ @xoxomioxoxo​ @cherryvblossom​ @adidabach @sissieliang @patronusfire @rianrawr​ @gravitygemjj​ @aquariemm​( if anyone else wants to be tagged, please let me know!)

warnings: angst, disturbing themes, fluff, blood

a/n: BITCH U THOUGHT I WOULD NEVR UUPDATE! HA! y'all are so nice SERIOUSLY! thank you for all the comments and kudos and reads...thank you for sticking by the hellish update scheduale... cant thank y'all enough..hope you like this...btw this is in no way a healthy relationship!!!however this is a fanfic and i can romanticize whatever i damn please. <3 <3 <3 lemme know what u think in those comments! they seriously motivate me to write <3

amortentia masterpost | MASTERLIST.

8. train ride home.

S p r I n g b r e a k.

The train station is restless; couples and children run around in a frantic haze of smoke and screams, giggles, enthusiastic chatter. Some passengers bump into you and mumble hiss like apologies under their breaths without even sparing you a glance as they rush to their departing trains. Fumes stick to your skin. The sun rains down in harsh rays and it is abnormally humid and hot for Britain. Rainy weather and clouds are to be expected, but this… the baby blue of the sky is nearly blinding. The chaotic shouting and the near deafening sound of honks is disorienting. With your terrible health it is all almost too much. However you prevail and tilt your head upwards, quick eyes in search of the platform. Your suitcase and ticket are safely guarded in your grip. Finally, a miracle! You spot the far away number 8 and hurry to it, counting the minutes until your departure.

A line had already formed to your train and so you set down your things and wait patiently for your turn. Your hair sticks to the side of your oily cheek. Blasted weather! With a silent huff you fix your hair and try not to blush under the heat. Once your turn arrives you smile graciously at the young ticket checker, “Good day, miss.” He greets you with a sunny smile, his mood ten times brighter once a grumpy patron passed him, “May I see your credentials?”

“Certainly.” You are quick to rummage through your case and pull out a small passport. He regards it, and then you, reluctantly giving it back.

“Have a fantastic trip, (Name).” He wishes and curtsies his black hat. You nod graciously, “If I were to offer you my help in carryi—“

“There is no need for that.” A quiet, though stormy, voice cuts in and your heart skips a beat once Tom’s pale figure comes into view behind the boy. “She is with me.” He states simply, leaving no room to argue. The boy backs down and allows Tom to take your bag and your hand as he helps you into the train.

In a breath you are transported home, where trees are tall and their scent is dizzying. Bees buzz freely and butterflies dot surface of flowers; heaven like scenery all around you. And you are a small child again and so terrified of the woman with a permanent frown on her face holding a wooden spoon high above her head in a threatening manner that, you realise,  if you were to make a wrong move pain would soon follow.

“No self-respecting lady holds hands publically.” Your mothers voice echoes loud and clear, “Are you of noble birth or are you a peasant?”

And despite being told from an early age what is right and what is wrong, you chose to ignore your instincts and block out her voice. Instead you relish in the way your hand fits perfectly in his; how safe and warm it is; how pleasantly it tingles and makes your whole body feel as if on a gentle cotton cloud. Tom does not let go of your hand till you reach the compartment.

It is small and old. The red seats are dulled, but still comfortable. Tom puts away your things – his is already tugged away somewhere – and as you sit you get a better look at him. He is missing his regular robes; without them he appears leaner and paler, yet still undeniably handsome. His clothes seem worn, but tailored, they are not new but you know he has been keeping them in the best shape he possibly could. He takes a seat next to you when the train jerks into motion. Soon rumbling spreads and vibrates your bones as the scenery behind the window moves into a colourful blur.

“It’s nostalgic, isn’t it?” He breaks the silence in a bored tone. Curiously, you tilt your head away from the window, “Reminds me of the first time we met.”

“The train to Hogwarts…” You agree, “Seems so long ago...” You add.

“But I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you are different.” He says and you can barely make out a smile on his lips. He must have expected you to relish at the idea, however your face falls.

“Do you hate me, Tom?” You ask. He thinks; his eyes trail off from your face to the outside view.

“In a way.” He admits, his gaze locking your own. “I hate what you do to me.” He says slowly, his fingers coming to graze the side of your forehead to push away some silky strands of (colour) hair, “I hate how reckless I’ve become…And how honest, too.” At this you blush; your cheeks tingle pleasantly as the warmth of his fingers linger. He pulls away, either to compose himself or to mind your personal space, though you doubt your comfort and wellbeing is on his mind. Alas, it feels as if a heavy weight is lifted off of your chest. He does not hate you. He has no malicious intent regarding you. It makes you smile, however your smile is small and a bit mellow.

“Tom…” You start slowly, curiously, thinking back on all that has happened in the past year, “Do you ever miss home?”

He regards you with a strange look, “I grew up in an orphanage.” A shiver rolls down your spine at his blank, emotionless tone, “There is nothing to miss.”

“Oh…” You murmur meekly, “I…I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He states, “How could you?”

You figure only professors know this. Come to think of it, it suddenly makes sense why he stays for Christmas and spring break in the castle, and seems so displeased once summer rolls around. You used to believe that it is because he despises the heat. Tom always seemed happier when it was cold and raining, or so you noticed. But now you understand and feel sad for him, though you try not to show it, knowing that he would not appreciate your worry. He just shared such a delicate secret with you. You cannot ruin this moment with your unruly affection.

“I don’t miss my home, either.” You say gently.

“It’s because of your mother, isn’t it?” He inquires; again, his tone betrays only polite curiosity, as if he already knows the answer to his question. You nod.

“She is a…difficult woman.” You start, “But I do not blame her. I was a difficult child…I also don’t blame my father for not being there to stop her.” You glance out the window – fields of green are coated in a happy yellow colour; lacy bright wildflowers, “See he is the only alchemist in our town. We live quite far from it, and the trips back are long and tedious… We live in the woods in a small cottage surrounded by flowers and moss and fireflies at night…”

“Sounds idyllic.”

“It is merely a pretty font.”

The conversation lulls to a stop as both of you are lost in your own separate thoughts, until… “I’d like to visit it sometime.” He says, making your heart skip in delight. He smiles, “Meet your mother. Do the same thing she did to you.”

“You mean the same thing you do to me?”

You wonder why you do not hate him. Not feel a burning desire to escape, or even feel better. Perhaps it all starts and ends in that small cottage in the woods. Perhaps, this pain he inflicts, others inflict, you inflict upon yourself with those memories you repeat in your mind, are home. Perhaps you are simply used to fear and anguish and it would make you feel terrified if he were to act a different way. This pain is comforting, nothing new. Changes are a terribly scary thing, and you despise them. More than that, you could not hate him. Your heart betrays you. The way it beats for him and him only. The night he told you that he wants you to join him on his little quest…You were hurt and shocked but that all melted away the next morning. You had thought long and hard. You had weighted the possibilities and decided that his side was the only place for you to be, despite the circumstances, despite the pain. Yes, you do not hate him, quite the opposite in fact.

With a smile you turn away, not waiting for his answer, if there even was one, “What shall we do in Little Hangleton?”

“Find out the truth.”

[misssophie23]

THE CORRIDOR TO THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES

I found this old oneshot...I don't know why I haven't posted it on Tumblr before...this is my third try to post it correctly. The Tumblr App sucks rn! So, sorry I am so short on words. I wrote this fic last summer. I hope you enjoy the shameless bellarke smut that is coming for you xD You can also find it on ao3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7938799)

Enjoy :-)

THE CORRIDOR TO THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES

"We are truly sorry for the trouble Miss Griffin."

The stewardess apologized for the third time within two minutes. Bellamy was counting. He didn't look up from his book when the voice of the so called Miss Griffin complained.

"One hour late and then this. I can't believe it. This is the worst airline I've ever flew with!"

"There must have been a technical problem Miss. We are so, so sorry. Please, you can sit first class and you don't have to pay for anything during the flight." "As if I would," retorted the annoyed woman and Bellamy heard how she slumped into the seat right in front of him. The flight attendant put the luggage into the overhead and apologized for the fifth time, getting a huff as a response before she walked away. Bellamy looked after her, watching her disappear behind the curtain between first class and business. When his eyes flew back onto his book he stopped at the woman in front of him, who was – to be quite honest – really pretty. Even with her exhausted and annoyed facial expression. He watched her closely, recognizing the small birthmark above her lip and slightly sweating skin because it had been almost 97 °F today and it was still humid. Just when his eyes were about to go further down he caught himself and put them back onto his book – Pericles of Athens and the birth of Democracy by Donald Kagan. Yeah, he still was the history nerd he had been with eighteen! Bellamy still kept reading, when the stewardess gave the security information a few moments later. He had seen them dozens of times before and was pretty sure how to behave in any case of trouble. The mysterious blonde instead hung on the flight attendant's lips, when he looked up, which made him guess that this was her first flight or she hadn't been on many planes before. An amused smile spread over his lips before going back to reading. It didn't take him long to look up again. The plane was about to start when there was a loud rustle in front of him. The blonde shifted around in her seat, her feet fidgeted nervously up and down, so fast that he could feel it. She bit on her bottom lip and gazed nervously around when she caught him watching her. Bellamy's brows shot up in a silent question and she stopped immediately. "Sorry. Nervous flyer." "Don't tell me," answered Bellamy ironically and turned the book page, but not without checking on the blonde one last time. The woman seemed to relax as the plane reached its flight level. They had been through rain clouds and an airhole which made her gasp and Bellamy tried to ignore that this kind of sound went directly to his guts. He cleared his throat as quietly as possible and tried to keep his eyes focused on the pages while she started to bring down her luggage and pulled some things out. He tried so hard not to watch while she was doing it, that he was thinking about her all the time and re-read one line for the third time when the stewardess approached them, asking if they would like something to drink. "Oh," started the woman in surprise and again Bellamy reminded him not to think about this sound in another specific and very different situation because damn; he didn't know her but she was kind of hot! And he was just a guy. A guy who hadn't had any sex in a long time so he couldn't hold himself and his thoughts back of going … dirty. The heat crawled up his neck while eavesdropping on her order. "Do you have some ice tea? With a lemon slice and mint leaf maybe?" "I'm not sure about the mint leaf but I'll look. What can I bring you Mister Blake?" Addressed the stewardess Bellamy directly and made him look up. He gave her a sweet smile before ordering "The usual. A scotch on ice and a small water with gas please." "Of course," smiled the woman back and Bellamy nodded in thanks. His eyes wandered back to the book, catching the blonde looking at him, which made him smile at her. He flashed her one of his significant smile, which she easily returned before looking back onto her sketchbook. Bellamy kept his eyes on her instead. He didn't want to be the creepy stranger who checked out women on public transportation but he couldn't resist to sneak. Above the stormy clouds the sun was shining right through the small window, making her blonde hair looking like gold. Like she was wearing a halo. Her skin looked even softer. She had rosy cheeks and her lips were captured between her teeth far too often. She didn't notice him watching her. She was too lost in her doings. The blonde crooked her head, eyeing her work before letting her hands fly over the paper, knowing every line she made. Bellamy's eyes wandered along her hands towards her neck, down to her inviting cleavage and - oh Gosh he was such a creep! His eyes were literally glued on the curves of her breasts, making his thoughts race, when the flight attendant reached them, handing them their drinks. Bellamy blushed, even though no one and especially not the blonde herself, had been seeing him. Even though he hoped his nervous smile didn't give him away when the woman in front of him took her drink and sending him a short smile as a toast. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * They landed in Chicago, welcomed by lightning, thunder and pouring rain one and a half hours after departing from Nashville. Bellamy just got up as the rest of the passengers and wanted to grab his luggage when the pilot's voice filled the cabin, telling them that they had to remain seated because the airport stopped the check-in for everyone because of the storm. They weren't allowed to leave the plane. A load groan went through the rows and Bellamy dropped back into his seat. The loudest groan seemed to come from the woman in front of him. "They can't be serious. I have a hotel reservation!" She took a look at her watch before stopping one of the stewardesses, "How long do we have to wait in here?" The woman's smile was excusing. "Sadly we can't tell you right now. The pilot has to talk to the manager first. We'll let you know as soon as we have further information. We have to ask you to remain seated until then. I'm sorry." "Awesome," spat the woman sarcastically when the attendant was gone, falling back into her seat. Bellamy watched her before looking out of the window. He could barely see anything. They were in the middle of the tarmac, somewhere, and just the bolts lightened up the darkness. He rubbed his forehead. Gladly he didn't have to get into any hotel but he was awake for more than sixteen hours now. All he wanted was to go to bed. "Well," started Bellamy shortly and turned towards the blonde, "looks like we've got some time to kill. I'm Bellamy." He held out his hand, a charming smile on his lips. The woman returned it immediately and shook his hand – her own couldn't even close around his completely because it was too small – "Clarke." "So, Clarke what brings you to Chicago?" "Wizard World Comic Con," she said proudly and without any hesitation. She got an excited look on her face, returning Bellamy's question onto him. "I live here." "What did you do in Nashville then?" "Visiting my mom. She still lives there. You?" "Oh that's sweet," smiled Clarke and made Bellamy's chest swell a little, "I live there." She smiled but shrugged together as a loud thunder rolled through the air. They both looked outside the window, watching the next lightning appear. "What shitty weather," mumbled Clarke and sighed loudly and Bellamy remembered that she had some kind of trouble before. "You had some problem during boarding?" She rolled her eyes at this, which made him chuckle lowly. "Believe it or not but this fucking airline overbooked the flight. I bought my ticket six months ago and at the counter they told me that I don't have any reservation. Can't you believe that?" Honestly? He could. Most of the airlines did that but he wouldn't dare to tell her. He didn't want to upset her any further. So he just shook his head, "Not really." "Oh yeah! I was so pissed. I still am! I mean, not that the plane was an hour too late, nooo. To make my day even better they decided to delete my booking!" "So usually no first class for you?" "Oh no. I could never afford it. But this seat wasn't taken. So I got it as some kind of reparation. Which seems to be my luck now." She grinned and then winked at him and Bellamy tried not to read too much into it. Maybe she had the same interest in him as he had in her?! Judging by her flirty smile she was flashing him right now – she had! "Blessing in disguise, huh?" "Yupp. And you are a regular on this flight or why does the whole crew seem to know you?" Bellamy chuckled again, "Something like that?" Then he added, "Like I said before, I visit my mom once in awhile. I'll help her at her coffee shop and at the child-care. This time I stayed for almost two weeks. So yeah I'm well known." Clarke lifted her eyebrows, looking clearly interested in him. "So, part-time barista and nanny, huh?" A grin played around her lips. Bellamy blushed a little before nodding, "Somehow, yeah." "And what are you doing when you are here in Chicago?" "I'm working at the CME." "CME?" "Chicago Mercantile Exchange." Clarke still blinked in confusion. "I'm a broker," explained Bellamy and that's when the penny dropped. "Oh, oh of course. Exchange, yeah. Sorry. So you're exchanging what?" "We are trading natural resources. And what about you?" Clarke blushed, "I … I'm still looking for a job for myself. Right now I'm working at my best friend's shop and draw a lot. Nothing really worth living." Bellamy opened his mouth to tell her that he didn't judge her when the stewardess reached them once again, asking if she can get them something to eat. "Why?" Asked Clarke immediately and the attendant shot her another apologetic look. "The airport is still closed. We have to remain in here a little longer." "What? No way! I have a hotel reservation. We have been stuck in here for almost forty minutes. Why can't you just let us go?" "Because it's an order Miss Griffin. We are truly sorry but right now we aren't allowed to open the door. It's for your own safety." "So you'll pay for a new hotel room if I –" "Like I said Miss Griffin, there is nothing we can do. We have to wait until the storm weakens. So to make the waiting as pleasant as possible – can I bring you something to drink or eat?" The blonde woman opened her mouth, probably for another lash out, so that was the moment Bellamy interfered. He smiled gently at the stewardess because she wasn't the one to blame for this situation. No one was. "Would you be so kind to bring us some champagne, please? And maybe a few noshes?" "Absolutely", returned the woman with a thankful smile and disappeared behind the curtain, while Clarke was giving him a dark glance. "You know she had been talking to me right?" "Yeah, but she isn't the one to blame for this situation, so you can keep your shit together and be more kind." Bellamy put Clarke into her place, which made her scoff loudly. "I'm not one of your mother's children!" "Then stop acting like one." Clarke glanced darkly at him before grabbing her phone, getting up and mumbling that she needed to make a phone call. When she disappeared Bellamy punched himself against his forehead. He didn't have any right to talk to Clarke like that. She was upset, just like everyone. It wasn't like she could go home just like him. She had a hotel reservation, which might cause some problems if they got stuck in here much longer. After a few moments the food and drinks were brought to their table before Clarke returned, a pissed look on her face but Bellamy decided to talk to her anyway. "Sorry about earlier," he started but the blonde didn't seem to give a damn about it. Bellamy sighed. "No luck with the hotel?" She grabbed her glass of champagne and emptied it in one gulp. "So I guess that is a no," mumbled Bellamy and took a sip from his own glass. "No. They told me I have to check-in within the next hour. Otherwise my reservation is invalid. And judging by the weather it doesn't look like I'll make it!" She sighed desperately. Bellamy offered her a gentle smile. "I'm sure you'll be fine. There are a few hotels here in Chicago. You'll find another one." "Hopefully one where I can afford a room … otherwise you're stuck with me." The flirty grin was back on her lips. Her brows wiggled and Bellamy looked at her in amused confusion. "Stuck with you?" He questioned. "Oh yeah. I mean you are living here right? Sure you have a room to spare." "Well –" He started before being interrupted. "Or maybe a bed to share," she added cheeky and made Bellamy chuckle. His mind was starting to picture her in his bed already, naked, while he tried to not letting let it show on his face. "What makes you think I have a bed to share?" Fire glinting in her eyes when she answered, almost nonchalant. "No ring on your finger, wearing clothes that are screaming 'I'm a workaholic – which you probably are considering you’re a broker - and don't have time for anything serious' and being all flirty with me for the past hour. It doesn't look like there is someone waiting for you. And I don't take you for the cheating type of guy." Bellamy huffed in surprise. She hit the nail on the head. "Not bad," he admitted. She clearly had good knowledge of human nature. He licked his lips before confirming her suggestions. "You are right. But I'm not sure if I want to share my apartment with a stranger." Of course he would. Especially with someone as hot and interested as Clarke. It wasn't like he never had a one night stand before. Like Clarke said earlier, it was what he was doing all the time. "Stranger?" She echoed in shock. "We have been stuck in here for a little over an hour now. I wouldn't call us strangers anymore Bellamy." A hot shiver ran down his spine right to his cock at the sound of his name. It was the first time she said it and his name never sounded sweeter. He grinned, locking his eyes with hers, feeling the tension building up while they got another glass of champagne. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * They got stuck in the plane for three hours in whole. Bellamy learned that Clarke was an only-child. That Wells Jaha was her best friend and that she had a cat named Molly when she was a kid. Her favorite color was green, she got a scar on her right knee because she fell from a horse when she was nine and she was a big fan of The Big Bang Theory and True Bloods which were the main reasons for visiting the convention. In return Bellamy told her about his sister Octavia, his two best friends Murphy (who was a former soldier and now one of the best trauma surgeons in Illinois) and Miller (who worked for the government). They talked about their hobbies when Clarke asked him if he had been on a convention at least once in his life. No need to say that she was shocked when he answered with "No". "And you are a groupie who's stalking her favorites through the whole country?" Asked Bellamy amused and Clarke stuck out her tongue, mumbling a long "noooo" and blushed – again. Bellamy started to like the pink color on her cheeks. Imagine it getting darker and darker with every thrust he deepened himself into her. "So, why are you going then?" "Because I'm a groupie who's chasing her favorites," joked Clarke and added, "And because I’m trying to catch up on the lost time I wasted in a two-year relationship. Now doing what I always wanted to do, you know." "Was it that bad?" Clarke nodded. "Pretty much. But … honestly, I don't want to talk about it." Bellamy just nodded when the pilot was talking through the micro again. "The airport just started the check-in again. There are nineteen other planes with us so we would like you to remain seated until it's our turn. We want to apologize one more time for the trouble and thanking you for your understanding and patience. Have a good further travel and good night." The passengers were clapping loudly and everyone groaned in relief. Bellamy looked at his phone. It was half past one in the morning. Knowing that Clarke's reservation was invalid for a little over an hour. He looked at her, a pained expression on her face. She rubbed her forehead and sighed loudly, clearly thinking about where to head to now. It took them another 30 minutes to get their luggage because of the other nineteen planes' passengers that were waiting for theirs. The baggage claim was more than crowded and Bellamy arched his back and stretched his arms because of the long sitting. He got his suitcase first and waited for Clarke to get hers. She smiled at him in thanks. "So," he started slowly, walking through the exit and glancing at the blonde's profile, "if you want, you can stay at my place tonight." Clarke stopped walking, having big and surprised eyes. "Really?" "Yeah. I mean, you said it before, we aren't complete strangers anymore and you don't look like a murderer or a creepy person to me, even though you are visiting a convention – and I have more than enough room anyway." "Wow, oh wow, that is – thank you. That's so nice." A big smile appeared on her lips. "No problem." His heart definitely didn't jump at her bright smile. Definitely not. Okay, maybe a little. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * They got out of the taxi 40 minutes later. "500 West Superior Street," said the driver and Bellamy gave him a huge tip when he paid before heading after Clarke who stood in front of the building, her head in her neck and looking right to the top. "That's huge." "It's not even the biggest," said Bellamy and got their suitcases out of the trunk before leading her inside a warm, shining marble floored foyer. "Good evening Mister Blake," greeted Harper the receptionist with a kind and professional smile and Bellamy approached his sister's friend to greet her while Clarke stopped in the middle of the foyer, looking around. "Hello Harper. Any mail for me?" "Oh yeah, but your sister got it already." Her eyes flickered towards Clarke for a split of second, a sassy smile starting to appear on her lips when Bellamy's brows shot up immediately. "Don't you dare to tell Octavia or the others," he mumbled, looking over his shoulders before watching the brunette biting down her grin. "I would never," she said and Bellamy's mood went down at the realization that Harper wouldn't listen to him and tell the others that he brought a woman with him anyway. He groaned. "Don't you have discretion or something?" "Am I a lawyer or a doctor?" His head fell down in resignation. "We just got stuck for three hours in the fucking plane and she has nowhere else to go, okay? Please Harper. I know you'll tell them anyway but please wait until tomorrow okay? I can't handle my sister or anyone else tonight." He pleaded, which was a sign that he was god damn serious. He was tired as fuck and he just couldn't handle his sister's euphoric phone calls and the others teasing messages. It seemed like they had a lot of fun talking about Bellamy's love life, especially since it had died down after Gina almost eight months ago. He never had brought anyone with him since then. Not that he hadn't had any sex, he just went to the girl's apartments to avoid a situation like this. Even though the last sex he had was over three months ago. Not that he was planning on hitting on Clarke … not if she didn't want to at least. But that wasn't any other person's business, so he let out a relieved breath when Harper agreed on staying silent. "Thanks." "Yeah, just for tonight Blake. Your sister will find out anyway." Bellamy rolled his eyes and returned to Clarke, leading her to the elevator. His hand on the small of her back when he pushed her gently into it. Ignoring the heat rushing through his arm into his stomach because of the feeling of her body under his palm. He looked over his shoulder, catching Harper watching them with a bright, knowing grin. He stopped himself from groaning and pushed the button 28 instead. "Living above the others, huh?" "I like being on the top," winked Bellamy mischievously and clearly ambiguously. "Too bad I like it too." Bellamy grinned and licked his lips slowly, knowing Clarke's eyes watching his movement. His eyes flashed over her face and he heard her breath starting to deepen. Her cheeks were still pink, little from the champagne and much more because of the look he was giving her, when the elevator came to a stop and opened with a ping. They stepped out into a corridor which lead to one door. "Is this the corridor to the door of the Department of Mysteries?" Chuckled Clarke and Bellamy stopped fishing his keys out of his pocket, a frown on his face. "What?" Clarke's feature slipped. "Department of Mysteries. Harry Potter? Oh, oh my God! Don't tell me you never saw Harry Potter?!" Bellamy felt his ears turning red. "Well," he started but Clarke gasped in shock. "You can't be serious. What kind of life are you living? No conventions, no Harry Potter?!" Said Clarke like his inexperience was personally offending her. "I saw Harry Potter," defended Bellamy himself, "like – eleven years ago or something?" It didn't make it any better. "Eleven years? So you've only seen the first four movies!" "Does this make me a bad person now or …?" "No, but kind of weird." Bellamy scoffed, "Oh this coming from you." "What? Do you think I'm weird?" He bit his tongue before saying anything too bad. Instead he asked, "Do you want to come in or not?" He slit the key into the lock and opened the door, while Clarke mumbled, "Says the guy who reads a history book for fun." Bellamy decided to ignore the comment and stepped inside, hearing Clarke following him, he switched on the light and a "Holy fucking shit" slipped out of Clarke's mouth. This time Bellamy couldn't hold back a grin. He closed the door, watching in complete satisfaction while Clarke's widened eyes flew through the big room, over the wooden floor and back to him. "Oh my fucking God! Are you kidding me? This, this is your apartment?" "Penthouse," corrected Bellamy the blonde, amused and hung his jacket aside before leading her to the open kitchen. "Penthouse?! Who are you – Richard Gere? Because I definitely feel like Julia Roberts right now. You have seen Pretty Woman, right? Oh God…" She turned around, taking in her surroundings, still in disbelief and shock. "Of course I've seen Pretty Woman," retorted Bellamy, leaning against a kitchen counter, while Clarke was standing in the middle of the big living area, letting her eyes fly over the windows, looking right outside into the city. "I fucking can't believe it," she breathed, "This living room is bigger than my whole apartment." Her hands wandered over the couch. "How much square footage do you have?" She came closer, eyeing the kitchen made out of cherry wood. "Almost 5,000 –" "5,000 square feet?!" Shrieked Clarke with a high pitched voice and causing pain in Bellamy's ears. "For you? This – God! How much do you pay for this?" Normally Bellamy wouldn't tell. Not only because you didn't talk about money but also, and this was the more important reason, he didn't want to give her a heart attack. He licked his lips, rubbing his neck like he was ashamed and answered anyway, "Around $10,000." To his own surprise Clarke stayed quiet. She blinked. Then, "What? $10,000 per month?" "That's how you usually pay rent, yes." "What the he- $10,000 for a place to live? Are you sure you aren't trading drugs on the exchange?" That made Bellamy chuckle. "I'm positive yeah." She huffed before shaking her head. "This is too much, really. I have to sit down." She hopped onto the stool at the kitchen island and was still shaking her head. Bellamy eyed her in amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching Clarke rake her hand through her blonde hair, made him imagine that it would be his own doing that. His eyes dropped down, feeling his throat going dry when they reached her breasts, so he cleared it, turning towards the fridge. "Want something to drink?" "I thought you haven't been home the last two weeks." "I haven't. But I'm sure my sister filled up the fridge after taking this place over, so – what do you want?" "Uhm, I don't know. A water?" Bellamy looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows scooting up. "Seriously? Just water? No lemon slice or mint leaf?" He teased and earned himself a stuck out tongue from Clarke. "Well, what can you offer then?" He turned around and overviewed the drinks. "Almost everything. Wine, champagne, water, juice, ice tea –" "Ice tea!" Bellamy grinned. "Okay, it's ice tea then." He grabbed the can and poured her a drink. "Want some cubes?" Clarke shook her head, "No thank you." He smiled shortly. She did the same. Bellamy took a sip, never letting go of Clarke's eyes while she was doing the same. Which made him gulp even harder. When Clarke put down the glass she licked her lips, making Bellamy tightening his grip around the glass. "So Bellamy Blake, what's your story?" She asked interested, leaning forward and giving him an excellent view into her cleavage. It took all his willpower not to look at it (for too long). "My story?" "Yeah … I mean, this is huge and it looks like it's all normal to you. But on the other hand you are visiting your mother and helping her out in her coffee shop, so – what's your story?" "Okay, well, it's not much. My sister and I were raised by my mother. We had less than $800 each month, sometimes even less. So I started working at 16. After finishing school I signed up for the army because of the good money. Then mom started dating a guy named Marcus Kane. He is a pretty good man. One she deserves. I was twenty-four back then. I resigned and started to go to school. Finance. Got a job at Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago for a year and have been working at the exchange for three years now. That's my story." "That's it? You are working at the exchange and can afford something like this?" "What should I say – I'm pretty good at what I do." He winked and a mischievous grin spread over her lips. "I bet you are." Clarke said "But seriously – how much do you earn with this?" Bellamy licked his lips, clearly feeling uncomfortable. "Okay, okay, I´ll change the question. What was your biggest win and your biggest lost?" "Ufff … the biggest lost was, I don't know, $50,000?" Her eyes widened again but she remained quiet, mouthing $50,000 silently. "And my biggest win. It was about $80,000." "Okay I have to ask you again – how much do you earn? This is unbelievable!" "Between $18,000 and $30,000." "Per month?" Bellamy nodded, causing Clarke to knock back the rest of her drink at once. That was when he asked her about her story. She had been interrogating him like an FBI agent, so it was only fair to tell him at least as much. Clarke started to blush again and yeah, he definitely liked it. "Well," she wet her lips – not that he kept watching her lips, no -, "my story is quite the opposite. My mother is a CEO of a hospital in Washington and my dad worked for the NSA. So, I'm from Washington D.C. My, uhm, my dad died eight years ago, turning mine and my mom's world upside down. He died of cancer and it was a really rough time for both of us. I fought with my mother almost every day and it was pretty bad. But, time heals wounds right? We started to get better but I couldn't stay in D.C. any longer and started to travel through the USA. For the past two years I’ve been living with my best friend Wells and his fiancée Luna in Nashville. He moved there almost three years ago because of Luna and yeah. I never studied, even though I always wanted to. But when my dad died … I don't know. It changed everything. I still don't know what I want to do, which is kind of embarrassing because I'm 29 now and, well … I'm still looking for the right, for the perfect job you know? I'm fine with working for Wells but it's nothing I want to do forever. But I also don't want my mother's money, which she always offers me anyway. I mean, I don't need a fortune for living. I just want to do something I love and be happy. No offense." She added quickly and Bellamy waved her off, smiling. "It's okay. I mean isn't that what we all want to do? A job that makes us happy? A life that makes us happy?" "Yeah," breathed Clarke and let her eyes wandering to the window again. She sighed. "That would be great to find." He scanned her profile, watching her teeth burying into her bottom lip. His eyes wandered over her rosy cheeks, along her neck and back to the breasts. He bit his inner cheek, feeling his blood running lower into his pants and the heat upon his neck. So he finished his glass of ice tea and looked at the clock. It was almost three a.m. He rubbed his eyes, tiredness hitting him out of nowhere and he suppressed a yawn. "When do you have to get up?" He asked and put their empty glasses into the sink. Clarke scooted out of her thoughts and frowned, thinking. "Uhm, I don't know. I have to be at the convention around 9. How long is it to the Hilton Chicago?" "10 to 15 minutes car drive. Almost half an hour if you take the metro, brown line and purple one," told Bellamy and added, "But at that time it doesn't make a difference if you take a taxi or the metro." Clarke chewed on her lip, nodding slowly. "Okay, then I'll have to get up a little before eight I guess. You?" "In almost three hours?" "This early?" "Yeah, I promised Octavia I’d help her with her thesis before heading to work, so – three hours." Clarke grimaced and shuddered. "Then we have to get you into bed I guess." Bellamy chuckled, "Wouldn't mind some hours of sleep to be honest." That was when Clarke hopped off the stool, Bellamy truly tried not to look at her bouncing breasts, and told him to show her her sleeping place. They didn't even get out of the living area when she asked him amusingly, "Is there a forbidden corridor or room? You know, just like in the Beauty and the Beast?" Again her words curled his lips into a smile. What a nerd she was, he liked it. More than he should because they only knew each other for a few hours. "Even if I had, I'm sure you wouldn't listen. Just like Belle," he answered and Clarke punched him lightly into the shoulder. "Wow, at least you have seen the Beauty and the Beast. I'm impressed." He looked over his shoulder, his brow's disappeared behind his curls, "I have seen every Disney classic at least four times, okay? Just because I haven't seen Harry Potter doesn't mean I don't have any knowledge in films." Clarke grinned as an answer, just like Octavia used to when she was eight. Bellamy shook his head at this memory and went along the floor in silence. "So, here is the bath- Clarke?" He turned around, Clarke had disappeared. "Clarke?" Shouted Bellamy and looked around. Where the hell had she disappeared? He went back a little and a heavy gust waved through his hair. He knew immediately where she was. She'd found the terrace. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Clarke facing the city lights, her hands onto the railing. The raining had stopped but was still in the air. He heard her taking a deep breath. His arms were crossed over his chest and he bit his inner cheek, while watching her. "Enjoying the view?" Clarke chuckled, looking over her shoulder when she told him, "I really do hate you Bellamy." "Thanks. I appreciate it." She rolled her eyes, turning back to the view. "This is unbelievable. The view is amazing." She mumbled, sounding like she was getting lost into it. Just like Bellamy got lost in watching her. "It really is," retorted Bellamy but instead of watching the lightened skyscrapers his eyes were laid down on her blonde curls and the deliciously looking curves which were hid under all these clothes. He licked his lips in hunger, before her question made him look up again. "So is this your strategy of seduction? Bringing the girls up here and then show them this monster terrace with this kill-worthing view?" "If my charm isn't enough, maybe?!" She grinned over her shoulders. "Does it work?" He asked interested. He grabbed his heart in played disappointment and hurt when she shook her head, "Absolutely not." "Damn," sighed Bellamy and made Clarke laugh. It echoed in his ears and in his head, making his heart beat faster, running through his whole body because it sounded like the voice of an angel. He grinned proudly, wanting to make her laugh again. The wind increased, so after a few more moments Clarke turned around and pushed past him. When she did, she was much closer than she had to be. Her breasts almost touching his chest and the small grin on her face told Bellamy that she did it on purpose. When he showed Clarke the bathroom for a second time she was right there to let out a soft "Wow", going inside and taking a long look. The bathroom was huge, had a shower and a bathtub in it and –"Is this a flat screen?" She pointed at the switched off TV on the opposite wall (right in front of the tub). "No, it's the queen's magical mirror from Snow White," teased Bellamy because it was her own fault, claiming he didn't know anything about movies. “Will you ever stop?" Bellamy shook his head. “Nope.” She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I know you know something about movies.” He grinned. "If you want to take a shower tomorrow, the towels are in there." He pointed at the cabinet next to Clarke, who nodded shortly before the big mosaic picture caught her attention. While Clarke was scanning the wall, Bellamy couldn't help himself but watching the blonde's figure one more time. His eyes trailed up and down, making his jeans get tighter. He appreciated every inch of her body. The curvy legs and hips, the amazing breasts and when his eyes went up her neck towards her face he noticed through the mirror that Clarke had been watching him, watching her. He swallowed, feeling his cheeks heating up because she caught him checking her out! But judging by the fierce look she was giving him she didn't care. Quite the opposite – she was checking him out through the mirror, licking and biting her bottom lip when her eyes lingered over his forearms, causing his erection to become more visible. Moments of silence passed by. Moments in which their eyes lingered on one another, none of them saying or doing anything. Not until Clarke faced him, leaning against the marbled basin, pushing her breasts out, more than necessary, making it impossible for him not to look at it. So his eyes slipped to her cleavage for two seconds before reminding himself of look into her eyes but it was too late. She had a knowing grin on her lips, "Liking what you see?" His throat was dry, so he swallowed hard, not wanting to give away too much but knowing it was too late when he heard his raspy voice telling her, "Maybe." Clarke tipped her head down, almost shyly, then she looked back at him, right into his eyes. She started chewing on her bottom lip again, driving Bellamy wild because that was all he wanted to do himself, capture her lip between his teeth, sucking and making her moan his name. Without noticing Bellamy stepped closer, his eyes raked over her body while she crooked her head, studying him. He stopped an arm length in front of her, hearing her raked breath. His heart pumped wildly in its ribcage. "What would you do if I told you that the terrace might have worked?" Asked the blonde in a husky whisper, pitching his stomach because he could hear the want and lust in it. He licked his lips, his eyes shooting from hers to her lips, lingering there far too long. He put one hand on the basin, starting to cage her between him and the marble. "I don't know. Wouldn't speak for me right?" He answered lowly; setting the other hand on Clarke's other side and captured her, stepping closer. They were only a few inches apart. So close that their chests almost touched each other during their deep breathing. She bit down on her bottom lip, a little heavier than before, making him groan almost loudly, while looking up into his eyes. He started to drown into the blue, when her hands slowly moved over his chest, causing more heat. He felt her fingers wandering over his shoulders, clapping together behind his neck and started playing with the nape of it. "That's true," she mumbled, never letting go of his eyes. "So, what would you do if I told you that your charm might have worked?" "Well then," Bellamy started and closed the remaining space between them, having her body flush against his, letting his hands scoop towards her hips and to the small of her back, making her shudder a little. "I would probably," his hand lifted her shirt a little, just as much as his hand could slip under it, touching her skin, "just touch you here." His spread palm wandered to the small of her back, pushing her closer. "And then what?" Asked Clarke anticipating and eager, letting her own hand disappear into the mop of his hair, scratching her nails over his scalp, getting a deep sound out of the back of his throat. "Then I would probably kiss you." Her eyes shined with fire and lust, dropping to his lips when he remained still. His gaze flickering between the blue of her eyes and the red of her lips. "What the hell are you waiting for then?" She edged him on. Bellamy's jaw clenched, breathing heavily through his nose and almost choking when Clarke pushed hard against his pelvis. Yeah, what the hell was he waiting for? She couldn't be more obvious that she was okay with all this. She pushed herself against him, hardening her grab around his neck, almost throwing her breasts into his face, watching him with the biggest eyes he’d have ever seen, smirking in anticipation. Lingering for more. But he was Bellamy, so he couldn't just go for it. Instead he asked, "Are you sure?" That made Clarke roll her eyes and groan in annoyance. "Just go for it Blake. We both know we want to know how I sound like screaming your god damn name." Her voice was rough, eyes dark and mischievous. She leaned forward, their lips almost touching when she mumbled, "Make me scream your name." That was what broke Bellamy out of his stillness. He groaned loudly, her words making his dick throb harder in his jeans and he closed the last inch between their lips. Crashing his own hard on hers. She moaned immediately into his mouth, pulling him closer, sliding her foot over his leg before he grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and sitting her down onto the basin. He felt her feet lock behind him, pushing him further against her center, causing him to moan when his erection pushed hard against her body. Bellamy's hand raked over Clarke's side, cradling her face and letting his fingertips grab her blonde curls. His tongue licked along her lips and the second he felt her mouth open he scooted his tongue inside, earning himself a deliciously sounding groan out of the back of Clarke's throat when his tongue hit hers. He started feeling dizzy, getting out of breath and the almost painful pressure in his jeans didn't help either. His left hand wandered down, over Clarke's shoulder towards her breast, grabbing it with his palm, squeezing it hard and making Clarke saying his name out of breath for the first time. Heat was taking over his body and he lunged forward, deepening the kiss, pressing his hand harder against her breast, feeling her fingernails sinking into his shoulders, right through his shirt. She pushed her pelvis against his, both moaned impatient. That was when Bellamy pulled away, watching Clarke's dark eyes, her swollen lips. Their foreheads touched each other and he heard her raked breathing while palming her breast, which she returned in pushing as hard as she could against his cock. They started panting. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. Clarke bit her bottom lip, cheeks turning into a deep red. Bellamy shot forward, capturing her bottom lip between his, sucking hard and letting his hands raise her shirt. She helped him get it off and his eyes lingered over the freed cleavage, wanting to see more. Wanting more he could touch. But first he put his lips onto her jaw, peppered it with hot open-mouthed kisses, along her neck. He started to bite and suck at is until she groaned loudly, echoing in the bathroom. "Fuck," she hissed and shoved the few strands of hair out of her face, arching her back against him while Bellamy's mouth wandered over the curves of her breasts. His finger pushed the cup of the bra aside so he could take her nipple into his mouth, moaning at the feeling of it against his tongue. His hands gripped her hips hard, sucking at the soft spot of hers, feeling her shuddering underneath him. Clarke's left hand leaned against the wall, knocking down his aftershave and the toothpaste when his teeth buried into her nipple, causing her to yell in lust. A smile appeared on Bellamy's lips because it truly was one of the best sounds he ever heard. Clarke's right hand raked towards his belt, pulling him closer at first but then fumbling with the buckle. Her nails scratching right into his skin above it, making his erection grow harder. He let go of her breast, kissing his way upwards to her lips, pushing his tongue against hers again before feeling her hands on the hem of his shirt. She didn't have to say anything, with one swift movement the shirt was out and Bellamy unclasped her bra, throwing it away. He groaned loudly when her heavy breasts bumped down, her nipples as hard as his crook. "Fuck," he muttered and swallowed. "Fuck Clarke," he started but she lunged forward and pulled him into a fucking delicious and promising kiss. His hands tangled back to her hair, while hers scratched over his skin, making him hiss in pain because her nails burrowed into him. She panted against his mouth, letting her lips wander along his jaw, towards his ear and biting into his earlobe, making his grip harder. Her open mouthed went along his neck and Bellamy pushed her hair away, giving her neck the same treatment. When she started to bite, so did he. When she licked at his skin, he did the same. He also pushed his erection right against her when she pushed up against him. They both moaned loudly, open mouthed. "Bed," whispered Clarke pleadingly and her voice was rough, almost broken. Bellamy swallowed, nodding hastily. "Yeah." He grabbed her thighs and pulled her up, leading her into his bedroom which had a big window in the front (with an excellent view on the city as well, but it seemed like Clarke didn't really care about it this time). He let her down on the mattress, crawling above her, pushing her down and kissing along her neck. Her fingers lingered through his curly hair, her moaning driving him wild. He braced himself with one arm next to Clarke's head while his other hand palming her chest, making her back arch hard against him. She threw her legs around him, pushing him down and swallowed his loud moan with a long kiss. It took them almost forever to get at each other's pants. Clarke was the first. Her fingers unbuckled his belt after playing with it and teasing him almost to death. Her feet pushed the jeans down and he sighed in relief when at least the heavy jeans were off of his cock. He let his tongue slip around Clarke's neck, taking her earlobe right into his mouth before groaning loudly, panting, when he felt her hands pressing over the fabric of his briefs. He heard her chuckle at that and bit down a little harder, making her gasp again. Then it was him who took off her pants, along with her underwear, though her protests. "Hey," she yelled but stopped immediately when his palm rubbed over her inner thigh. Bellamy licked his lips, leaning down again, kissing Clarke and letting his hand wander up and down her thigh but never touching her where she wanted him to. He was teasing her, on purpose. "Bellamy," panted Clarke warningly and making his eyes glint in amusement. "What?" "Stop teasing." He smirked, putting his lips closely to her left ear, mumbling a rough "I haven't even started". She was about to complain when his fingertips brushed her pussy just so lightly, nothing more like a feather. But it was enough to make her gulp her breath. He grinned and did it again, educing a long "Oh" out of her. He licked his lips, feeling the heat inside his body watching her falling apart underneath him, without him doing anything but touching her feather lightly, turned him on even more. "Oh?" He repeated and let his teeth scratch over the skin of her neck, while her fingers clutched into the blanket. "Didn't you say you wanted to scream my name?" His finger hovered over her entrance, waiting for her to say it. But instead she opened her eyes, looking at him when she challenged him, "Make me." "Nothing easier than this," gave Bellamy back and Clarke tensed all along when he pressed his finger against her clit, rubbing it slowly. She bit down her bottom lip, like she was holding herself back from saying his name. Bellamy grinned, putting more effort into his doing, pushing a little harder and getting another "Oh" out of her mouth. "Come on Clarke. Say it, say my name like you wanted to", said Bellamy with his deep and husky voice, his throat going dry again. She bit down on her lip again, a grin spreading over her face. Which made Bellamy almost chuckle. That's when he stopped rubbing at her clit, waiting a few seconds for Clarke, frowning and looking up in question when he pushed his finger inside of her without any warning. Her jaw dropped and a loud, a very loud "Oh God!" filled the room. He felt her wetness around his finger, making him almost get off immediately. He cranked his finger up, pushing harder and making her walls tightened around it. He grunted, burying his face into her neck, telling himself not to move faster because it felt too good. He added another finger, kissing her neck and taking her nipples back between his teeth. He licked at her, making her shudder and then a loud and almost desperate "Bellamy," fell from her lips when he added a third finger, thrusting hard into her pussy. Her nails sank into his skin so hard that he knew that the lines would still be there tomorrow. Her walls tightened around his finger when he moved faster, unable to stop himself because her panting, her little "Oh God" and "Yeah, faster, please" making him want to fell over the edge. So he didn't stop. He pushed harder, faster and swallowing her moan when she came with his mouth, getting goose bumps by feeling her closing around his fingers. Her jaw clenched and her eyes were shut down when she came down from her orgasm. She swallowed hard and Bellamy smiled, peppering her neck with soft kisses. But instead of waiting for her to calm down he dropped his mouth down her body, over her chest and her stomach, settling right between her legs. A mischievous grin played on his mouth when he looked upwards, watching her biting on her bottom lip, clearly not ready for another round. "Just give me a sec," she mumbled. "I just can't –" "Don't worry, I'll make you," promised Bellamy and turned towards her hot and rosy spot. His eyes lingered over her pussy, he licked his lips in anticipation and couldn't wait to taste her with his mouth. "No, Bellamy, really I – oooh!" He had put his mouth onto her, starting with one soft and long stroke. Her legs quivered at the contact, while her hip pushed itself against him. He held her still with his hands, hearing her panting. He took his time before licking her again, then his teeth scratched the inside of her vulva. "Oh God" Her hands wandered over her stomach right into his hair, tugging and scratching, making him moan against her. The vibration made Clarke sigh his name in return. He let his tongue move over her clit again and again, starting to suck at it. Her panting getting louder and louder, mixing "Oh God" with "Bellamy" more often and the sound of it reaching right to his cock which was still trapped in his briefs. Clarke's body started to shake, she was getting closer. Bellamy sucked harder, pushing his tongue against her pussy and moaning at the sweet sound of his name. His thumb slipped over her clit, rubbing hard circles against it, sucking and licking her as fast and hard as he could, feeling him getting thicker and thicker. Clarke shaking underneath him, tugging at his hair with one hand and grabbing the headboard hard with the other, screaming a loud "Bell…" before falling over the edge. His heart sped like hell, the throbbing in his briefs was almost too painful at this stage. He swallowed hard, gulping for air as well before crawling upwards Clarke's body, kissing her. Making her taste herself on his tongue. "Oh God," she whispered when she shoved him away because she clearly hadn't her breath under control again. She swallowed, wiping the sweat from her forehead and squeezing her eyes shut before looking at him. Her cheeks red like hell, her neck and chest flushed from the orgasms he had given her, which filled him with satisfaction. "I really hate you," she breathed Bellamy grinned. "You already said that." He rolled over to his side, bracing himself at his forearm and running his other hand softly over Clarke's skin. They remained silent for a short time, just eyeing and smiling at each other. Then Clarke started biting down on her bottom lip again and Bellamy scooted down pulling it between his own, wanting to make this kiss kind of unchaste and almost innocent but Clarke clearly didn't share his attention and slipped her hand into his hand before lingering for his tongue, wanting it to follow hers. A soft smile spread over Bellamy's lips when he cradled himself above Clarke again, still keeping his mouth on hers when he felt her fingers wandering down to his ass, pulling down his underwear. It was a curse and a blessing at the same time when she took the briefs off and his cock was released. It pumped back hard against him and when Clarke pushed her hip a little upwards she touched the head of his dick with her hot and still wet vadge. A muffled sound left Bellamy's mouth at that contact and he cursed a low "Fucking shit" when Clarke did it again. Bellamy swallowed, feeling the heat crawling through his body and resisted the urge to just push into her, hard and deep. He had to close his eyes for a second to muster all his strength before looking down into the big blue eyes and the almost dirty smirk of Clarke's. He wet his lips, feeling her foot wandering over his ass, ready to push him down. "C-Condom first," he cracked and reached for the cupboard to get one out. He just grabbed one when Clarke's fingers closed around him and pumped it slowly up and down. "Oh shit!" Shouted Bellamy and groaned loudly, trying to get back as fast as he could. But Clarke didn't stop, making his penis pulsing dangerously fast. "Clarke…" His voice broke away and he gritted through his teeth, "You should stop. O-o-otherwise, oh fuck!" He put his hand around her small wrist, making her stop pumping, holding the condom in the other hand and taking a few deep breaths before telling her, "You should stop if you want me to go any further." Clarke licked her lips, so slowly that it was almost enough to bring him over the edge for good. "Okay." She pulled her hand away from his dick and let her fingers wander over his chest and his arms, right to his shoulders when he pulled on the condom and settled himself above her. He put his forearms besides her head, lowering himself down and entered. Their foreheads were pressed against each other, their eyes were closed when he got deeper and deeper. Inch for inch. Both panting, moaning before Bellamy pulled her into a sweet kiss. He let his mouth caress her lips, slipping his tongue softly against hers, pulling out of her completely, waiting and thrusting back inside as slowly as before. Her fingernails scratched his skin lightly, legs crossing over his ass, meeting him in his thrusts. He sucked at her bottom lip before kissing her jaw once more, petting her neck and feeling the heat increasing again. Her legs tightened, pulling him closer and keeping him in place. His thrusts didn't leave her anymore. He braced himself harder against the mattress, letting his right hand wander down over her breast to her leg, adjusting it a little higher so he could thrust deeper into her. His lips and teeth along her soft skin on her neck and shoulder. With the new angle they both panted faster, moaned louder and Bellamy quickened up at his pace. He bit down at her skin, slinging one arm underneath her back to hold her into place when he buried himself deeper and harder into her. The left had grabbed the headboard. "Fuck Clarke, I- I can't hold off any longer," mumbled Bellamy with all strength he still had, sweat covering his body. "You don't have – just – oh, okay – just harder, harder Bellamy!" She winced, her legs closing around him completely and her hands clutching onto him like a lifeline. He licked his lips, watching Clarke closing her eyes, her face getting redder and her mouth forming loud and silent "Ohs". He paced up one more time, thrusting so hard into her that the bed started to shake. The headboard slammed against the wall and if Bellamy wasn't about to come he would have worried about the bed braking but right now he couldn't care less. He held Clarke as close as he could, feeling her walls shutting down around him, screaming his name like a prayer, like a salvation when he felt his dick pulsing hot and fast. He panted into her neck, thrusting deeper and deeper. Groaning a "fuck Clarke" before following her over the edge. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The piercing sound of his alarm woke him mercilessly out of his sleep. With a moan Bellamy switched it off, eyes still closed and his sleep-drunken body fought against waking up. He felt hungover, even though he hadn't been drinking (that much) yesterday. Bellamy breathed heavily through his nose, pressing the ball of his hands into his closed eyes before forcing himself to open them. He yawned and started to stretch when he looked to his side, facing the sleeping figure of Clarke's back. Her blonde curls fell over her back, which was barely covered with a blanket. His eyes scooted down to where it disappeared, feeling his cock throbbing again, more in lust than because of the morning erection. He couldn't help himself but smile a little, cursing his promise to Octavia because otherwise he could have remained in bed, pulling the woman closer and maybe, just maybe, going for another round. He stayed still for a few seconds before forcing himself out of bed. Before heading to the bathroom he looked over his shoulder, making sure Clarke was still asleep. After a quick shower, which made his muscles relax a little, he went back to the bedroom, finding Clarke on his side of the bed now, burying herself deep into the pillow. The man started to smile at this picture and tiptoed to the drawer, getting dressed before leaving a short note on the cupboard. If you need a place to crash tonight, call me. 773-555-8955 Bellamy He resisted the urge to bend down to give her a peck. It was way too crazy anyway, he didn't have to make it weirder than it already was. So he got out of the bedroom, but not without checking on Clarke one more time, taking her in, hoping that this wouldn't be the last time he laid his eyes on her and closed the door. He grabbed his bag and his cell phone which he forgot in his jacket last night and groaned loudly when he saw the four missed calls from Octavia and the 30 messages in their group chat. Harper [2:54 a.m.]: I can't keep it to myself any longer. Sorry Bellamy. Jasper [2:55 a.m.]: What?! oO Harper [2:55 a.m.]: He brought a girl home. Miller [2:55 a.m.]: Are you sure?! Jasper [2:55 a.m.]: o_O O [2:56 a.m.]: OMG! Don't screw us Harper! Harper [2:56 a.m.]: I'm not. It was a blonde beauty. He said they got stuck in the plane for three hours and she had no place to go. Jasper [2:56 a.m.]: Still: o_O O [2:57 a.m.]: Blonde beauty huh? That's new. Monty [2:58 a.m.]: Thanks to you Jasper is dancing and singing and I'm awake now! -.- Miller [2:58 a.m.]: What a gentleman… Harper [2:59 a.m.]: Sorry Monty **hug** Jasper [3:00 a.m.]: I'm just happy for my friend Bellamy! O [3:01 a.m.]: It's still weird that you are dancing Jas! Do you have a picture of her Harper? Harper [3:01 a.m.]: :-/ No, sorry Raven [3:21 a.m.]: He brought a girl home? Can't believe it! Murphy [3:24 a.m.]: You can't? Well then come over. I really hate living above you Bellamy! O [3:24 a.m.]: Try to live with him in the same four walls for almost fourteen years! Harper [3:25 a.m.]: Should I call him and tell him that there is a complaint? xD Raven [3:25 a.m.]: He won't hear it. When Bellamy is doing what he is doing he is doing it pretty good. O [3:26 a.m.]: Urgh, Raven! It's my brother! Raven [3:26 a.m.]: xDDD Murphy [3:27 a.m.]: He doesn´t have to be this loud. Seriously, I can hear almost everything! I'm scared that they are going to crush through the ceiling any moment! Miller [3:28 a.m.]: No comment needed! Jasper [3:30 a.m.]: He needs to let off a lot of pressure considering Gina happened almost eight months ago. O [3:31 a.m.]: Ok, I'm out now. I don't really want to think about my brother's dick! Monty [3:32 a.m.]: **rofl** Murphy [3:59 a.m.]: Round three … fuck you Blake! Jasper [4:01 a.m.]: I think the mysterious blonde is already doing that. Murphy [4:02 a.m.]: Shut up Jasper! That's when the conversation ended. Bellamy groaned, rubbing his forehead and decided that it would be better not to say anything. So he slipped his phone back into his jacket and went outside. Regretting his promise to Octavia even more. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It had been a long day when Bellamy returned to the complex. He was still tired, hadn't slept more than two hours last night and more than disappointed because he had been watching his cell phone all day and Clarke didn't contact him. No call, no message from an unknown number. Instead he had to deal with his annoying sister and his friends, getting a sermon from Murphy about keeping it quiet the next time otherwise he would have to kill him and some other, really unimportant things. He leaned against the elevators wall, his head against the metal and a loud sigh escaping his mouth, eyes shot. It was weird. He shouldn't be as disappointed as he was just because a woman he just had known for a few hours (and he had amazing sex with) didn't call him. It was a one night stand. Nothing more. It wasn't that he wasn't used to it. It was what he was doing for a long time now, but … he still felt disappointed. With a ping the door opened and Bellamy stepped into the corridor, fumbling his keys out of his pocket without looking up. A smile curled around his lips, hearing her voice in his head when she had asked him last night if this was the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. He chuckled and shook his head, looking up and froze dead in his tracks. There she was, the blonde beauty, leaning against the wall with a shy smile on her face. "Hey." "Hey," retorted Bellamy and felt his lips curled up. He came closer, still processing that she was standing in front of his door, clearly waiting for him. "How was your day?" She asked almost nonchalant and Bellamy shrugged, "Okay … how was the con?" "Okay," answered Clarke softly. He looked into her eyes, feeling how he was getting lost. He raised his hand, putting it gently against her cheek, caressing his thumb over the soft skin before asking quietly, "Only okay?" She nodded, biting her lip shortly before whispering, "Yeah … had to think about you all the time. Which was pretty distracting." "Don't tell me," he huffed and then leaned down, pulling her into a sweet, chaste and pretty long, slowly kiss, He felt her arms closing around his neck, pulling herself against him and while his right hand cradled deeper into her hair, his left arm slung around her waist. Both started smiling and Bellamy knew that this wouldn't be the last time he would find Clarke Griffin waiting for him at his door.